Page 30

Chapter 30

There’s always a later

Cooper

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. Shitty fuck.

I’d been too confident. Sure that if Callie knew I wanted more, wanted a real relationship, that we were golden. I’d have her. That meeting had been a hard check to my ego.

Worse to my heart. I had some excellent old scotch, and it was tempting to indulge and make that pain go away for a while. But we were into preseason games at the end of September. After the devastating end to last season, it was my job to lead us all the way this time. Jeopardizing that for my teammates would be selfish and immature.

The first couple of weeks of training camp were always brutal, running drills, finding out who’d worked out over the summer and who’d slacked off. This year, not many had. Even our new guy, Daniel Astrom, known as Fitch, was keeping up, despite being on the wrong side of thirty and therefore old in hockey terms. We were all determined that this year we were winning.

Things were a little easier in the preseason, but at least burning through the workout Coach gave us had pushed thoughts of Callie to the side.

Maybe it was just as well not to have distractions this year. Focus on winning and nothing else.

Except JJ had to nudge me when practice ended, since my mind had gone back to Callie.

In the locker room after, I shook off my personal black cloud and put on my captain hat. I checked how the new guy was doing. Being traded could fuck you up and make you unsure of your standing.

“You’re married?” I didn’t know if the rumors I’d heard were true.

“Divorced. Almost—waiting on the final paperwork.” He pulled on a T-shirt. “I’m looking for a place for just me. Don’t want to buy anything right now.”

“How do you feel about a roommate?”

“You have a spare bedroom you’re offering?”

I shook my head. “Not me. Ducky likes to have someone. He’s a social guy, so if you want to get out and see the city and meet people, he’d make sure you have the opportunity.”

Fitch—I didn’t know the history of his nickname—frowned at the floor. “I’m not sure about a roommate who’s ten years younger than I am.”

“That’s your call. You won’t find anyone easier to get along with though.”

“I’ll think about it. You sure he wants a roomie?”

“I’ll double check with him, but pretty sure. He’s in a nice building, pool and gym, not far from the arena.”

Fitch raised his brows. “Are you suggesting this so I can keep an eye on him, or so he can keep an eye on me?”

“The former, if anything. He’s a good kid, but he’s a little too trusting.”

Daniel looked over to where Ducky was laughing at something Crash had said. “Women?”

“He hooks up, but so far no women problems.”

“Give him time.”

And there came Callie back into my thoughts. Maybe Fitch and I should start a club. JJ would be a founding member too.

At lunch, where I checked that Ducky would be happy to have another roommate, and saw him talking with Fitch, JJ pulled me aside.

“Got a minute?”

“Sure.” If JJ needed to talk, I was available.

We sat at an empty table in a corner of the room.

He stared at me, and then nodded before speaking. “You okay? Something seems off.”

I’d done my best to cover up, but JJ was a quiet guy who watched people. He knew me well, and if anyone other than Hunts was to know if I was in trouble, it was JJ. “I’m dealing with something. I’ll try not to let it affect my play.”

“Fuck. That’s not what I’m asking about. You helped me after I came here, and if you need anything, ask. I know you want to be our fearless captain for the rest of the team, but you’re human.”

I sighed. He was right. I should give him some idea of what my problem was, in case it did bleed out on the ice. And if I was going to tell anyone on the team, it was JJ. “It’s Callie.”

“Thought maybe that was it. You’re not just friends.”

“We were. Then we were friends with benefits, and then, after the wedding, she said we were done because she was getting feelings.”

JJ frowned. “Why’s that a problem? You obviously have some pretty strong feelings for her too.”

“You’d think that would solve the problem, wouldn’t you?”

A soft smile crossed his face. “So, she doesn’t want to get serious about a hockey player?”

“She doesn’t want to get serious about anyone.”

“Ever?”

“I won’t tell her story, since that’s private. I’ll just say that she’s only had one person stick with her, and she’s not willing to risk trusting someone else.”

“Who’s that person?”

“Her roommate. He’s gay, so it’s not romantic. More like siblings, which neither of them have. They only have each other.”

“How does he feel about you?”

“I think he likes me. He helped me talk to her so I could tell her I wanted to date. Take the feelings and run with them. As you can probably tell, that didn’t fly. I hope Callie wasn’t too angry with him.”

JJ rested his chin on his fists, elbows propped on the table. He stared over my shoulder. Despite myself, I wondered if he had some insight, something that could change my current situation.

“So she doesn’t think you’ll stay, and won’t risk anything unless you can prove you will.”

“I guess that’s it.”

“You need a way to prove you’re going to stick around.”

“And how do I do that? Propose?”

His mouth turned down. “Marriages don’t always last.”

