Page 8

Rio

“And you’re sure that’s all it is?” Hallie asks into the phone. “Because I can take work off if I need to. I can drive out there.”

She’s pacing, retracing her same three or four steps in the corner of the design firm’s conference room, phone held tightly to her ear.

We were starting our first design consultation when her phone rang, so I’m currently sitting at the conference table when she hesitantly checks over her shoulder to see if I’m eavesdropping.

Of fucking course I’m eavesdropping.

Every tense muscle in her shoulders and back screams that she’s distraught and something is wrong. And as if on instinct, my own body is bunched in anticipation, waiting to see what she needs, even though every fiber of my being would like to believe I don’t give a shit.

“Promise me, Luke,” she continues, turning back to face the wall. “You’ll call me if it gets any worse.” Her brother says something on the other line that causes her shoulders to drop an inch. “Thank you. Okay. Love you too. Bye.”

I wait for her to tell me what’s wrong, but she doesn’t explain. Instead, she ends the call and gives herself a moment to collect herself in the corner before returning to the table.

She’s got this phony grin on her lips as she opens her laptop, attempting to resume our meeting. “Sorry about that.”

“What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head, extending that forced smile across her mouth as if I, of all people, wouldn’t be able to tell it’s fake.

“Is everything okay with your brother?” I ask.

“Everything is fine.”

She won’t make eye contact with me.

“Hallie, something is clearly wrong.”

“Rio, please. We both know you don’t actually care if something is upsetting me.”

If only that were true. It’d make my life a whole lot easier if I could care less about this girl.

“Right?” Hallie’s attention finally meets mine, testing me to answer her.

But I can’t focus on the answer when she’s looking at me like that, her eyes big and curious and hazel.

So fucking hazel.

I almost forgot how pretty they are, how they lean more green than brown depending on the light. How they’d screw shut if we were watching a scary movie together. How they’d softly close when I’d kiss her mouth. How they’d turn dark, her pupils blowing out when I’d kiss the rest of her.

She’s staring right back at me, and when her lips slightly part, my attention drifts down to them instead.

Fuck, I missed those.

I still remember the first time we kissed.

I remember the last time too, and that memory snaps me out of the stupid little spell that naturally lives between us.

What the hell am I doing?

This is why, even all these years later, it’s a bad idea for me to be alone in the same room as Hallie Hart. The pull between us is still there and I hate that.

“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “If you’re done taking phone calls, maybe we can get back to our meeting.”

Those hazel eyes flash with hurt and I hate that almost as much as I want to hate her.

Too mean.

“How is um...” I rub my palm against the back of my neck. “How is Luke, by the way?”

She looks up at me with confusion, thanks to my mental whiplash, but her face quickly morphs into a scowl. Asking about her brother was clearly the wrong thing to say. I haven’t spoken to my old friend in as many years since I last spoke to his sister.

Hallie’s attention is back on her computer screen. “He’s fine.”

“Is he still in Boston?”

“South of Minneapolis, actually.”

“He moved back to Minnesota? I had no idea.”

Her jaw tics, as if she were grinding her molars together. “And how would you? It’s not like you’ve spoken to either of us since you left Boston, and Luke didn’t even do anything wrong for you to cut him out of your life like that.”

She’s right.

Luke didn’t do anything wrong, but I was young and hurt and took all my pain out on anyone in close proximity to the situation.

Luke was a good friend growing up. Sure, he was a dick to his sister when we were younger, but he grew out of that and became the quintessential protective older sibling. For the entirety of my teen years, Luke was practically my brother, but when I moved away, I deleted his contact from my phone simply to keep myself from giving in to the temptation of calling him to check on Hallie.

Yes, Luke was important to me, but that relationship didn’t hold a candle to the importance his sister would hold in my life.

Hallie turns her wrist over, checking the time on her watch, before shifting her attention back to her laptop. “Let’s just focus on the meeting,” she says. “It’s getting late.”

It’s only four o’clock.

