11. Nat
Nat
When I arrive at the Hawkins house for a second day in a row, I’m just as nervous about the reception I’ll receive.
Last night I left right after offering Chase a marriage of convenience. Mainly because I didn’t want to talk the idea to death, especially when my ex dragged his feet and didn’t sign our divorce papers yesterday.
I also wanted to give Chase time to catch his breath, time to think about everything I said and did yesterday. I dumped a lot on him in less than twenty-four hours.
The offer to play for the Rogues.
The offer of a house to live in.
The offer of another parental figure for the girls.
It’s the last one I think will be a sticking point for him.
He needs to prove he can take care of his sisters. Whether it’s to himself or his parents or some unknown people, I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter. Every time I helped him, I could see the hunger to do it himself in his eyes.
It rivaled the hunger I saw when I offered him the Rogues’ starting goalie spot.
He may have resigned himself to no longer playing hockey but that dream still dwells in the back of his mind—lives in his heart.
And I plan to be the one to help him achieve it without compromising his need to take care of his family.
Switching off the engine, I grab my bag and step out of my rental. I chose a more appropriate outfit today. Linen lounging pants and a casual short sleeved summer sweater seemed more appropriate for a day at the Hawkins home.
It’s a more relaxed look, and while it’s not my usual armor when dealing with business, I feel comfortable and confident.
And I admit I’m hoping Chase will find me—if only a little bit—more approachable. If we’re going to do this the way I’ve suggested, I want us—need us—to be friends.
I can only hope my position as the Rogues’ GM doesn’t make things harder to navigate. I’m not oblivious to the possible pitfalls of the situation. And I’m very aware of everything that can go wrong with an in-name-only marriage.
It’s still the best way to ensure Chase and his sisters get what they need and want. And I refuse to examine why I’m so determined to help them this way.
Lost in thought, I barely step onto the crumbling path to the Hawkins’ front door when it flies open, and Cassidy and Crystal come barreling out onto the porch.
My smile is automatic, the joy at seeing them again spontaneous and exciting.
Children of any age have never been a regular part of my life. I’m not completely ignorant about them but I’m surprised by how much fun I had with Candace and the twins yesterday afternoon.
Before they reach me, the girls are talking at once and while their voices are similar, they’re saying different things and the words are a jumbled, mangled together mess and in no way understandable.
“Slow down, slow down.” I laugh when they skid to a stop in front of me and simultaneously suck in a breath like a pair of synchronized swimmers. “One at a time, please.”
“Can you give us a ride to camp?” Cassidy asks with a pair of caramel-brown pleading eyes identical to her sister’s.
“I can. But where’s your brother?”
Crystal rolls her eyes, and I have to stifle a grin at the typical teenage action. “He’s busy on the phone.”
“Oh?” I glance at my watch. Who is he talking to at seven in the morning?
“Someone we don’t know,” Cassidy adds. “About playing hockey.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Drake?”
“No. Morgan, I think,” Crystal says with a scrunch of her brow.
Chase must have made the call because I didn’t give Drake any of Chase’s information or even a heads up. As much as I want to give Chase a helping hand, I want him to deal with this part of his career himself.
I’m going to be in control of a lot of what happens in his professional life from here on if he decides to take me up on my offer to play for the Rogues. Letting him take care of his choice of agent will keep Chase from feeling as though I’m taking over completely.
Not to mention my position as GM makes my involvement a conflict of interest. I’m already thinking I need to hand over Chase’s contract negotiations to Oakley.
“If your brother says it’s okay, I can take you where you need to go,” I tell them.
“He will. Candace isn’t awake yet, so he has to get her up, feed her, change her, and we’ll probably be late like we are every day of the week,” Cassidy gripes with a pout and folded arms.
I have to hold back a smile. “Okay. Let’s get inside and see what he needs help with before I take you to…where am I taking you?”
“Summer day camp.” Cassidy glances at Crystal. “We didn’t want to go but Dad enrolled us, and Chase said it would be good to keep things like before.”
“And it is,” Crystal rushes to add. “We wanted to go. When Dad signed us up.”
“Before…” Cassidy swallows, her eyes filling with tears. “Before Mom and Dad…”
My throat grows tighter, and my chest aches deeper with each word they say.
