“Are you out of your mind?” The words come out colder than the ice outside. “Why the hell would I do that?”
Evan shrugs, unfazed by my glare. “Why not? Bringing Holly… it’s a power play. Shuts down the noise about when you’ll start dating again. Shows you’re… moving forward. On your terms, of course.”
Bringing Holly to the team party? It’s not just introducing her to Evan. It’s introducing her to myworld. The scrutiny. The gossip. The relentless, fishbowl existence of professional sports. It’s painting a target on her back. And on mine.
“It’s not like that,” I state, my voice tight. “She’s not… a date.”Dateimplies intention. Romance. Vulnerability. Things I don’t do. Not with the San Francisco offer hanging over me like a suspended blade.
Evan holds up his hands in mock surrender, but his eyes are still sharp, knowing. “Okay, okay. Not a date. Got it. Just… think about it as a strategic alliance. Mutual benefit. She gets free fancy appetizers, you get a buffer against everyone wanting to set you up with someone. Win-win.” He winks. “Plus, I bet she cleans up nice. Way better than old man Henderson’s niece my mom tried to set you up with last year.”
He slings his bag over his shoulder and saunters towards the showers, leaving me standing there, clenching my towel.
Animage flashes through my mind: Holly beside me at the party. Not clinging, not demanding. Just… there. Her easy warmth deflecting the awkward questions, her genuine smile disarming the pitying looks. A buffer… against the loneliness that always waits in the wings at these things.
I shake my head, hard, as if dislodging water from my ears after a hard check. Bringing Holly into this world is irresponsible. Exposing her to the scrutiny, the potential fallout if things go south… and thingsalwaysgo south. It’s too much risk. For her. For Tabby. For the precarious control I’ve fought so hard to maintain.
The drive home is a blur of brake lights and swirling snowflakes caught in the headlights. The city glows, garish and bright against the winter darkness.
I try to focus on the road, on the familiar route, on the trade offer Thompson laid out. San Francisco. The numbers are solid. The opportunity is real. It’s the logical move. The safe move.
It’s the play that guarantees Tabby’s future, insulated from the volatile whims of Chicago management. I should be thinking about that. Analyzing the pros and cons. Planning the conversation with Thompson.
Instead, all I see is Holly’s face when I’d complimented the tree. That flash of surprised warmth in her eyes. The way her smile had softened something tight in my chest.
And then I think about the Blades Christmas party… the invasive questions, the weight of expectation. The lonelinessthat it always brings. The thought of facing it alone this year, after the tree lighting, after that moment… it feels heavier.
She’d be doing me a favor.
The thought slips in, quiet but insistent. Evan was right about one thing: showing up solowillinvite speculation. Unwanted attention. Bringingsomeone… it’s expected. If it’s framed that way… as a transaction, a favor… then it’s not a date.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel. I pull into my building’s underground garage, the tires crunching on the salt-gritted concrete.
I park and stare straight ahead, at the smooth concrete wall. Before the rational part of my brain can mount a full counter-offensive, I grab my phone. It’s almost involuntary. Like reaching for a loose puck in a scramble. My thumb finds her contact info and I hit call.
My heart is suddenly hammering against my ribs. This is insanity. A breakaway with no clear path to the net. So risky.
It rings. Once. Twice. The sound is loud, intrusive in the confined space. Each ring feels like a lifetime. My knuckles are white on the steering wheel again.Hang up. Hang up now. Before?—
“Hello?” Her voice comes through the speaker, warm and slightly breathless. There’s a faint clatter in the background – the coffee machine? A mixer? The familiar soundtrack of Sugar Rush. “Denton?”
Hearing her say my name, even through the phone, sends an unwelcome jolt through me. It’s the same jolt I felt when her skin brushed mine.
I clear my throat. “Holly. Yeah. It’s me.”
“Hi!” The warmth in her voice doesn’t fade. If anything, it seems to amplify. “Is everything okay? Tabby isn’t?—?”
“Tabby’s fine,” I cut in, too quickly. “She’s… she’s with my mom.” I stare fixedly at the concrete wall. Just get it out. Like ripping off a bandage. “Listen. I… need a favor.”
“A favor?” Curiosity colors her tone. “Sure. What’s up?”
I take a breath, forcing the words out. “It’s… there’s this thing. This event. For the team.” I stumble, hating the awkwardness. “The annual holiday party. It’s… mandatory. Charity angle, photo ops. The whole…” I gesture vaguely, even though she can’t see me. “…spectacle.”
“Ah,” she says, understanding dawning. “The obligatory festive work function. Sounds… fun?” The question mark is audible.
“It’s hell,” I state flatly. “But I have to go. And… showing up alone… makes it even worse.”
There’s a pause on the other end. I can almost hear her processing. “Okay,” she says slowly. “So… you need a buffer?” Her tone is light, but there’s an edge of something else.
“Essentially,” I confirm, clinging to the transactional language. “You’d be doing me a solid. Getting me through the night without having to fake small talk with the owner’s wife for an hour.”
