Chapter 8
Chapter
Eight
CHLOE
Living with Brantley has made me realize something.
I hate being alone.
I think I’ve always hated being alone. Even when I had my own place, I would often find myself at Olivia’s place. Before Mason, I spent more time with her than I did at my own home. Then she found Mason and I had to find other ways to occupy my time.
Maybe that’s why I leaned so hard into the dating scene. It meant that I wouldn’t have to spend my evenings alone even if some of the men I went out with were repulsive.
Since I moved in with Brantley, I haven’t been on a single date.
That first week it was because I was trying to figure out what I was going to do when he came home, but then he did, and I stayed.
We spent our evenings together watching television and bickering with one another.
Strangely, it’s been some of the best days of my life.
I hated Brantley when I moved in. At least I thought I did.
He is Mr. Playboy. Every magazine shows him with a different supermodel on his arm as he attends these important events.
It doesn’t help that Business Magazine did an article on him being the new owner of the Boston Foxes and labeled him as Boston’s Most Eligible Bachelor.
Yeah, the guy is never hurting for a warm bed, yet when he has been home, he has been with me almost every night. It feels weird now that he’s gone.
I wonder if he is going to hook up with someone while he is out of town. I don’t know why I care, but I do.
That’s a lie. I know why. I think my hatred for him has slowly started to evolve.
Even through our combative nature, Brantley is funny.
He isn’t as cocky as I once believed. Well, at least not most of the time.
Whenever he catches me looking at him for longer than a second, he teases me for it, making me knock him down a peg or two.
Really, the world should thank me for helping keep his ego in check.
A knock at the door has me leaving the existential thoughts on the couch as I answer it.
As soon as I open, two little arms crash into my legs.
“Auntie Chloe. I missed you,” Ari screams as she hugs me.
I smile at Liv, who cringes as she speaks. “Sorry about that. She has no chill.”
I kneel, pulling her into my arms. “Never apologize for our little bug wanting some love. She missed her baby daddy, huh?”
Ari giggles. “You’re not my daddy.”
“You’re right, but you’re still mine.” I tickle her, making her giggle.
She escapes, running into the house.
“Hey, where are you going?” I call out.
“My room,” she yells back.
“Ditched for toys. What is this world coming to?” I ask Liv as I stand.
“Well, Brantley does spoil her. He wants to be the favorite uncle.”
I snort. “Doesn’t matter, I’m the favorite everything.”
She shakes her head, stepping inside and closing the door behind her.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I ask her.
“Brantley left for his away games, so I thought I would stop in and check on you. How’s the job hunt going?” she asks as she leads the way to the kitchen.
I forget that she has probably been here a million times. She grabs two bottles of water before sitting in Brantley’s seat at the island. I take my own and sigh.
“Not very good. They blacklisted me from any other marketing firms in the area, so I’m looking for any kind of job. At this rate, I’ll be living with Brantley for the rest of my life.”
She snorts. “No, you won’t.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
She smiles wider. “We both know you’d kill him long before you died, so you’re likely going to be spending twenty-five to life in a state penitentiary.”
I gasp. “What the hell, Liv? Way to kick a girl when she’s down.”
“Oh hush. You know I’m kidding. What did Brantley say after he found out you were jobless?”
“He read me the riot act and told me to get a job or get out,” I deadpan.
“What? I’ll cut him. What an asshole,” she hisses.
I shake my head. “I’m kidding. He said it was fine and to stay as long as I wanted. He even offered me a job, but he’s already giving me a place to live. I don’t want a pity job too.”
“Chloe, you would give your shirt off your back for someone in need. I have literally seen you give your last dollar to a homeless person on the street. You are always helping others. So why do you find it hard to accept help in return?”
“I don’t want to be a burden or feel like I’m taking advantage. Brantley is already doing too much for me. You know he won’t let me pay him rent? I feel like I owe him or something now. I don’t like that feeling.”
“Do you expect the people you help to pay you back?” she asks.
“Well, no, but it’s different—”
“It’s not,” she cuts me off. “It’s the same. Not everyone has an agenda. Brantley may want to help you because he’s a good person too. I know you don’t like him, but he’s not the villain in your story. He can be the friend.”
“More like the funny little sidekick like Percy from Pocahontas.”
She laughs. “Damn, not even Meeko?”
“No way. Meeko is adorable. I want to snuggle him.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “And you don’t want to snuggle the dog?”
“Well, sure, but he’s also a bit pretentious and a little goofy. Reminds me more of Brantley.”
She laughs. “Okay then.”
“Mommy, look what I found?” Ari comes running out holding a brand-new Boston Foxes jersey.
“Oh wow. Your uncle Brantley must have had it made for you,” she tells Ari.
“Want me to take you to a game?” I ask her.
“Yes. Tonight?” she asks with those puppy-dog eyes.
“No. Not tonight. They aren’t in town, but next time they are, I’ll take you. Okay?”