“Somewhere more important to be?” I ask.

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she concentrates on filling out a client profile form on her computer without having to check with me for any of the answers. My full name, age, birthday.

Regardless of my attempts to keep our connection at a distance, there’s this weird warmth in my chest that I haven’t felt in a long time. I’ve been on so many first dates, been asked so many fucking times what my favorite color is, that this feels nice. Being known, even if it is just the basics, feels nice .

But it can’t feel nice with her, so instead, when I catch her checking the time again, I push.

“Do you have other plans or something? I may be mistaken, but weren’t you the one begging me for this job?”

“Yes.” It comes out with a bite. “But our meeting was set for two o’clock, not four. I have another... commitment I need to be at by five.”

The image of that fucking guy pops into my head. Him sitting next to her at my game. I’m not one to be violent off the ice, but everything in me was wishing the glass that was separating us would’ve magically disappeared, so I could’ve reached out and grabbed him by the goddamn neck.

Okay, that’s dramatic as fuck, but I didn’t expect the blind possessiveness I’d feel after not only seeing Hallie again but seeing her with someone else. Someone who wasn’t me .

“A date?” I can’t help but ask.

She’s working away at the computer, filling out information she already knows. “Not exactly your concern, now, is it?”

So that’s a yes.

I was only late to our meeting because I got stuck at work. They gave me extra film to watch before our game tomorrow night against Dallas, and then I needed more time in the training room to work on my right calf because it’s been uncharacteristically tight lately. The medical staff wouldn’t let me leave until I got treatment. I didn’t mean to be late. In fact, I called the design firm and apologized for running behind, but now I’m wishing I took even more time getting over here. I wish I had an excuse to keep her here even longer.

Leaning back in the chair, I lace my fingers, resting my hands on my stomach. “We should make sure this meeting is as thorough as possible.”

“Really? That’s how this is going to go?”

“This is my home, after all, Hallie. My safe space. My respite from the outside world. It’s going to take time and deserves your full attention.”

She rolls her eyes. “You can give it a rest, Rio. I get it. You’re going to make sure I’m late.”

I’m going to make sure she doesn’t go at all.

In the chair next to me, Hallie crosses one leg over the other before pulling out her phone to type a text, presumably to whoever he is, letting him know she’s not coming.

It doesn’t feel natural to be a dick, especially to her, so the guilt settles in quickly. Part of me wants to tell her never mind, she should go, but most of me would rather stomach the guilt than having to live with the knowledge she’s on a date with someone else.

It was one thing when she didn’t live here. I got pretty good at lying to myself, tricking myself into believing she didn’t exist and therefore not having to think about her dating. But it’s entirely different having to witness it with my own two eyes.

So, I allow her to finish the text to let whatever his name is know she’s not coming.

She’s in all black today. Black jeans, ripped apart at the knees. Black boots with a heel that does insane things to her legs and ass. A black satin shirt, unbuttoned at the top, allowing the layers of silver and gold necklaces to tease as they fall and disappear behind it.

Fucking beautiful.

She always has been though.

But beyond that, I remember my other favorite things about her. She’s strong yet caring. Determined yet kind. There was a time when my absolute favorite thing in the world was to simply be with her. If I would allow myself to admit it, I missed Hallie Hart.

As she texts, I watch as she slips her short dark hair behind one of her ears, giving me a perfect view of her face and neck. The soft angle of her jaw. The cute slope of her nose. Her full brows and light freckles.

“I love your hair like this.”

Fuck me. Did I say that out loud?

That’s confirmed when her attention whips in my direction, those dark brows furrowed, once again confused.

That makes two of us.

If only she could see inside my brain, she’d realize it’s a fucking mess right now. The back and forth, not knowing how to treat her, unable to find a safe middle ground. We haven’t spent time together since everything turned to shit, and clearly, I have no idea how to act around her now.

“What did you just say?” she asks.

“Your haircut. It looks good on you. Shows you off. When did you cut it?”

