Chapter 23 #2
Livy gave a humorless laugh. “No, it would be a decent living. More than whatever I’m going to end up doing, I’m sure.”
Hazy threw his hands up in faux, teasing anger. “If you stay on as my assistant, you can have literally any amount of money.”
She grinned. “Counting your exercise reps and cooking breakfast hardly counts as a real job. It’s taking care of my friend. And soon you won’t need me.”
Hazy sighed, knowing he wouldn’t win the argument. He pressed further into his question about her career, curious about how Livy saw her future. He’d chosen a career path at age eight and stuck with it. Abandoning her life plan seemed weird. “So why not nursing then?”
She stared straight into her plate of pancakes, her cheeks flushed.
He rubbed her back, not sure why she was freaking out.
Finally, she half-yelled a rushed sentence.
“I get queasy when I see people’s injuries, okay?
I did one clinical rotation and threw up the first time I saw someone come in with a broken leg.
One man came in missing the tip of his finger and I almost passed out. ”
He stared at her in shock. “You’ve been tending to my leg with no problems.”
She covered her face with her hands. “No problems for you. For me there were many problems.”
He clapped a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. All the times she changed his bandages and examined his bruises ran through his head. How could he possibly have missed that she was struggling through every minute?
After many seconds of speechlessness, Livy broke down into wheezing laughter. He stared at her for a long time before joining in.
“I’m so sorry,” he said through gasping breaths.
Livy waved a hand in front of her face as she tried to talk. “It’s okay. But I wouldn’t do it for anyone but you.”
Hazy gathered his composure and wiped tears from his eyes with his thumb. “Okay, okay. If nursing is out, and you won’t let me share my wealth, tell me something. In an ideal world, what opportunity would present itself?” Having eaten all his own, he stole a strawberry from Livy’s plate.
She slapped his hand away. “I guess I always saw myself working with kids. It would be nice to have a traditional nine-to-five. Hopefully low-stress. Where the boss cares about their employees and I could take time off for vacations and if my kids were sick. It doesn’t sound like much, but you’d be surprised. ”
“The bar is in hell.”
Livy laughed and stood, taking her plate to the stove and piling more food on it.
“No, that’s a pretty high bar. A lot of entry-level positions have variable schedules, are high-stress, have little wiggle room for time off, no social life, and weird hours.
It makes dating and having good mental health impossible. ”
He’d never been more thankful his career was a game. In the grand scheme of things, he’d gotten off easy.
Unimpressed with Livy’s vision for her future, it dawned on him how selfish he’d been when discussing their dreams as kids.
He’d fantasized about his life as a hockey player and what that might mean.
He’d imagined the house he would live in and the car he would drive, and all the vacations he would be able to take with the money he earned.
But he’d never considered the same for Livy.
In his mind she’d always be in his life, and he put them on equal footing.
In retrospect, they never had been. Livy struggled and worked hard for everything in life.
From food to Christmas gifts to parental attention.
As a kid it had been easy to share his privileges.
To hoist her to his level socially and financially so she could stay by his side.
He despised the idea of her scraping by in stress-inducing working conditions while he sat on top of the world.
“Do you like working? If you had a rich as fuck husband, would you still want a job?” he asked. The hypothetical popped out of his mouth before he had time to consider the implications.
“Why?” she teased with a cocky grin. “Are you offering?”
His cheeks grew warm. “No! Just curious. Sounds like a miserable way to spend your life if you’re always going to be climbing the ladder.”
“Lance and I talked about the possibility of me staying home with the kids, and obviously that’s ideal. But after what he put me through, I’m always going to want my own income.”
If Hazy could figure out a way to murder her ex without getting caught, he would take it in a heartbeat. “That seems smart,” he said, instead of voicing his homicidal thoughts.
“Yeah. It doesn’t really matter, though. Most guys don’t make enough money for staying home to be a real option, and I’m staying far, far away from doctors moving forward. Way too much drama.”
“I make enough money for it to be a real option. And I’m not a doctor.”
Great. Now twice in as many minutes he’d mentioned the possibility of spending their lives together, and he didn’t even know if that’s what he wanted. Where the fuck was Lover when Hazy needed him?
She frowned, pushing the food on her plate around with her fork. “It’s funny you say that. I need to talk to you about something.”
