Chapter 7
FREYA
Istare at Cole with wide, horrified eyes. My heart thunders against my ribs as regret swirls within me.
“No, I’ve never said that to a player in my life. Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever said it to a man. Ever,” I ramble.
“I was teasing, Freya. Something tells me that hockey players aren’t your type.”
I frown. “Why?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “You’re too sweet. The guys I play with are assholes.”
“Not all of them,” I argue as if I know them. I may have spent a little bit of time with a handful of them, but we’re far from friends.
“Oh?” he asks.
“Kodie isn’t,” I explain, knowing him through Casey. “And Linc seems okay. And what about your rookie? He’s too cute to be mean.”
“You think Monroe is cute?” Cole balks.
“In a boy-next-door kinda way. He’s not my type either. He’s too young. And cute. And…I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
He smiles at me as I bring my rambling to a close.
“So you’re into not-so-young, not-so-cute guys?” he asks.
“I…” I shake my head. “I’m into guys who don’t want to take my heart and stomp on it until it’s barely beating.”
Shut up, Freya.
“And that is why hockey players aren’t your type,” he reasons. “Being with a professional athlete is hard. There’s too much temptation.”
“You mean you have girls throwing themselves at you everywhere you go?” I ask.
“Sometimes literally.”
I nod in understanding. It’s not only athletes who have to deal with rabid fans. I remember all too well how eager the girls used to be, and I’m more than aware that they helped feed into my lack of self-confidence over the past few years.
“Yeah, I think I need something a little quieter and calmer than that.”
“It’s not as glamorous as people make out. And despite what everyone thinks, we don’t all have hookups in every city we visit.”
“You have every right to do so. The travelling can be brutal; it must be nice to see a familiar face outside of the team and staff.”
He remains quiet for a moment, contemplating my words.
“Honestly, I prefer coming home to peace and quiet.”
“And no one?” I don’t mean to say the words, and the second they leave my lips, I wish I could suck them back in.
“I like my own company. I don’t come with a lot of drama.”
“Sounds perfect,” I muse, keeping the addition of “lonely” to myself.
As battered and bruised as my heart might be, I’d still like to think there is a second chance out there for me somewhere. I may or may not want marriage and babies, but I’d like someone to share my life with. Someone to experience new things with. Someone to laugh with.
“I should probably get moving. Coach will rip me a new one if I’m late.”
I nod and watch as he disappears down the hallway toward where his bedroom must be.
He hasn’t given me the tour, and that’s enough to tell me that what I’ve seen is all I’m going to see. That’s fine. I have no intention of infiltrating his life any more than I already am.
I tidy up while he’s getting ready for work, and by the time he appears in his Vipers athletic gear with a duffle over his shoulder, ready for practice, the kitchen looks like I was never here.
“Do you need anything from me before I head out?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I think I’m good. I’ll have dinner ready for when you get home.”
“I’ll shoot you a message to let you know I’m leaving,” he offers.
God, this all sounds very domesticated.
“Sounds great. Have a good day. Score all the…oh, wait. Save all the goals.”
He laughs at my inability to think before I speak.
“Have a good day, Chef. I’ll see you later.”
He’s gone before I get a chance to respond, leaving me alone in his apartment for the second time in two days.
It hits me then just how much he’s trusting me.
As far as I know, this apartment is his only home. Everything in his life is here. And so am I.
The weight of what I’m doing, the level of trust that’s been placed on my shoulders, presses down on me.
Determined to prove that he’s made the right decision, I march toward the coffee machine and study it for a moment.
He made it look so easy earlier…
“Please work,” I beg as I press my fingers against the button I hope is going to give me coffee, and the second it does, I do a little happy dance.
The milk is easier to figure out, and I steam it until it’s frothy before adding it to my mug.
I stare down at the foam on the top, missing my pretty tulip.
He’s really going to need to follow through on that promise and teach me. I want pretty coffee.
With my steaming mug in hand, I take a seat at the island where my iPad awaits. A thrill shoots through me as I pull my notebook closer and grab the pen. There is nothing I love more than menu planning.
I spend the rest of the day at Cole’s. I search through all the cupboards properly and take note of everything that’s here. I check over dates of everything in the fridge and make sure my plan uses up all the ingredients he left for me to work with.
For someone who doesn’t cook, he’s done a pretty decent job. I’m going to need to pick up a few items, but I can easily feed him for the rest of the week without doing a full grocery shop.
