Page 6

Chapter Five

STELLA

“I can’t do this,” I say the second I open the door. Zoey squeals, not bothering to spare me a second glance as she slips around my frozen body in the entryway to go play with Harper.

“It’s a little too late to change your mind.” Eva reminds me. Gently, she nudges me aside and makes her way toward my small dining room table to set down her bags. Numbly, I skirt around the girls who are already playing on the floor and follow her.

What the hell was I thinking by signing this contract? I had absolutely no right to have that much confidence in myself and to think that this would be easy.

Since seeing him last week, I’ve kept myself busy. We haven’t spoken since then. The closest we came was an email he sent that was forwarded from my boss, Garrett. There was no hint that anything was wrong, or even that Greyson knew me in it. It was straight and to the point, giving details on where to meet him before today’s game so we could be seen together outside the arena.

So, in the guise of acting like everything is perfectly normal, I focused on lining up childcare for Harper during these six events. Once that was done, I dove in and helped with random assistant tasks for Paige as a distraction. Although as the week went on, relying on work as a distraction became increasingly difficult. Garrett and Paige wanted to make sure I knew everything possible about the Bobcats Hockey team to help prepare me for these events, so they spent the last few days teaching me everything Bobcats-related.

Guilt flutters in my stomach at the fact that I still haven’t told either of my bosses about my personal connection to Greyson.

When I finally had a couple hours alone with Paige the other day, just as I was working up the nerve to explain everything, she took the opportunity to thank me. I tried brushing it off, but then she explained that Garrett is also the owner of the Bobcats Hockey Team. On top of that, he had become close to Greyson through one of the other players. They were both thankful that I was taking everything so seriously.

Knowing that my boss has a personal investment to ensure this contract goes smoothly adds a whole different layer to the mess I’ve found myself in. So not wanting to disappoint either of them, I kept my mouth shut and focused on learning what I could.

However, now that I have four hours before the first contracted event, and before I see Greyson again…I’m panicking.

Eva turns to me then, a gentle smile softening her features. “Stells, it’s gonna be okay.”

“How?” Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m an idiot for thinking I could do this. I should have walked away.”

Arms wrap around me and the next thing I know, I’m being tucked into Eva’s warm embrace. She simply holds me for a minute, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down my back before speaking again.

“First things first, you’re not an idiot.” She pulls back, holding me in place by my shoulders as she levels me with a serious expression. “Secondly, if you truly thought you couldn’t or shouldn’t do this, you would have walked out before even speaking to him. You know your limits. I might not have known you when you two were together, but I saw you in the aftermath of him. More importantly, I’ve seen you accomplish and overcome so much hurt and pain. I witnessed you have a beautiful baby girl and raise her all on your own.”

I shake my head. “I had Nana. I had you and the girls. I didn’t do it?—”

“Stop that. Yes, we held her while you showered or took a nap and helped babysit when you had class. But the things we helped with weren’t the hard work. Hell, the things we did were simply the bare minimum part of being a good friend. You did the hard parts. All on your own. Having a support system does not discredit the strength it took for you to raise your child.”

My mouth drops open to say something, anything in response, but I find myself speechless. Eva takes that to her advantage and continues.

“In all the time I’ve known you, I’ve watched you accomplish everything you have put your mind to. You don’t start something you know you can’t finish. Deep down, I think some part of you knew you needed this.”

“Why would I need this? There’s no way this ends in anything other than a mess.”

Eva smiles, a hint of amusement sparkling in her green eyes. “Maybe so. But also, what if it doesn’t? I stand by my guess. You need this.”

I level her with a glare. “I do not.”

She shrugs. “Everyone needs closure of some kind. This is something you wouldn’t get if you never saw him again.”

My lips slam shut as her words hit their mark. I hadn’t thought about it that way.

“Still, that would mean I’d need to talk to him about something that’s not work-related. And that’s not happening.”

“Mhm, if you say so.” Eva doesn’t give me a chance to argue her point any further as she changes the subject. “Anyway, Garrett and Paige wanted me to make sure you had something proper to wear tonight.”

“What does that even mean?” I glance down at my outfit. It’s simple, a pair of tight black jeans and a dark red long-sleeved shirt. I had dressed it up with a gold necklace my nana gave me last Christmas and the matching small, teardrop earrings. Seeing as the Bobcat’s team colors were a deep red and golden yellow, I had thought my outfit was perfect for the game.

