Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
On Friday morning, I get back to Victor’s house after a short run with Bella. She’s in way better shape than I am. She pulls on the leash to get to the front door, and my trembling legs can barely keep up.
“Slow down, girl.” I pull open the front door and the whoosh of air-conditioning hits my face, and I let go of the leash.
I follow her, much slower, to the kitchen. I need a gallon of water and a second breakfast, then my plan is to watch daytime TV and snuggle with Bella. She is the cuddliest dog on the planet.
Only there’s someone in the kitchen.
I come up short when a waiflike blond woman turns and smiles at me. “Oh, hi,” she says in a sweet, melodic voice.
“Hi?” I look around for some explanation of her presence. “Is Victor back from practice already?”
“No.” She shakes her head. The movement makes the short strands dance around her face.
She’s tall and slender with a round face and huge blue eyes.
“I’m sorry I startled you. Your brother said you were visiting, but when I came in and didn’t see anyone, I assumed you went with him to the rink. I’m Alexis.”
Bella wiggles at her side. Alexis absently squats down to pet my brother’s dog.
“You’re his new assistant.”
“I prefer professional hockey player wrangler.”
I stare at her for a moment. Is she for real?
She laughs. “I’m kidding. Yes, sorry, I’m Victor’s awkward new assistant. Well, not new; I suppose it’s been almost two months now.”
I join her, letting out a small chuckle, and step into the kitchen with her. “You weren’t what I was expecting.”
“No?” She moves to a cabinet and pulls out a glass. “It’s my first assistant gig, so I suppose I’m still learning.”
Alexis fills the glass with water from the front of the fridge and then sets it down in front of me.
“Thanks.” I still eye her cautiously but take a long drink of the cool water. “I thought you were a referral.”
I wince at how that sounded. “Sorry. It’s not an interrogation. I promise. I thought you’d been an assistant for another player on the team.”
She waves off my concern. “No, it’s fine. I was a nanny for the Wallace family until his mother decided to retire and move down here.”
“You were a nanny,” I say, perfectly able to picture it. She has a certain something about her that I bet kids adore.
“It’s surprising how similar it is to being a personal assistant.”
I let out a small laugh.
“Don’t tell your brother I said that.”
“Definitely not,” I promise.
“Anyway, I didn’t mean to interrupt your visit. I won’t be here long. I’m dropping off your brother’s dry cleaning and checking that there’s enough food for the weekend. Is the guest room okay?”
“That was you.” I feel stupid for not putting it together sooner. All of it was too nice for Victor. Satin pillows, come on. He would never. “And the airport. You’re why he didn’t send a driver.”
She turns from me, busying herself with feeding Bella and checking the water bowl.
“I only told him that if it were me, I’d want my brother to pick me up himself,” she says like it’s no big deal.
“I’m impressed.”
“Really?” she asks, genuine question in her expression.
I nod. “My brother is . . . particular.”
A small laugh slips out as she smiles at me. We both know particular means asshole.
“I’m the oldest of five. Victor is cake compared to my fourteen-year-old sister.”
“Really?” I muse. “I always wanted a younger sister.”
“I’ll let you borrow mine for an afternoon and you’ll change your mind. Victor will seem like a teddy bear.”
I like Alexis, despite only knowing her for a few minutes. She’s sweet, but I see hints of the total boss behind her angelic face and voice. Victor might have finally met his match. I can’t imagine her letting him, or anyone else, boss her around.
By Saturday afternoon, I’ve spent more time with Bella than anyone in my family. My dad has been completely MIA, except for a quick text this morning to let me know the restaurant where we’re having dinner has a dress code.
“I’m headed to the rink,” Victor says, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt as he comes down the stairs.
“Good luck,” I say, smiling at him from my spot on the couch. Bella’s lying beside me, head flopped onto my knee, using it as a pillow.
“Thanks.” He glances up as he reaches the bottom step and aims a crooked smile at me and his dog. “Comfortable?”
“Yes, very.”
He huffs a short laugh and opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but before he does, his stare moves to the open laptop on the coffee table in front of me.
Heat spreads through me and I sit forward to close the screen. Victor is faster.
He picks up my laptop and sneers at the screen. “Why are you looking at Conrad Shepard’s stats?”
I had been staring at his roster photo, but somehow, I think admitting that might be worse.
“Give me that.” I stand and reach for my computer. Bella whines at my departure and the loss of her perfect sleep spot.
Victor holds it higher, still glaring. “What the hell, Whitney?”
