Page 6

CHAPTER 6

OLLIE

M y mom always said that the kitchen is the true heart of the home, and I’m happy to report that she was not wrong. In fact, my kitchen hums with life tonight, the kind that comes with simmering sauce and the crackle of garlic as it hits the pan. The air is heavy with the scent of tomatoes and oregano, warm and inviting, like the kind of place you’d want to linger while trying to sneak in a taste test or two.

I stir the pot, tasting as I go, adding a pinch of salt, a shake of pepper. In the background, a record spins on the old stereo in the living room, crooning soft jazz that scratches faintly at the edges. The music pairs strangely well with the faint wail of an ambulance speeding past outside, sirens fading as it rushes toward the hospital a few blocks away. It’s a soundtrack I’m used to by now, part of the rhythm of living here, like the creak of the old floorboards or the hum of the fridge.

The door creaks open, and my roommate Dixon strolls in, his hoodie half-zipped, hair sticking up like he’s been napping. “Tell me that’s for me,” he says, his grin wide enough to make me roll my eyes.

“It’s for both of us,” I reply, tossing him a plate, which he catches. “Help yourself.”

The sound of a rooster crowing plays, signaling a text. It’s my father’s personal tone, one that causes even Dixon to raise an eyebrow as his eyes land on my phone resting on the counter.

“What does he want?” he asks, jerking his head in its direction.

“We’ll see,” I say with dread in my voice as I cross the room. My dad was not around for my formative years. While my mom is still here in River City, he took off and left us when I was still in elementary school. He left my mother alone to raise four kids, while also trying to start a business with her friend. Total candidate for Father of the Year.

It wasn’t a big surprise that once I started playing hockey and got some attention that put my name out there, of course he suddenly reappeared in our lives. Mostly mine, but out of respect for the fact he is my blood relative I wanted to give him a chance. I want to do this, to see if I can find some good deep down inside of him. My mother and sisters drew their own lines in the sand when it came to reconnecting with him, so it’s just me now trying to repair our wound.

Glancing at the screen, today’s message seems harmless. But then again, he always is until he isn’t.

How’s my boy doing?

Good. Getting ready to go out of town soon. You?

Saw that, good luck, son. I was looking at the stats for the game. Chicago is picked to win.

I fight the urge to punch the phone. Here we go.

Yep. Let me guess. You placed a bet?

Don’t be mad. If they win, I make money. Chicago is a great team, too.

Yeah, I know. It’s the team he wanted me to be on, but I wasn’t picked. His favorite AHL team that, in his mind, would lead to me one day moving up to the NHL. I want to scream that he needs to get his own dream, but that won’t help our relationship, will it?

This is my dad. He likes to bet against my team and only shows up to ask me for things when he needs them. He’s never called to say hi or see how I’m doing, but he’ll call me, like clockwork, every six to seven months and ask for a loan. Loans that are never paid back, and neither one of us brings up again. It’s exhausting and it’s my fault for letting him back in.

Okay, well good luck. Good night.

Ollie, if I get to Chicago can I get a ticket for the game?

Dixon turns to me as he shoves his last forkful in his mouth. “You gonna eat, bro?”

I look at my full plate and sigh as I put the phone down. “He wants a ticket.”

“In Chicago?” As I nod, he shakes his head. “No. Tell him you can’t.”

“He could show up anyway.”

“Deal with it then.” Dixon holds out his hand. “I’ll type it out if you want.”

Dixon has been around long enough to know how this scenario goes and how it makes me feel. Low. I stay quiet for a moment before picking my phone up again and tapping a reply, and then I put my phone down and turn it off.

“So?” Dixon asks.

“I…told him I’d see what I could do.”

“And you turned your phone off, too. Very brave.” Dixon snickers.

“It’s my dad,” I say. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

“Maybe Anna can help. If she’s a true friend with benefits, I bet she can ask about getting you some tickets if you want.”