Fuck. His ex had cheated on him and left him, in a public, messy way. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up the past.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s the reaction I get from everyone now that’s more frustrating than my feelings about Sharleen.”

“It was a shitty thing she did.”

“It was, and there’s nothing that can change that. But maybe we can do something for you. Is there anything your girl would consider proof? What makes her feel secure? What does she trust in?”

Could I get her the partnership she wanted? But no, she wanted to earn it, because then it was hers and couldn’t be taken away.

An idea formed in my head. Her idea of security. That was her deepest need. If I wanted her to give us a chance, she had to feel secure about me. To get her to trust me, maybe I needed to show her I trusted her first.

* * *

Callie

Feelings sucked. So badly.

I’d made the right call breaking off…whatever it was Cooper and I had. Because I was all up in my feelings. If we’d kept going—ugh. This was horrible enough now.

I was not a little sad. I was wake up in the morning and cry sad. Not want to get out of bed sad. I’d wondered if maybe this was something different—clinical depression or something like that. But the way I’d responded to seeing Cooper again? The excitement I felt every time my phone pinged, only to be disappointed when it wasn’t him, despite never reading or responding to any of his previous messages? Yeah, this was all about the stupid feelings.

I dragged myself out to the kitchen for coffee and groaned. A huge bouquet of yellow roses had arrived a couple of days ago. The note said Cooper was keeping his promise—when he’d gotten my address from the charity. He’d said he would send flowers when I didn’t expect it, and I definitely hadn’t expected these. They were a constant, irritating, beautiful and aromatic reminder I didn’t need, but they were too beautiful to throw away. They wouldn’t last forever though. So symbolic.

I hadn’t slept well, again. Thankfully, Darcy was on an early shift and already had the caffeine burbling.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, pretending not to see the concern on his face.

“You okay?”

I swallowed a mouthful of coffee, slightly burning my taste buds, but shrugged. “Yeah, just had a hard time getting to sleep.”

He frowned. “When did you last have an easy time falling asleep?”

I shook my head. We both knew the answer to that. In Connecticut, when I’d slept with Cooper. But I’d lived for years without the man, and I’d get tired enough to start sleeping again without him around.

“I’ve got passes for a VIP screening. Want to go see a movie this weekend?”

“I should work.” My focus at the office had been off, and I needed to catch up.

“Callie, you have to do something other than go to the office and mope all the time. Come out for drinks, or watch a movie, or something. It’s not healthy to be like this.” His hand swept up and down, indicating me.

I looked down. I was wearing the shorts and T-shirt I normally slept in, with an open robe over top. If Darcy had a guest over, I’d tie up the robe. “What?”

“You’re losing weight.”

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Not universally, no. And you’ve worn that same T-shirt for two weeks now.”

Had I?

“You’ve got circles under your eyes, your face is pale, and even your hair is, like, muted somehow.”

That wasn’t possible, was it? I grabbed a strand, looked at the red between my fingers. Was it less bright? “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“You’re miserable. And you don’t have to be.”

I held up my hand. “Don’t say it.”

“You know I’m right.”

“I’d be more miserable later.”

“You don’t know that there’d be a later.”

I turned for my bedroom. “There’s always a later.”

* * *

I rubbed my hands over my eyes, trying to improve my concentration. I was at the office physically. But mentally? I’d been reading the same document for half an hour, and it wasn’t sinking in. A notification popped up on the screen.

A new client, Mr. Whittaker, was scheduled to meet me in the small boardroom at eleven o’clock. Wait, had I missed that before?

I messaged reception.

What is this Whittaker meeting about?

New client, transferring assets, worried about tax consequences.

For Whittaker’s sake, I hoped this wasn’t too complicated. I was going to have to take some kind of sleeping aid tonight, because I couldn’t function like this.

I grabbed a notepad and pen and my laptop to make my way to the boardroom. I stopped to get another cup of coffee at the break room. My client deserved my best, not the half-assed performance I’d been giving lately.

Darcy’s face popped into my head. Was I inflicting misery on myself needlessly? Should I have given Cooper a chance?

I blinked my roommate’s image away. This was not the time. Instead, I walked briskly down the hallway to the reserved room. I was early, the way I preferred. After setting everything down on the table, I opened my laptop and pulled up my cheat sheet—notes I’d made previously to remind myself of the major issues to consider for asset transfers. I didn’t know if my client was planning to transfer to his family, or a trust, or a foundation of some type, and those kinds of details were important to work out his best plan going forward.

Wait, had I seen a headline about a change to trust rules recently? I started a search just before I heard footsteps indicating someone was headed this way.

I looked up with my polite smile, only for my mouth to drop open when I realized Cooper was the man following the receptionist. The connections finally tweaked in my brain— Whittaker Cooper.

