Chapter 16
HAZEL
Placing the finishing touches on yet another Valentine’s Day box, I attach the delivery address with a sigh.
One of Bertie’s playlists—mostly Ella Fitzgerald—plays softly through the speakers in the large room.
My back is aching from standing on the cement floor for so long, but I’m sure we’re not even halfway done yet.
“How many boxes have we finished?”
Bertie looks up from the box she’s packing and grimaces. “We’ve finished twenty and we have one hundred to go.”
I nod, trying not to look as exhausted as I feel. We’ve been at this since ten this morning…so seven hours. If all our volunteers could have made it today, we would’ve been done already.
“I’m grabbing a Coke, you want one?” I need a caffeine boost.
“Yes, please!”
I smile and head toward the hallway that leads to the front lobby where the refrigerator is. Right when I’m in front of the appliance, the doorbell chimes. I glance at the front door and am stunned to see Penn looking through the glass at me.
He grins and waves as I cross the room and open the door.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
One corner of his mouth lifts into a boyish, lopsided grin. “I told you I’d be here at five.”
“I thought you were kidding!” He sent me a bunch of weird texts earlier about able-bodied friends, and I assumed either Fisher had his phone or he was making a dirty joke I didn’t understand.
“I was dead serious, actually. I heard you might need some assistance today, so I brought the team,” he says in a good-humored tone.
“What team?”
Penn leans back so I can see the line up of large hockey players waiting behind him.
My jaw drops as I take in what must be over twenty guys, including Fisher and Noah.
“Oh, wow. Are you guys seriously here to volunteer?” Moisture collects in the corners of my eyes, and I blink quickly to push the tears back.
Penn tilts his head, his gaze softening. “Yeah, we want to help.”
“Okay, come on in,” I say, moving to the side so all the guys can enter. They’re all huge, filling the small lobby so full it’s almost cartoonish.
I lead them to the back and Bertie’s eyes go wide when we enter the stockroom. “Uh, Bertie, it looks like we have help.”
She drops her hands from the box on the table in front of her and walks over to stand in front of the group. They tower over the short woman, but she beams up at them. “Well, what do we have here?”
Two of the men step forward, both of them just slightly older than the rest of them. “I’m Mitch Anderson, coach for the San Francisco Lions, and this is my assistant coach, Sebastian Slater.” The bearded man reaches out and shakes her hand “We’re here to help however we can.”
The blond assistant coach, Sebastian, shakes her hand as well. He’s all smiles. “Put us to work, ma’am.”
She chuckles. “Please, call me Bertie!”
The whole team goes around introducing themselves—so many names, I’ll never be able to remember—and they all seem ready and willing to help, shooting friendly smiles at me and Bertie like we’re actual human beings. A world away from Chadwick’s friends on his team, who mostly ignored me.
When everyone else has been introduced, Penn grins at Bertie.
“Saved the best for last—I’m Penn Matthews, Hazel’s boyfriend.” He shoots me a wink, and I close my eyes. I hadn’t planned on mentioning Penn to Bertie, because if anyone could sniff out our lie, it would be her.
Bertie’s eyebrows shoot up high. “Boyfriend?” She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes in my direction. “Is that right?”
“I’m surprised she hasn’t told you all about me.” Penn’s blue eyes twinkle wickedly. “Usually Hazel can’t shut up about how great I am.”
Fisher chuckles, Noah rolls his eyes, and Coach Anderson shoots Penn a pained look like he can’t decide if he should be amused or embarrassed by his player.
Meanwhile, I huff a laugh, my hands moving nervously to my hair to tighten the elastic holding my bun together. I realize there are two pencils stuck in there I’d forgotten about. “Oh, yeah. I meant to tell you, Bertie, but it’s umm…new.”
She stares at me like she’s looking straight through me, and I squirm under her perusal. Finally, she turns back to the coaches. “Let me show you what we’re doing.”
Bertie walks the group through the process of packing the boxes, showing them where everything is stored, including the stack of Valentine’s candy donated by local businesses.
Each man grabs a box and a family list and gets busy. Penn sidles up beside me at the table, his coaches across from him, and Noah and Fisher taking up the space next to Bertie.
“I love this music, Bertie,” Fisher says. “What artist is this?”
Bertie tuts. “The one and only Ella Fitzgerald, of course.”
“Sick. I’m adding Ella to Spotify when I get home.”
Bertie chuckles. “I didn’t understand a word of what you just said.”
Penn laughs softly beside me as Fisher and Bertie continue their conversation, Fisher turning up his charm and making the older lady cackle in delight.
“So,” I begin, keeping my voice low as I insert a pair of infant booties into my box and look up at my fake boyfriend. “How did you know we needed help?”
Penn rolls his full lips together, and my eyes track the movement, my body immediately remembering how it felt when he kissed me last night. “Well, Fisher and I ran into Chadwick at the supermarket this morning, and he mentioned it.”
I hum. “Ahh, sorry about that.”
“I was sorry to see him, too,” Penn deadpans. Then, after a moment, he asks, “Are you two…talking more lately?” His eyes flit away from mine as if he’s embarrassed by the question.
I stop what I’m doing and fully face him. “Penn, no. Not at all.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “It’s cool if you are; I was just curious.”
He’s so boyish and adorable right now, I have to resist the urge to yank his face to mine for another kiss.
“I avoid my ex at all costs. The plan hasn’t changed—I’m desperate to get rid of him from my apartment.
