Chapter 10
HAILEE
“I’m baaaaack,” Brooke announces as she bounces into the meeting room with a killer tan.
I guess that’s what you get from two weeks in Mexico.
“Did you miss me, bitches?”
“Like a hole in the head,” Jude, our Digital Marketing Manager, snarks.
Unfazed, Brooke rolls her eyes before handing out the tray of takeout coffees in her hand. “If my presence doesn’t do it, then this should cheer you up. Extra shot in both. You’re very welcome.”
“Jesus, how much dick did you get in Mexico to be this chipper?” Jude quips.
“Well,” Brooke says as she drops into a chair, throwing her sun-kissed blonde hair over a tanned shoulder. “Now that you mention it, Mexico has some fiiiine specimens. I really recommend it.”
Jude thinks for a moment. “Is that right? Maybe I need to add it to my list.”
“You absolutely need to add it to your list. So, what did I miss? Other than the wedding of the year.”
Both of them turn their attention to me, seeing as I’m the only one around the table who attended.
“It was good.”
They both blink and lean forward.
“Good?” Jude repeats.
“Lincoln Storm married his best friend’s little sister. His athletic trainer. The love of his life, and it was…good?”
I roll my eyes. “If you cared about it so much, maybe you both should have cancelled your plans and attended.”
“Or they could have given us a little more notice,” Jude deadpans.
“Love waits for no man,” Brooke teases.
“If that’s the case, where the fuck is my man?” Jude announces. “I’m waiting.”
“Maybe that’s the problem. Stop waiting. Get out there and sow your oats,” Brooke encourages.
He shakes his head at her.
“The photos looked incredible,” he says, avoiding commenting on her previous statement.
“It was a fantastic day. They both looked so happy and—”
“Do not forget the other epic event. Rett and Bea. Holy hell. I did not see that coming at the end of the season.”
“Yep, that too. So, can we get to it before the others join?” I ask, attempting to get to work.
“Where’s Katie?” Jude asks, referencing my senior manager who should also be here with us.
“Has problems with her childcare. She’ll be here as soon as she can.”
“Right. Let’s get down to it then,” he says, rubbing his hands together, eager to embark on a brand-new season.
Our media day is next week, and we’ve been working on plans for it all summer. Today, we’re nailing down the final details with everyone before sending out schedules to the guys.
“Right, yes. Media day. How freaking fast has this come around? I’m not sure I’m ready to press play on the Vipers machine again.”
“Buckle up, Brooke. It’s about to go from zero to sixty,” Jude comments. “I’m so ready to have the guys back. I’ve missed those assholes.” He laughs.
My stomach knots. As much as I’m ready to dive back into the thick of it, I can’t deny that I’m nervous.
I haven’t heard from Hayden since he dropped me off at home three days ago.
While there’s a big part of me that’s relieved he didn’t turn up that night as he threatened, I can’t deny that I’m not a little disappointed. And that’s a huge fucking issue.
I enjoyed hanging out with him a little too much at the wedding, and now I keep finding myself thinking about him.
Wondering how he’s doing, if he’s managing to get some rest, if he’s finding a way to prepare for the season.
Mostly, I’m just worrying about him. If he hasn’t told the guys yet, is he dealing with everything on his own?
Are Rett and Bea checking in on him, or should I?
So yeah, I’m excited to get the show on the road, but I’m terrified of looking Hayden in the eyes and discovering that he’s been drowning with no one there to keep him afloat.
Our day is full-on, but by the time everyone leaves, I’m confident we have everything nailed down and that the day will run smoothly, allowing us to get all the information and footage we need to ensure media day is a success.
When I step back into my office, I’ve got a headache, a gentle pounding at my temples, and a to-do list as long as my arm.
I drop into my chair with a sigh and close my eyes for a moment.
My head spins with everything we discussed today, but I love it. I’m at my best when I’m busy; I thrive on the pressure and the pace.
A knock sounds at my door, and before I can call out, Maisie, my new assistant, invites herself in.
I grit my teeth and hold her eyes.
“Is there anything I can do for you before I leave for the night?” she asks politely.
Honestly, she’s one of the better assistants I’ve had in my time here, but she’s a little too needy for my liking. I don’t have time to hold anyone’s hand; I’ve got enough hockey players to take care of. I don’t need to babysit my assistant as well.
“I’ve emailed you a list to work on over the coming week,” I state.
“Right, okay. I’ll check that then.”
“That would be wise.”
She looks like she wants to say more, but she clearly changes her mind before slinking back out of my office.
Once she’s gone, I find some painkillers in my desk, swallow them down with an entire bottle of water, and then turn on my computer.
It’s dark by the time I walk out of the arena, and thankfully, my Uber is waiting for me.
I slip into the back and shut down the driver’s attempt at small talk immediately.
He’s a Vipers fan, or at least, the air freshener with the logo sure suggests he is, but I don’t have the energy to indulge him in my predictions for the upcoming season.
We ride in silence. It’s fucking bliss.
The second I’m inside my apartment, I kick off my heels before carrying them through to my closet to put away.
I strip out of my clothes and walk into the bathroom naked, past the suitcase I still haven’t unpacked since the wedding.
After twisting my curls into a bun and covering them with a shower cap, I step into the shower and let the water wash away some of the day's tension.
I stay there way longer than necessary, but eventually, I turn the dial off and slip out, wrapping myself in a huge fluffy towel.
By the time I make it to the living area and pull my cell from my purse, I have a whole stream of notifications waiting for me.
But there’s one that captures my attention.
