Epilogue #3
“Well, there are these things called airplanes,” he mocks.
Lifting my hand, I smack his shoulder, but the second my hand connects, I freeze.
My eyes drop to what he’s wearing, and I swear my heart stops.
“Rett,” I breathe.
“This might surprise you, but I’m not actually the surprise. Not really.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, hoping that I’m not putting two and two together and coming up with eight.
“Look at your cell,” he demands, his eyes holding mine firm.
“Uh…okay.” I reach behind me and pull it from my pocket.
I hold Rett’s eyes a little longer before I wake it up and look down.
Since Linc announced our relationship to the world, I’ve turned off almost all my notifications.
My socials are too wild for that now, and mostly, I’d rather not know what’s being said on them.
But there are a few apps I still have alerts on for, and the one at the very top of my screen is the most important.
The NHL app.
And what’s the top story right now?
Everett Donnelly has been traded to the LA Vipers.
“Holy shit, Rett,” I gasp, my eyes flooding with tears as I read the words I didn’t think I’d ever get to.
My vision is blurry as I stare up at him.
“You’re coming home?”
“I’m coming home,” he agrees, his voice rough with emotion.
“Turn around,” I demand, desperate to see it.
He smiles and ducks his head before he spins.
And there, right before my eyes, is my big brother’s childhood dream stretched across his wide shoulders.
Donnelly. Seventy-Seven.
Well, I guess it’s true what they say. Dreams really do come true.
Freya
The sound of laughter fills the air as I move around Casey’s kitchen a couple of hours later.
The party has been incredible, and Parker has loved every second of it, but my social battery is depleted.
There was a time not so long ago when every single day of my life was spent surrounded by other people.
It never used to bother me too much back then, but I think that was more so because I didn’t have a choice.
Now that I’m home and everything has changed all over again, I’m finding myself enjoying my own company in a way I was never able to before. I craved the excitement the buzz, but now…now I want to disappear and hide in any way I can.
After transferring all the leftover food onto a handful of plates, I stack the others and place them beside the sink.
I’m busy washing them all when footsteps move my way.
I don’t bother looking back—it’ll just be one of the guys popping in for round four or five.
I swear, those guys never stop eating. I expect whoever it is to load up another serving and then disappear back outside to join the others.
So when a deep voice rips through the air, I startle and nearly drop the plate.
“You know they have a dishwasher, right?”
Oh god. It’s him.
My stomach knots and my mouth runs dry.
Cole Handley. Or Handsy, to everyone here. The infamous goalie for the LA Vipers.
Also, the man I spent Valentine’s night with on an unofficial date.
My hands tremble, and I keep my eyes focused on them.
If I turn around, I have no doubt that I’ll make an idiot of myself.
Of course I knew who he was before the Valentine’s gala. I’ve been to games and watched him play. Hell, Dad talks about him all the time—him and all the guys. I even saw him in a pair of swim shorts at Coach Watson’s house last year. But I didn’t ever really think twice about him…until that night.
I was terrified.
I’d pulled on my very best dress and tried to channel my old self, but it wasn’t really working. The new me was having a field day, questioning my every move and constantly telling me that I didn’t belong there.
But Cole…he was the most perfect date. For a man with a notorious reputation, he was incredibly sweet and patient with me.
Despite having me thrust upon him by our friends, he made me feel genuinely wanted.
He also made me feel beautiful, which is saying something, because I can be the first to admit that my self-confidence is at an all-time low right now.
“Oh, I don’t mind. I like being busy,” I mutter nervously in the hope it’ll send him away.
But it seems my words have the opposite effect, because not two seconds later, he steps up beside me.
His scent floods my nose, and I’m instantly taken back to dancing with him that night. For such a huge guy, he really can move. But then…I’ve seen his warm-ups. I know what those hips can do.
My cheeks burn red hot at my inappropriate thoughts.
“What are you doing?” I balk when he snatches a tea towel and picks up one of the dripping plates.
“Helping. You shouldn’t be in here slaving away all night. You’ve already worked hard enough. The food was incredible.”
I duck my head, unable to take the compliment.
“Thank you,” I whisper like a little mouse.
“I mean it; those dishes are the best homemade food I have eaten in a very long time.”
I squirm again. It’s something I’m really going to need to work on if I want to make cooking my career.
I have all the information at home. I’ve even filled out the applications to go back to school. I just…I’m yet to pull the trigger.
“I’m glad you enjoyed it. I love coo—”
“Are you looking for a job?” he blurts, cutting me off.
“I-I’m sorry?” I ask, wondering if I misheard him.
“Freya.” His deep, raspy voice flows around me, making my skin prickle and my blood heat.
I haven’t reacted to a man like this in such a long time. It takes me back a little. But the way he says my name…
“Casey and Parker may have mentioned that you’re at a bit of a crossroads right now, and if you’re looking for a job, I think I might have something for you.”
My head spins with possibilities.
“Go on,” I find myself saying, my curiosity getting the better of me. I still don’t look up at him, though. It’s easier if I pretend that he’s not really there or talking to me.
“I need a chef. I’m looking for—”
“Oh, no. I’m not a chef. I’m not even trained. I don’t know what I’m doing, really. I just—” A gasp of shock cuts off my words as he wraps his fingers around my wrist and turns me to look at him.
“Your food is incredible, Freya. And more than that…I…uh…I trust you.”
I stare up at him as his words repeat in my head. There’s a small frown pulling at his brows as if he’s as shocked by them as I am. But he doesn’t take them back.
“Y-you think I could—”
“I don’t think, Freya. I know.”
His confidence in me throws me for a loop. I haven’t experienced that level of confidence or trust in…a very, very long time. And he doesn’t even know me, not really.
“I promise you, if you cook like you have tonight, I’ll be a breeze to work for. I’ll pay you well, and you’re only required to work when I’m in town. When I’m away on road games, your time is your own. It’ll allow you to study,” he offers, clearly having done some digging with my friends.
“I…um…I don’t know what to say.”
Reaching behind him, he pulls a piece of paper from his back pocket and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I ask, staring down at it as if it’s about to bite me.
“An offer,” he states, moving it closer, encouraging me to take it.
Hesitantly, I reach for it. The second I open it and stare down at the figure scrawled across it, I start laughing.
This has to be a joke.
Why would anyone in their right mind want to pay me this kind of money to cook for them?
“Shit,” Cole curses. “Is that too low?”
He snatches it back, and before I can say anything, he’s scribbled the figure out and doubled it.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek. “That’s insane. I’m not worth that.”
He stills, his eyes meeting mine. Something happens in that moment of eye contact, but I’m too lost in everything that’s just transpired to try to figure it out right now.
“You’re worth every single cent and more, Freya. Say yes,” he begs, before tagging on a single word that stops me from walking away from this crazy offer. “Please.”