Chapter 10

Jack"s flightout of YYC had been late, but thankfully he didn't have to work too hard to keep a low profile. Most of the people on his plane were too tired to try to introduce themselves even if they did recognize who he was. When he woke from his two hour nap, he connected to the free onboard WiFi and found messages waiting for him on the Snowballs' chat.

Tyler

I don"t know about you, but I could use more Harrison on my Instagram feed

Country

Hope you don"t mind, Jack, but I"m milking Jenna"s footage for all it"s worth. Reposted a video with you in it and it"s already at 100k views

Jack

Use and abuse my dude

André

You"re worse than Country, you know that? Need details on this Delia chick

Jack

We had tacos

André

Like YOU had a taco?

Sean

Shut the hell up André. And I blocked the word "crema" from the chat, FYI

Jack laughed, grateful he didn't need to respond to that. Joking about women and sex? Easy. Actually getting in a relationship? Not so much.

How long had it been?Clara had been relentless about him getting out of his apartment after he'd moved in, and he had tried initially. But no matter how many women approached him, the idea of "getting over" Angie always slammed him down to the same place. Regret. Anger. Guilt.

He hadn"t even come close to bringing someone home for the night because any kind of fling felt pointless after what they"d had. All the conversation and flirting was cheap, and sleeping with someone for the hell of it didn't equal fun.

Holding someone close after laughing until you were sick was fun. Climbing into the shower with her and helping her wash her hair after she"d been knocked out by a cold all weekend was fun. Cuddling up and eating nachos in underwear and a T-shirt to watch the latest Survivor episode was fun. And "fun" didn"t begin to cover it.

"Excuse me." A woman with a brunette bob and a sleep mask holding back her hair like a headband tapped his shoulder as he pulled his carry-on bag from the luggage compartment. "Would you mind grabbing mine? It"s the silver one." She pointed to the bag that had been sitting next to his.

"Sure." He reached up and grabbed the suitcase, then set it in the aisle in front of him and motioned for her to go first.

"Thanks." She gathered her things and slipped into place, waiting for the doors to open.

He hated that he wondered if she knew who he was. Hated that he was already thinking about that interaction showing up in a headline somewhere. He wouldn"t ever complain about where life had taken him over the last month, but sometimes he wondered if he was a good enough person to handle it.

It was easy to see how athletes became pricks. Being fed a constant diet of praise and public interest could turn even the most humble soul into a narcissist.

His phone buzzed.

Clara

Landed yet?

Yep. Just

He didn"t ask why she was up at eleven o"clock on a Tuesday. She was either at the hospital on shift or had just arrived home.

Clara

I don"t think you"re a prostitute.

Phew. I was worried

Even if you slept with her, I wouldn"t think that

I"m not going to sleep with her. Sorry to crush your dreams

Then who are you going to sleep with Jack? It"s been three years

This isn"t a normal conversation to have with one"s sister

This is a matter of health, of which I"m an expert

You"re a sex therapist now?

Jack, I loved Angie. You know that. She wouldn"t want you to be alone the rest of your life

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. This wasn"t a conversation he wanted to have in the aisle of an airplane at one o"clock in the morning.

Clara

Maybe a fake relationship could be good. Could remind you that women are fun?

There was that word again. Jack clicked off his phone and put it in his pocket.

The woman in front of him turned her head. "You think you"ll beat the Oilers Saturday?"

Jack exhaled and forced a smile to his face. "You better believe it."

The doors opened, saving him from having to stand there awkwardly or answer more questions he didn"t have the energy for. Instead, he walked down the connecting bridge and into the terminal to an immediate entourage.

Tony's assistant, Kels, was there, along with two men who looked like they were straight out of Men in Black.

"Is this a thing?" He pointed to their earpieces.

Kels tapped something into his phone. "You"re with Delia now. We have to take precautions."

Jack fell into step with them. Was this how she travelled? The idea of being escorted everywhere he went left him conflicted. He had to admit, it was cool as shit to walk through the terminal with dudes wearing indoor sunglasses. Less cool to think about having to coordinate with someone else every time he left the hotel.

