Chapter 8
EIGHT
JANE
I stared at my packed bag. Last night, I’d been certain that my emotions were going to remain a wreck if I spent another night under the same roof as Austin and that I needed space to think over my situation.
I’d booked a couple of nights at a hotel to clear my mind, but now, looking at my bag, I couldn’t help but think I might have been a little too hasty.
I’d gotten myself worked up. Things weren’t that dire. If I left—even temporarily—it might make Austin rethink my employment, and was it worth giving up what had, until now, been an excellent job because of one assholeish offer and a few days of awkwardness?
I worried that Austin might cross another line, but our working relationship had always been smooth, so perhaps this unpleasant situation was just a blip caused by the changing team dynamic.
If I stood my ground, we could get back to the same easy interactions we’d had before.
Maybe.
I also really didn’t want to have to call my parents and ask them for help if I ended up out of a job. They’d already done so much for me, and I was sure they’d find a way to help, but I’d rather not put that pressure on them.
Besides, I’d spent my childhood coddled and protected by everyone around me, and while I loved that they cared for me so much, I wanted to do this on my own. I huffed and glared at the bag a little more. I supposed I didn’t have to make up my mind right now. I had all day.
I drew in a deep breath to fortify myself and made my way into the main house, turning the door handle slowly, giving myself time to prepare to see Austin. After avoiding him last night, I wasn’t sure how he’d be feeling toward me this morning.
As usual, it was slightly cooler than my studio, and I was glad I’d put on a pair of cozy socks and a sweater. I looked around for any sign that Austin was already up. There were noises coming from the kitchen, and the faint scent of liniment lingered in the air.
I’d only walked a few steps into the kitchen when I stopped, startled.
Austin stood at the stovetop with a pot of oatmeal on one element and a frying pan of scrambled eggs on the other.
He glanced up and met my eyes. A beat of silence passed between us.
The longer it grew, the more fraught with tension it became.
“Why are you cooking?” I asked, putting my hand on my hips. “Isn’t that my job?”
To my utter shock, his cheeks turned pink. The blush was charming and softened me toward him in ways I’d prefer to ignore.
“I thought it might be nice to cook for you for once.” He used a spatula to keep the egg from sticking to the pan.
I didn’t know what to say. That was actually pretty sweet.
“It’s no problem for me to do it.” I looked at the stovetop. “At least let me make your smoothie.”
He demurred. “This is almost done, and the smoothie will only take a couple of minutes. I want to take care of breakfast for once.”
I dithered, torn about what to do. Cooking for him was part of our arrangement. To have him suggest that he do the same for me went against all my expectations and I didn’t know how to respond.
He gestured toward the breakfast bar. “Sit. I’ll be with you soon.”
“I can make my own,” I protested weakly, at a loss as to what to do with this new, solicitous version of Austin.
I’d never seen him behave subserviently before. I didn’t know he had it in him. While he was polite in most situations, he didn’t tend to do things for others. Well, not other than Hazel anyway. He doted on his little sister.
“Sit down.” His tone was firm. “You like granola with yogurt, right?”
“Yes.” I was surprised he had noticed.
He nodded but didn’t speak. The silence settled between us, heavy enough to feel like a weight on my chest, and not at all comfortable like it usually was. Uncertain of what else to do, I went to the breakfast bar and sat. Immediately, my leg began to bounce.
I watched Austin move around the kitchen. It was obvious he didn’t know exactly where everything was because he had to check more than one cupboard to find what he was looking for.
He dished the eggs onto a plate and poured the oatmeal into a bowl.
As steam billowed from both, he went to the fridge and grabbed the ingredients for his smoothie.
He measured them more carefully than I usually did, but then, I’d done it so often that I had a good feel for the quantities, whereas he still needed to check the recipe.
The blender went on, and then he added a healthy serving of granola—more than I’d usually give myself—into another bowl and scooped a couple of large spoonfuls of Greek yogurt on top. He squinted, his mouth pursing, and then, as if recalling something important, added a handful of blueberries.