But he asked where I was going this morning, so I let him know I was working and would be back late. I didn’t want to get locked out again.”
He tilts his chin down in a nod, his shoulders relaxing. “Gotcha. So, why didn’t you ask me for help?”
I blow out a breath, turning back to my box. “Honestly? I thought about it. But Chadwick never wanted to, and I thought you might not either.”
Penn drops a package of donated chocolates into his box, then his hand comes up to gently hold my chin.
He tilts my face up so I’m looking at him.
“I’m not Chadwick, Hazel. I’m nothing like him.
Of course I want to help you. Not only because it’s a good cause, but because you’re my…
” he pauses, trailing off like he doesn’t know how to sum up what we are. “You’re my friend.”
The word friend gives me a stabby sort of pain in my rib cage. “Thank you for coming, and for bringing your team. You have no idea how much time this is saving us.”
“Hey, Matthews,” Coach Anderson grumps. “Quit flirting and get to work.”
Coach Slater—clearly the easygoing one—laughs. “Yeah, man, you were the one in a hurry to get over here. I guess now we know why.”
Penn doesn’t react, I’m not sure he even heard them. His piercing blue eyes bore into mine for what feels like forever before he slowly releases my chin, the pad of his thumb trailing across my skin in a way that has goosebumps prickling along my arms.
He finally turns and smiles at his coaches. “Sorry. It’s Hazel’s fault; she can’t get enough of me.”
I roll my eyes and everyone around the table laughs, our private moment long gone.
Bertie is watching me; a curious line etched in her forehead. I glance away quickly before she sees too much.
The playlist switches to “Cheek to Cheek,” and Fisher starts to dance and move his hips. “This is such a bop, Bertie,” he says.
To my surprise, Noah joins in with his antics and both of them sway to the music as they pack their boxes. Noah places two children’s sweaters into his box and Fisher finishes his with some red-heart tissue paper.
“That’s a damn beautiful box, if I do say so myself,” Fisher announces.
Noah shrugs. “You’re the one with an eye for art.”
The comment makes me wonder if Fisher is the one who collects all the gorgeous art in their loft. There are several huge paintings on the walls that look like they belong in a gallery.
Soon, everyone is starting on their second box, and at this rate, we’ll be finished before dinner. What a relief. I could go on packing boxes all night, but Bertie’s back and legs would get tired.
Penn piles his items on the table for his next box. I glance at his sheet and see the box he’s working on has nine-year-old twin boys. There’s a soccer ball and two pairs of tennis shoes in the pile of items he’s collected.
He smiles to himself as he works. “There was a charity in Calgary that did something similar for foster families,” he muses, his eyes far away like he’s living in the memory.
“Me and Cass looked forward to their deliveries every holiday. Especially when we weren’t in the…
best placements.” He clears his throat, glancing at me from the side.
“That must’ve been difficult,” I say.
“It wasn’t so bad.” He smiles, then drops his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “This one family we lived with had a huge collection of old DVDs, so I could watch American Pie anytime I wanted. Teenage Penn was pumped…do you know how many boobs are in that movie?”
I snort a laugh, but I can tell he’s deflecting with humor, and my heart aches for him.
“Well, whether it’s boobs or boxes, sometimes it only takes one person, or one family, to make a difference,” I reply, steering the conversation back to neutral, less personal ground so he’s not uncomfortable. I grab a pencil from my bun and check a few items on the list for the box I’m working on.
“You have no idea how true that is,” Penn says on a sigh. “I’m still in disbelief at the way my life has worked out. It could all have gone so differently if it weren’t for certain people coming into my life at the right time.”
I stop my work, placing a hand on his forearm. “I have no doubt that you would’ve found your way in life regardless.”
Penn looks up at me through his lashes. “You really think so?”
“Of course,” I answer without needing to think it over. “You’re hard working, you care about the people in your life, you’re kind. You’re a good man, Penn.”
He goes completely still in a way that makes me wonder if no one has ever said those words to him before.
Penn grew up without a home with a loving parent, moving from family to family, and while I’ll never understand how hard that must have been for him, I can somewhat empathize.
I grew up with a family who treated me like I’m a nuisance, and while I know my family must love me in their own way, they’ve never exactly been supportive.
I guess Penn and I have both made the best out of our circumstances without anyone cheering us on.
Without anyone telling us they’re proud of the people we are.
“Thank you.” Penn’s voice is scratchy with emotion. “That means a lot to me, Hazel.” He pauses. “Remember I told you my dad wasn’t the best guy?”
I nod.
Penn sighs. “Well, I was always afraid of becoming like him. So I’ve worked really hard not to be.”
“Mission accomplished.” I smile.
“Would you two get a pucking room already!” Fisher yells across the table.
Penn shakes his head, but he’s laughing.
“Seriously, Matthews,” Coach Anderson groans. “Get your ass busy. I plan on being home in time for dinner with my wife and girls. We’re having pot roast tonight.”
“Don’t get your panties in a twist; we’re making great time,” Penn tells him.
Coach Anderson glares at him. “Watch your mouth, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
Noah and Fisher snicker quietly at the reprimand, until the coach glares at them, too. “What are you two smirking about over there?”
“Nothing, Coach,” Fisher blurts as all three boys straighten and jump into action, busying themselves with work again.
I turn away to hide my own smile. Against all odds, today has turned out to be a good day. And instead of packing boxes late into the night, I’ll be home and hopefully doing absolutely nothing.