Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
Raya
Over the next week, I do anything I can to stay busy, grateful to have some space away from Finn. I need to think. Sort my feelings. Talk some sense into myself.
So far, I’m not doing a very good job.
It doesn’t help that, thanks to my sisters, I watch every one of the four away games. Or that Finn texts me while they’re traveling, “just to check in.”
It’s hard to forget him when he keeps sending me goofy selfies, or photos of Gray dead asleep on the plane, or a series of questions making sure I’m still taking it easy.
My reasons for staying away from him are thin, and even I know it. Yes, we’re friends, but I’m not an idiot. I feel what’s happening between us.
And it scares me. Because all the things about him that felt so wrong—all the reasons it was easy to keep him in the “just friends” box—are getting harder to focus on.
Distance and space are my friends right now.
I’m not someone who has ever been ruled by my feelings, and I won’t start now. I need to get my head on straight and let logic prevail.
Just like always.
The Sunday after the food tour, I go to family dinner at my parents’ house, which proves a great distraction. We bake and decorate Christmas cookies, and I can’t remember the last time I laughed that hard. It’s nice to laugh.
The next afternoon, I take the cookies to Tasha at the tutoring club, and while I’m there, help Grace get dinner ready. All the kids want to know why Finn didn’t come with me, and when I explain he’s playing hockey out of town, there’s palpable disappointment in the room.
I gather them all together and snap a photo, then send it to him with a text:
Raya
They miss you!
Finn
That’s great, but . . . do you miss me?
I smile and tuck the phone away without responding because once again, it’s not my brain leading the charge.
Every morning, I drink my coffee under the soft glow of the Christmas tree and read. For fun. It’s a quiet hobby, but it suits me, and I’m starting to realize that forcing myself to be productive twenty-four hours a day might not be the best way to “live like it matters.”
I’ve even adopted his family’s saying as my own.
This revelation leads to a harsher one. If I’m really going to live that way, I have to make some changes.
Stop volunteering for everything. Stop filling every waking hour with work to avoid having a real life outside of the office—something I once convinced myself I didn’t want.
In reality, maybe I’ve just been afraid to admit that I do in case I couldn’t figure out how to make it happen.
Which is why, the day I return to work, after a checkup with Dr. Marshall, who gives me the all clear to return, I bypass my office and go straight to Brian’s.
He has a decorated tree in the corner, wrapped gifts underneath, and colorful string lights hanging around the perimeter.
A Santa hat tops his desk lamp, with a snowman right next to it.
He looks up from his computer and smiles. “You’re back!”
I nod. “It’s like Santa threw up in here.”
He stands and holds out his hands. “It’s Christmas!”
“So I’m told.”
His whole face frowns. “Don’t tell me you’re a Scrooge.”
“Maybe an ex-Scrooge.” I think of my cozy little armchair right next to my Christmas tree and how much I love my new morning ritual. Then I think of my Scrooge McDuck ornament and smile to myself. I think the real Ebenezer is pretty much gone.
“You look good, Raya. Rested. Brighter, even,” he says. “How are you feeling?”
“Good,” I say. “Really, really good.”
“That’s amazing to hear,” he says. “Truly.”
“But I need to discuss something with you.” I close the door, aware that my entrance has garnered a few nosy looks.
“Oh, boy,” he says. “You’re not quitting, are you?”
I laugh and take a seat on the opposite side of his desk. “No, not quitting.”
“Good. If you were, my entire plan would’ve backfired.”
“No, I think you were right to insist on the time off.” I cross one leg over the other. “It was good for me.”
“See? I know what I’m doing.” He smiles, folding his hands on his desk. “So, what’s on your mind?”
“My work schedule.” I meet his eyes. “I need to work less.”
He nods. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
“Really?” I ask. “I’m not looking to shirk responsibilities or anything—my job is still important to me.” I pause. “But my life is more important. Or at least, I want it to be.”
“I think we can find a balance,” he says, and it dawns on me how lucky I am to work here. The last company I worked for would not have been this accommodating. Brian meant it when he said the Comets organization prioritizes the health of their employees and their athletes. I’ve seen it in action.
We talk through ways to dial back my hours, starting with the extra tasks I’ve been taking on. He has a lot of great advice on sticking to this plan, and I listen when he warns me that it would be really easy to end up right back in the same spot if I’m not careful.
“You have to protect your time off. Diligently,” he says. “Whatever that looks like for you.”
I’m not sure what it looks like for me, but I want to find out. I want to leave some margin for time that isn’t structured or planned.
This makes me think of Finn, who is the undisputed king of unplanned time.
As his face appears in my mind, I realize something.
I miss him.
He’s been back for a few days, but I’ve been putting him off, purposely trying to maintain the distance I’m sure I need to quash this little crush I have.
But I can’t deny that all it’s done is make me miss him more.
After my meeting with Brian, I walk down to my office and, when I flip on the light, I see a “Welcome Back” banner hanging on the wall behind my desk.
Jill appears in the hallway behind me, Landyn and Hoff close behind.
“We’ve been waiting for you to get out of your meeting,” Jill says. “Are you feeling better?”
There was a time I would’ve hated this attention, but now I see it for what it is—kindness.
“I am, thank you.” I smile and hang my coat on a hook near the door, then walk to my desk. I look at the three of them, standing just past the threshold of my office, and I think about what Finn said about Landyn being terrified of me.
I smile and point to the banner. “Did you do this?”
“I did,” Landyn says. “If it’s not okay, I can take it down.”
“It’s really nice,” I say. “Thank you.”
“We also got donuts,” Jill says as Hoff steps forward with a box.
“We didn’t want to eat them till you were officially back,” Hoff says. “But—”
I can see he’s been counting the seconds before he can break open the box. “Don’t hold out on my account.” I clear a spot on my desk and motion for him to set the box down.
He does, then flips it open. “You pick first, Miss Hart.”
Normally, my internal alarm clock would be signaling for them to get out of here because I have things to do, but as I look at the assortment of pastries, I realize this is what I have to do right now, and it’s the most important thing.
I reach in, grab a long john, then sit, motioning for them to pull up chairs around my desk. “Tell me everything I’ve missed.”
After about a half an hour and a full debrief of all the important things that happened while I was away, the impromptu meeting breaks up, and they all stand to go. Hoff and Jill walk out as Landyn picks up the empty donut box, that timid look on her face.
“Has it gotten better for you this past month?” I ask.
She looks at me, wide-eyed, like she was just caught shoplifting. “Uh, yeah. I’m getting the hang of it, but it’s still a lot. I don’t want to let anyone down.”
I smile, trying to summon the warmth that doesn’t come easily to me. “I get that.”
She turns to go, but I stop her.
“Would you want to meet once a week, just to check in?” I ask. “See how we can take care of some of the overwhelm you’ve been feeling?”
“With you?” She stares at me, unblinking.
“Yes,” I say. “I’ve been at this a while, and I think I can help.”
“I’d love that,” she says. “I really want to do a good job.”
“I’ll ask Jill to set it up.”
“Thank you, Miss Hart.” She smiles, then walks out, leaving me sitting in the quiet, realizing that I can help her acclimate instead of dismissing her before I even give her a chance.
I think Finn would be proud.
I pull out my phone to text him when he shows up at my door. The second our eyes meet, I realize that space, distance, and time away from him did absolutely nothing to ease my crush.
I smile.
He smiles.
And two words pop into my head: Oh, crap.