“Will this do?” he asked, uncharacteristically hesitant.
“That’s perfect.” It didn’t matter that I would put the yogurt in first and the granola on top. It would taste the same anyway, and the point was that he was trying.
He grabbed a spoon and brought the meal over to me before returning to the kitchen counter to retrieve his own breakfast. He pulled up a stool alongside mine and sat, adjusting his position several times as he tried to get comfortable.
“I found a textbook out here yesterday,” he said, apropos of nothing. He gestured along the counter to the end. My speech disorders textbook was propped against the wall. “I assume it’s yours. Are you… doing a course?”
I snuck a peek at him out of the corner of my eye. “I’m studying to become a speech therapist.”
He nodded and drained half of his green smoothie. “How far along are you?”
“I only have a semester to go after this one.” I mixed my granola and yogurt together and took a mouthful.
“So you’ve been working toward it for a while?”
I caught my lip between my teeth. It was strange to be the subject of his curiosity after having coexisted with him for so long without sharing. He’d never seemed particularly interested before, and I had been happy to keep to myself.
“Since I came to Chicago. I moved here to attend college.”
He dug his fork into his eggs, the tines squeaking against the porcelain. “Why here? I assume you can study something relevant much closer to home. You come from Colorado, right?”
Now he was fishing.
“I wanted to try somewhere new.” And that was all I was prepared to say on the matter.
“Fair enough. When I joined the NHL, I was willing to go to any team that would have me.”
His reference to hockey provided me with a welcome distraction.
“How was training yesterday?” I asked.
He pulled a face. “The team is a mess, but at least the environment is better than it was.”
“How are the new players settling in?”
He swallowed a mouthful before answering. “They all seem good enough. The transfers are decent, but they don’t know how to fit into the team dynamic. The rookies are struggling to find their footing too, but at least they’re getting better treatment than they would have previously.”
“True.”
We continued making awkward small talk while we ate, neither of us addressing the elephant in the room.
When I finished, I stacked my bowl in the dishwasher and cleaned the pot, pan, and blender.
Austin protested, but I insisted on doing it.
I needed to keep busy and remember my place in this arrangement.
If I let him run around after me, I’d get my emotions all mixed up.
Once that was done and I’d tidied up after Austin too, we both hovered, uncertain how to proceed. Finally, Austin spoke.
“Do I need to drive myself to the stadium today?” he asked, keeping his voice free of inflection. His face didn’t give away his thoughts either, and when he was like this, I could understand why some of the team’s fans had dubbed him “Heartless Harris.” He could come across as being quite cold.
I still didn’t like the moniker.
“I’ll drive you.” After all, I hadn’t decided what I was going to do about my job yet, so I may as well keep doing it until I did.
“Thank you.”
“No problem. Meet back here in five?”
“Sure.”
I returned to my room, brushed my teeth, checked my hair, and collected my gear for class. I had a lab this morning and we’d been warned that we’d been undertaking a practical exercise with volunteer adults who had speech fluency problems.
Some of my classmates found this intimidating, but I loved meeting others with speech disorders. It made me feel like part of something bigger, and nothing made me happier than being able to help them in whatever small way.
I headed downstairs. Austin was waiting near the garage, and he opened the door and went in when he saw me coming. I dumped my bag onto the passenger seat while he got into the back.
As I reversed out onto the road, he asked, “Are you going to college today?”
“Yes.”
“Cool.” He was quiet for a moment, then added, “I feel like shit for not knowing about that. I’m sorry for being so self-centered.”
His words caught me off guard, and I frowned as I changed gears and eased forward.
“There’s no need to apologize,” I told him. “It’s not as if I’ve ever made a point of discussing it with you. We’ve always had a professional relationship, and I’m good with that.”
It was when he’d wanted to stretch the bounds of our professional relationship that I’d gotten mad with him, after all.
