Chapter 3
Bianca
I knew moving back to Colorado was going to have its challenges, but one I hadn’t been prepared for was having to sleep on the couch in my father’s home office for the past four weeks.
I was exhausted, and I was counting down the days until my condo was ready so I could have a good nights sleep.
I’d be in my very own unit in a week, I thought to myself as I closed my car door and made my way into the Lair.
Today was my first official day on the job with the team and, of course, of all days, I was running late. As I made my way to my office, coffee in one hand, my phone buzzed in the other.
DAD: My office, ten minutes.
I rolled my eyes as I set my coffee on my desk and began typing.
BIANCA: It will have to wait. I have a meeting with Storm Cromwell in ten minutes.
DAD: That meeting can wait; this is more important.
I shoved my phone into my pocket, dropped my things at my desk, and took off toward the elevator.
I knocked twice and waited.
“Come in.”
I shoved the door open to see my father sitting behind his desk, his glasses perched on the end of his nose as he scowled at his monitor, probably looking at stats. He didn’t even look up; he just gestured to the chair across from him. I was halfway across his office when he looked up.
“Close the door,” he barked.
My stomach did a flip. Closed-door conversations were never good; I’d learned that when I was a little girl. I closed the door and then made my way toward the chair and sat down, spine straight, hands in my lap.
My father continued studying his monitor for a few more moments, then removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, and when he finally looked at me, he had what I referred to as his work face on.
His expression was neutral and focused, and I knew he only ever used that face when he had to deliver bad news.
“Your condo isn’t ready.”
I blinked as disappointment crept up my spine. “What? What do you mean? I was supposed to move in on Friday. That’s two days from now.”
“The pipes burst, flooding three units, including yours.”
My father began typing on his keyboard, then spun the monitor around for me to see.
I skimmed the email that the property management team sent, which confirmed extensive water damage.
They cited repairs would be needed and indicated that the earliest move-in date was now looking like April or at the latest May, no sooner.
My stomach dropped. Eight, maybe nine months? My mind spun. I was going to need housing. There was no way I was staying in my father’s tiny office on that couch for another six months. Four weeks had been long enough.
“There are hotels. Extended stay places. I will figure it out,” I said immediately.
“On a trainer’s salary?” my father said, looking at me. “You will burn through all of your savings in a month.”
“Then I will find a short-term sublet. I will post on the team message board and—”
“No,” he said firmly.
My father leaned back in his chair, and I could see that right now he wasn’t my boss but my father. He was the man who’d taught me to skate before I could ride a bike, and who had iced all my bruises and fixed my broken heart as I grew up.
“Dad…” I whispered.
“Bianca, people are already talking. Saying the team only hired you because you are my daughter. Don’t think I don’t hear the rumors.”
I’d expected this, and I’d prepared myself for it.
People loved to talk, but I had the credentials behind me.
I was a licensed athletic trainer. I not only had professional experience but I also had more schooling behind me than many people.
People could talk, but I knew that I’d earned my position.
“What are you saying? That I can’t use the team message board?”
“Yes.”
“Why? Because it would look like I can’t handle a basic adult problem?”
“Like you’re vulnerable.”
His protectiveness leaked through. I could see it in the way he held himself, the way his hands formed fists on his desk.
“Do you think I don’t know what happens when a young woman asks for housing in a professional sports environment? The assumptions people make? The—”
“Dad, I can handle this myself.”
“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. Not when I already have a solution that will work.”
I felt my stomach give one last heave, my morning bagel that I ate on the way here threatening to make a reappearance.
“What solution?”
My father looked at me.
“Evan Callahan has a two-bedroom condo. He lives alone.”
I sat there, unable to speak.
Evan Callahan was the team’s right defenseman. His contract was worth more than I’d make in a decade. He was also one of the few players on the team who’d barely acknowledged my existence beyond a professional nod.
“No way.”
“It’s temporary.”
“It’s insane,” I said, leaning forward. “If you’re worried about people and their assumptions because I post about finding a living arrangement on a bulletin board, what do you think this will look like?
The coach’s daughter moving in with one of the star players?
Jesus, Dad, do you have any idea at all how that will look—”
“Look. I am ensuring that my staff has safe, appropriate housing during an emergency.” My father’s voice hardened into the tone that made most players stiffen. “Callahan has the space. He is responsible, doesn’t party, and keeps to himself. It’s a practical solution.”
“Please, it’s nepotism and favoritism wrapped in a bow.”
“It’s a spare bedroom, Bianca, not a gift basket.”
My father stood, moving over to the window that looked over the practice rink. I could see the weariness he hid from everyone else in his reflection.
“Do you think I want this? You think I want my daughter staying with one of my players?”
I got up out of my chair and began pacing back and forth. There had to be another way. Anything would be better than that.
“Every extended-stay hotel within a reasonable distance is fully booked. I have already checked. Your options are making a forty-five minute commute each way or accepting this arrangement. If my place were bigger, and you had a proper bedroom, you could just stay with me.”
I sat back down, anger flooding me. I wanted to argue with him, to push back and to find another solution, but when he turned around, I could see it in his eyes.
He was telling me the truth; he’d already exhausted the alternatives.
My father wasn’t impulsive, and I knew if this were the solution he’d arrived at, he’d already eliminated all other options.
“Does Evan know?” I questioned.
“I’ll be telling him after practice.”
“What if he says no?”
I watched as a hint of a smile flickered across my father’s face.
“He won’t.”
I stood, needing to move and to think. This was a disaster, and living with Evan Callahan meant people would scrutinize every interaction. I was going to be in close, constant proximity with someone I needed to always treat professionally and maintain boundaries with.
“I will try to push the property management company to have the repairs completed in six months, Bianca, but at most, it will only be nine months. That’s all.
You stay out of his way, he stays out of yours, which should be easy considering the team’s travel schedule.
Separate spaces, separate schedules. Think of it as having a roommate that you hardly ever see. ”
“Roommates don’t have forty thousand people watching their every move, Dad.”
“If that is what you are worried about then don’t give them anything to watch. You’re professional, Callahan is professional. This is nothing more than a short-term housing arrangement, and anyone who wants to make it into something else is going to be disappointed.”
I looked at my father, knowing that arguing was pointless because he had already decided.
“When?” I asked, my hand on the door.
“This weekend. Friday. You’ll bring your bags with you.”
“I won’t have a car. The rental has to go back, and my new car won’t be ready until Sunday.”
“That’s fine. We will take it back Thursday night, and you’ll come to work with me on Friday morning. We can leave your things inside the storage area downstairs.”
I nodded. I had nothing more to say. I turned toward the door and opened it.
“Bianca.”
I paused and then turned and looked at my father over my shoulder in time to see his expression soften a little.
“This situation is only temporary. You will get a place of your own soon, and you will forget about this. One day, we will look back and laugh at this bump in the road.”