I stood up, glaring at the man. “What the— What are you doing here?”

The receptionist smiled warmly at him and I wanted to shove her out of the room. “This is your appointment, Mr. Whittaker.” She raised an eyebrow at me, so she knew who he was.

Damned golf tournament and damned hockey player.

“Thank you, Elena. You can go now.”

She left slowly, casting a glance back at Cooper as she went. He, however, was looking at me.

For a moment, I just enjoyed seeing him again. Blond hair, blue eyes looking tired and wary, perfectly fitting suit and a polite smile. I wanted to walk over and wrap him in a hug and assure him everything would be okay. And that thought finally snapped me out of my stupor.

“Please sit down, Mr. Whittaker.”

I indicated a seat at the other side of the table from my computer, but he chose the chair beside me. I hesitated, and then sat down, much too close and much too aware of him. I told my nerves to calm down. The walls on the side of the room facing the hallway were glass. Nothing untoward was going to happen.

Once we were seated, and I glared at the unnecessary passersby who wanted to look at the famous hockey player, I turned my attention to Cooper. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted your advice on some tax issues. I didn’t use my full name when I booked the appointment.”

So I wouldn’t turn it down.

“Because I didn’t want to distract any of the hockey fans here.”

With anyone else, I’d have considered his ego was inflated, but another person slowed down to stare as they passed by the glass wall. “You have lawyers. And accountants.” Good ones too.

He nodded. “But they’re fighting me on this.”

What the hell was he planning to do?

He pulled some papers out of the envelope he’d brought with him and set them on the table. “This is what I want.” He slid the documents over to me.

I wasn’t stupid—he had a plan here that didn’t involve his finances. But I couldn’t resist looking at whatever was on those papers. This was my thing, and I was curious.

First was a list of assets. His condo, his cars, his investments. I wanted to show his asshole brother and father this, let them know just how smart their stupid jock was with his money. But I shouldn’t be reading this. “This is very personal data.”

He shrugged. “Client privilege, right? And I trust you.”

He could, because I was honest and wouldn’t do anything with this information. But he should be more cautious. I shot him a look. He hadn’t amassed this much wealth by being stupid. There was something else…

And the next page revealed it. He wanted to transfer everything to a trust…that I would be a trustee and beneficiary of. I closed my eyes and rubbed my lids. If I was hallucinating things now, I definitely had to get more sleep. I opened them and reread the document.

“What the fuck—” I had to lower my voice. Telling a client, even someone who wasn’t really a client, what the fuck wouldn’t fly with the partners. “What are you doing here? This is…it’s a conflict of interest and it’s stupid and the tax consequences— What is this really about?”

No smirk on his face. He took a long breath, moving his shoulders to release tension. “I heard what you said at the restaurant. You’re afraid of relationships. In your experience no one stays. I want to show you I will.”

I looked down at his papers. “By…buying me?”

His head jerked sideways. “No, that’s not it.”

I honestly had no idea what it was. “Explain.”

“You want to earn things so they can’t be taken away.”

I nodded. How had I earned this? If he said sex…

“You need security, financial security, because you trust that.”

I drew in a breath, almost flinching at the accuracy of that statement.

“I want you to trust me. So first, I’m trusting you. I want you to have access to anything I have, at any time, so you can make decisions without worrying about money. Whether it’s becoming partner here, or going out on your own, or doing nothing, this should be enough for you to be secure.”

I nodded, my lips pressed tightly together.

“I trust that if you commit to us, to a relationship, that you’ll stay. I trust you enough that I can share anything I have with you. Right now, all this money, the perfect condo, my cars—I’m miserable. I want you more than any of this. It’s not doing me any good. So, have it.”

I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t. I tried to find words.

Cooper, meanwhile, continued his speech. “I want to promise I’ll never leave you—get a notary to stamp it—but no one can guarantee they’ll live forever.”

I jerked. “Wait, what are you talking about? Who said anything about forever?”

“Me. That’s what this is for.” He nudged his paperwork. “It’s trust. With a trust. If you can have everything I’ve valued, then maybe you will trust that I’ll stay, as long as I’m able.” He paused, scanning my face.

No clue what he saw there, because my brain? Had mostly shut down.

“My manager, my accountant and my lawyer all told me I’m crazy and won’t touch this. You tell me the best way to do this for tax purposes and I can make them do it.”

I shook my head because no way was I going to take over his portfolio, or his home or his cars. He stood, papers lying on the table. I looked up at him, still confused.

“Callie, this is how much I’m in. You’re worth more to me than any of this stuff. I’ll risk it all. I just want you to risk giving us a chance.”

He ran a finger over my chin, closing my mouth that had fallen open again, and walked out.