Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Sawyer
“What do you think?” my agent, Ally, asks a few days later.
I scrub at my forehead with a towel, wiping away the sweat that’s stinging my eyes, and ignore the buzz of post-practice activity in the hall.
Practice has finished, and I need to hit the showers.
But I need to deal with this first.
“I’m not sure,” I tell her. “What do you think I should do?”
“Take it,” she says without missing a beat.
“Sure it’ll involve some upfront legwork, what with the photoshoots and all, but this kind of opportunity doesn’t come around all that often for hockey players.
Take the pictures, make the commercials, do the social media campaign, and put that cash in your retirement fund. ”
“All right,” I tell her. “Let’s do it. But get me the dates as soon as possible, yeah? I need to get them on the calendar.”
“Wicked!” she exclaims. “I’ll get working on finalizing everything. Keep an eye on your inbox, we’ll send it over for an e-signature.”
“Right,” I say. “No problem.”
We hang up and I turn in time to see Donnie, our video coach, walking down the hall, his arms laden with boxes, the topmost two teetering dangerously.
“I’ve got ’em.” I swoop forward, stop them from falling.
“Thanks, man,” he says. “You can just plunk them back on top.”
“I’ll carry them for you.”
“You don’t have—”
“Where are we heading, Donnie?”
He shakes his head at me, but just jerks his chin down the hall. “My office.”
“On it.” I start that way, turning the corner and pausing outside the door as I wait for him to drop the boxes inside and then take mine.
“Thanks, Sawyer.”
“Anytime—”
“I think you mean, Cupcake, Donnie!” Smitty calls.
I roll my eyes, pat Donnie on the shoulder, then head back down the hall. “How’s Sophie doing?” I ask Smitty as we walk toward the locker room.
“Better. She slept all the way through the night finally.” His mouth twitches. “Kailey said it was life-changing.” Guilt ripples across his face, stealing his smile. “I should have hired the night nurse.”
“I thought you said she refused.”
He scowls. “She did. But with me being on the road, I should have insisted. When I got home from the road trip, she was so exhausted she slept the entire day, except for nursing.”
God, that had to kill him.
Kailey is his world—or most of it now that Sophie’s in it.
I clap him on the shoulder. “Maybe you guys could find a compromise—on the long road trips, you get a night nurse. When it’s just a night or two, you play it by ear.”
His scowl fades for a moment…then comes back. “How’d you make so much sense in ten seconds when Kailey and I have been struggling with this for months?”
“Because you’re both sleep-deprived?”
“Asshole,” he mutters, shoving at my shoulder. “Since you have all the answers, want to help me out with my match?”
“Who is it?”
“Grant Mercer.”
“Grant Mercer?” I exclaim.
“Shush, asshole,” he says, looking around. “It’s supposed to be confidential, remember?”
“So says the loud ass man bellowing names in the hallway.”
“Asshole.” He punches my shoulder. “And anyway, how the fuck am I supposed to ask this guy what he’s looking for in a partner without sounding like I’m trying to fuck him?”
I snort. “Maybe start by telling him you’re working for Vi?”
“Con-fi-den-tial, remember?” A sigh. “Look, she said he’s being a pain in the ass and she needs to know the real Grant, the real man he is”—jazz hands—“beneath the veneer. She said quote ‘He’s the successful captain of the Rattlers, but that tells me fuck-all about who will truly make him happy.’”
“Didn’t he hire her?”
“Yup.” A shrug. “Hockey players are stubborn fucks, aren’t we?”
“Most definitely,” I say then, “Maybe ask him about his favorite place to vacation.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Travel tells a lot about people—does he like cities or nature, being with other people or hitting the bars or checking out a museum.” I wipe at my forehead again. “I don’t know. Maybe it’ll give you somewhere to start.”
Smitty’s mouth has dropped open.
Then he slowly shakes his head. “Fuck, man. That’s brilliant.” He lifts his voice so it echoes around the room. “Cupcake is brilliant!” he shouts before stripping down. “Thanks, buddy,” he says, clapping me on the shoulder.