"Glad you made the flight." Kels typed away on his phone and somehow still made it smoothly onto the moving walkway.

"Tony threatened me."

Kels laughed. "Such a softie."

Jack followed the men through the mostly quiet airport, following signs to the LINK train. "How did you end up working for him anyway?"

"I was sleeping with his sister."

Jack chuckled. He"d wondered more than once if Kels was more to Tony than just his assistant. "Makes perfect sense."

Kels stopped on the platform. The digital sign announced the next train would arrive in four minutes. "I was working a soul-sucking sales job. Tony"s sister Linda was a bit of a mess, and I helped get her organized. When Tony came over and saw that I"d labelled plastic bins in her pantry, he asked if I was open to a career change."

"Are you still with Linda?"

Kels shook his head. "No, she"s living over in Ireland or something now. Met an artist after we broke up. I've been married for a year and a half now."

"And you like working with him?"

Kels nodded. "Best job I ever had. It"s a lot of hours, but all I do is take chaos and turn it into order."

"Does Tony only work for Delia?"

Kels shook his head. "He represents everyone signed to IndieLake between 2022 and 2024. They just signed a new band out of Portage la Prairie this weekend."

"Wasn"t that where a guy ate someone on a bus?"

Kels grimaced. "They"re hoping to change their town"s one claim to fame."

The train arrived and they travelled in silence to the car waiting for them in the parking garage. Kels sat in the back seat of the luxury sedan with Jack and pulled out a tablet as one of the secret agents backed out.

"Alright, schedule for tomorrow. Do you have a Google calendar?"

"Uh, no." Jack grabbed his phone.

"But you have a Gmail account?" Kels asked with more than a tinge of judgment. Jack nodded. "Perfect, then let"s get you set up. It"ll be easier for me to send you invitations that way than having to copy everything over to a different app."

Kels walked him through accepting his invitations in the app. By the time they pulled up in front of the Radisson, Jack had three appointments set for the following day.

"So, meet Delia for breakfast at the bakery in the morning."

Kels nodded. "Then you two can decide what you want to do the rest of the day. She has a recording session, but that"s optional. Nobody will be there, though she has been getting papped out front lately."

"Sounds like a gynecology appointment, but got it."

Kels closed the cover on his tablet. "Madden will escort you in."

The Tommy Lee Jones of the partnership unclicked his seatbelt and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Jack pushed the door open. "Is he staying in my room?"

"Only if you ask nicely," Kels said without any hint of a smile.

_____

Delia stood at the hostess stand trying not to tap her foot. She"d tossed and turned until three, then had a middle of the night anxiety-ridden text conversation with Mary before finally falling asleep until her alarm woke her at eight-thirty. The closer she got to seeing Jack again, the heavier her questions landed in her head. Why had he left the restaurant? Why had he suddenly changed his mind about the contract?

It didn"t matter.Mary had reiterated that point at least five times during the night. She was right. This was an agreement, nothing more. It didn"t matter why he"d changed his mind, only that after today, her numbers would hopefully skyrocket again like they had last Saturday.

Delia couldn"t help but get her hopes up. Her last single had jumped thirty spots on the charts after being spotted one time with him, and her imagination ran wild with where another public appearance could take her numbers. For the first time, that earn-out hovered so close she could taste it.

Tony had texted her that morning with homework: she and Jack needed to come up with a narrative about their relationship. According to him, intrigue was good to a point, but then people needed something to sink their teeth into. She was glad to have a purpose for their meeting. Especially since she was already thinking about that praying mantis on Jack's bicep.

"Right this way, Ms. Melise." The hostess took her past the other diners, who were trying to look at her without blatantly staring, and sat her in a booth in the far corner of the restaurant. The tables in the immediate vicinity were notably empty. Thank you, Kels. "If you need anything, please let me know."

The hostess turned, then paused as the bell above the door jingled. Delia"s breath caught in her throat. Jack stood in the entry in jeans and a long-sleeved cotton T-shirt with his down puffer coat slung over his arm.