A warmth creeps up her cheeks, allowing them to turn a shade of pink, and I visibly watch as the wall she’s built up drops a bit along with her tense shoulders. “About six years ago. I’ve kept it short since.”

After I left is what she meant.

More tension lingers between us.

I wait for her to meet my eyes again. “You look good, Hal.”

Too nice.

What am I doing? Either I want to hate her or I don’t. I swear, I’m going to need someone else to start sitting in on these meetings to keep me from slipping up and saying stupid, honest shit.

Hallie’s attention slices back to her computer. “We should talk about the house. Your hopes for the renovation. Your overall goals.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Reaching between us, I find the leg of her chair and pull, bringing her seat flush to mine.

“What are you doing?”

Hell if I know.

“I... uh... couldn’t see the computer.”

Her brows are cinched before she eventually exhales a laugh. “You’re as charming as ever, DeLuca.”

“Thanks, b—” I stop myself, thank God. “...Hallie.”

That was almost a slip of the fucking tongue if I’ve ever heard one.

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem fazed, which means she has no idea that I almost just referred to her as “baby” like I used to when we were younger. Sometimes I’d use it in normal, everyday conversation. Sometimes through text. Always when our clothes were off.

Professional. Working. Relationship, I remind myself.

But clearly, I have no clue how to do that. Not with her.

When I look at Hallie, all I see is the girl from my past, my literal favorite person. But then I remember that she’s not her anymore, I’m no longer that same guy, and that pisses me off. I’m either too comfortable with her or too mean, when all I need is to be professional.

“What are your goals for your home?” she asks. “What are your plans for it?”

I get my mind focused back on the task at hand. “It’s in a good neighborhood. In a good school district. I bought it with the intention of building a family there.”

Hallie’s fingers halt, hovering over the keys.

Just when I thought this meeting couldn’t get any more difficult.

It only grows more tense when she asks, “And do you still see that for yourself? Having a family in that house?”

She braves a look at me, her eyes asking a whole lot more questions than only that one.

“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly. “But if I sell, I’d imagine a family would be the buyer, so it seems practical to gear the renovation towards that. Either my family’s home or someone else’s.”

Having this meeting with her, of all people, is a special kind of fucked-up.

Hallie types again, filling the answers in on the form, but then her fingers abruptly halt once more. She closes the laptop, turning her entire body towards me.

“You’re really thinking of selling?” she asks. “To buy something newer?”

No one in Chicago, other than Wren, has heard me say this. But it’s Hallie. She used to be the first person I talked to about anything.

“To move back to Boston, actually.”

“Oh.”

“If I were to wait until free agency and see if they make an offer next off-season, I mean.”

“You’d leave?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t made any final decisions, but it’s a possibility. My mom wants me home.”

She smiles softly. “I bet she misses having you close by.”

Then, somehow, even more tension settles in because my family is not a safe subject for us to discuss.

“But yeah, that makes sense,” Hallie shifts the conversation. “Playing for Boston was always the dream, right?”

One of them.

“No one else really knows, so that needs to stay between us,” I add. “Well, Wren has an idea. That’s why I wanted to hire you in the first place. I’m not sure that I’m leaving, but I want the house to be ready to sell in case I do. Wren’s brother will be putting his house on the market around the same time I might. I want to make sure I get the biggest return on my investment if I go that route.”

She nods in understanding. “Update the house without breaking the bank on a renovation you might not get to enjoy long-term. Makes sense.”

“Exactly.”

She opens her computer and types more notes. “Your friends don’t know you’re thinking of leaving?”

“No. I mean, my closest friends are either professional athletes or married to one, so I think they probably understand what it means that I didn’t sign my early contract extension. But I haven’t explicitly said anything, so if you can keep that between us, I’d appreciate it.”

She breathes a soft laugh. “Who am I going to tell? I don’t know your friends.”

“But you’ll probably meet them. You’re about to spend a lot of time in my house. They come over quite a bit. It feels inevitable that your paths will eventually cross.”