“Okay.”
She runs off as I turn to Liv.
“What?” I ask at the look on her face.
“How are you going to afford those tickets without a job?”
I shrug. “I do happen to live with the owner. Maybe he will give me a discount?”
She rolls her eyes. “So if it’s for Ari, you’re happy to put your hand out, but not for yourself? You need help.”
“If I do, then you do too.”
brANTLEY
“Come on, guys,” I hiss under my breath.
I have some of the best players on my team, but they can’t seem to get into a rhythm. It’s driving me insane. I need them to figure out their issues because if we keep losing, we are going to lose everything.
I refuse to give up on them, though.
“James seems to be the only one trying to work as a team player,” I hear one of the potential sponsors say to the other.
“They haven’t put him out on the ice with Hayes. I heard they played in college together. I bet you get them out on the ice together and things start gelling a little more. They need to do something,” the other man responds.
Everyone is always an expert when they are watching from the bench. No one ever understands the complexity that goes into choosing who gets to play and who doesn’t.
I trust my managers to make the right decisions. The coaches are there watching them practice and understand their skills. I shouldn’t have to step in.
I might need to, though. I can’t keep having them lose.
The final buzzer rings out, the Foxes losing once again by a mere one point.
“Too bad. Last season they were looking up,” the first man mumbles as they leave the suite without saying a word to me.
I don’t blame them. They were here on my invitation in the hopes that they would want to sponsor the team or some of the players, but I knew if we lost, they would walk.
No one wants to sink money into a losing team. Well, no one but me, it seems.
Louis, my business adviser, walks in as they leave, coming to my side.
“Another bad one. You are going to have to make a change. I know you want to keep Coach Renoy, but we are going to have to fire him,” he tells me.
“You are an adviser, not a decision maker. I’ve noted your recommendation, but at this time I am not going with it,” I remind him.
Sometimes I feel like he thinks he is part of the team.
He’s not. He’s an independent contractor who I hired to give me other views so that I could make the best decision.
So far, I haven’t agreed with many of his recommendations.
I should have fired him long before now, but I can’t hire “yes men” in this business. I need people who will challenge me.
At the end of the day, though, these are my decisions.
“You’re excused for the evening. I’m going to chat with the team.”
I leave him standing in the suite as I make my way through the stragglers down to the away team locker room. Stepping inside, I find the mood somber.
“It was a rough one,” I call out to the room, getting everyone’s attention.
They are used to this. I always show my face after a game, win or lose. I want them to know I’m not some nameless man who only cares about the money.
I care about the team. I care about the game. I used to be them. I once played hockey, and I loved it. I wasn’t good enough to go pro, but I want to support them however I can.
“We don’t always win. Right now, I know that is closer to rarely than always, but that’s okay.
What I need from you is feedback. What is going wrong?
Why aren’t we working well as a team? Don’t tell me now.
Each and every one of you has my email. I want you to send me an email with your suggestions.
If you don’t feel comfortable with that, send me an anonymous letter.
Schedule an appointment with me personally.
You tell me what you need to be a better team, and I promise you I will do everything I can to make it happen.
We lost tonight, but we don’t have to keep losing. We can do better.”
No one says a word as I walk out of the room. There’s nothing to say. We are losing, and until something changes, we will keep losing.
“Hey, Mr. Gibson. Can I have a minute?”
I turn to find Clayton James, our newest forward, chasing after me.
“Of course. What’s up?”
“Part of our issue is Holken. He isn’t putting in the work like everyone else.
He feels because he has seniority on the team, he doesn’t have to follow the same regimen as the rest of us.
It’s causing animosity with the team. Coach is aware but isn’t doing anything about it.
He is a good goalie, but we could find another goalie.
A better one. I happen to know one who will be up for drafting next year.
This season is already a wash. We aren’t going to get into the playoffs.
Sorry, it’s true, though. We need to use it as a rebuilding season and get our heads on straight. I think we do that without Holken.”
“That’s brave of you to say. This is only your second season,” I tell him.
He nods. “If it gets me fired, then so be it. I won’t keep playing for a team that can’t come together as a real team and fight for the trophy. That’s what I’m here for. Not to walk on eggshells.”
I nod. “It’s great feedback. I would love to hear more about this goalie you know and what you envision for the future of the team. When we get back to Boston, come see me in my office. I’ll have a chat with Coach about Holken.”
“Thanks, Mr. Gibson.”
“Please feel free to call me Brantley. I’m really glad to have you on the team, Clayton.”
“My friends call me Clay. You can too. I’m happy to be here. We will get the team where it needs to be. It will be hard work, but it will be worth it.”
He turns, leaving me standing there as he heads back into the locker room.
When the captaincy comes back up, Clayton would be a good candidate. I only hope the team feels the same way.
He has what it takes to get the team back on track.
It’s up to me to give him the help he needs to do it.