I was a fool.
These thoughts percolated through my mind as I walked into my efficiency apartment, curled up in my blanket, and replayed the morning’s conversation with Paxton over and over. He’d made me feel good. Respected. Safe. Loved.
Happiness—that emotion I’d missed but could barely imagine—drifted upward, its sweetness like a tempting flower. But if I took what Paxton seemed to be offering, would I have to leave the project? Lose myself in him as my mother had always worried I would?
I didn’t know. And because I didn’t, I stayed huddled in my bed.
I woke, groggy from dark dreams, to my ringing phone. This was why I rarely napped. I never woke properly from a mid-day sleep. “What?”
Not my normal answer, but I was still out of it. What had I dreamed? Something to do with Paxton being hurt—and Jeremy had been there.
“Hana, you need to get over here now,” Esther nearly shrieked into the phone. “There’s something wrong with the simulations.”
“No, there isn’t. I triple-checked them.” I was sure my math was right. Unless someone—Jeremy—had changed the projections, there was no way the simulation wouldn’t run smoothly.
“Jeremy’s going ballistic.”
I yawned. “Not sure why that’s my problem.”
“He’s talking about removing you from the project,” Esther said. “Hana, he may fire you.”
“Oh.” Well,thatwould be a major problem, but I couldn’t imagine Jeremy following through on his threat. I was the only person who really understood the physics of the structure. As Jeremy had pointed out many times: I was integral to his team.
I looked over at the clock, trying to orient myself. “I’m going to be late,” I exclaimed.
“You already are,” Esther said.
“Not to the lab. To Pax’s game.”
“Listen to me,” she sputtered. “Jeremy’s dead serious about firing you. And angry.”
I absorbed that information. “Hehurtme this morning.”
Esther grunted. “I’m not surprised, honestly. He’s obsessed with you.”
“We’ll have to talk more later, Esther. Good luck with Jeremy. And for the record, I triple-checked that data. The only way the simulation failed is if someone wanted it to.”
Chapter7
Paxton
Ipondered Cruz’s comment about stubbornness and hockey as I strapped on my skates later that afternoon. The rest of the team had arrived, and we were headed out on the ice in San Jose’s arena for a short practice before our game. I was looking forward to getting out there, hoping the physicality, even if it was light and against my friends, would help reduce the gnawing aggression I felt every time I thought about Hana with that garbage of a skinny-shit excuse for a man.
He was going to pull something with her. I knew it. I hopedsheknew it.
“Let’s get out there and see how the ice flows,” Coach Whittaker told us.
Maxim, Stolly, and Cormac bounced up off the bench like excited puppies. They all wore shit-eating grins. That’s what a good woman did for a man. I was happy for them, even as jealousy left a terrible, metallic taste in my mouth.
Hana had been jealous earlier, even as she’d asked me about my hookups. I didn’t want to discuss those with her, ever, but she had a right to know about my years without her. Just as I was going to have to learn about her time without me. Well, if I could talk her into giving me a second chance.
I didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t going to stop me. I might well beg, like Cruz had suggested. Because when something was that important, you did whatever you needed to do to secure it. Though if Hana’s past was filled with more of the skinny shit or other guys, I was going to detest every single second of her recounting.
“I thought you came out here to lose the scowl,” Stol said as he skated past.
Bastard was living his dream. He’d married his fling and had a kid. I realized with a start that if Hana had had our child, he or she would be a couple of years older than Stolly’s little girl. I’d have the oldest kid on the team.
“Leave him be,” Cruz grumbled as he edged Stol with his shoulder. “He’s processing.”