"Is that—?" The hostess swallowed hard, then flushed crimson when she realized she'd spoken out loud. Jack scanned the restaurant and stilled when his eyes landed on her. Delia reached up and swept her hair behind her ear like a loser.

"He's walking this way," the hostess whispered, then turned to face Delia. Her eyes widened as if just putting two and two together. "Oh! Right. I—I'm sorry, I didn't—" She snapped her mouth shut and stepped back from the table, running directly into Jack. The hostess spun, then squeaked an apology before scurrying back to her post.

"Hey." Jack slid into the booth, stuffing his coat against the wall.

Delia sat across from him. "Gello." She winced. "I was going to say good morning, but then thought ‘hello' at the last second."

Jack's lips curved into a half smile. "If you didn't say anything I would've assumed it was Ontario Gen Z slang."

"Would you have used it in conversation?"

"Definitely. Would've tried to seem less geriatric with my teammates."

Delia laughed. "You're not that old."

"Pretty sure our contract doesn't stipulate you have to lie to protect my feelings."

Delia's pulse pounded against her eardrums as she searched the table for the menu, then realized there was a QR code on a stanchion next to the condiments. She pulled out her phone and scanned it.

Jack was twenty-nine. Four years older than her. She'd discovered that along with strings of stats from his time in the AHL league. The specifics of his numbers were lost on her, though she'd absorbed enough from being steeped in hockey culture her whole life to know they were impressive.

Delia scrolled the menu on her phone and said nothing since stating she knew his exact age would reveal she'd been reading up on him.

"What's good here?" Jack asked, lifting his phone to the code.

"I don't know. I've never been."

Jack peered at his screen. "Tony said it was close to the studio you record at."

"Yeah, it's just around the corner. Your hotel is a few blocks away?"

"The Radisson. They upgraded me to the Concierge level." He grinned, and Delia's insides fizzed. Jack looked like a kid who'd just been given a full-sized chocolate bar on Halloween.

"Has that never happened to you before?" she asked, trying to keep her eyes on the food descriptions in front of her.

Jack shook his head. "First time in a hotel since . . ." he motioned in the air, and Delia understood. Since the whirlwind hit. Since people knew my name. "I guess I should thank you for that."

Delia shook her head. "I think you did that all on your own. Even my mom knows who you are."

He looked up with an unreadable expression. "You talked to your mom about me?"

"No, I—she asked about the pictures, so . . . she knows. I don't think Tony knows she knows, but she knows."

Jack laughed and looked back at his phone.

Delia frowned. "What's so funny?" Jack shook his head. "No seriously, what's?—"

"It sounded like that rhyme." He set his phone on the table, and it seemed like an invitation.

Delia took it and set her phone down on the bench. She already knew what she wanted. "What rhyme?"

Jack glanced around the restaurant, then shifted so he wasn't as visible from the rest of the dining room. He put his finger on his nose, then started touching various body parts as he whispered, "Tony Chestnut knows I love you, Tony knows. Tony knows."

Delia pursed her lips and blinked. "What the hell was that?"

Jack's cheeks flushed. "You've never heard that before?"

"No. I have not."

He exhaled, and his olive skin did that hot and bothered thing again. Delia squeezed her thighs as he ran a hand over the barely-there stubble on his jaw. "Well. Now I feel like an idiot."

Delia couldn't hold it in. She burst out laughing. Guttural, side-splitting laughter. Jack Harrison—hockey player tough guy and presumed panty dropper—had just recited a Mother Goose rhyme to her. It was the most adorable thing she'd ever seen, and the swoop in her midsection made her wildly uncomfortable. "I'm sorry, I'm not laughing at you?—"

"You're laughing with me, right. I've heard it all before." Jack pretended to be pissed, but she saw the corner of his lips twitching.

Delia sucked in a breath. "You have to teach it to me."

"Absolutely not."

"Please?"

"After you just publicly mocked me?"

Delia pursed her lips as her eyes filled with tears at the effort of keeping another bout of laughter from escaping.

Jack doubled down. "I travelled across the country to have breakfast with you, and within two minutes of me sitting down, you treat me like this?"

