The Score (The Seattle Strike #3)

Chapter 1

Pen

Twenty years ago, a kid with white skin and dark hair moved next door and, as soon as I saw him, I claimed him as my best friend.

We've been inseparable since. He's steady, kind, and so generous my life is full of perks I never could have predicted back then.

It's why I'm not surprised that my colleague and friend Gina sits on one of the chairs facing my desk, lets out a long sigh, and vents the way she always does.

"The jealousy running through my veins could melt stone, Pen. From the very bottom of my heart, God, you're one lucky lady."

"It's one of those days, huh?" I ask.

Every day is one of those days at our job.

We work for a medium-sized non-profit organization.

She's a counselor and I'm a social worker, serving a community of vulnerable people having to attend court, often because of some undue process or unfair circumstance.

I help them navigate an overwhelming system and advocate for themselves. Gina supports them therapeutically.

We've witnessed many injustices. We've heard some dark stuff. It takes a toll on all of us.

"I need a vacation, stat," Gina says. "Ready for yours?"

"So ready." I set my email autoresponder and turn off my computer.

I'm more than ready— I'm past due. Burnout has been my straitjacket for a good year.

Getting up every day, gathering determination and endurance from who knows where, to face five-to-six different stories of pain a day, has brought an ache to my chest I can't seem to shake.

Like I'm being squeezed from within until I can't breathe properly.

Every time I'm wading through the muck of a system that lets so many people fall through the cracks, the binds around me tighten.

Not that my clients would ever know. Part of the job is to be encouraging and supportive, putting your own needs aside.

Yeah, it's heavy stuff. But if the horrors persist, so do I.

Leon Karlsen, the best friend I lovingly call Bear, tried pushing me to take a medical leave.

I didn't need to tell him how hard it's getting to come to work everyday for him to see it.

Over time, he's tried a few things to help me, but I'm not sure how to make this job more sustainable, so I delayed.

No point in taking a couple weeks off when that wouldn't fix the problem at the core.

Eventually, he bribed me with a vacation I couldn't say no to. He knew exactly what I needed— a couple of weeks to disconnect, surrounded by nature and no cell signal. Where we would do nothing more than nap, read, and eat. That man spoils me, for sure.

"I've never been camping like this," I add.

"Like this, how?" Gina gives me a knowing smirk. "With a huge, heavily tattooed, sometimes scary, handsome guy you'll sleep with in tight quarters?"

My work friend knows Bear is on his way to pick me up, to spend the next couple of weeks alone in the private campground he found for us.

She also knows how he looks. Gina has never hidden her thoughts about him.

Any time the topic of my best friend comes up in conversation, she finds a way to point out how tall he is, the comforting offensive lineman padding around his thick muscles, and the mysterious scar on his top lip.

His wide, powerful shoulders are a usual topic of much admiration.

A couple of times she's gone as far as to ask if his dark hair is as soft as it seems, and whether his hugs are the kind of magic that could make anyone feel safe.

Yes to both, but I've never admitted it to her. As Bear's best friend, I protect the enigmatic aura he curates for the public.

I chuckle. "More like camping at all, I guess. But from the pictures he showed me, he's taking me glamping. It's a geodesic cabin in front of a lake, and there's a firepit on a terrace outside…"

It will be the perfect place for a sweet, relaxing escapade. The football offseason is finally here, and Bear's break will last several weeks. Mine will last only a couple, but this trip will fill both our cups to the brim.

"And I bet it has a proper warm shower, too," my friend adds.

"One hundred percent."

"Still a bit tight, size-wise, considering."

Bear is big, tall, and strong, after all, and I'm no small woman myself. Two such people in a small cabin could feel crowded, but that's not how it is between us.

"It's going to be okay." I shrug. "We don't mind tight quarters, and the outside space is what matters. It looks idyllic and exactly like the kind of place where I can disconnect from everything."

Nikki, an educator from our Community Engagement side, leans against my door.

"Hey, Pen," she says. "Your husband's here to pick you up."

I roll my eyes with enough humor that she knows it's a tease. "Bear is not my husband."

"But you knew who I was talking about, didn't you?" Nikki raises an eyebrow.

Gina laughs.

"We're all aware that he was picking me up today," I respond. "It's not hard to guess who you meant. Besides, Bear and I have been close since we were ten. I'm used to people assuming we're together."

"If people assume, it's because watching you interact is like watching a married couple who are about to celebrate their fortieth anniversary."

Gina nods. "He's attended enough work fundraisers with you that we've seen the way you two are, right?"

"And since they started showing you on the team's feed for his games alongside the other WAGs, it's kind of a glaring amount of clues."

"Don't call us WAGs, please." I sigh and grab my bag from the deep drawer where I hide it every day. "One day you'll believe me that there's nothing like that between us."

I stand and we go toward my office's door.

"Maybe we believe you," Nikki says, "Maybe we don't. Regardless, teasing you is always a fun little break on the dark days. Thanks for your service."

