“Do you want me to try talking to him? Since he likes me more than you.” I start chopping an onion to add to the skillet heating up on the hob.
She chuckles and considers it for a moment. “No, that’s alright. He’ll come around. I can be quite persistent.”
“Do you ever let people help you?” I grab the chicken breast and begin to rinse it off, like I didn’t just drop an emotionally charged atom bomb of a question on her. I need to know if she even realises she’s bearing the burdens of ten people all by herself, or if she’s just that superhuman.
“Not really, no. I don’t find most people to be trustworthy, and it’s always just been easier to do everything on my own.”
Pulling out my chef's knife, I dice the poultry into cubes, season them thoroughly, and toss them in the pan with the onions. “Doesn’t someone of your caliber at least need an assistant?”
“I could probably use one, but the last one fucked my boyfriendwhileon company time, so I quite literallypaid herto betray me.” Her tone is so casual, like that level of disloyalty is common for her.
“You don’t sound upset,” I hedge.
“It wasn’t a surprise, and I honestly should have seen it coming. He wasn’t happy, and she wanted my life—or, Iguess, her version of it. I think I was more upset that I was shocked by it, than the fact that it happened. I’ve been surrounded by disingenuous people since my career started, social climbers, lecherous business associates, foes disguising themselves as friends... I should have known better. It’s not like something like this is uncommon, but to not suspect what was right under my nose? In my own house? It was just further proof there was no one I could rely on, not even if I paid them. My manager only wants to line her pockets, my assistant’s screwing my boyfriend behind my back, and people who said they were my friend only wanted to be around if I was providing them with something. I couldn’t trust anyone, and I think it’s skewed how I move through the world.”
I walk to the fridge to grab her a drink, holding out a beer and a wine bottle for her to choose from. She chooses the wine, and I go grab glasses before pouring one for each of us, motioning for her to continue.
Taking the glass, she takes a long sip. “You know what’s even more messed up? When my assistant found out I was moving here, she called me up and begged to come. She apologized for what she did and said would leave him if it meant she could come here with me. An ugly part of me preened at that,” she takes another sip of her wine and smiles bitterly, “at how easily she was willing to drop him if I said the word. It hurt knowing I spent every day with her, and she was willing to betray me like that, and the only time she was sorry was when she realized the benefits she would lose once I was gone. In my life, in my line of work, relationships are transactional.”
“Is that how you feel about me?” The candidness of the question sends the room into stark silence; the only noise breaking it up is Pebble going to drink from her water bowl as I move to the oven and remove the softened sweet potatoes. We both work to scoop the insides out, leaving a well in each centre. Neither of us speaks, and the prolonged silence makes me start to feel sick to my stomach.
“No.” Anxiety releases from my chest like air out of a balloon. “I think that’s why I haven’t been able to stay away from you, despite every logical bone in my body screaming at me to keep my distance.”
It’s the first time she’s admitted to it out loud, and the relief I feel that this isn’t just a one sided thing is so palpable, I can taste it.
“Is it such a bad thing? I like you, and I think you like me too.” Her silence permeates the room, making my stomach twist and turn. “The only thing I want from you right now is your time. Time to get to know you, nothing more.”
Something akin to fear crosses her expression before she schools her features back to neutrality. “Enough about me. Let’s talk about you.”
I spoon the stuffing mixture into the now-hollowed out sweet potatoes, sprinkle some cheese on top, and set them in the oven to bake.
“What about me?” The bubble we’ve been in all afternoon is about to burst.
“Can I ask why what I said earlier bothered you so much?” I must look confused, because she adds, “When I said you were like a snake charmer.”
Realisation dawns. “Ah, it’s stupid…” I scratch the back of my neck, suddenly shy.
“Please tell me.” When I look over, her honeyed eyes are so open, lined with a vulnerability that seems rare for her.
“Snake charmers are basically entertainment, luring someone in based on a lie. The comparison made me think maybe you see me the way the rest of the world does.”
“I’m didn—Tieran, I’m sorry.” She tentatively places her hand on my forearm, halting the assembling of our dinner. “I know who you are without the mask. I always have.”I always will, echoes unspoken.
I laugh wryly. “Well, that mask is slowly crumblingmatch after match, and everyone is about to see me for the fraud I am.”
“Stop.” Her voice is firm, filled with authority. “What is tripping you up? Is it the thing with your ex? That’s when all the issues started, right? Are you…” She pauses, but it looks like she mentally berates herself before continuing. “Are you still hung up on her?”
“God, no. My confidence was shot initially, but some sort of disconnect was created after that. I couldn’t get my head and my feet to work together anymore.”
“We can fix that.” She sounds so sure, and I think I could use a healthy dose of that confidence. “Stop throwing a pity party and get over yourself. Only you can control your mind and how you react to your circumstances.”
“You think I haven’t tried?” I snap, and the brow above her topaz and blue eye raises, so I soften my voice. “Jade, be pragmatic. I’m royally fucking it up out there, falling short match after match. Everyone knows it, and I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to drop me.” Drop me as a captain, as a…whatever we are.
An inferno blazes in her eyes, her tone firm, and the Jade who runs multiple businesses and circles around men takes her place. “You’re treating what you call shortcomings as a failure, and all it’s doing is getting in your head and causing you to trip up on the field. You have to reframe it, turn your obstacles into opportunities. Because all you’re doing is acting like your challenges and your fears are a mountain, unmovable no matter how hard you push, and it’s killing you.”
Her arm stretches out until the very tips of her fingers graze the tattoo on my right arm—a scape of the rugged terrain of the Highlands. The touch is featherlight, but I feel iteverywhere. I take a step closer, and her hand shifts, palm settling in the centre of my chest, pressing down lightly. “Butyouare the mountain, Tieran. Stop trying to move it and learn how toclimbit.”
Who is this woman, and how does she have thissuperhuman power to reach into my chest, grab my heart, and squeeze? “Do you really believe in me that much? I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
