Chapter 21

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Ella

Coffee is no match for waking up in a hot hockey player's arms.

Unfortunately, this morning I had to rely on my eight alarms, pure dint of character, and a gallon of caffeinated black brew in order to coax myself out of bed.

The game. The fight. His dad.

Damn.

I woke up a dozen times through the night, memories raking their claws through my mind. I hate that I understand what he's feeling, hate that we both have dads who can't be what we need.

And, even though I'd promised Riggs to call him if I couldn't sleep, I hadn't reached out and dialed during the fitful night. He needed the rest, needed the quiet, didn't need to talk me down from the countless dreams turned nightmares that had chased me through the night.

The pain on my mom's face. The screams. My fingers fumbling to call 9-1-1.

Knox at my side, both of us holding her hands.

The red and white flashing lights.

The feeling of her fingers slipping from mine as the paramedics loaded her on the gurney and into the back of the ambulance.

The stillness in her body when we'd finally been allowed to see her the next morning.

The empty kitchen. The empty master bedroom. The empty nursery. The empty house.

After…

Everything had been so damned empty.

I clench my teeth together and exhale sharply, deliberately pushing those memories away as I start to unlock the salon door.

Then freeze.

Because it's already unlocked.

Frowning, I turn the handle, seeing the lights are on and Kit is standing at the front desk with red-rimmed eyes. "Honey," I say, memories immediately the last thing on my mind. "What's wrong?"

He shakes his head, starts typing frantically at the keyboard. "Nothing," he says quickly. "I just wanted to come in early and get ahead of my stuff. Lyra is supposed to teach me how to do payroll today."

I lift my brows. "Is she giving you the pay raise that goes along with doing things like learning how to issue payroll?"

The salon doesn't have many direct employees—the stylists rent their stations—but we do have Kit and a few girls who take care of stocking supplies, cleaning, collecting dirty towels, and doing washes and blow dries as needed.

And Lyra.

Our absentee owner who loves to offload as much work as possible onto Kit who, as previously established, is a recovering people pleaser.

Recovering is a loose term.

Because, really, he should be the person with the sign: X amount of days since people pleasing.

Where X always equals zero.

Case in point?

He winces at my question and deliberately avoids giving an answer. "By the way," he says, "your nine o'clock called and canceled overnight. I ran the nonrefundable deposit and asked if your next client wanted to come in early."

This news doesn't make me happy.

Not what Kit did—he handled it perfectly.

But I could have slept in.

Or not slept, as it was.

I sigh, don't bite on the fact that Kit will go to bat for me when it comes to getting paid—but apparently not for himself, even when he does extra work—and I circle back to what drew me to the counter in the first place?—

Those red-rimmed eyes.

"What did Patton do this time?" I ask quietly.

He freezes, his fingers poised above the keyboard. Then starts moving again, quickly and jerkily, belying his next words. "Nothing. Patton did nothing."

"Liar," I say, albeit gently.

"Ells—"

I touch his shoulder, strive for patience. "You don't have to talk to me about it, but I am really worried about you. You've been miserable more often than not lately." I sigh. "And nearly every time I see you lately, you two have been fighting."

He drops his chin to his chest, exhales shakily.

"We don't have to talk about it, but—" I hug him tightly, drop my voice to a whisper. "I'll be here when you're ready. And my couch is always open if you need a place to get away for a few days."

Another exhale, and then he turns in my arms, hugging me tightly in return. "You're a good friend."

"I love you, Kitty Kat."

"I love you too, Ellie Belly."

I grin then pull back, hitching my head for the door. "Since my nine o'clock flaked, how do you feel about eating our body weight in apple fritters?"

His mouth tips up. "I feel like this is a good plan."

Snort!

"Ew!" I mutter, jumping back, my jeans now covered in Steve snot. I glare down at the tiny demon dog. "Thanks, butthead."

Nova's dog just pants up at me happily, having assumed a fully splat position on the concrete outside the cafe.

I'm on dog duty while Nova runs in for our lunch.

It's a beautiful day, albeit on the cold side. Then again, it's always on the cold side. Even in the summer, this high in the mountains is much more comfortable than the Bay Area where Knox and I used to live.

Plus, if it gets hot, we can just jump in snow-melt-filled lake.

Brisk is the right word.

"Woof!"

I glance down, wipe the snot off my pants, and shake my head at him. "I already gave you my last cookie, little terror. Don't even try the puppy dog eyes on me—" I grind my teeth together, trying to withstand the aforementioned puppy dog eyes…and failing. "All right," I grumble, reaching into my purse and pulling out my emergency Steve cookies. "Just one more. Nova says that the vet told her you're getting F-A-T."

He turns up the puppy dog eyes and whines.

I pass over a cookie. "Well, I didn't say it."

"Say what?"

I turn guiltily as Nova walks back over to me, a tray in her hands. "Nothing," I tell her, covering the innocent puglet's ears. "Just something a certain meanie head vet said."

My friend grins, passes me my sandwich and drink then leans back in her chair. "Okay, dish," she says.

"About what?" I ask, feigning innocence.

She swats at me.

"Shower Riggs is hot," I announce.

She grins. "I bet." She shakes her head, leaning back in the chair, expression sobering. "But, honey…"

"What?"

"This—dating, chatting on the phone, worrying about getting a man to confide in you, presumably confiding in him in return…"

My heart skips a beat. "I know."

"It's a big step for you."

"It is," I agree. "But…"

"He's different," she says.

"Yes."

"Different like what I have with Lake?"

Worry grips my insides—because he might leave me, because he says he won't, but…he still might, and?—

I've let the man in far deeper than I've ever let in anyone, aside from Nova and Knox.

I haven't been vulnerable like this since?—

That worry turns to terror, but I'm not a fucking weakling. I shove it down. I'm an Adler. I can handle this. I can handle anything. "Yes," I agree. "Like what you have with Lake."

Her face gentles and she takes my hand. "Then trust in that."

I close my eyes, exhale sharply, and open them again. "I'm trying to."

Her fingers squeeze mine. "And remember that it's okay to want something more than you think you deserve."

My heart rolls over in my chest as she gives me the words I once gave her. "Novs?—"

"We can leave it there," she murmurs, slipping her hand from mine. "Just…don't forget the wise words of my best friend, okay? She's pretty damn smart."

"I think I rather agree?—"

But I don't get to finish that thought because I catch a flash of movement behind Nova's shoulder…

And my world tips on its axis.