Chapter 30
FREYA
Unable to fight it, my lips part on a yawn. I haven’t had a particularly busy day, but by the time I’ve cleaned up from dinner, I’m exhausted.
I guess there’s one benefit to not having a car: at least I don’t have to drive home.
Cole told me earlier that he’d take me, and I must admit, I’m more than happy to be his passenger.
Even if it means he has to spend his evening being my taxi.
He could be doing a million and one other things, but seeing as he’s refusing to let me get an Uber, I don’t really have much choice.
“Tired?” he asks, looking over from where he’s sitting on the couch, watching tonight’s hockey game.
“Apparently so.”
“Come and sit down,” he says, his eyes darting to the other side of his sectional.
“I might not get back up,” I laugh.
“Then don’t. Stay here tonight.”
I freeze. He says it so casually, as if having someone else sleeping in his apartment while he’s here is normal to him.
It’s not.
I’d put money on him never having had a sleepover.
“No, Cole. I can’t.”
“Why not? You’ll only get up and come back here first thing in the morning. Assuming your car is fixed, of course.”
“I thought you said you’d sort it.” I kick myself the second the words are out of my mouth.
It isn’t his responsibility to get my car fixed.
I’m beyond grateful that he willingly took the job off my hands.
But I’m also aware that he’s been busy all day and that it was probably the last thing on his mind. As it should have been.
“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a mechanic. I know fuck all about cars and engines. I can only go on what I’m told.”
“And what were you told?”
“Your car’s fucked.”
My chest deflates. I knew it was coming. My old girl has been on her last legs for years. I’m impressed she lasted this long.
“So now I’m apartment and car shopping? So much for getting my life together.”
“Sometimes you gotta hit rock bottom before being able to rebuild. But don’t forget, you might not have either of those things right now, but you do have a kick-ass job.”
A smile curls at my lips as I make my way over to where he’s sitting, now turned away from the screen and giving me all of his attention.
He’s wearing gray sweats and a black T-shirt, and I’m in leggings and an oversized sweater that falls from one shoulder.
There’s no denying that I look as relaxed and at home as him as I concede and curl up on the other end of the couch.
“I can’t argue with that. My boss is pretty decent, too.”
“Pretty decent? Ouch,” he laughs.
“So, what’s the deal here?” I say, pointing at the TV.
“Well, they’re playing this game called ice hockey. You might have heard of it.”
Grabbing the closest cushion, I throw it at him.
“I know that. I meant the teams. Are they decent? Top of the league? Bottom? Is it even NHL?”
He laughs at me as he settles the cushion on his lap.
“Yes, it’s NHL,” he confirms before he embarks on teaching me a little about each team.
I nod along, following a lot more than I did only a few weeks ago.
“So you’re not worried about either of them?” I ask.
“I worry about every single team. Just because they’re not doing great now, doesn’t mean they won’t suddenly turn it around. A team we don’t worry about this season could be the one we face in the Stanley Cup Finals next season.”
“Already planning for how next season ends, huh?”
“What’s the point in anything if we don’t reach for the stars?” he counters.
I think about his words for a moment.
“Yeah, I guess. I’d need stars to reach for first.”
“You’ll find them,” he says confidently.
“They’re getting clearer. Doing something I love helps.”
He nods. “I’m glad. You deserve the stars, Freya.”
His eyes hold mine for a few seconds before he rips them away and focuses on the TV again.
I follow his lead, but while the men might shoot around on the ice, I don’t really see any of them.
“Are you sure you’re okay with me staying here tonight?” I ask quietly. Although I’m half expecting him to tell me that he’s thought it through and that he’s changed his mind, I can’t lie, it’d sting to hear it.
I like being here a lot more than I think I probably should. I’m relaxed and at home in his apartment, and that’s a dangerous feeling when the only place I belong here is in the kitchen.
“Freya, I wouldn’t offer if I weren’t sure. The guest room is sitting there empty. The bed may as well get some use.”
I know he means to sleep. I know that. But it doesn’t stop my face from burning up.
“It’s a very comfortable bed,” I mutter quietly.
“You’re tired, and so am I. If you really want to go home, I’ll take you. But—”
“No. You should rest. I don’t want to be responsible for our tendy being too exhausted to win more shutout games. What?” I ask when he turns to look at me with an expression on his face I can’t quite read. Is it…is it pride?
“You just dropped some hockey slang like it was nothing,” he points out with a smile.
“Anyone would think I’ve been hanging out with a player,” I tease.
“Not just a player. The award-winning goalie of the LA Vipers,” he states cockily.
“You forgot arrogant,” I point out. As I question whether I should have said that, he barks out a laugh.
“I love hanging out with you, Freya. You always know how to drag me back down to earth.”
“Well, someone’s got to. I’ve seen the way the fans and bunnies act around you.”
He continues to chuckle, and I’d be lying if I said the deep rumble didn’t do something to my insides.