“I can tell when you’re being facetious.” I take a napkin from the table and chuck it at his head. “She’s not a friend with benefits.” But he has a good point, so of course I’ll ask.

“You need to tell him no is what you need to do.” Dixon stands up and clears his plate. He leans against the sink and watches me. “Then you need to own up that you like Anna and deal with that.”

“You would not be privy to any of this if you weren’t living here,” I growl. Dixon knows about my friendship with Anna. That she and I met when she would come to the arena with Danny on the weekends, because he didn’t want to leave her home alone, and watch me play in a junior league. We already knew each other at school, but spending weekends together for the majority of our high school career laid a great foundation for the kinship we share now. “I may or may not have a crush on her, and if I do, it needs to stay unrequited at this time.”

“Why?”

Questions I also ask myself. “Because our relationship works how it is already, and it’s good enough for me right now.” Which it isn’t. I know this, and judging by the look on Dixon’s face, he knows it, too. But I also don’t want to talk about it right this second. “Anyway, things have changed.”

“They’ve changed?” Dixon asks.

“Not so much things , I guess,” I say, irked that I’m still talking. My mouth needs time out in the penalty box. “I’ve changed.”

Am I leaving out the part that I’ve always carried a torch for her since she first stood on the edge of the rink and watched a practice that fateful afternoon? Anna was the girl the other guys on my hockey team pursued, but she only hung out with me. She is sunshine and warmth, a ray of light that brightens even the cloudiest of days. I’ve always felt protective of her and our friendship, so when I realized my feelings were a little more than being a buddy you can bet I put a lid on them. I never want to lose her or the friendship we’ve built.

“Do you think you changed because you’re starting to get more time in the spotlight?” Dixon asks. His expression is intense, but curious nonetheless. “Cause it makes sense to me. You’re following in some big footsteps.” He points my way. “It’s your turn. Maybe someone is stepping into their greatness and they’re underprepared?”

I grab another napkin that I crumple quickly and fling at his head, Dixon laughing as he ducks out of the way.

“I’m being serious,” he says, holding his hands in front of him and swatting it out of the way easily. No wonder he’s such a great goalie. “My mom is a therapist, so I know about imposter syndrome. Sounds like you’re getting over a case of it.”

I let his words sink in, my head bobbing along in agreement whether I have control over it or not.

“When you put it like that, I see it, too.” It’s all foreign to me, and I’m still navigating my feelings around being put forward as the team spokesperson, but with each stretch I make, each giant leap I force myself to take, I’m shedding “old” Ollie so I can become a new one. Ollie 2.0. Ollie Next Level. Ollie, the guy who has the self-esteem and confidence to do almost anything, including ask out the woman he’s coveted from afar for far too long.

“So, with Anna, are you thinking you’re an imposter?” Dixon heads over to the freezer, pulls out a pint of ice cream and grabs two spoons before parking at the table with me again and holding one out for me.

I take the spoon from him and narrow my eyes, thinking. “Maybe. Or it could be that she knows the warts and all, you know?”

“Mm-hmmm.” He sits back in his chair. “I wish you could see what I do—sometimes when she’s looking at you, I swear there are literal hearts in her eyes.”

“I’m glad you’ve seen it, because I haven’t.” I dip my spoon into the ice cream and take a giant bite.

“Ask her out, dude. Just do it.” He takes another heaping helping of Chunky Monkey before waving his spoon in the air like a scepter. “If someone else asks her out—and it could happen—and you never tried, you will regret it.”

Dixon’s unusually cheery expression suddenly clouds over; it’s as if a storm has literally rolled in out of nowhere.

“Is this the voice of experience?”

“Just…trust me,” he growls, avoiding eye contact. The loud ding of my front doorbell rings, breaking the conversation up.

“Don’t think I’ll forget about this,” I toss over my shoulder as I leave the room. “There’s a story there.”

The floorboards creak under my feet as I head for the door, Dixon’s words still hanging in the air. Whatever storm cloud he’s sitting under, it’s big enough to drown out the amazingness that is Chunky Monkey, and that’s saying something.