Eva rummages through her bag for a few seconds more before turning back to me holding up a Bobcats branded long-sleeved jersey, with the back facing me. For a second, I forget to breathe.

It’s been years since I’ve worn anything in support of him. Yet memories of me saving up to surprise him with me in a sweater that had his number on it come flooding back. He had been so happy, smiling and showing me off to everyone while whispering in my ear how good his name looked on me.

Shaking off those thoughts, I focus back on the new jersey.

The red of the jersey has a shine to it that my current shirt lacks. His last name is in capitalized golden yellow letters at the top with his number, seventeen, big and bold in the center. There are bands that go around the waist of the shirt near the bottom and around the biceps in the same shade of yellow.

“I can’t wear that,” I hiss, taking a step away.

Eva raises a single brow. “Um, yes, you can. Pretty sure you know how to put a shirt on.”

A giggle escapes from behind me, and I whirl around to find Harper and Zoey.

“Mommy knows! Like this!” Harper raises her hands in the air like she’s done countless times before when getting dressed.

“Yeah, Stells. Like that.” Eva echoes and I shoot her a quick glare.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” I grumble, snatching the jersey from her.

“I have one?” Harper asks, pointing to the clothing in question. My eyes widen and I shake my head.

“Sorry, kiddo, the store was out of your size,” Eva stammers out.

Harper’s eyebrows knit together, clearly not pleased with that answer.

“They did, however, have something even better than a shirt for you.” Eva quickly recovers, turning toward the bag and pulling out two boxes. “We get to make our own stickers tonight!”

The girls squeal loudly, jumping up and down in excitement. Eva steps forward, lowering her voice so only I can hear while Harper and Zoey ooh and aah over the pictures on the packaging.

“Seriously, I wouldn’t look too deeply into the jersey. Garrett probably just thought it would be a nice touch to sell the story of you two.”

I sigh, glancing down at his name. She’s right. I know she is. It’s normal for people who aren’t just family and friends to wear jerseys supporting their loved ones. Plus, fans wear them all the time.

I’m just overthinking it. Thrown off by the memory of what it meant all those years ago versus now.

Now it’s for my job. Nothing more and nothing less.

I’ve got this.

Confidence is a lot easier to have when you’re only facing the mirror. Out in the real world though, it constantly falters from the pressure to maintain a perfect image.

Nerves rattle against every fiber of my being as I step out of the cab and onto the sidewalk in front of the address Greyson told me to meet him at. Clutching the strap of my small, black purse, my head tilts back to fully take in the towering building. Based on the furniture that decorates the balconies on the first few floors, it’s easy to figure out that these all must be apartments.

My breath wheezes past my lips.

Did Greyson really have me meet him at his place?

It’s no surprise that he would live somewhere as nice as this. I can tell just from looking into the lobby through the sliding glass doors that this place costs more in one month than what I pay in a year for rent. I’ve seen the wealth his family has accumulated alone. Add in his own earnings from his very successful hockey career, it makes sense that he would live somewhere like this.

Yet my chest still tightens at the luxury before me.

If I had cashed just one of the checks his mother had sent me after Harper was born, I might have been able to give her this. But it felt wrong to take that money. I didn’t work for it and if nothing else, the few times I considered accepting the money, it made me feel like I was accepting a payoff for my daughter.

Not wanting to dig into the guilt or jealousy that threaten to consume me, I close my eyes and focus on getting my heart rate and breathing under control. With one last breath, I take another few moments to check out the surrounding buildings as a distraction. Small businesses line the streets on both sides, different sidewalk signs with colorful chalk all begging for attention from anyone walking by. Right next door to the building that I am assuming Greyson lives in is the bar that Eva mentioned she used to work at before her promotion.

Maybe I have time to run in and down a shot…

I’ve barely finished the thought when the sound of laughter forces my attention back in front of me. Two guys emerge first. Even if I were to ignore the bags slung over their shoulders and the pressed suits they have on, I immediately know they belong to the Bobcats hockey team. Aside from their height and muscular frames giving them away, Garrett showed me their pictures more than once last week. Dean Hayes is one of the team’s goalies and Landon Sinclair is the team captain and a defenseman on Greyson’s line.

As the pair take the few steps down toward me, movement just over their shoulders catches my eyes and I know before I even look that it’s him .

