Chapter 17
HAZEL
With the Lions team volunteering their help, I’m home and showered by seven. Eating cheese and crackers at seven-thirty and finishing my writing for the night at nine…and to think earlier today, I was dreading staying up all night to finish everything I needed to do.
All thanks to Penn.
I ease onto the cushions on the sofa, resting my sore feet on the ottoman and situating a small pillow behind my aching back.
After standing on that cement floor for two days in a row and lifting the boxes, my whole body is sore.
I’m in my nightgown with my comfortable slippers on, sipping a glass of red wine and feeling happy that I don’t have to get up off this couch for several hours.
Chadwick went to Sacramento overnight for a last-minute meeting scheduled with his team, so I’m soaking up having the place to myself—and it’s a relief he won’t be here tomorrow morning trying to woo me with more roses and asking me to be his Valentine.
I’m tired of staying cooped up in my room, so I’m trying my darndest to ignore the mess of dirty dishes he left in the sink and his sweaty socks strewn across the floor.
I glance to my left and find Fluffy staring at me from her new home on the end table in the living room. Her terrarium takes up the whole table.
“Hey, girl. How’s it going?” I ask, too exhausted to care that I’m talking to a tarantula.
Her eight furry legs twitch as she moves to the side, still watching me.
A knock comes from my door, and I release a dry sob. “No,” I whine. “I don’t want to get up. You get the door, Fluffy.”
To my dismay, she doesn’t respond, and I ease my aching body off the couch with a groan, dragging my slippered feet across the floor to answer the door.
Penn stands there with one arm resting against the top of the door frame. His dark hair is damp like he just showered and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, a matching hoodie, and bright green Crocs.
The first thought that pops into my head is how the hell does he look sexy wearing Crocs?
“Hey, Bubbles,” he says with his signature smirk.
“Penn, I didn’t expect you to come over tonight…”
“I brought treats.” He holds up a bag from a local Italian place that has incredible tiramisu and my heart melts a little—first the volunteering, and now my favorite dessert?
I’m no expert, but so far it seems like having a fake boyfriend is a million times better than having a real one ever was.
“Couldn’t leave tomorrow morning on the most commercialized romantic day of the year without at least bringing you dessert first.”
“Come in,” I say, since he’s the holder of sweets, then stomp back to the sofa and sink into the cushions. “Bring me a fork. First drawer on the right,” I order, trying to cover up how touched I am that he brought me my favorite dessert tonight knowing he’d be gone tomorrow on Valentine’s.
“So bossy,” he teases, striding into the kitchen for two forks before joining me on the couch.
The cushion sinks with his weight, causing me to lean into him.
He smells really nice, like amber and leather and warm skin.
His body heat is like a heating pad on my sore muscles, so I don’t budge, instead I stay put with my side smashed against his.
We’re friends now—he said so himself—and friends use each other as human heating pads all the time, right?
Penn pulls the tiramisu out of the bag and hands me a fork, holding the container up so I can scoop up a bite. The sweet treat melts against my tongue, and I hum in satisfaction.
He chuckles then shoves a bite into his mouth. “Mmm, that is good.” He’s smiling and chewing before his gaze lands on something to my side and he goes still, swallowing slowly as his eyes widen. “What the hell is that?”
I look over my shoulder and shrug. “That’s Fluffy.”
“Fluffy?” He squeaks out her name, his deep voice going up a whole octave. “Did you mean to say Satan?”
“Leave the poor girl alone. She can’t help being born a tarantula,” I defend her with a sigh. “The beauty standards in this country are ridiculous.”
“My only beauty standard is: not being a spider.” He wrinkles his nose, unable to look away from her, nor keep the disgust out of his voice as he asks, “Is she…yours?”
“No, I pet-sit as well as house-sit.”
“You think of that thing as a pet?”
I’m laughing now, about to tease him for being more of a wuss about the spider than I am, when my phone buzzes from where it rests on the arm of the sofa and I see it’s my mother calling again. This is the third time today.
“I better get that, sorry.”
Penn finally forces his gaze away from Fluffy. “No worries.”
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I answer, holding the phone to my ear.
“What’s up?” Mom demands, she sounds mad. “Hazel, I’ve tried to stay out of your life while you pursue a career where you’ll make no money. But I can’t stand by while you break Chadwick’s heart.”