The doorbell rings again, this time with a little more insistence, and I pick up the pace.

“Hold your horses!” I call out, yanking the door open.

Anna’s standing there, her face blotchy, her eyes rimmed red, and the sight of her makes my stomach drop.

“Sorry to come by like this, but I tried calling and it kept going straight to voicemail,” she says, her voice trembling like a fragile thread that might snap at any moment. “Are you alone?”

“Dixon’s here. What’s up?” I step back from the door, simultaneously pulling her inside as I do, and shut out the world behind her. “Are you okay?”

“It’s my dad,” she says. “His heart—he’s at River City General.”

Her words hit like a punch to the gut, and for a second, I just stare, trying to catch my breath. Then, before I even realize I’m moving, I’m closing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around her so I can pull her close.

“Anna,” I say softly, rubbing her back. “Tell me what happened.”

Anna clings to me for a moment, her fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Then, as if realizing where she is, she pulls back slightly, her face still pale, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Can we sit?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah, of course.” I glance toward the kitchen where Dixon sits, still parked at the table gripping his pint of ice cream.

He looks up, eyes flicking between us as if he senses something. Without me needing to say a word, he hops up and puts the carton back in the freezer before grabbing his keys from the coffee table.

“I forgot I need to…head out,” he says, standing and stretching with a casualness that feels deliberately forced. “Catch you later, man. Anna, good to see you.”

She nods, but I can tell she barely registers his presence as he makes his way out the door, closing it quietly behind him.

Once Dixon’s gone, I guide Anna to the couch, sitting beside her as she takes a deep breath and presses her hands to her cheeks, as if trying to hold herself together.

“It wasn’t a heart attack,” she says finally, her words spilling out in a rush. “At least, not a real one. It was a panic attack, so its symptoms mimicked a heart attack, but it scared us all half to death.”

“Where was he?”

“Work. One of the delivery guys found him and called 911. The paramedics knew it was a panic attack but thought it was best to take him to the hospital so he could be observed overnight.”

“All going well, will he go home soon?” When she nods, I exhale slowly, relief mixing with concern. “Okay. That’s…not great, but better than the alternative. What brought it on?”

Her face crumples, and for a moment, I think she might start crying again, but she holds it together.

“He got scammed, Ollie,” she says, her voice cracking. “Some Ponzi scheme. He lost almost everything. His savings, his retirement—gone. He didn’t tell anyone what was happening, and it…broke him.”

I blink, the weight of her words sinking in. “I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Sorry doesn’t fix it. I don’t know how to fix it.”

I reach out, covering her hands with mine. “You’re not alone in this. I’m here, okay? Whatever you need, whatever I can do, I’m in.”

Her eyes meet mine, wide and vulnerable, and for the first time since she walked through the door, there’s a flicker of something else—gratitude, maybe even hope.

Anna slowly pulls her hands back, sitting up a little straighter, like she’s gearing herself up for something. That flicker of hope hardens into resolve, and she takes a deep breath.

“There…might be one way I can put a Band-Aid on this. At least enough to give my dad some breathing room.” She fiddles with the edge of her sleeve, avoiding my gaze.

“Okay,” I say slowly, leaning forward. “What’s the plan?”

She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. “You’re not going to like it.”

“Try me.”

Anna looks up, her eyes scanning my face like she’s gauging how much of this I can handle. “Sutton came to me with an offer. From the Renegades. Okay, more specifically, it kind of came via Jimmy and the team publicist––in a roundabout way.”

“That’s weird.”

“Oh you bet it is,” she says. “And it gets weirder. They want me to…be your fake girlfriend.”

I blink, unsure if I heard her right. “My what ?”

“They think it’ll help boost your profile. Jimmy especially. Apparently, your tough guy image isn’t playing well with the press, and they need you to step up, be more…” She waves her hand in the air, searching for the word.

“Marketable?” I offer, my voice dripping with disbelief.

