Chapter 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Ella

I park in my usual spot and grab my purse from the back before popping open the door and getting out.

Todd follows me and I try not to look at him suspiciously.

He's been nice .

Easy-going.

I don't trust it.

I also…well, I also want this to be some sort of permanent change.

For Riggs's sake.

"I can recommend a good coffee shop nearby," I tell him as he starts following me to the salon. "Unless you really want that haircut. If so, I'll get my client started and give you your trim while they're processing."

A pause. "What's processing?"

"Processing the chemicals I'll put in her hair," I explain as I start up the stairs. "In this case, the products that are going to lighten certain parts."

He walks next to me, quiet for a moment, as though processing— heh —that.

But as I reach for the handle of the door to the salon, he nods decisively, some unspoken decision reached. "I'll stay."

Color me—no pun intended—surprised.

"Okay then." I start to pull the wooden and glass panel open, but he beats me to it, holding it wide so I can enter before him. I study him closely. "Why are you being so nice?"

"You don't have to sound so suspicious about it," he grumbles, but his mouth is curved up.

"Look, Todd-o-Rama," I say, pausing on the threshold and holding his stare. "I don't know you all that well, but if you're going to go full Dr. Jekyll-Mr. Hyde on me, I'm going to demand some explanations. Especially when it affects the man I…care about."

He scowls, pulls the door a little wider, gestures me inside. "There's a chill in the air."

I just flick up my brows.

He sighs, and it's a disgruntled, frustrated sound.

Good.

He can be annoyed with me instead of Riggs.

"Well?" I press.

His scowl deepens. "Maybe I thought about what you said at the game," he eventually says.

"And…?" I coax.

He sounds like he's cutting glass when he says, "And…I think you may be right."

"Of course I am," I say calmly, even though I'm fist-pumping inside. I turn and walk into the salon, allowing some of the victorious feeling in my heart to creep into my smile.

Until I see that Kit's here.

Standing at his desk, his eyes on me, his expression careful.

"Afternoon," I say softly.

"Afternoon."

My eyes slide closed, relief filling my insides with helium, and I have to force my gait to stay steady, to not rush over to him and kiss his adorable cheeks.

Because it's the first thing he's said to me since that day.

One word and it feels like he stood up on the counter and recited a monologue about our friendship to the whole salon.

But…that's all he says.

"Kit," I begin, moving closer.

He steps back, expression immediately closing down.

Dammit.

I exhale quietly. "I'm here if you feel ready to talk at any point." My words are quiet, but I know by the stiff way his shoulders hitch up that he can hear them. "And please know that I won't push you. I get that I fucked up and you're allowed to be mad." A beat. "You're allowed to hate me."

His throat works and he looks down at his keyboard, dismissing me.

I want to press, to fix this, to make it all go away…

But I can't.

I've apologized and now I have to give him time.

So, I force myself to keep walking.

"You can sit there, Todd-o-Rama," I say, nodding to the empty seat next to my station. It belongs to a stylist I know isn't working today. "I just need to drop my stuff in the back," I tell him, turning away. "Can I grab you any coffee or water? A snack?"

"What happened?" he asks.

I pause and glance over my shoulder. "Well, we met up at the rink and then drove in my car here, and now"—I force a smile—"I'm going to squeeze giving you a kickass haircut into my already busy schedule."

"Okay, smart ass," he grumbles, but his eyes are dancing. "Also, you're talking up this haircut so much, it had better be the best one I've ever had, and not that shit you pulled with my son. I'm not into bald patches."

"Oh, the cut will be amazing." I spin around, plunk my hands on my hips, and narrow my eyes threateningly. "So long as you hold still," I warn. "Very, very still."

He snorts.

"So, coffee?" I ask. "Or water?—"

"I meant , what happened with the boy at the front desk?"

"First," I say, "Kit is a grown man."

Todd rolls his eyes. "He's got to be all of twenty."

"Twenty- three ," I correct. "But that's an adult."

"A baby."

I roll my eyes. "Okay, I'll bring you a coffee."

He catches my arm as I start to walk away. "What happened with Kit, the grown man of twenty-three?"

"Why?" I ask quietly.

"Because it's upset you."

"Why does that bother you?" My tone is snarky. "You don't know me, and clearly, you don't give a damn when you upset your own son. Why should you stick your nose into my business?"

His fingers tighten, tone sharpening. "Because my son loves you and I fucked up with him for long enough that I want to do something helpful for a change, okay?"

Of all the things Todd could have said…

This is the one that tugs at my heartstrings.