Delia was dead. Tears streamed down her cheeks. She was making an absolute spectacle of herself, but she couldn't help it. It was stupid, but that was the funniest thing she'd seen in months, and because of the impeccable replay function in her brain, she was watching it on repeat.

A server with her hair pulled into two Instagram-worthy French braids appeared at their booth. "Hey, can I get you two anything to drink?"

Jack turned away from her, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening while Delia dropped her head into her arms on top of the table to hide her breaking face. His voice was smooth as honey. "Hi there, I'll have the Morning Meditation and the skillet with scrambled eggs and extra bacon."

The server scribbled his order down in her notepad. Delia tried to pull it together. When she was little, she'd been kicked out of dinner for having giggle fits at the table, and it was only after her mother had found her sobbing in her room wailing, "It's not my fault I feel so happy!" that her parents had reconsidered their strategy. Then their family had gone from three to two. She didn't think she'd laughed at the table since.

That memory sobered her, and Delia lifted her head. "Uh, I'll take the same."

The server blinked. "The same thing?"

"Right." Delia grabbed a napkin and dabbed at her eyes, her giddiness transforming into embarrassment.

"I'll get that right in for you." The server bounced back toward the kitchen, and Delia slumped against the back of the booth.

"I'm sorry. I have no idea what got into me."

Jack watched her curiously. "Is this another no-filter moment?" Delia nodded, wishing she could blow her nose. He leaned in. "It's not midnight after a show."

She sniffed. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"No?"

She shook her head.

"Me either."

Delia set down her napkin. "What time did you get in?"

"Just after one."

She winced. "I'm sorry."

"It was the only flight that worked with my practice time."

"Are you missing practice today?"

Jack nodded. "I'll do my lifting sets in the gym at the hotel later."

Delia imagined him in shorts and a T-shirt with a squat bar and her face flushed deeper. Again, she tried to sort out what it was about him that both put her on edge and made her feel like she was putting on her favourite sweatshirt. She shifted on the bench and lowered her voice. "Can I ask you something?"

Jack fiddled with the salt shaker. "Sure."

"Why did you change your mind?"

Jack thought for a moment. "Because Tony was right."

Delia swallowed her disappointment. What had she wanted him to say? That he couldn't stop thinking about her? Business only. "About what?"

"The Blizzard saw an influx of ticket sales for the weekend."

She smiled. "That's great." Delia was about to go on and talk about her streaming numbers, but the last piece of her question blared like a foghorn. "Actually, there's one more thing I was wondering."

"Yeah?" Jack straightened, and Delia shoved her hands under her thighs to keep them from trembling.

"Why'd you leave the other night?"

A muscle in Jack's jaw flexed. "Clara was over at the pub."

Delia nodded. "Right." It was a stupid question. Even if she had done something to make him second guess everything, he wouldn't?—

"And I got nervous."

Delia looked up, her blood pumping faster. Hearing that sentence hang in the air between them hummed like she'd finally sung something real after repeating Heartbeat on the Dance Floor a thousand times. "Why?"

Jack shrugged. "It started to feel . . . I don't know. Like an actual date."

"Which you don't do."

"Right."

The waitress walked back to their table with two tangerine drinks swirled with deep magenta beet juice. Delia smiled and thanked her, then opened her paper straw. Jack took a sip straight from the glass.

"You're going to get all the orange and none of the red." She dropped her straw in the drink.

"You're going to get all the red."

She swirled her straw until the two colours started to mix. "Not if I go like this."

Jack scoffed. "Now you won't know which one you like better."

"That's not the point."

"It was the point until you ruined it."

Delia stopped and took a sip. She grimaced. "Orange is best."

"You didn't even try the orange."

"Well, it has to be better than that."

Jack laughed and took another drink. "Orange is pretty damn good."

Delia mixed until her cup was the colour of pink grapefruit. "Why don't you date?" She paused, thinking again of the mantis tattoo. "Sorry, is that too personal?"

Jack didn't answer for a moment, and Delia was about to come up with something else to change the subject when he finally said, "I lost someone close to me a few years ago."