She hesitates for a moment before asking, “Is there anything else that you’d like me to keep between us? If I do meet them, I mean.”

My eyes search hers and I know exactly what she’s asking.

“They know your name. I think they’ve all picked up on the fact that there’s history between us, but they don’t know the details. The way I see it, they don’t need to.”

“You’re telling me you never once vented and talked shit about me?” she asks with a laugh.

“No.” My tone is even. “Never once, Hal.”

Her laughter dies.

More silence lingers.

“Did you ever talk shit about me?” I ask, a hint of humor in my tone.

“Only to Luke.”

“What about your dad? God, he probably fucking hates me now, huh?”

Her body tenses and the air shifts around us, going cold once again.

I have no idea how to do this. How to stop bringing us up.

“The house,” I redirect. “Let’s focus on the house.”

She shakes her head, trying to shake off the constant whiplash of this meeting. “Yeah, tell me more.”

“It... uh... it needs... something. I bought it brand new from the builder, so it’s essentially a plain white box.”

I wait to see if that connects any dots for her, but it doesn’t.

“At least we won’t have to undo anything,” she says. “We have a blank slate to work with. That’s my favorite. This is going to be fun.” There’s a genuine smile currently lifting on Hallie’s lips as she grabs a notebook and pen.

It hits me then. She’s doing it. This dream she had that we talked about for years, working for a big-name designer in a big city. Hallie is doing it.

Pride swells when the realization hits me.

And that pride feels conflicting too because I shouldn’t care anymore, but all I can see is the girl next door, the one I’d watch from my window as she redid her childhood bedroom more times than I could count. All to get here.

“Let’s talk about your likes and dislikes.” Hallie draws a line down the middle of the notebook, putting an X on one side and a heart on the other.

That fucking heart. It makes my own skip a beat, seeing her draw one again.

It’s Hallie’s version of a heart where one side overlaps and extends past where it’s meant to stop, giving it a little extra flick at the end.

I don’t know what comes over me. Probably the same form of insanity that caused me to pull her chair close to mine and almost call her “baby.” But whatever it is, it makes me reach out and cover the imperfection of the heart with the tip of my forefinger.

I swear all the oxygen leaves the room.

She stares at my finger and in that moment, I know that every birthday she had from ages thirteen to nineteen are currently running through her mind.

Too nice. Too comfortable. Too nostalgic.

For a second, it feels like the old us sitting next to each other. But then I remember it can’t feel that good again, so I pull my hand away from the heart.

“Why would you do that?” she asks, her voice quiet.

I push down the natural inclination to comfort her and instead say, “I’m surprised you even remember.”

Her brows are furrowed when she looks at me. “What?”

“I’m surprised you remember anything about us, really. You didn’t seem to give a shit about our history the last time we saw each other.”

The words taste horrible as they come off my tongue.

Too mean , I quickly realize.

We sit in silence, and just when I think she’s grabbing her notebook to continue our meeting, she instead puts it in her bag, followed by her laptop.

“What are you doing?”

She stands, slinging her tote bag over her shoulder. “Leaving.”

Hallie is already at the door by the time I realize what’s happening.

“Wait. Why?” I stand too.

“Why?” She laughs condescendingly, turning back to face me. “Why do you think, Rio? I thought I could do this, work together, but there’s no way. Not with you.”

“Hal—”

“One minute you’re being the old you, and the next you’re being a jerk. Then you keep bringing up the past. Pick a lane, Rio! The back-and-forth is exhausting. I’m just trying to do my job and have a working relationship with you, but you’re not letting me. At this point, I’d rather lose out on this opportunity than spend the next six months getting mental whiplash from being around you.”

Fuck. I clearly swung the pendulum way too far in the mean direction.

She exhales a calming breath, facing the door and not me. “You used to be my best friend, and yeah, we haven’t seen each other since then, but I’d rather hold on to the memory of the sweet neighbor boy I loved than replace it with this version of you.”

Without looking back at me, she leaves.