With the next few days’ worth of food set in stone, I spend a couple of hours prepping ingredients to save me time later. And once that is all done, I sit back down with my iPad and dive into research.
Even prior to being offered this job, I had already pretty much decided that I wanted to go back to school to study nutrition.
But now that I’m here, it’s firmed up that decision even more.
I want to know so much more about the kind of nutrients that athletes need to stay at the top of their game, and the foods that can be incorporated into their diets to increase intake.
I get so lost in my reading that I completely lose track of time.
“Oh no.” I gasp when I check the clock and note that I should already have the oven preheating for tonight’s meal. I hop up and set to work, hoping I can catch up so I can deliver on my promise of having it ready for when he steps into the apartment.
Popping one AirPod in, I select my cooking playlist and get to work.
Soon, the kitchen is flooded with the scent of garlic, onions, and tomatoes. My stomach growls as I stir my sauce. It’s reduced perfectly, my pasta is almost done, and my steak is ready for searing.
Cole messaged fifteen minutes ago to let me know that he was heading home.
The moment I saw his name on my screen, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness twisted up my stomach. Is he going to like what I’ve made? Will it be enough after a long day training?
As soon as I hear the door open, I lower the steak into the pan.
It sizzles perfectly. The savory aroma of the meat browning fills the air, and my stomach growls once again.
But as good as what I’ve made might look, I won’t be eating here tonight.
Casey messaged earlier inviting me for dinner with her and Parker to celebrate my new job. She’s even managed to snag a table at a new, exclusive restaurant that opened a few months ago, which I’ve been dying to try. I can only imagine she name-dropped her boyfriend—not that I’m complaining.
I’m going to go home, put on one of my new dresses, and celebrate this new chapter of my life in style.
Screw the past, him, and the heartbreak. I am finally coming out the other side, and I am so ready for it.
“That smells insane,” Cole says by way of greeting as he joins me in the kitchen.
I watch my timer and pull the steak from the pan right on time before letting it rest on the board while I plate everything else up. Finally, I thinly slice the steak and arrange it on top of the pasta, veggies and sauce.
“Bon appétit,” I say as I place it in front of him.
“And you speak French; could you be any more perfect?”
His praise lights me up inside and has heat blooming on my cheeks.
“Where’s yours?” he asks.
“I can’t stay tonight. I’m going out with Casey and Parker.”
“Then you should go,” he says.
“I will once I’ve cleaned everything up.”
“Freya, it’s like two pans and a plate. I can do it.”
“It’s my job,” I argue.
“Which I pay you for. So if I’m letting you go early, take it. Go and get dressed up and have some fun.”
Excitement tingles inside me. “Are you really sure?” I ask, checking over the state of the kitchen. I was cleaning up as I went, so it really isn’t that bad.
“I’m sure. Go and enjoy yourself. You deserve it.”
“Thank you,” I say, grabbing my purse and tote from the stool. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Throwing my purse over my shoulder, I head toward the door.
“See you in the morning, whirlwind.”
I pause the second the nickname hits me before spinning around.
“Whirlwind?” I echo.
“Yeah,” he muses. “Seems fitting, don’t you think?”
I think about how I greeted him yesterday by banging my head against the cupboard, and then throwing eggs all over the floor this morning.
Maybe he has a point.
Until yesterday, his life and apartment were calm and tidy. That all changed the moment I walked in.
“Have a great evening,” I say with a smile.
“You too. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I’m still laughing as I let myself out of his apartment.
I go straight to the garage, and the second I step out, I notice something that passed me by first thing this morning.
My car stands out like a sore thumb.
It’s old. The paintwork is faded. There’s some rust at the back and a dent in the driver’s door from where I opened it on a post. I’ve had it for years.
Honestly, I didn’t expect Mom and Dad to keep it while I was gone.
But every time I came home, she was sitting in our driveway, waiting for me.
And to my astonishment, when I moved back here and finally climbed into her, she started.
She’s not always reliable, but the old girl is still going strong.
Ignoring the fact that she’s by far the oldest and most battered car in the lot, I get into her and send a message to the girls that I’m heading home and excited to see them, before I start the engine and put Cole and my first day behind me.
As I drive, I notice how much lighter I feel. It’s amazing what a little bit of hope can do to a girl. And an hour later, wrapped in a cute minidress with my hair and makeup done, I almost feel like the girl I barely remember.
Knowing she’s still in there, buried deep beneath the heartbreak and betrayal, is the best feeling in the world.