Page 36 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)

When the crowd thins out, I find her leaning against the counter, wiping her hands on her apron. She looks over at me, eyes wide with something unreadable.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Six…seven months or so.”

“And you never mentioned it?”

I shrug. “Didn’t need to. It’s not about that.”

She steps closer, voice lower. “You show up. Quietly. No PR team. No press. You just… give.”

I stare at her, not sure what to say.

“You’re not who I thought you were,” she says softly.

That hits harder than it should and I’m not sure if I’m surprised by that or not. She’s quiet when we leave St. Lukes, but it’s the look on her face that’s been messing with my head these past few minutes. Like I cracked something open in her without meaning to and now I’m bracing for it.

“You okay?” I ask finally, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

She nods but doesn’t look at me. That’s how I know the question’s coming.

“Can I ask you something?”

I almost laugh. “You’re going to anyway.”

She stops walking. I take a few more steps before I realize she’s no longer beside me and then turn back.

“Why don’t people know you do this?”

My shoulders tense before the words are even fully out of her mouth.

“Do what?”

“This,” she says, motioning behind us toward St. Luke’s. “The volunteering. The showing up. The giving a damn. You’re not just writing a check, Barrett. You’re actually in there, sleeves rolled up, cracking jokes with people who clearly know you.”

I shrug. “I don’t do it for credit.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

I shove my hands deep into my jacket pockets. God, I hate talking about this. Not because it’s some big secret, but because the moment it becomes a thing , it changes. Becomes currency. Content.

“I told you earlier, it’s not about me,” I mutter.

“But everything else is about you,” she counters, stepping in front of me. “You can’t take a piss without someone putting it in a headline. Every swipe of your stick or turn of your knee in front of the net and the world hears about it. So why not this? Why keep this part locked down?”

I stare past her for a beat, jaw tight, breath puffing in the cold.

“Because it’s mine,” I say. “The only part of me that hasn’t been picked apart or twisted or turned into some PR spin.

No fan votes. No media circus. No expectations.

Just…me. Plus, those people in there don’t deserve to be made into social media content just because they’re struggling.

They’re people too, just like me.” I shrug.

“I just have more money than they do. That’s the only difference. ”

She’s quiet for a second. Then her voice softens. “You don’t have to hide the best parts of yourself to protect them though.”

I huff out a dry laugh. “You think this is the best part of me?”

Her eyes flick to mine. “I know it is.”

The wind picks up, and she shivers but doesn’t move. She just keeps looking at me like she can see every layer I’ve spent years trying to bury. And fuck me, something in my chest pulls taut because I know she means every word she says. She sees me—all of me—and doesn’t flinch.

“You’re Barrett Cunningham, the glue that holds your team together.

You’re Barrett Cunningham, the man who actually gives his time and effort to making our community better…

stronger. You’re not like those who simply throw their money at something for the tax write-off,” she says gently.

“Hell, you rescue special needs kittens and give them brave names and more love than they could ever know, so why not share that part of you with the world? Let them in just a little bit. Let the world see who Barrett Cunningham really is. You deserve to be loved just as hard as you love others.”

“I’m working on it,” I say softly. “Sometimes it just feels easier to let the world think they know who I am. But…then you came along and challenged everything I ever thought I wanted out of life and now I’m working through those thoughts. Those feelings.”

She smiles like that’s enough.

For now.

“You’re not at all who I thought you were, Barrett Cunningham.”

“And who’d you think I was?”

She licks her bottom lip, her gaze dropping. “Arrogant. Reckless. A little bit of an ass.”

I smirk. “Not wrong.”

“But you’re also kind and…loyal. Maybe even a little noble when no one’s looking. You’re kind of extraordinary,” she says.

I shake my head. “Don’t say that. My ego barely survives on a good day.”

She bumps my arm. “Still an ass, though.”

“Good,” I mutter, sliding my arm around her shoulder as we start walking again. “Wouldn’t want to ruin my brand.”

She leans into me, warm and solid, and for the first time in a long damn while, I don’t feel like I’m faking it. I don’t feel like I’m being watched.

I feel like I’m just Barrett .

And who knows, maybe that’s enough.

Blakely nudges my arm with hers, the side of her body warm next to mine. “Thank you for bringing me today.”

I kiss the top of her head. “Thanks for not running when you saw the hairnet.”

She laughs, and the sound burrows into my chest and stays there.

Yeah. There’s no doubt about it.

I’m falling hard for Blakely Rivers.