Jackson
“If you’re busy, I can come back.” I run my hands down my jeans, then fold them across my chest before dropping them back at my sides again. I don’t know why I'm so nervous, but I am. I never ask for things like this, but I really want to see Harper for her birthday.
“I never said I was busy. I’m just waiting for you to get the guts to spit out whatever you want to ask me,” he murmurs.
When I don’t answer, he sighs and drops the papers on his desk. He slips off his reading glasses and carefully places them at the top of the document. He’s broken more than a few pairs recently when he slams his hands down on his desk and forgets they’re there. Which only makes him angrier.
Thick arms get folded across his chest before he stares at me. He arches a brow, silently telling me I better start talking.
“Don’t waste my time. I have things to do,” he adds, in case his brow game wasn’t good enough.
“Oh, then don’t let me stop you. I’ll talk-”
“I'm lying. I have nothing important to do right now, I just want you to spit it out faster. There’s nothing I hate more than people hesitating!”
I suck in a deep breath and blow it out slowly. Tucking my hands into my front pockets, I meet Owen’s gaze and give him a tight smile.
“I need off next weekend.”
“What days?” He turns his attention to his calendar and waits.
“Friday through Sunday?”
“Is that a question or statement, McLaren?”
“Statement.”
“There’s a game every night.” He glances up at me through his lashes and somehow that makes me feel even more guilty for asking. “Take a seat.” He motions to the chairs across from his desk.
He stands and shuts his office door before returning to his seat and watching me carefully.
I feel like I'm in the principal’s office waiting to find out my fate after doing something really dumb.
Or like I'm waiting for Mom to figure out I snuck out of the house after she told me I couldn’t.
That woman is crazy. There was no telling how she’d respond after I did something she didn’t like.
“What’s really going on? You’re an anxious mess. I’ve never seen you like this before.”
“It’s my best friend’s birthday this weekend and I haven’t seen her in months. She really wants me to come see her and when I told her I probably couldn’t do that, she sounded devastated,” I blurt out in one long breath.
“She?” He asks slowly, a smirk spreading across his face. “Do I know this girl?”
“I don’t know. Do you know Harper Bradley?”
“Maddox Bradley’s daughter? Yeah, I know little Harper. I didn’t realize you were friends with her though.”
“Best friends,” I correct with my index finger in the air.
He rolls his eyes, but we both know he’d correct someone for the same thing. He loves correcting people no matter what’s going on.
“I think she’s more than your best friend, or you wouldn’t be asking to miss three games just to see her.” He leans back in his chair and watches me. I know what he’s doing. He’s waiting for me to break. For me to spill all of my secrets to him. The sad part is, I probably will.
After thirty seconds of silence, I finally give in. I tell him my plans and how this is the perfect opportunity for me to tell her everything. Owen listens patiently and when I'm finished, I expect him to dismiss the idea entirely.
“Ok, I’ll make you a deal.”
“Anything!”
“I’ll give you the three days off, but you can’t miss a single game the rest of the season.
If you’re sick, I still expect you here.
The only way I’ll even entertain the idea of you missing another game is for a family emergency.
And don’t forget I know everyone and can check on any excuse you give me. Do you understand me?”
“Absolutely!”
“And when you come back, you better be playing the games of your life. I expect greatness from you. Don’t let me down.”
“I won't. I promise.” I stand from my chair, but pause to appreciate having the best boss in the world. “Thank you, Owen.”
“You’re welcome. But don’t expect this to happen every year. Those girls might be making me soft, but I can still be a bosshole when I need to be.”