“Um, what?”
She sighs, sounding exasperated. “Your father and I were watching the news and were about to turn it off when the sports man came on, but then, to our horror…a video pops up of you debauching yourself with some…” She stutters like she’s thinking of the right word. “Some tattooed piece of garbage.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, realization hitting me that my parents saw the clip of Penn kissing me after the game. I never told them that Chadwick and I broke up—I kept putting off having that conversation because I didn’t want to deal with Mom’s hysterics.
“How could you betray your boyfriend like that, Haze?” Mom’s voice breaks like she’s choking back tears.
Opening my eyes, I shoot a sideways glance at Penn, who’s watching me curiously, his face carefully neutral.
“Well, Mom, first of all…that man’s name is Penn Matthews.
He’s a professional hockey player. And I’m sorry I haven’t told you yet, but I broke up with Chadwick a few weeks ago when I found out he was cheating on me. ”
My mother gasps. “Oh, honey. I’m sorry to hear that.” She pauses for a moment. “Are you sure he cheated, though? That doesn’t sound like him.”
I sigh. “Yes, Mom, I’m very sure.”
She tuts. “Whatever did or didn’t happen, did you consider that perhaps he didn’t mean it? He’s such a nice young man.”
My spine straightens in irritation. “So, because you think he didn’t mean it, I’m supposed to turn a blind eye?”
“Sweetheart, his father is in parliament in Canada. The Weatherbys are a well-to-do family, and we’ve known them for ages.
If you two break up, things are going to feel awkward when we vacation with his parents in Turks and Caicos this summer.
” She sighs, collecting herself. “Please stop embarrassing yourself with random men and make things right with Chadwick. He loves you, and I can see you two getting married someday. And his family has enough money to support you while you do your little social work hobby...since you refuse to come work for your father’s company where you’d receive a six-figure starting salary. ”
“Social work isn’t a hobby; it’s a career where I can have an impact, Mom.
” Before I know what I’m doing, I stand up, my anger roiling through me.
“I don’t want to be with, or marry, anyone who would cheat on me and disrespect me.
No matter how well-to-do their family is.
” I take a breath, my temper still propelling my words. “Not everything is about money.”
My mother responds to my rant with another heavy sigh. “Hazel, I can't speak to you when you’re like this. Once you’ve calmed down and are finished being dramatic, we’ll talk.”
The line goes silent, and I realize she’s hung up on me. My mouth drops open at her audacity. “I’m being dramatic?”
Penn stands and wraps me in a hug, and I’m thankful for the grounding contact. I let my body slump against him as he holds me. “How much of that did you hear?” I ask, my voice muffled against his soft hoodie.
“Enough to know that I hate your mom.”
An unexpected laugh bubbles out of my mouth. Penn hugs me tighter. “Does she always talk to you like that?”
I nod against his chest, and he smooths a hand up and down my back. “I think it’s amazing you want to be a social worker. There are families and children who need people like you.” He pulls back enough to look at me. “I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I tell him as tears fill my eyes, and I sniff.
He looks down at me, his gorgeous blue eyes are soft and sweet.
Something in his gaze makes me think he might kiss me again, and I’m so tired—physically and emotionally—I would let him.
More than let him, actually. I’d welcome it; the opportunity to get lost in him again and forget everything else for a while.
But we need boundaries or things will continue getting hazy.
I’m already more attracted to him than I should be, and I like him as a person way more than I ever imagined I would.
It would be stupid to catch feelings—Penn is freshly out of college, in his rookie year of the NHL and living the high life, and I’m a twenty-six year-old grad student with no social life.
It would never work long term, so it’s not even worth going there in my mind.
I want us to still be friends at the end of this, and I can’t risk being left with my heart broken…
again. Right now, no one is around, so I can’t justify leaning in and allowing him to kiss me.
I release my arms from his waist and take a step back. A brief look of disappointment crosses his face, so quickly I wonder if I imagined it. “Did you save me any tiramisu?” I ask, keeping my voice as upbeat and casual as possible.
He smirks. “Would you stab me with your fork if I told you I ate it all?”
I smile back, glad we’re back to normal after he almost kissed me again…or maybe I’m just reading into things.