Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jason
I walk into the airport and check the status of Hailey’s flight, pacing in front of the doors where she’ll come out.
The plane landed on time, so she should be out any minute now.
I’m almost jangling with nerves, which is unlike me.
I rarely get nervous these days. Games get me pumped up, sure, but it’s excitement, not nerves.
Even the playoffs. I want to do well, of course.
But I know myself. I know my team. Worrying something might go wrong makes it more likely to happen, in my experience.
Plus, I have my lucky socks. Of course, luck runs out eventually, but those things have given us numerous winning streaks over the years.
The reality is, though, that I know what to expect with hockey. I’ve been doing it all my life.
With Hailey?
I have no fucking clue. She texted me she’d see me soon.
Does that mean she’s looking forward to it?
And is she looking forward to seeing me specifically?
Or just looking forward to not wondering if she’ll have enough money to pay for rent and food and gas?
And if she is actually looking forward to seeing me, how much of that is bound up in the second thing?
It seems dumb to worry about that now, though, doesn’t it? I’m the one who put us in this situation.
“What other choice did I have, though?” I mutter to myself. “I couldn’t just abandon her.”
Someone sitting on one of the few benches glances up at me, and I clamp my mouth shut. Right. Talking to yourself in public makes you look nuts. Noted. I tug my hat down a little lower, hoping that person’s not a hockey fan and doesn’t recognize me.
But then I look up, and she’s here, and all worries about looking crazy vanish.
I’m grinning like an idiot at the sight of her, and I close the distance between us in long, ground-eating strides.
Her eyes widen as I get closer, but then an answering smile tugs at her lips, and she stops in front of me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I parrot, still grinning. “How was your flight?”
“Good. Boring. You know how flights are.”
“Do I ever.”
“Ha. Yeah. I guess you probably fly a lot in your line of work.”
“We’re away about every other week during the season, so yeah. Especially being based out of Seattle. None of the other teams are driving distance. At least not a reasonable driving distance.”
“Right.” She adjusts the strap on her shoulder.
“Can I take anything?”
“Oh, no. I got it. It’s just my violin and my big purse.” She pats the large crossbody bag hanging at her hip, then adjusts the strap of her case again. “I’ll let you take my suitcase, though.” She smiles again.
“Deal.” I gesture toward the baggage claim, and we start moving in that direction, standing on the outskirts of the cluster of people who are all waiting, some alone, others in pairs or groups.
I don’t mention it, but this part’s the oddest about flying in the off-season.
For games, the team charters a plane, so we don’t have to stand around in an airport and wait for our gear.
Sometimes people think I’m bragging if I comment on that, though, so I keep the thought to myself. I had to do this when I flew to Madison to visit my parents, after all, so it’s not like it’s some weird thing I’m completely unused to.
“Did you get everything wrapped up that you wanted to back in Wisconsin?”
She turns to me, eyes wide, and then she seems to shake herself out of a daze.
“Yeah. Sorry. I’m super tired. I had to wake up at three in the morning.
” Leaning into me, she rests a hand on my arm.
“Can you believe it? In college, I’d stay up until three in the morning fairly regularly.
But waking up at that time?” She shakes her head, dropping her hand from my arm. “It’s disgusting.”
Grinning at her characterization of that time of the morning, I nonchalantly cross my arms so I can cover the spot where she rested her hand, as though to preserve that bit of contact. As though I need to. As though she might not ever touch me again.
All of that is ridiculous, of course. She’s living with me now. For now. We’re saying hello, not goodbye.
“You managed it, though, I see. You didn’t miss your flight.”
“Nope. Got there in plenty of time. Dropped off the rental car—thank you again for that, by the way.” I wave off her thanks, and she mimics me.
“Don’t wave away my gratitude. That’s rude.
Anyway. I made it to my gate with plenty of time, which was nice because I was able to get some coffee and a bagel. ”
“Ohhh, fancy. A bagel. I thought you were a just-coffee-for-breakfast girl.”
She shrugs, turning to face the baggage carousel when the buzzer sounds, meaning bags will start coming out in just a second. “I needed a little more this morning. Three o’clock wake up, remember?”
“You gonna need a nap?”
She shrugs. “Maybe. Or I’ll just go to bed at some ridiculously early hour.”
“Well, I don’t have anything planned for today. I can drive you around and show you the sights, or we can just head straight back to my place. It’s your call.”
A giant yawn looks like it’s about to unhinge her jaw, and when she looks at me again, her eyes are watering. “Uh, I think your place is good. I do want to see the sights, though. Raincheck?”
“Of course. If you’re up for it, we could hit a few places tomorrow. There are iconic spots you have to see. Plus, people will ask if you’ve been to Pike Place or the Space Needle. And you’re in luck today. The mountain’s out.”
Another wide-eyed look. “What does that mean?”
“Mt. Rainier. A lot of the time it’s too cloudy or misty to see, but today’s gorgeous, so you’ll get a clear view.”
“Noted.” She looks at the carousel again, and says, “Oh. There’s my suitcase,” just as it goes around the corner.
“Which one?”
“The tan one with a neon green tag. It’ll come back around, though. We can wait until the crowd thins out.”
When she’s practically swaying on her feet from how tired she is? Nah. We’re getting out of here sooner rather than later.
I muscle my way through the crowd nearly blocking our access to the carousel and wait, using my bulk to subtly take up as much space as I can. When I see a tan suitcase with a neon green tag come back around, I reach and yank it up, propping it on the edge as I turn to Hailey and give a thumbs up.