“I was checking yesterday’s game scores, and I went down a weird rabbit hole,” I say, because it’s the first logical excuse I can come up with.
“Since when do you keep up with hockey?”
I finally snag my laptop from his grip and close the screen. “Since the boys on my team are obsessed. I have to know things, so they trust me.”
That part is sort of true, but I doubt any of my kids are expecting me to recite Conrad’s stats—though I now could, including, but not limited to, height, weight, eye color, and sexual preferences.
“They’re obsessed with Shepard?” Victor asks, but he snorts dismissively before I reply. “Figures.”
I sit back on the couch and hug my laptop to my chest. “What’s your deal with him?”
“He’s a total phony. He walks around with this ‘aw shucks’ routine and everyone falls for it. It’s annoying.”
“That’s it?” I ask, not able to hide my surprise. For all the hatred Victor has for Conrad, I thought something bigger must have happened between them.
“He’s fake as hell,” Victor says, voice rising, disgust coating his expression. “I can’t stand that performative bullshit. Trust me, he isn’t as nice as he pretends to be.”
My stomach dips and churns uneasily. Victor and I share a few more words before he leaves for the rink, but I barely follow it. I don’t want to keep this thing between me and Conrad from my brother, but how the hell am I supposed to tell him when that’s his reaction every time I mention Conrad?
“What do you think?” I ask Bella.
She flops her head back onto my leg with a harrumph. Looks like neither of us has any answers.
Two hours later, I stare at my reflection in the mirror while Bella lies on my bed.
“I wish I could stay here,” I say to her. She tilts her head to the side and whines.
I tug on the hem of my sweater and then smooth a hand down my brown suede skirt as I turn to see my outfit from the side and back. It feels like a giant waste of a cute outfit and I’m going to be sweaty by the time I walk from the door to the car, but at least I can count on the arena to be cold.
I can’t stop thinking about Victor’s words from earlier. The guilt at lying to my brother, and liking someone he hates so much, has me feeling uneasy. We haven’t always seen eye to eye, but this is different. He’d freak out if he knew I was talking to Conrad.
Despite my restlessness, when I arrive at the arena, everything else fades. I smile as I take in the familiar orange lights glowing around the entrance. Fans are hurriedly pushing inside wearing jerseys and Houston Cougars ball caps.
I hand over my ticket to scan and then make my way up to my seat. There’s a notably empty spot where my dad should be, but Victor mentioned Dad hadn’t been to many games this season. I guess I assumed he’d be here tonight, given our dinner plans, but when the game starts, he still hasn’t shown up.
The crowd stands and cheers for puck drop, then stays on their feet while Houston takes possession of the puck. Victor gets a shot on goal, but Dallas’s goalie blocks it, and the action moves to the other side of the ice.
I’d forgotten how much I enjoy attending professional games. There’s an energy, a theatrical element, that high school games just don’t have. Before long, I’m caught up in the action with everyone around me. It comes to a devastating end when Dallas scores the first goal.
The crowd sits, and the energy dulls. At the first timeout, I pull out my phone.
A message is waiting for me. If the butterflies in my stomach are any indication of my feelings, I think I’m already too far gone for Victor’s concerns about Conrad to change my mind about him.
Conrad
You aren’t wearing a Houston jersey tonight, are you?
I snap a picture of me and send it to him. His reply comes almost instantly.
Conrad
Thank god. I don’t think I’d recover.
Me
How’s the day off?
Conrad
Is it pathetic to say I’m already a little bored?
Me
Yes.
I leave out that I spent most of the past two days curled up on the couch with my brother’s dog, a pile of blankets, and enough junk food for a cross-country road trip.
Me
Plans tonight?
Conrad
Not sure yet. What time is your dinner?
Me
Seven. Assuming my dad doesn’t cancel again. He hasn’t shown up at the game.
Conrad
Sorry.
Me
If he does, I’m ordering myself a pizza and eating it in bed with Bella.
Conrad
Jealous.
For the next two periods, I bounce between watching the action on the ice while cheering on my brother and texting Conrad. We’re trying to make plans for next week when I’m back in Moonshot, but so far one or both of us has a conflict Monday through Wednesday.
Me
What about Thursday?
My text goes unanswered through the third period. Houston loses by two and Victor skates off the ice with a frustrated grimace. Dad didn’t show up, but he hasn’t sent any dinner cancellation messages either.
I head down to the family waiting area for Victor. He’s the first one out, wearing the same dress pants and button-up shirt from earlier, but the collar is loose.
“Hey,” I say. “Tough game.”
He grunts. “Is Dad here?”
I shake my head.