These girls have lost so much this year, and yet they’re still levelheaded enough to know what their brother said is true.
Sticking to some of their usual routine, doing things the way they were always done, can give them a small amount of the comfort their situation has done its best to rip away.
“Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll check with your brother. Have you eaten breakfast?” I ask as I urge them back toward the house.
“No. Chase was supposed to make it before he got on the phone. I think he forgot about us.”
There’s another eye roll from both of them and I stifle the laugh that bubbles in my throat. I ignore the comment about their brother forgetting them because we all know that’s not possible. Their words and actions are harmless, teenage melodrama.
“What time do you need to be at camp? Do we have time to make pancakes?”
“You can make pancakes?” Cassidy eyes me skeptically. “Chase’s either taste like flour or nothing at all.”
“If you can even eat them,” Crystal mutters.
“Yes, I can make them, and they definitely taste better than that or I wouldn’t keep making them.” I open the front door and usher the girls in ahead of me. “I remember seeing apples in the fridge yesterday. If you’ve got ground cinnamon, I can make you my favorite kind of pancakes.”
“We do!” Crystal takes off, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll get it.”
“What else do you need?” Cassidy asks, excitement lighting up her eyes. “I can show you where it all is.”
I don’t tell her I know they have the other ingredients I need or that I know where to find them. She doesn’t need to know I spent yesterday afternoon searching through their kitchen.
I’m the interloper here. And like Chase, the girls need to feel in control of their lives, well, as much as possible for a pair of fourteen-year-olds.
“Lead the way.”
The house is quiet, and as we enter the kitchen my gaze goes to the monitor on the counter only to find it missing.
Chase must have it with him. I want to find him and take that responsibility away but I stamp on the urge and concentrate on breakfast.
“Do you need to pack lunch?” I ask, trying to recall everything from my search and pulling ideas for possible lunches together.
“No. They feed us.”
“It’s usually yuck but if you drown it in ketchup, it’s okay.”
Crystal’s words have me stopping in my tracks. “You don’t like what they feed you?”
“It’s okay.” She glances at Cassidy. “But Mom always packed us lunch because you can do that if you want. Dad paid more so he didn’t have to worry about it.”
“Oh.”
The heaviness of that implication churns my stomach. I can imagine Mitch Hawkins making that decision knowing at some point over this summer with a new baby in the house, his wife would die.
“Well, we can make you both a lunch box if you want.”
Crystal claps her hands and Cassidy’s grin lights up the room.
“And if we mix up enough batter, we can add a couple of apple cinnamon pancakes to it.”
“Yes!” The girls shout and high-five each other and I’m reminded of how young they are even though they seem years older at times.
“All right.” I put my bag down on a stool and look around. “Let’s prep on the island, there’s more space for all of us to help.”
“What else do we need?” Crystal puts a jar of ground cinnamon on the counter.
“At least one apple. If they’re small, two.”
“On it,” Cassidy says as she races to the fridge.
“Grab milk while you’re in there,” I tell her before turning to Crystal. “We’ll need flour, and a mixing bowl or two, measuring cups and spoons. And something to shred the apple with.”
“Okay.”
I stand to the side and watch as the girls race around the kitchen, ducking in and out of the walk-in pantry to retrieve everything I’ve asked for.
I think they’re done and ready to start when they both shout ‘oh’ and dash back into the pantry. When they emerge a minute later, they’re wearing matching aprons and holding one out to me.
It’s the look in their eyes that has me cluing in to what a momentous moment this is. For a second I debate not taking the apron, but I know they wouldn’t be offering it if they didn’t want me to wear it.
“Did you cook a lot with your mom?”
“Yes.” I swing around to find Chase behind me. His fists are clenched and he’s working his jaw side to side, his wet eyes on me. “She insisted we learn to cook. So, we could take care of ourselves when we left home.”
The irony of them having to take care of themselves without leaving home doesn’t escape me. I could easily make this into a difficult situation and I’m struggling with what to say or do when Cassidy takes it out of my hands.
“You need to wear it so you don’t ruin your clothes. Mom never lets us cook without one.” She thrusts the apron at me. “It’s Mom’s kitchen so her rules stand.”
