Chapter 5
FREYA
Iwalk into my parents’ house to see them both grinning at me.
“What?” I ask as Dad closes the front door and comes to stand beside Mom.
“He’s a keeper,” Mom gushes. “He just got out of the car and opened the door for you.”
I roll my eyes. “He was just being a gentleman. He probably does it for everyone.”
All four of their brows shoot up.
“Oh, stop,” I say as I spin toward the stairs.
“Are you coming back down? We want to hear everything,” Dad says.
“You sound like a stalker.”
“Well, it’s not every day my daughter spends the evening with Cole Hansley in his apartment.”
“As his chef,” I call back. “Don’t get excited. I’m not planning on having his babies.”
I shake my head the second the words leave me. At least I didn’t say that in front of him, unlike tonight’s many other foot-in-mouth moments.
The moment I’m in my room, I kick my shoes off and strip out of Mom’s dress. It’s…a nice dress, but it’s far from my style. It did the job this evening, though. Not that I really think Cole cared about what I wore. All he’s worried about is how I cook, not how I look.
When I check my cell, I predictably have messages in my group chat with Casey and Parker, but it’s my cousin Summer’s I open. After replying to let her know it all went well and that I officially have a new job, I head back downstairs.
I find Mom and Dad sitting at the dining table with steaming mugs of tea and excited, expectant expressions on their faces.
“I’ve already made you a tea,” Mom says, stopping me from distracting myself by making a drink.
“And we have your cookies,” Dad adds, pointing to the tin in the middle of the table.
With little choice but to join them, I pull a chair out and wrap my hands around the mug waiting for me.
“So…” Mom urges.
A smile pulls at my lips. “I start in the morning.”
“Oh, Freya,” she cries as she jumps from her seat and wraps her arms around my shoulders. “I knew you’d get it.”
I’m fairly certain I agreed to take the job in Casey’s kitchen the night of Parker’s surprise party, but I didn’t inform my parents about it.
I’m not sure they’d understand. Much like me, they’re both overthinkers.
They plan everything and consider all decisions from every angle.
My turning around and agreeing to take a job I have no qualifications or experience for, with very little thought but a gut feeling, would be alien to them.
Instead, I told them that I was going for an interview tonight to discuss the details. My stomach flutters as reality hits me.
I’m working for Cole Hansley.
I’m cooking for Cole Hansley.
Pressure pushes down on my shoulders.
Not only do I have to create delicious meals for him, but I also have to ensure they’re nutritionally balanced to meet his body’s needs.
He’s not an average person. He burns more calories every day than I can even imagine eating.
The range and amount of food his body requires to run well blows my mind.
“And what about when he’s on the road?” Dad asks.
“Then I’m free to do whatever until he returns.”
“It all sounds too good to be true,” Mom says hesitantly.
Usually, I’d agree with her. But this feels different.
“Are you sure you’re not rushing into anything?”
“Mom,” I breathe. “This isn’t like last time.
I’m not doing this for the man, or for the thrill of travelling the world.
I’m working here in LA, and I’m doing something I love.
Something that maybe I could turn into a career.
Yes, it does sound too good to be true, but the reality is that Cole is going to pay me well, I’m going to get experience, and I’m going to have time to study. ”
“And he’s okay with that?” Dad asks.
“Yes. As long as he has his meals, I’m free to do whatever else I want.”
Dad nods. “I know I don’t really know him. But I trust him.”
“You’d trust anyone who hits a puck for a living.” Mom scoffs.
“James has nothing but good things to say about him,” Dad argues. He’s been on a one-man mission to make James Watson, the LA Vipers head coach, his best friend since the day he discovered who our neighbor was. “At least it isn’t Rett,” Dad adds.
“That boy is trouble,” Mom mumbles.
I can’t argue with them. Rett Donnelly is in the media more than he’s out of it, and usually, it isn’t for his performance on the ice.
“This is going to be great,” I say, diverting the conversation back. “It’s exactly what I need to get my life back on track. He’s going to be paying me enough to hopefully get a place of my own and start moving forward again.”
“You know you’re welcome here as long as you like, love,” Mom says.
“I know.” And I do. I missed them as much as they did me while I was away.
It was bad enough when I decided to move to Las Vegas after finishing college to “find myself.” But instead of that, I found a man who promised to show me the world and to give me a life I could only previously have dreamed of.
He wasn’t lying. He did do both of those things. I just didn’t expect it to end almost as suddenly as it started and find myself back here with my parents giving me the “I told you so” eyes as I cried myself to sleep every night.
The past year has been hard. I’ve tried to do everything I can to get over it.
Hell, I’ve even tried outrunning it by spending last summer with my cousin in England.
But it turns out that a broken heart follows you everywhere you go.
So do the media stories and photos of the man who shattered it in the first place.
“I love spending time with you both, but I’m heading toward thirty.”
Dad scoffs, aware that I’m not that close.