“Hmm.” He didn’t say more, but his silence was brooding.
“Do you know who your first preseason game is against?” I asked, hoping to jolt him out of his introspection.
“Detroit.”
“They did well last season.” They’d progressed further than the Chaos, not that that was necessarily a challenge.
“Yeah. We came close to beating them a couple of times, though.” He didn’t sound defensive, just factual.
“Mm-hm.”
Austin exhaled sharply. “The more I think about it, the more obvious it is that you have a good understanding of hockey and the NHL, beyond what I’d expect from someone in your role. I know we’ve kind of been over this, but can you explain to me why you never mentioned your connections?”
The corners of my mouth turned down. I didn’t dislike talking about my family. I just wished that people didn’t make such a fuss over me because of them.
“I love hockey,” I began slowly, taking the time to turn my thoughts over in my mind before voicing them.
“I’m not interested in being in the limelight, though.
Like, when Alec’s relationship with Tally went public, the kind of attention they got would have driven me crazy.
I’d have ended up hiding in my bedroom with the curtains drawn and never leaving. ”
I waited for a moment for him to respond, but he didn’t, so I continued.
“I also don’t like the way people treat me when they learn who Dad and Alec are. They either suck up because they want to meet them or they treat me poorly because they think I must have a high opinion of myself. I’d rather be judged on my own merit, even if I sometimes come up short.”
“I respect that.”
A small burst of warmth blossomed inside me. I reminded myself not to get carried away. After all, he might respect my stance, but he was also one of the people who had treated me differently once they found out who my family was.
It was clear that my connection to Dad and Alec was one of the main reasons he’d asked me to pretend to date him. Not only would it be a great P.R. opportunity for the team, but linking himself to a hockey dynasty would probably impress his coaches.
I pulled into the stadium parking lot and drove to the side door. “You’ve always treated me with respect… until two days ago.”
He unbuckled his seat belt. “I truly am sorry for that. I was shocked by what Gus had told me, but that’s no excuse. I should have done things differently, and I wish I had. I’d never… uh…” He cleared his throat. “I’d never want to upset you.”
I glanced at him in the rearview mirror. His cheeks were pink again, and he was looking down at his hands.
“Thank you for the apology.” Perhaps this was a sign that we could get our working relationship back on track.
If we set clear boundaries, maybe my job could be salvaged, and I wouldn’t have to move out and either admit defeat to my parents or go searching for something else. “Can I ask you something?”
He raised his eyes and met mine in the mirror. “Of course.”
“Are things going to be weird between us if I stay as your assistant?”
He shook his head immediately. “Not if I can help it. You’re the best one I’ve ever had.
I know I’m not the most easygoing guy, but you’ve never complained about that, and I’ve never had to worry about you forgetting anything.
With you, I know everything is taken care of, and I don’t want to lose that. ”
I pressed my lips together, thinking hard. “Okay. Let’s try to move forward then.”
His face lit up. “Thank you. I’ll make sure you don’t regret being patient with me.
” He hesitated, then continued, “It might be a bad idea to say this, and I promise we can shut down the conversation for good if it’s a dealbreaker, but I’d really like to understand why you hate the idea of pretending to be with me so much.
It could benefit us both. Is it the deception that puts you off?
The public interest? Or are you worried about your dating life? ”
My instant reaction was to refuse to reply, but something in his tone saved him. It didn’t sound as if he was trying to push the matter, just understand. I supposed that was fair enough, especially because my reasons likely didn’t align with what he expected.
I opened my mouth—to say what, I didn’t know—but before any words could emerge, a set of knuckles rapped on the window, and then Jesse’s smiling face appeared on the other side of the glass.
He waved and mouthed, “Hi,” then jerked his thumb toward the building. “You coming?”
My heart hammered, and I felt like I’d been granted a reprieve, but I knew it wouldn’t last long. Austin wasn’t the kind of guy to forget a question like that. Next time we were alone, I’d have to answer it.