He messed up. He wants to fix it.

"Dammit," I grumble. "I don't want to like you."

"I don't even like me on a good day," he mutters.

I snort.

He releases my arm. "Tell me."

"I fucked up," I admit for some reason. "I said some things that are unforgivable and—" I sigh. "I just… fucked up. I'm trying to fix it, but it takes time." My throat is tight. "Especially when I'm the one in the wrong."

His expression sobers. "Yeah," he agrees. "It'll take time."

And I know he's reminding himself of the same.

"Right," I say, needing to change the subject. "Black coffee?"

He nods. "Yeah, thanks, sweetheart."

That settles…well, it settles in a father-sized hole deep in my soul. It shouldn't be a balm. The endearment shouldn't even register. Like I said, I don't know Todd, not really, and he's a grumpy bastard.

But…

It settles deep anyway.

Because my dad would have never bothered to ask.

I shake myself and head into the back, stowing my purse and making the cup of coffee. As I'm passing it over, I greet Cassie, who walks in. It only takes a moment to get her situated in her cape, to come up with a game plan for her hair, and then I'm mixing up some lightener, grabbing my foils, and giving the bride-to-be the best balayage the world has ever seen.

And in between working my magic with Cassie, I give a grumpy old man the best damned haircut the world has ever seen.

With nigh a bald spot in sight.

I can't fix my dad.

I can't erase what happened with Kit.

But I can spread a little happiness one strand of hair at a time.

"You sure you don't want another?" Nova asks as she plunks down next to me on the couch. "Did I mix the proportions wrong?"

I lift my gaze from the copper mug in my hand to my best friend's. "No, it's perfect. I just…" I push the cup away. "I think I've been a little too familiar with your honey-rosemary mules lately, is all."

Her green eyes gentle. "Ella," she whispers.

"It's fine," I say, even though it's anything but. " I'm fine." I nod toward the menfolk, Lake, Leo, Knox, Bear, and Todd, who's still grumpy, but has managed to turn off the asshole, especially because Evie's joined in on the Rummikub action of game night. "Things are getting intense over there."

"Yes," Nova agrees.

But she doesn't say anything else, just sits there, stare pinning me in place, and I know…

I owe her more.

I tilt my head toward the door that leads out to the deck. It's cold and breezy out there, but the sky is mostly clear, no more snow slated in the forecast for the next few days.

Thank God. I'm so damned tired of snow.

"Let me grab us a blanket," she whispers, squeezing my hand. "Meet you out there?"

"Yeah."

Riggs's eyes come to mine when I stand, but I just shake my head slightly, letting him know I'm fine.

He lifts a brow in response and I know he might stay in that round of Rummikub , but he's going to be keeping an eye on me.

And I don't miss that Lake has a similar nonverbal conversation with Nova.

Heart warming, I step out onto the deck, stare up at the stars twinkling like tiny diamonds overhead.

Orion. Big Dipper. Little Dipper. Venus and?—

"That used to be what I wanted to feel," I tell Nova as she comes to stand next to me, nodding up at the constellations. "So distant, so cold, so untouchable."

A long blip of silence before she hands me half the blanket and we cuddle up under it. "You're far from cold, Ella."

"I wish I was." I huff out a laugh and plunk my head onto her shoulder, but I'm not amused, not really. "I feel so much, too much. Sometimes it hurts so bad that I just want to feel nothing."

"Honey," she whispers.

"He broke me," I say, not willing to hide from this any longer. "My dad—I didn't know how to be an unloved daughter, a discarded piece of trash. I thought…I thought if I just pretended, it would all be okay."

"Pretended what?"

"To be the best version of me—funny, loud, fixing every problem, ignoring that my own heart was hurting so I could help everyone else. So I could be happy for them. So I didn't have to be happy with my own life." I swallow hard. "And…pretending I was fine, that I was great when I wasn't—" My voice hitches and I break off.

"I didn't know," she whispers, her eyes glassy with tears.

I touch her cheek. "I became an expert in hiding it."

"I don't think so."

Surprised, I rock back on my heels.

Her mouth curves, just slightly. "I wasn't here to call you on that." She sighs. "And who am I to talk now that I am? I spent years running from my problems—hiding from them in the Arctic, burying them in the desert in Asia, leaving them in the clouds thirty-thousand feet overhead while I flew as far as I could from my pain. I didn't know anything about myself, about my feelings, about what I really wanted—" She crouches a little to meet my eyes. "Not until you helped me."

"Novs."

"You're my best friend and…I wasn't here for you like I should have." Watery green eyes on mine. "I'm sorry."