But it’s close enough for me. I always thought I’d be settled with a family of my own by the time I turned thirty. But here I am, living in my parents’ house and sleeping in the same bed I had as a kid.
At least I have a job now. It’s more than I can say I’ve had for the past few years.
Things are starting to look up. Honestly, it’s about time. And if I can end the year in my own place, with a life that I carve out for myself here in LA, then all the better.
I don’t need a man to make me happy. Neither do I need the world. I need focus, challenge, and friends. Anything else is just a bonus.
“Whatever you need, we’re here for you,” Mom says, reaching over and squeezing my hand.
“I love you guys,” I say, a lump crawling up my throat.
Even after what I’ve put them through, their love and support are unwavering.
“We love you too, sugar lump,” Dad says, not helping with the emotions raging inside me.
“I’ve got to be up early in the morning, so I’m going to head to bed.”
They watch me as I take my mug and tuck my chair back under the table. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home, so plan for me not to be here.”
“Okay. Keep in touch. Let us know how it’s going,” Mom says.
“I’m just going to be cooking.”
“I know, but I still want to know what you’re doing. Maybe you could send us a sneaky peek or two of his apartment.”
“Mom,” I chastise.
“What? I bet it’s beautiful.”
“It’s something. And the kitchen is a dream.”
“Night, sweetie,” Mom says as I reach the door.
“We’re really proud of you, Freya,” Dad adds.
“Thank you,” I whisper, tears burning my eyes.
As I climb the stairs, I can’t keep the smile from growing across my lips. For the first time in what feels like forever, things seem to be looking up.
I grab my cell from my purse and climb into bed with my tea and open our girls’ group chat.
Casey: Good luck today. Let us know how you get on.
Parker: Good luck! You’re gonna kill it.
Casey: How’s it going?
Casey: Has Handsy taken you hostage and locked you up in his secret penthouse?
Parker: Sounds awful…
Casey: Certainly worse ways to live your life than at a hockey player’s mercy.
Casey: Seriously, though, is everything okay? It’s been hours.
Parker: Freya knows she’s only meant to be tending to his kitchen, right??
“Jesus.” I laugh as I get to the bottom of their messages.
Freya: Thank you for your concern, but I can assure you I haven’t been locked up like Rapunzel.
Parker: Damn, there was a moment there where I was hoping you had been. You know you’d be in for one hell of a fun time. The things I’ve heard about Handsy…
Freya: Don’t talk about my new boss like that…
The smile that tugs at my lips as I type that is something else. Happiness like I haven’t felt in such a long time surges through me, and a giggle erupts.
I forgot that life could feel like this. Full of hope and excitement for what’s to come.
Casey: Whoa, check you out, getting all possessive over your goalie.
Freya: Not possessive, I just don’t need to be thinking about him locking me up…
Parker: Oh, she so wants him to.
Excitement continues to flutter inside me as I think about what it might be like to be Rapunzel locked up in the goalie’s penthouse. Yeah, I could think of worse ways to live.
I shake my head. Thoughts like that are not helpful.
Freya: His kitchen, maybe. It’s incredible. His whole apartment was. And the view…
Parker: Damn, the guys are desperate to see his place.
I frown.
Freya: They haven’t been?
Parker: Nope. You’re the only one I know of who’s gotten inside the goalie’s lair.
I stare at the message, unable to believe the words. But then I think back to some of the things he said earlier. I was so nervous at the time, most of his words didn’t really register. But…
“Shit.”
In my purse sits a key fob that allows me entry into Cole Hansley’s life.
One that he doesn’t allow others into.
Why me?
I’m just a heartbroken girl who lives next door to his coach. What the hell has he seen in me that’s led me to be invited into his life? Into his home?
Casey: I bet there’s a lot more to Handsy than meets the eye. He only shows the guys what he wants them to see. Can’t lie, I’m curious as fuck to know what makes him tick.
My heart rate begins to pick up. Is that going to be me? Am I going to find out? Or is he going to be just as closed off with me as he is with everyone else in his life?
Freya: He’s probably just really boring and spends all his time at home watching documentaries.
As I type the words, they feel wrong. But I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t see anything today that leaves me suspicious about how Cole lives his life outside of the hockey limelight.
Parker: Maybe…
Casey: Or maybe not.
“Ugh,” I complain, annoyed that they’ve planted these curiosities in my head.
Freya: I’ve got an early start in the morning. And I’m yet to figure out what to make for breakfast. I’ll talk to you both tomorrow x
Parker: Night x
Casey: Sleep well x
Closing our chat, I pull up my favorite recipe site and begin scrolling through breakfast options. I might have already made a meal plan to work from, but I can’t stop myself from searching for more ideas.
I make a short list and then spend most of the night tossing and turning, continuously changing my mind about which one he’ll like the most and how to ensure I hit all his macros.
Honestly, each dish looks delicious, and I’m sure he’ll love each one. But I need to get it right. I need him to wake up and know he hasn’t made a mistake by hiring me on a whim.