Beatrice: Hey, how are you? I hope things aren’t too crazy with work. If you have time, I could really use your help with something.
Guilt twists up my insides over all the excuses I’ve made not to hang out with her in the past. The truth is, I’m scared.
She’s connected to my past. And I really don’t want to go back there.
I’m aware that she walked away too, so she probably wants to talk about her previous life as much as I do. But the fear still holds me back.
Curiosity has me opening the message, and I find myself replying.
Hailee: Hey, things are beginning to get crazy. I live for it, though. What do you need?
Beatrice: Are you free tomorrow after work? We could grab dinner.
“Shit,” I hiss. She’s just trying to be nice, friendly. At some point, she’ll give up and leave me alone. Honestly, I’m amazed she hasn’t already.
My instincts tell me to shut her down again, but there’s this little niggling voice in the back of my head that begs me to be brave, to embrace the branch she keeps extending and see what it might be like to have a friend. A real friend.
My heart beats a little harder. I can’t remember what it’s like to have a real friend. Not a colleague who has no choice but to spend time with you, or people who have an ulterior motive. But an actual friend who accepts you for who you are and everything you’ve experienced.
Hailee: I should be able to finish about five tomorrow, if that works for you.
My hand trembles as I watch the message get delivered and then read. Bea starts typing instantly.
Calm the fuck down, Hailee.
Beatrice: That’s perfect. Shall I pick you up?
Her question throws me for a loop. It’s no secret that I don’t drive.
Everyone has caught me getting in and out of Ubers too often to hide that fact.
But this is Bea. Does she know more than everyone else?
It sure wouldn’t be hard for her to do a bit of digging.
But…for some reason, I don’t think she has.
She got to know Rett without being swayed by the media and the bullshit stories—and more than a few true ones—that circle the internet. Maybe she’s doing the same with me.
Hailee: Sounds great. See you then.
I read and reread that message after tapping send, and I hate how formal it sounds. She’s reaching out—again—to connect with me, and I can’t reply like a normal person talking to a friend.
Hailee: Looking forward to it.
I groan, slamming my cell down on my kitchen counter.
“You’re pathetic,” I mutter as I march toward the fridge to see if I have any food.
“Hey,” Bea says, lifting her sunglasses as I walk closer to her where she’s resting against the side of her car.
“Hi, you look incredible,” I say, taking in her floral maxi dress and growing bump.
She rubs her hand over it. “I’m really pregnant these days, huh?”
“You’re glowing.”
Her smile grows. “I feel good. A few weeks ago, I never thought I’d say that, but I really do.”
“That’s great,” I say, feeling awkward as hell as I climb into her car. “Where are we going for food?” I ask, figuring she’ll have a plan.
“You good with tacos?”
“Is that a serious question?” I deadpan.
“Well, you never know. There’s got to be someone out there who doesn’t like them.”
“They’re not sitting in this car.”
“Fantastic. I’ve got the perfect place.”
Bea chats away about her pregnancy, work, and what Rett has been up to—all of which, thankfully, doesn’t require any intervention from me.
I lose myself in her tales, and when she turns the conversation onto me and work, I find myself talking easily about our plans for the upcoming weeks.
Bea only attended her first hockey game during the playoffs last year, so she eats up everything I tell her about how it all works.
Before I know it, we’re pulling up to a Mexican restaurant I’ve never been to before. “This place is cute.”
“Right. It was the first place Rett brought me.”
“I still find it hard to get my head around the fact he’s capable of dating and being romantic.”
“There’s a lot more to him than he lets you see. But then, I guess that’s true of most of us.”
My breath catches, but when I glance over, she’s smiling, and her shoulders are relaxed.
Get a grip, Hailee. She isn’t here to interrogate you.
“Yes, I guess,” I mutter as I push the door open and step out into the LA heat.
After chatting to the host as if they’ve known each other all their lives, we’re shown to a booth at the back of the restaurant, and Bea orders a pitcher of virgin margaritas.
“Shit, I’m sorry. Did you want a real one?” she asks in a panic when the server walks away.
“No, it’s fine.” It’s probably better that I keep a clear head. “So, you said you needed help with something? What?” I ask when she chuckles.
“Are you always this down to business?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’m just…me, I guess.”
My back straightens when she narrows her eyes.
“What?” I ask, terrified she’s about to dive into the past.
“Nothing. I was wondering if you’d go dress shopping with me.”
I frown, really not expecting that.
“Dress shopping?”
“Yeah. Rett was telling me about the masquerade ball in a few weeks, and…I don’t have anything, so I wondered…”
“If I’d go shopping with you,” I finish for her.
“Yeah,” she agrees.
“Why?” I hate being so skeptical, but it comes naturally after being screwed over so many times.
“Why not?”
“You could go with Sienna, or Casey, or Freya, or—”
“You?”
“Hmm.”
“Hailee…I know you’ve been avoiding this…me, but—”
“I haven’t. I’ve been busy.”
Bea quirks a brow.
“Our pasts don’t define us, Hailee. We’ve all been through things.
I just suspect that we may have some similar experiences.
We don’t need to talk about them. We don’t have to address anything about the past. But as far as I can see, out futures are intertwined now, and… well, I think we could be friends.”
“Friends.” I don’t mean to say that word out loud, but I do.
“Yeah. So, what do you say. Tacos and dress shopping?”
My eyes widen in horror. “We can’t dress shop after tacos. My food baby will probably rival your real one.”
Bea laughs, and it feels good. Really good.
“No, that’s a disaster waiting to happen. Sunday morning after a light breakfast?”
I smile at her across the table. “That sounds…perfect.”