“Anytime.”
He jabs a finger my direction. “Brilliant!” he repeats then hits the showers.
I roll my eyes but just go to my own stall, pulling off the rest of my gear.
“Hey, Sawyer?”
I glance over at Rip. “Yeah, Rook?”
“After you’re done showering, could you show me how to do that squat exercise you were talking about?”
“Of course.” I toss my dirty jersey into the bin in the center of the room. “Want me to show you right now?”
“Oh, I can wait.”
“Eh, I’ll probably get sweaty, anyway.” I tug on my pants, shove my feet in my shoes. “Let’s hit it.”
We head back out in the hall, turn in the direction of the weight room and…nearly plow over Bri.
“Shit,” Rip says, steadying her with his hands on her shoulders. “Sorry, Bri. I was—”
“All good.” She brushes him off then looks at me. “I wanted to ask you about the auction—”
“Shoot,” I say. “I forgot to send you those dates. I—” I pat my pockets, realize my phone is back in the locker room. “I’ll text them to you as soon as I’m done here.”
A relieved smile that has guilt rippling through me. I should have told her sooner. “Thanks, Sawyer.” She kisses me on the cheek then zips away. “Talk to you later!”
“Bye,” Rip calls.
A flat look over her shoulder. “Bye.”
My gaze locks with his. “Problem?”
“No,” he mutters.
I pause, considering my options then…decide to leave it. For the moment, anyway.
“Let’s go,” I say, pushing open the door to the weight room.
Within ten minutes, he’s got it…and I’m sweating.
“I’ll leave you to it,” I tell him, swiping at my forehead and heading down the hall. Showering takes me another ten, and then I’m walking down the hall and out into the parking lott.
My phone buzzes as I’m climbing into the driver’s seat and my lips curve when I see it’s Lainey.
“Hey, Pages,” I say after I pick up.
“Saw-yur!”
My smile widens. “Hey, buddy.”
“Did you have another joke today?”
“I sure did. Wanna hear it?”
“Yuppers!”
Laughter in my chest. “Okay ready?”
“Yuppers times two!”
“How do you fix a broken tomato?”
A pause, and I imagine his little face all screwed up as he concentrates. “I don’t know.”
“With tomato paste.”
His giggles fill the air—and my heart. “Are you coming to dinner tonight?”
“Am I invited?”
“Mom!” he shouts. “Is Saw-yur invited to dinner?”
“Of course he is,” she says.
“You hear her?”
“Yuppers,” I say with a smile. “I’ll be over in a bit.”
“Yahoo!”
“Tell your mom I’ll bring her some cookies from Molly’s.”
Rustling, his little voice echoing through the air.
“She says you don’t have to do that, Cupcake.” A beat. “Who’s Cupcake?”
“Me?”
“But you’re Saw-yur.”
I laugh. “You’re right, bud.”
“Are you going to come to my performance?”
“What performance?”
“My winter concert at school. It’s next Thursday.”
I do a mental calculation—the team will be in town and we don’t have a game that night. “Yeah, bud. I’ll be there.”
“Promise?”
My heart thuds hard against my ribs. “Promise.”
“Yahoo!” he says again.
Laughing, I tell him goodbye and turn on the engine.
Unfortunately, my phone buzzes before I can pull out of the spot.
The name on the screen makes my stomach twist.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, it’s terrible, sweetheart,” she wails. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“What’s happened?”
“The guy fixed the garage door, only he didn’t fix the garage door, and now it won’t open and I need to get my ice cream into the house, but I can’t get into the garage.”
My temple throbs and I rest my head on the steering wheel.
“Go through the front door, Mom.”
Silence. Then, “I can’t carry this in all by myself. The whole trunk is full.”
Sighing, I say the only thing I can, “I’ll be right there, Mom.”
A relieved exhale. “Thank you, baby. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
That’s what I’m afraid of.
Because I know exactly what happens when I’m not there.
And what it costs to put the pieces back together.