Why do people think athletes are divas? We’re used to hard work and consistent, brutal rejection. This guy, though, hadn’t worked for years on a singular goal—he didn’t have the stamina for difficult tasks. Most people didn’t.
“She’s not athingto toss between people,” I told him, shaking my head as I tried to ease the annoyance out of my system. “Hana’s her own person, and she’ll make her own choices.”
“Yeah, well, she can choose a different career as well, because I don’t want her anymore,” he sneered. “And whatIsay in aerospace tech goes.”
Fuck. This. Guy. Gunnar Evaldson, the Wildcatters’ owner, who’d made billions of dollars in his career, wasn’t pathetically egotistical. But Skinny Shit couldn’t see the damage he did to others because he was too busy trying to soothe his ruffled feathers. And the fact that he’d sacrifice Hana angered me. Even as I had that thought, though, I clenched my fist, hating that I hadn’t behaved any better than him three years before.
But I was different now. I refused to be like Skinny Shit.
“Your loss, man.” I gave him a wide berth as I headed up the stairs.
“She ruined the chance for a beautiful career—for you.” Derision dripped from his words, like poison from a snake’s fang.
I kept walking.
“Men like you make me sick. Big, brawny—stupid. You just can’t let the rest of us have something good, can you?”
“You never learned when to shut up, Jeremy.”
I looked up to find the source of that voice and saw a girl hanging out of the window above us. She waved. “You want to see Hana?” she asked.
“Yeah, if you think?—”
“After Jeremy sleazed all over her earlier, she’s probably desperate to see someone decent. Hang on. I’ll be down in a jiff.” She raised her voice. “And I called the police, Jeremy, for disrupting the peaceandbreaking and entering. And being a total creepy bastard who doesn’t know the difference between a pen and his dick.”
My new favorite person shot me a wink as I bit my lip to keep from laughing. Skinny Shit might have called me dumb—which didn’t stick because it was ridiculous as well as wrong—but the woman above had just ripped his masculinity to shreds. Ilikedthis girl. If she was a hockey fan, I was getting her tickets to some games.
She arrived, out of breath, a moment later. I noted her wide-set hazel eyes and thick, slightly frizzy coppery hair. An idea formed.
“Do you like dogs?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she replied. “Who doesn’t? Weirdos, that’s who. So Jeremy must be a dog hater.”
“How about hockey?” I walked through the door she held open.
She shrugged. “Never paid much attention to sports.”
I heaved a gusty sigh. “Pity. I think you’d be great for my friend Cruz.”
“I know Lennon, and I have watched him play a time or two.”
I raised my eyebrow at her casual knowledge drop. The door clicked shut behind us. There was just enough light for me to see her blush.
“I thought you didn’t pay attention to hockey.”
“I don’t,” she countered. “Really couldn’t be bothered with something that has less meaning to the outcome of our species than the day’s weather.”
At my wince, she blushed. “Sorry, that was blunt. And rude. Erm…Lennon looked great in that milk campaign.”
I smirked. “He really did. Made me want to drink some.”
She giggled and shook her head. “Hana’s place is that one.” She pointed to a door.
“Thanks,” I said. “Let me know if you decide you like hockeyorCruz. I’ll hook you up.”
She smiled more broadly, showing off a shallow dimple and dancing eyes. “Oh, well, then I should introduce myself. I’m Vivian Lee. But like I said, I know Lennon.” A shadow of pain slid across her face even as she turned away to head back into her place. The door closed softly behind her.
Sucking in a bolstering breath, I knocked on the door she’d said was Hana’s. I heard Hana’s uneven gait move across the space, each step in tandem with my heart. She flung open the door, a scowl raking her brow.