"And it's a salve on my poor jealous heart," Gina adds. "I like teasing you because you got it right. Sometimes I'm tempted to stop dating, too. And if it came with someone like your Leon Karlsen for company, I'd be sold."

He's the most wonderful companion. That's true.

Having Leon as a friend meant I didn't end up alone when I swore off romance— I had him.

Like I always did. With him, our friends, and my family by my side, I didn't have to keep looking for someone to prove romance was worth it.

No need to keep trying only to end up as collateral damage to men I didn't really like anyway.

My parents don't get it, of course. My dad dreams of walking me down the aisle, and my mom dreams of grandbabies. They want to see me fall in love, get married, and have a life they understand. They try to support my decision… but can't help pushing me sometimes. I always respond the same way.

"Decentering romance is the best thing I've done," I say to my friends next to me, and my parents in my mind. "It's truly freeing, I'm telling you."

All the romance-y stuff makes me feel cynical, anyway.

Romcoms? Only when Bear insists. Flowers and poems?

Uninterested. Valentine's Day? Puke. Romance is a mystery I could never make work…

even when I tried really, really hard to make it work.

In a secret corner of my mind, I wonder if I ever had it in me to start with.

It's fine. My life is full of love as it is. I don't need romance. I'll keep the bonds that I already have. I'll nourish them and take care of them. I'll continue making my life amazing in a million other ways. I don't need anything else.

We turn to the reception area where, during office hours, thirty to fifty people a day wait for our services and support. At the end of a workweek, it's empty of community members, but some of the staff still wrap up paperwork and decompress.

Except they all seem to have taken a break to fawn over my best friend.

He smirks at six of my coworkers and leans on the tall reception desk.

With his arms crossed, it makes his shoulders and arms pop.

It gives him a bit of that impenetrable wall look he likes to give off sometimes.

He knows that, except for his black hair, he could pass for a Viking, or one of those medieval ironsmiths who've grown thick muscles from shaping metal through the constant application of force.

It's funny, because his family is Norwegian. He likely has Viking genes, even if there's not a single blond hair anywhere on him that I've seen. Not on his well-kept, thick beard, or the plentiful swath on his chest that follows a path down his tummy. It's all been jet black.

There used to be plenty of dark-haired Vikings, he told me once.

Regardless, the point is to use his looks and his heavily-tattooed upper body to give off intimidating vibes.

The scar on his upper lip can give him a scary look, too, but I know better.

Inside, he's a teddy bear. He's just trying to live up to the expectations people have of him as a big, famous athlete with a slightly rugged face.

"Ready to go, or are you in the middle of something?" I ask.

Humor tilts his lips, because he knows what I mean.

Unlike me, Bear wants a grand love story. He's a romantic. Everything I didn't get in that department, he got twice over. He hasn't found what he's looking for yet, but he will one day. Until then, he'll enjoy any attention he gets, including from a handful of not-profit employees.

I will enjoy him until the day he falls in love, too.

While I don't think our friendship will ever die, I won't always get his undivided attention.

It happened once already. Sort of. Seeing him fall for someone, even when it didn't work out in the end— and seeing him dream of romance through his shows and movies— it's taught me important lessons.

He's looking for a love I can't figure out… and one day he'll find it.

Understanding this is how I show him I care about him, when he's always so centered on me. Being his best friend means wanting him to be happy.

"We were asking him about winning the championship last month," one of my coworkers says. "You were there, right? I think I saw you on TV."

I nod. "I was there."

"She's always there." The way Bear says it, it sounds like an endearment.

When his smirk turns into a small smile, I can't say I'm immune to his charms. Even when he goes stern and bossy, which is often, people melt for it.

His dark blue eyes look navy most of the time.

Whenever he's in low light, one might think they're black.

It adds to his mysterious vibes. I'm never surprised when he's immediately surrounded by adoring fans and admirers, trying to decipher what kind of secrets he keeps.

He's like a sun with planets orbiting in the skirts of his gravity. It's always been like that.

"It's the offseason," someone else says. "What do football players do in the offseason, anyway? Besides taking their friends camping, that is."

"Come on, let us ask him stuff," our team receptionist asks from across a desk that hides most of her body. "Five minutes. He doesn't come here often enough."

"Yeah, let them ask me stuff." Bear's grin appears, white teeth shining in the halo of his thick black beard. His scar stretches wide. "It's cool."

Gina stares at me as if saying, that smile? How can you resist? Are you sure you can?

I'm starting to respond when my phone vibrates in my pocket. It's my dad.

"Okay, knock yourself out," I say with a smile. "I'll be back."

I leave my friend to bask in the flattery of the group around him. It's one of the things he wants but I can't give him. I love the guy, but I've known him too long for that. So I trace my steps back to my office, and give him a chance at it.

It's all right. I'll get him to myself tonight, when we're enjoying an intimate fire by the lake. Like usual, I can't wait for one-on-one time with my best friend. It's always been like that and, after twenty years, I don't want it to ever end.

Well, not until he finds the love of his life, but that's a problem for another day.