Thankful for the subject change, he said, “Oh yeah? Shoot.”
Hazy could see the gears working in her head. Her hesitation caused a knot to form in his gut. She chewed her bottom lip, staring past him when she asked, “Are you into Valentine?”
“Am I into Lover?” He was surprised it had taken her this long to ask. A lot of people who knew Hazy’s sexuality assumed they were a couple.
“Don’t stall. Are you into him?”
“Like romantically?” Hazy asked. He knew what she meant, but the way she asked it made him feel like it was a trick question.
“Yeah.” Livy took a bite of pancake, leaving a smear of whipped cream on her lip. Her tongue darting out to clear it drew his attention, dazing him for an endless moment until he realized he needed to respond.
“Uh, no. I’m not into Lover.”
Livy set her plate aside and boosted herself onto the counter before reclaiming it. “You’ve never had a crush on him? Or romantic feelings of any kind?”
Hazy shrugged, the irony rolling over him.
When they first met, he’d developed a massive crush on Lover.
All the activities Daisy made them participate in felt dangerously close to dates.
But that didn’t matter since Lover was tragically straight.
Eventually he’d gotten over it. “We kissed once. Our rookie year. He wasn’t into it. We’re inseparable friends.”
“Wait, you kissed? I wish I could have seen that.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. She waggled her eyebrows.
Hazy laughed. “Ew, don’t be weird. It was experimental. He’d never been kissed.”
She vibrated with excitement at the news. “You were his first kiss? That is the cutest thing I have ever heard,” she squealed. She scooped another bite into her mouth and did a little dance.
“It’s not cute. It’s just a thing that happened when we were kids.”
“No, it’s fucking adorable. Would you be upset if he dated someone?”
Hazy lifted a shoulder. “Eh. He won’t. Every time a pretty girl tries to talk to him, he can’t get any words out.” He stabbed his last piece of pancake and dragged it through the remaining syrup and whipped cream.
“He’s relaxed with me,” Livy said.
The last time he’d seen them together they’d been on the ice at the practice rink, Lover’s hand on Livy’s face, their mouths inches apart.
At the time, he hadn’t understood his uneasiness or the ache in his chest. Livy and Lover’s friendship was a good thing for Hazy.
They were his two favorite people. His closest friends, his most important loved ones. He should be happy that they got along.
Now, after four days of introspection without access to his best friend for a debrief, he could identify his feeling as a seed of jealousy he had no business harboring.
Hazy belonged on the ice, chasing Livy around.
He should be the one she raced and played with.
She made even the most boring drills fun.
They hadn’t been skating since before his draft day.
He pulled himself out of the unhelpful daydream. “Because he’s not interested in you.”
Hazy knew at least that much. Lover had zero game. He’d watched his best friend fumble every sure thing the man had ever encountered.
Livy hopped off the counter and rinsed her plate. “He asked me out.”
Hazy’s fork clattered to his plate. “Sorry, what?” he asked, sure he’d misheard her. That uneasiness returned to his stomach and chest with a vengeance.
“Valentine asked me out. We have a date tonight.” She reached across the counter to snag his plate.
He studied her face for a long time, his heart rate through the roof. Then he laughed. “Funny. You had me going there.”
Livy glared at him. “I’m serious. I’m going out with him tonight.”
“He would have told me. He would have asked for date advice.” Hazy’s voice came out breathier than it should have; the shock and devastation hitting him full force.
Livy turned off the water and leaned her hip against the counter. She folded her arms across her chest.
“Maybe if it was anyone else. But it’s me. You have a special relationship with both of us. He probably didn’t want to risk it.”
She cleaned the counter while he debated the merits of her hypothesis.
When she left to get dressed for the day, Hazy pulled his phone from his pocket and shot off a quick text to Lover.
What the hell, man? You’re taking my girl out without telling me?
Lover responded instantly.
She’s not your girl. With any luck she’ll be my girl *winky face*
He dropped his phone on the counter. Fuck.
He shouldn’t be agitated. Lover was right.
Livy wasn’t his girl. Plus, Lover was the best. He hadn’t had a serious relationship, but if anyone could bring him out of his shell, it would be Livy.
He should be happy for them. Hazy had no claim over Livy whatsoever.