BREE
I arrange the decorative pillows on the bed for the third time, and then step back to take in the full effect of my new bedroom. After work, I stopped at Wade’s place and grabbed a few of my boxes so I could make the space my own. I knew he wouldn’t be there because of a team meeting, so I took advantage of the opportunity to grab some of my things without running into him.
Fine. I know I’ll have to talk to him at some point, considering we work in the same place. But for now, I need time and space to figure out my life…and how to be around him without feeling like an epic failure.
When I arrived early this morning, Harper was the only one there, thank goodness. My biggest fear was running into Rebecca with puffy, red-rimmed eyes because of lack of sleep and crying most of the night. In my short time here, I’ve come to know my boss as smart, bold, and very empathetic.
But I’d rather not explain to her why I’m upset. That would raise too many questions, including the dynamics of my friendship with Wade, which I’m not even sure I understand anymore.
Because something’s changing…different.
I knew my dating Chase would set Wade off, but to imply I’m incapable of making good choices as to who I date?
That hit me hard. Possibly because I still blame myself for being stupid enough to believe Chase actually cared about me, but I’m pretty sure at least fifty percent of the female population has made the same mistake.
No, it was the way Wade looked at me right before he made that remark, and then wouldn’t look at me as if he was dismissing me—I think that gutted me worse than anything Chase did.
Normally, Wade would pull me into his arms and reassure me that everything would be okay. He’s done it at least a thousand times during our friendship, through every teen heartbreak, life disappointment, and especially after my parents got divorced. And that’s what I wanted more than anything, for the old Wade to tell me everything would be okay.
But he didn’t. Instead, it felt like he judged me when I needed him most.
That’s the part that feels different, though. I didn’t just need Wade, my best friend. I wanted Wade, the man who would protect me, hold me, and…
I don’t even know how to explain it, other than this is the deepest ache I’ve ever felt in my life.
Like I said, Harper was the only one there, and despite my attempt to get to my office without being seen, she swooped in after me with a box of tissues, sat in the cute polka dot upholstered chair in front of my desk, and coaxed me into telling her what’s wrong.
I didn’t go into all the details about my ex, but told her the crux of the issue and my decision to move out of Wade’s place. That’s when she turned into a human pogo stick, bouncing in the seat with excitement over the idea of me moving in with her.
Perfect timing, for sure. I actually smiled and hugged Harper out of relief. At least I won’t be in some stale, worn-down hotel room—the Sandpiper Inn was still booked—while I cry and binge-watch Emily in Paris for the umpteenth time, eating a tub of Chunky Monkey ice cream.
Before Harper left my office, she told me Wade had stopped by, looking for me. I thought about going downstairs to look for him and find out what he wanted, but I’m guessing he just wanted to make sure I didn’t wind up in some sleazy hotel. His not bothering to wait for me after Harper told him I was moving in with her confirms I made the right decision.
He’s off the hook, and now he doesn’t need to worry about me anymore.
My phone pings on the nightstand. When I pick it up, I see Wade’s name.
Wade: Glad you found a place to land. Harper seems ecstatic to have you. Since we don’t have practice tomorrow, the guys will bring your boxes over in the morning. Sorry I can’t be there to help—still not cleared for anything more strenuous than sporting an ice pack.
I start to type a reply, but I can’t think of what to say. ‘Okay’ sounds borderline pathetic, as if I’m sulking, which I’m not. And “thanks” sounds like I’m admitting he’s right, that I’m in this position due to poor judgment on my part, and grateful for any help I can get.
With I sigh, I revert to a thumbs-up emoji. Let him read whatever he wants into that. I have more important things to focus on.
Like why is Wade’s sister calling me—I check my watch and deduct three hours for California—when she should either be atpractice or getting ready for a game? Wade wouldn’t have said anything to his sister. I’m sure of it. Unless…
Nerves rattled, I take a deep breath, attempting to sound normal. “Hey, Piper, what’s up?”
“What is going on with my brother?” Her clipped tone leaves no doubt in my mind that she’s on a warpath, but after whom?
“Do you mean his groin pull? I think he’ll be cleared to play?—”
“I already know about that. Is he there? He hasn’t returned my texts for two days. Did something happen?”
Did something happen? How the hell do I answer that one? I cringe, trying to think of a way to answer her question without saying anything about the last two days.
“I’m not at his place at the moment. Are you sure your calls are getting through? Maybe he’s just super busy with physical therapy. And stuff.” I close my eyes and press my hand against my forehead. Even I can hear how lame I sound.
“If he’s too busy to answer my texts, then he’s not taking his recovery seriously enough.” She should know. Piper’s a professional hockey player herself and knows what the sport gives and takes intimately.