“Yeah. That.” She sighs and looks down at her hands again. “They’re willing to pay me. A lot. Enough to help my dad out for a while, maybe long enough to figure something out. You get the publicity, it helps your career and the Renegades, and I get a way to help my family.”

I sit back, trying to process what she’s just dropped on me. It’s not every day you find out your livelihood could be threatened because you’re not a fan of marketing. “So, let me get this straight. The owners think the best way to fix my ‘profile’ problem is to pay you to pretend we’re a couple?”

“Pretty much.”

I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring at Anna as her words settle over me like a heavy fog. “And you agreed to this?”

She hesitates, looking down at her hands, twisting her fingers together like she’s trying to wring out the guilt. “Not…exactly.”

“Why would they even come to you with this?” I ask, still trying to wrap my head around it. “I mean, don’t they have PR people for this sort of thing? Why you?”

Her cheeks flush, and she bites her lip before meeting my gaze. “Because…I sort of was in the room when they were having the conversation, and may have said some things that led them to the idea.”

The room falls silent, the kind of silence that amplifies every tick of the clock and every breath we take.

“You what? ” I finally manage, my voice sharper than I intended.

“I didn’t mean to!” she blurts, sitting up straighter, her words tumbling out in a rush. “It just…came out. I was in a meeting with them, well…not really, I was dropping something off and I overheard them. They were brainstorming ways to boost your image. I made some suggestions, in an effort to protect you—and somehow, they took that and ran with it, saying you needed someone to be in a fake relationship with to soften you up. Next thing I know, they’ve approached me as the ‘someone.’”

I shake my head, still trying to process. I was summoning the courage mere moments ago to ask this woman out and now, we’re talking about jumping twenty paces ahead and being in a relationship? Not that I’d be mad about it, but there is something to be said about the thrill of the chase.

“Anna, you know me. You know I don’t do this kind of thing. I’m not some guy who wants to sell a fake story to the world.”

“I know,” she says softly, her voice almost a whisper. “I told them it might not be a good fit, but they didn’t listen. And then Sutton said something about your reluctance being part of the problem, and…here we are.”

I lean back, running a hand through my hair, the weight of her confession settling heavily in my chest. “So now I’m the guy who needs saving from myself and you’re the solution? Great.”

Anna reaches out, her hand brushing mine, her eyes pleading. “I didn’t mean for it to turn into this. And I swear, if you say no, I’ll walk back into those offices and tell them it’s not happening.”

I look at her, the genuine regret in her expression clashing with the absurdity of what she’s asking me to consider.

“And what about you?” I ask, my voice quieter now. “Why are you even considering this?”

She hesitates again, the vulnerability in her eyes making my chest ache. “For my dad…he’s in a bad spot, and this could help. At least for now.”

Her words hit harder than I expected, and suddenly, all my frustration evaporates. This isn’t just about me or some PR stunt—it’s about Anna, and she’s clearly desperate.

I sigh, running a hand down my face. “You know this is insane, right?”

“Completely,” she says, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “But it’s temporary.”

“Like you living with your dad?”

“Shush.” She reaches out and lets her hand rest on mine. “Temporary in that we’ll do it long enough to lift your profile and get Jimmy off your back, while giving my dad some breathing room, too.”

I meet her gaze, the weight of the decision pressing down on me. She needs me, but everything about this feels so…wrong.

“I get it. I do. And if this is really what you want to do, and we can come out of it okay on the other side, I’ll go along with it. For you.”

Anna holds up a finger. “It’s for us. Don’t forget, this comes from the top, Ollie. They’re watching you, too.”

Does that reminder carry more weight? It does, but I’ll unpack it later. “Fine. But I need you to know something first.”

Her eyes meet mine, wary. “What?”

“This whole fake girlfriend thing could blow up in our faces. I don’t want it to cost you more than you’re already dealing with.”

Anna’s shoulders sag, her anger melting into exhaustion. “I know it’s a risk, but I don’t know what else to do.”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Then I guess we’d better make this convincing.”