Cole is hot. Always. But seeing him relaxed is a whole new level of hot I didn’t realize existed.
“Well, thank you for your important work for society. You should share your skills with some of my teammates, though. Killer and Rett could really do with a reality check.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Not sure my magic will work on them, though. They don’t seem to have a reason to care about what I say like you do.”
“You have no idea.”
“W-what?” I ask. Did I hear him wrong?
“Nothing,” he says quickly, before pushing himself to the edge of the couch. “Seeing as you’re staying, would you like a drink?”
He pads through to the kitchen, leaving me with little choice but to watch his ass as he moves.
“I can’t drink coffee at this time; I’ll never sleep,” I say.
“Hell no. I’ll be wired for hours with how strong my coffee is. I had something a little different in mind.”
“I trust you,” I say. The words roll off my tongue easily, but from the way his movements still and his shoulders tense, I get the feeling they hit harder than intended.
He clears his throat before grabbing two mugs and getting to work.
Cole carrying two fully loaded hot chocolates a few minutes later is a sight I’m not sure I’ll ever forget.
As he moves, his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling windows catches my eye.
“Do you ever use your balcony?” I blurt.
Every day it taunts me, but I’ve yet to venture out there.
“Not as much as I should. I always end up here with the TV on. Would you like to go out?”
“Yes,” I state, surging to my feet and grabbing the blanket that’s thrown over the back of the couch. “Oh, is this okay?” I ask before dragging it outside. It might be special or something.
“Yeah, Whirlwind. It’s okay.” After placing one mug down, he unlocks the balcony before taking them both out.
The cool evening air rushes over me as I follow him, but it feels incredible.
We get settled on his swing seat. It’s nowhere near as big as his couch inside, and we end up so close we’re almost touching.
I shake the blanket out so it covers both of us and settle in.
Cole passes me my mug, and I cup it with both hands, letting the warmth of it relax me.
The seat rocks as he shifts beside me, also getting comfortable.
I gaze out over the city, wondering how hanging out with a famous hockey player has become my life.
It’s so different to the life I lived before.
Sure, I was surrounded by famous people then as well.
But they lived for it. They wanted their name in lights, wanted everyone to know who they were.
Cole…he just wants to do a job he loves.
“I met my ex when I was in Vegas. He came into the bar I worked in and…well, he blew me away. He was everything girls want in a guy. Good looking, popular, talented, and he had this way of looking at me that made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.”
I don’t know where the words come from or why I choose now to say them, but they spill free regardless. And beside me, Cole just listens.
“He was in Vegas for a few weeks finishing up his new album, and when I wasn’t working, he took me along to everything he could. I was in awe. Watching him record, experiencing his fans’ reaction to him in clubs. At that point in my life, I’d vaguely heard of him, but I wasn’t a fan as such.
“It didn’t take long for him to completely take over my life, though.
“He invited me on tour with him, and I quit my job and followed him all around the world. It was wild. I saw places I never thought I would. Met the most incredible people. Some I’m still star-struck by today.”
I pause as I think of some of those people. Some I even considered friends at the time. It’s funny how easily fooled you can be by someone, because I haven’t heard a single word from those “friends” since walking away.
I only existed as Rowan’s girlfriend.
Now, I’m nothing.
And that almost stings as much as the way he dropped me like an old, worn-out pair of sneakers. Almost.
“What changed?” Cole whispers, almost as if he’s afraid to speak.
“Everything. Nothing. It wasn’t one thing. I think it just got to the point one day that it all became too much. And the more I took a step back and really looked at the way I was being treated, the more I started resenting all of it. Him.
“He kept telling me that I should be grateful for the opportunity. And I was. But the closer I looked, the more I realized he didn’t want me there, not really. I served a purpose, just like everyone else who followed him around like lost lambs.
“I was going to leave. I knew it was the way forward. But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt when his assistant told me that they were all moving on and that my airline ticket was for a different flight to a different location.”
“He didn’t even tell you himself?” Cole balks.
“Why would he when he has people running around, more than willing to do his dirty work?”
“Have you spoken to him since?”
I shake my head. “I packed up my stuff and left while he was at rehearsal, and that was that.”
“Shit, Freya.”
“Yeah,” I muse, my insides twisted up with a mixture of shame, regret, and heartache.
I loved him. And I thought he loved me. I should have known it was all for show.
“And you’re not going to tell me his name?”
“I’m amazed you haven’t looked him up already.”
“Why would I do that? I don’t want to learn some bullshit story about your past that some journalist has made up. The only person I want to hear it from is you.”
Stunned by his words, I just stare at him. Into his kind eyes. They twinkle in the most alluring way under the city lights.
A messy ball of emotion crawls up my throat, and my eyes burn with tears.
“Thank you,” I force past the lump.
He shakes his head. “I haven’t done anything."
“You have. You’ve done so much more than you can ever understand.” I reach out, my hand finding his. Heat rushes up my arm, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I squeeze him tighter. “And I’ll forever be grateful.”