Greyson keeps his head down as he exits the building, giving me time to look him over without him knowing. I want to hate him for looking so damn good. Unlike the two before him, he does not have on a three-piece suit. Instead, he wears a black, long-sleeved button-down that strains against his biceps. Black slacks are tailored to fit him perfectly, teasing the muscles of his thighs as he walks. My mind wanders for a second, imagining the difference in the boy I knew versus the man before me.

I shake my head, refusing to entertain that train of thought for another second.

Yanking my gaze away from him, I find Dean and Landon paused a few feet away, both with a knowing smirk aimed at me. There’s no doubt that I was caught checking Greyson out. Hopefully, that will only help sell this story more, though.

Straightening my shoulders, I force all conflicting emotions away and focus on getting through this game without a hitch.

“Well, you look like you’re ready for a game,” Dean says, a lopsided grin stretching across his clean-shaven face.

Beside him, Landon snorts and rolls his eyes. “Dude, that was lame.”

“What? She’s dressed up and looking?—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” Greyson interrupts, his voice low and menacing as he nudges past Dean, not bothering to avoid bumping his shoulder.

If he responds, I don’t hear it. I’m too lost in Greyson’s intense stare as he closes the distance and stops only a few feet away.

“Hi,” I say on a breathy exhale. Swallowing thickly, I make sure to keep a smile plastered on my face and ignore the fact that his eyes slowly drag down my frame. If I weren’t watching him so closely, I might have brushed off the way his chest stops moving as he looks me over. Or the way his fist clenches around the strap of his gear bag.

Is he as affected by my presence as I am by his?

Not wanting to go down that spiral, I glance past him and find Landon and Dean staring wide-eyed at Greyson’s back. My brows scrunch together at the pure shock written across their features. Glancing between them and Greyson, I decide to break the growing silence. Side-stepping Grey, I extend a hand toward Landon first.

“I’m Stella, a” —I hesitate for the briefest of seconds as I fumble for how to introduce myself correctly— “friend of Greyson’s.”

He blinks at me, clearly struggling to process my words before catching himself and accepting my outstretched hand.

“Landon.” He subtly shakes his head, and a wide smile finally stretches across his face. “It’s nice to meet someone who’s friends with Greyson that doesn’t belong on the team.”

Ignoring the urge that bubbles in my throat to ask what he means by that, I turn to offer Dean my hand, but he’s still gaping at Greyson.

“She’s your…I’m sorry, what?” he says in a tone filled to the brim with disbelief.

Landon elbows him in the ribs and mumbles something under his breath, but all it does is make Dean’s eyes bug out further and bounce between myself and Greyson behind me.

“You mean to tell me our little boy actually spoke to a girl!?”

Wait…what does he mean ‘actually spoke to a girl’?

While Dean gets rewarded with another blow to the ribs, I finally glance over my shoulder, hoping for some clarification, but find Greyson frozen in his spot. His jaw hangs slightly open and his brown eyes are wide as he stares at my back. He finally blinks, shaking his head and dragging his gaze up to mine, and I have to quickly turn away at the intensity shining back at me. I’ve seen that emotion before. Saw it every time I showed up wearing his high school team’s jersey.

That heated look has no right being there now.

Smiling back at Dean and Landon, I try to ease some of the insecurity forming in my stomach.

“I mean, I don’t know that the term ‘little boy’ should be used on someone like him, but yes. Now that that’s out of the way…” I suck in a subtle, deep breath and finally spin toward Greyson with a smile. “Ready for the game?”

For a few awkward seconds, Greyson just stares at me before finally catching up with what I asked.

“Yeah, I’m parked right here,” he grumbles before turning on his heel and heading toward an all-black truck. With a final wave and a ‘good luck’ to Dean and Landon, I leave them gaping on the sidewalk and follow Greyson.

After tossing his gear bag into the back seat, he stops beside the passenger door and briefly hesitates before opening it for me.

I make sure Dean and Landon catch me smiling at him as I hoist myself up into the seat. Only once he shuts the door behind me do I realize the position I just got myself in.

No amount of professionalism could stop the way my throat tightens or the way my heart kicks off like a racehorse. With shaky hands, I twist to reach for the seat belt and remind myself it’s okay.

But even my own placated reminders don’t help ease the fact that the last time I was in a car with Greyson was when we were in the accident that tore us apart.