She’s grinning as she gives me a thumbs up in response, though even her grin is a little bleary.
Is she going to fall asleep in the car on the way home?
After extending the handle, I roll her suitcase over to her and pull out my keys. “I’m in the parking lot over this way.”
She adjusts the strap of her case one more time, and I bite my lip to keep myself from offering to take it. I know she’ll say no. Then she nods. “Lead the way, good sir.”
Smirking, I start for the door, glancing behind me to make sure she’s there. She gives me a tiny smile, her face settling back into overt exhaustion immediately after.
Yeah. Home, and then she’s taking a nap. Even if she doesn’t do it on purpose, I’m sure she’ll fall asleep on the couch.
I point out some landmarks as we drive to my place, and Hailey hums acknowledgment to most of them, but once we’re away from the interesting sights, she lapses into total silence. When I glance at her at a stoplight, she has her head leaning against the window and her eyes closed.
“Hailey,” I whisper, “you awake?”
“Yeah,” she mutters, then does another jaw-cracking yawn. “Barely.”
“I think you should plan on taking a nap when we get back to my house.”
She blinks her eyes open. “How much farther?”
“Almost there. Maybe ten minutes. Think you can last that long?”
With a sleepy chuckle, she nods. “Sure.”
“Should I keep talking to keep you awake? Or turn on the radio?”
“Mmmm, you can talk. But if you keep asking questions, you might get dumb answers. No radio, though. Too much.”
“Gotcha. Uh …” Of course, now that I’m supposed to talk, I can’t think of a single thing to say. “Uh, did you tell your parents you were moving here?”
She cracks an eyelid. “Not exactly.”
Arching a brow, I glance at her. “What does that mean?”
“Mm. Well. I called my mom and left a voicemail just saying I wouldn’t need their help after all.”
“Did they offer to help?”
“In a way.” She fills me in on her phone call to ask for their help and the terms her mom outlined. “I knew that if she had that much to say off the top of her head, the final contract would be worse. So when she messaged me with the link and time for our Zoom meeting—”
“Wait, wait, wait,” I interrupt, holding up a hand. “A contract? A Zoom meeting? Your parents wanted to have a meeting with you over Zoom to outline an actual contract for them to help you. Like you were going to have to sign a legally binding agreement?”
“Not a lawyer, so how well it’d hold up in court, I don’t know. But yeah. That’s the idea. A literal contract. She said they’d send it via Docusign.”
“Your parents. Wanted you. To sign a contract. To work for them. In order for them to help you. A contract.”
“Yup. So you see why I’m here instead.”
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I try to envision how my own parents would react if I were in the same situation as Hailey—down on my luck with a car that won’t work and no way to get to or from the places I need to go to make money.
They’d just … help me. I mean, if I were being a freeloader and spending all day scratching my balls and playing video games while eating all their food and leaving a mess in their house, sure, we’d have a come-to-Jesus meeting.
And in that case, they might tell me to get a job or they’d kick me out.
And I wouldn’t blame them one tiny little bit.
But it’s not like Hailey isn’t working. Isn’t trying. Isn’t kicking her own ass to scrape a living together doing what she loves. It’s not her fault her transmission died. And that that’s the thing that destroyed her ability to provide for herself.
“Fuck,” I whisper. “That’s super fucked up.”
“Yeah. So, like I said. I called my mom, and when she didn’t answer, I left a voicemail saying I wouldn’t need their help and that I got it figured out.”
“And she didn’t call back?”
I glance at her in time to catch her shrug and another giant yawn. “No. She rarely calls me. I call her sometimes, but not often. I guess they figure I’ll call if I need something? Not that they ever give the thing I actually need when I ask.”
Clenching my jaw, I swallow the angry words I want to say.
It’s wild to me. They were good parents when Hunter was still around.
I mean, sure, there were times when Hunter was in charge of watching Hailey while they were at work, but it seemed pretty normal.
Lots of other kids we went to school with were home alone with younger siblings for some amount of time at the end of the school day before their parents got home.
But I had dinner over there often enough to see them take care of Hailey and Hunter.
To watch them interact with their kids. They were good, loving parents.
And then Hunter died, and they apparently turned into … whatever this is.
“I’m sorry, Hailey,” I mutter.
She waves a hand, and I’m tempted to tell her it’s rude to wave away my sympathy, but I don’t.
“‘S okay. I’m used to it at this point. I have to admit, I was a little surprised by the amount of control they seemed to want. But thinking about it, it was more just about dictating how I make money. I think if I were to actually have done it, they would’ve mostly ignored me.
Even if they tried to ban me from gigging or teaching, once I had a car and stuff, how would they stop me?
Fire me from working for them? Kick me out?
” She shrugs, seeming more awake than she has since we got in the car.
“I mean, I guess that’s possible, but by then I’d have some money saved up from working, so … ” Another shrug.
I pull into the parking garage beneath my building downtown. It’s not too far from the arena. Several of my teammates live here—Locke, the goalie, Bowers, and Johnstone—and there’s another building a few blocks away where Bouchard and Dozer and Jenkins live.
“Oooh, so fancy,” Hailey says, straightening up and looking out the window as I punch in my security code to get into the garage.
“A parking garage is fancy?”
“You grew up in Poynette. You know my frame of reference. Having a secure garage under a building in a big city? Yeah, man. That’s pretty fancy.” She’s grinning now. “How fancy is your place?”
Pulling smoothly into my parking spot, I turn off the engine. “Guess you’ll just have to find out for yourself.”