I laugh and it's broken. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"I should have been here. Should have done more."

"Now you sound like me," I tell her, swiping at a tear sliding down her cheek. "Can we try to stop fixing everyone else and just enjoy the fact that we're here, we're together, and we both have hot hockey players in our beds?"

"With big sticks?" she teases.

I laugh and it's still uneven, but at least it's laced with real humor now. Because I've teased her about Lake and his stick far too often.

She touches my cheek. "But you're happy now? Here? With me and Knox? With Riggs?"

"Happier than I ever thought possible." I close my eyes. "He knows more about me than anyone—more than maybe even you and Knox."

Her arm tightens around my shoulders. "Good."

"And you know that I liked him from the beginning—I thought it was just going to be sex?—"

"A common problem with hot hockey players and their sticks," she quips.

"But he…understands in a way I never thought would be possible. And he's patient and sweet and…he sees me. Me —not me with vodka being the life of the party, not me trying to fix the world, not the hurt little girl, but all of them and none of them and…he just sees me ."

"Isn't that the best feeling in the world?"

I nod. "It really is."

She smiles. "I'm glad you have it."

"Me too."

We fall silent, listening to the wind in the trees, the rustle of the needles, the crunch of the snow.

"On a serious note?" she asks a few moments later. "Should I stop with the mules?"

"I—" I exhale, heart squeezing because, God, I love my best friend. "I'm not abstaining exactly. But…I came unglued , Novs. From a five-minute interaction with my dad. I had all of these feelings I thought were long gone—but really were just there, right beneath the surface, ready to explode out and ruin everything."

She hugs me closer.

"And all I wanted was to not care —to forget what happened with my mom, with him after. To forget what he so clearly thinks of me now and how cold his eyes were that day."

"Honey," Nova says. "God, I'm sorry?—"

"It's infuriating," I whisper. "He's not my dad and hasn't been for a long time. But seeing him like that with his replacement family and—" My eyes sting, but I don't let the tears fall. I'm done with crying over a man who can't be bothered to love me as he should.

"And," she says, "it tore open all of those old wounds, let the feelings free."

I nod. "I couldn't cope, so I avoided you. I knew you'd see. And I didn't tell Knox or Riggs. I just…" I sigh up at the sky. "I tried to find some reality where I felt like them—cold, unaffected, distant. But it didn't work, anyway, and because of that, I hurt Riggs and I hurt Kit, and…I hurt you too."

"I'm fine—" she begins.

"I was a jerk. And then I drank enough to turn into the worst version of myself. And I pulled a disappearing act." I shake my head. "Something I gave you a hard time about, if you remember."

Her smile is wry. "Oh, I remember ." Then she touches my jaw, expression softening. "Just like I remember how you got my head out of my ass with Lake and now I have more than I ever thought was possible."

"I'm glad you have that."

"And now you do too."

I swallow hard. " If I don't fuck it up."

"I kind of think, considering all you've told me, that you and Riggs are going to be good, honey."

I want that to be true, and my heart is full, knowing Nova believes in me. But…

"Think of this as just another problem to solve with your patented Ella magic," she says. "You've already begun figuring out all the moving parts, studying which pin to push, how to put the pieces together so everything fits right. It's just that the problem is inside your head and heart for a change instead of someone else's."

My lungs inflate on a sharp breath. "Novs?—"

"And, all of that aside, I've known you for long enough to know you, honey. You may fuck up every once ina while—like the rest of us mere mortals—but you don't make the same mistake twice."

"Except for wanting my dad to be different," I say quietly.

Now her smile is sad, so fucking sad. "That's not a mistake, Ells. That's called being human."

I scowl. "Well, I don't like it."

Now she grins and all those ragged parts inside me smooth out. "Every once in a while you have to come down out of the clouds."

I groan and shove her lightly. "Rude."

"Woof!"

We turn to see an indignant Steve standing on the other side of the door, slobbering all over the glass panel.

"Watch out," she teases, "my protector has teeth."

"Which one?" I ask lightly.

A smirk. "I don't think you want to hear about all the ways Lake uses his teeth."

"Oh, I definitely do," I say, looping my arm through hers and guiding her back inside, bending down and giving the goodest boy there ever was his requisite scratches (and getting Steve's obligatory snorts and sniffs and sneezes in return). "Because then I can tell you all about the ways Riggs uses his tongue."

She looks at me, mouth agape, eyes dancing. "You're the best kind of menace, you know that?"

I buff my knuckles on my shoulder. "Damn right, I am."