My gaze darts between the siblings. Each of them is fighting their own emotions and I can either stand back and keep myself separate from them by refusing to comply with their wishes, or I can put the apron on and we can cook breakfast together.
Like their mom would do if she were here.
“Thanks.” I have no other words, but I know I need to tread carefully because this moment will set the stage for what comes next and as much as I want Chase to play for the Rogues, I have to admit I want this family to thrive in the face of tragedy just as much.
It takes a moment but finally Chase steps toward the pantry and asks, “What are we making?”
“Apple cinnamon pancakes,” Cassidy says.
Crystal adds, “And we’re making our lunch too.”
Her tone is strong, laced with determination, as though she expects an argument and isn’t going to let him say no.
“Is the food as bad as I remember?” Chase asks when he comes out of the pantry wearing an apron of his own.
“It’s okay.” Crystal looks at her brother. “But not like what Mom used to pack us.”
“I remember. It’s always nuggets and fish sticks. And it’s never hot, which somehow makes it worse.”
“Exactly.”
“All right, Natalie, tell us what we need to do.” My gaze meets Chase’s, and I can see the swirl of emotions he’s dealing with.
Determined to make this easy for all of them, I push all thoughts other than teaching them how to make apple cinnamon pancakes from my mind.
“Who’s the best at shredding? We need to shred the apple and squeeze as much juice out of it as we can.”
“I’ll do that.” He picks up an apple and small plate. “Should I do it in a bowl?”
“Do you have a strainer? I usually shred the apple into one over a bowl. That way some of the juice drips away while I get everything else together.”
“I can do that.”
He busies himself with the apple and I get stuck for a few seconds admiring the way his arm muscles flex. It takes more effort than it should to pull my eyes away and focus on the girls.
It’s surprisingly easy to work together. The girls take instruction well, and with enthusiasm, and Chase helps but lets them do most of the work.
He might think he’s failing his sisters but from where I’m standing, he’s doing a great job. He isn’t taking over or telling them off when they make mistakes. And they make a few.
By the time he pulls a frypan from the cupboard, the island, their aprons, and the floor at their feet are covered in a fine layer of flour.
“Who’s the best at flipping pancakes?” I ask as I move to the sink for a sponge to start cleaning up.
“Um…”
I glance over my shoulder to see one set of blue and two sets of caramel-brown eyes on me. Turning, I eye each of them hoping for an actual answer.
Chase finally speaks. “Maybe you should cook while we clean up.”
“Yes. You cook, we’ll clean,” Crystal agrees, her elbow nudging her sister’s side. “We aren’t allowed to use the stove alone and Chase burns everyth?—”
“Hey! I do not.”
“You always burn pancakes,” Cassidy says, hands on hips. “Don’t lie.”
“Fine, I struggle with pancakes, but I don’t burn anything else.”
“All right, I’ll cook, you all clean.” Moving over to the stove, I glance at Chase. “Can you work out how to use the coffee machine?”
“I can do it!” Cassidy pushes her brother aside. “What kind do you like?”
“Ah…surprise me. As long as it’s coffee, I’ll be happy.”
“Okay. I’ll make you Dad’s favorite. He says it’s the only way to start the day.”
When she finishes speaking there isn’t a sound. None of the Hawkins siblings move either.
It’s like they’re all holding their breath, waiting to see what will happen after the mention of their father.
The silence drags too long, I know someone needs to break it and I don’t want it to be any of them. I want them to feel comfortable talking about their parents in any way they choose to.
“Only way? Well, how can I refuse that?” I pick up the bowl of pancake batter. “How quickly does this pan heat? You’re probably burning them because the pan is too hot.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Chase shake his head slightly. “I usually have the heat up high,” he says as he moves next to me.
“Well, let me show you how to make the perfect pancake. It begins with a medium heat, never too high or too low. And it takes practice.”
“Like hockey,” Crystal says as she moves in on the other side of me. “You just need to learn how to do it right and keep practicing.”
My gaze meets Chase’s before he says, “Yeah, Stell, I guess it is like hockey.”
“Leave the clean-up for a minute and come close so I can show you how to make the perfect golden pancake.”
With the Hawkins family crowding around me, I teach them how to make the best Sunday morning breakfast. One I’ve had on my own too many times to count.
One I want to share with this family not just today, but many days in the future.