The air she'd been holding whooshed out of her lungs. Responses swirled in her head, none of them satisfactory. Whenever people asked about her dad and she told them that he'd passed, they were always so quick to jump in and say something like "I'm sorry for your loss," which was impossible because they couldn't be sorry. Not in the way they should be. They didn't know him. They didn't know what it was like to be without him. Then they'd move on to questions like, "How long ago? How did it happen?" like she should be able to give them a play-by-play. "Well, first the left ventricle in his heart started leaking, and then he got dizzy, and?—"

Jack coughed. "She was my fiancée, actually. She died in a car crash on the 401."

That was a straight punch to the gut. "Shit, Jack." She reached out for his hand without thinking. He pulled back before she made contact, and her stomach dropped out from under her. "I'm sorry, I just?—"

"No, it's okay. I'm—if this is going to work, you have to know I have some . . . things."

He didn't have to clarify. She knew exactly what he meant. Things like wondering whether she remembered her dad's face right. Or thinking about whether she'd ever told him she loved him. Wondering if the version of him in her head was the reason why she balked at any other man she met because none of them could measure up. Things like staying up half the night reading about praying mantises and worrying about whether a perfect stranger secretly hated her, or buying a hotel lock for her front door at four in the morning when she heard a rustle on her porch. "Yeah. I have some things, too."

"Like public displays of affection. That's . . ." Jack ran a hand over the back of his neck.

"Sacred?" It was the first word that came to her head.

He paused, his eyes dragging to hers. "What?"

Delia's hands started to tingle, though it could've been the lack of blood flow since she'd been smashing them against the bench for the past five minutes. "Sacred. Special. I know people don't think it's a big deal, but I do." She drew a shaky breath. "I told you my mom is French, and she's all about romance, embracing life and enjoying her body, but I think it's because she had love, you know? She knew what it felt like to be safe, and I've never had that. So why would I let random guys put their hands on me? They haven't earned that."

Delia stopped. She hadn't told anyone that, not even Mary. Her thoughts hadn't ever been that clear in her own head. Jack was still staring at her, and she dropped her eyes, letting her hair fall like curtains. "Anyway, we don't have to do any of that. We can tell the media we're both private people. Maybe it will add more intrigue, and Tony will be thrilled."

Jack nodded and took another drink. "Had?" Delia's brow furrowed, and she looked up. "You said your mom had love."

Delia's shoulders curled. "My dad died when I was seven." Had she not told him that already? No. She'd sung it to him. But of course he hadn't been able to read her mind.

Jack exhaled, his breath hissing between his teeth. He wrapped his hand around his drink. He tapped his finger on the glass. "That's the song. The one you sang at the end of the concert."

Her heart stumbled in her chest. He'd listened. He'd felt it. If there"s ever a day when I don"t see your face, I"ll be right here on my knees. Dans le soulagement et le regret, de toi, je n"ai point oubliet.

In relief and regret. I have not forgotten you.

It didn't feel strange that they were sitting in silence when the server brought their skillets. Delia thanked her, then took in the monstrosity in front of her. "Wait, did you ask for extra bacon?"

Jack picked up his fork. "Guess you should've been paying attention during your giggle fit."

Delia rolled her eyes and reached for her napkin wrapped cutlery. She'd made arrangements so that she didn't come across as a head case this time. She'd be at the studio after this, and Mary had already put extra toothbrushes in the washroom there. I have things. Oh, did she have things. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"I was thinking day drinking. Then the strip club." Jack answered with a straight face.

Delia continued the bit. "Excellent choice. I think there's a Star Wars cabaret thing in town. Sexy Storm Troopers or something."

"Perfect. I'll text Kels and see if he can get me a single ticket." Jack took a bite of eggs, then watched her while he chewed, daring her to laugh.

Delia picked up one of her ten pieces of bacon and bit into it with a crunch. "So. Recording studio?"

"Yes, please."

"And then you'll teach me that creepy Tony song?" She snuck that in there, hoping he was saying yes to everything.

"I'm going to revoke my signature."

She scoffed. "Not possible. Didn't Kels make you sign it in blood?"

Jack wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Ah. But you see, it wasn't exactly mine."