Chuckling, I shake my head. “Sorry, no. Just be sure to conduct thorough interviews like you did before and check references, and I’m sure you’ll find someone. And maybe they won’t be a musician, so you won’t have to worry about dealing with them needing to practice.”
She brightens a little at that, which makes me bite back a smile. “That’s a good point. I should add that question to my list for the interviews.” Opening her phone, she types on it for a second, then smiles at me again. “Okay, well. Make sure you say goodnight and goodbye before you go to bed. And leave the key on the kitchen counter before you leave in the morning. Just lock the handle behind you on your way out.”
“I can do that. Actually, I’ll just leave the key now. I’m not planning on going out again tonight.” Jason covered a rental car for the last two weeks I was here. And I’ll be able to return it to the airport in the morning before I leave, which means I’ll just be able to roll out of bed, grab the last of my things, and go.
Over the last couple of weeks, I said goodbye to the acquaintances I’ve had that I’d hoped could become friendships. A few people expressed sadness that I’d be leaving—mostly the other members of my quartet. They’re the closest to friends I’ve had since Paul and I broke up and I lost that friend group.
After spending the evening watching shows on my phone, I get ready for bed earlier than normal—I have to get up at an ungodly hour, after all—and say goodbye to Whitney. With the way she acted while checking over my room, I thought it might be more of a production, but she just says, “Okay! Bye! I hope you have a safe flight, and good luck in Seattle! Keep my number, and I’ll be happy to be a reference for anything you need.”
“Okay. Thanks, Whitney. You’ve been a great housemate-slash-landlord too. Good luck finding someone to take my room!”
And that’s that.
I don’t get nearly enough sleep, and I groan when my alarm goes off at three in the morning. But I need enough time to get to the airport, return the car, and get through security before my six thirty flight. It’s my own fault. I could’ve slept in and left at like four in the afternoon. But nooooo. I didn’t want to wait that long.
The thought of seeing Jason again does fill me with a certain amount of excitement, though. Just before I leave, I send him a text. It’s not even two in the morning in Seattle right now, but he’ll get it when he wakes up.
Heading to the airport now. See you soon!
CHAPTER TWENTY
Jason
I walkinto the airport and check the status of Hailey’s flight, pacing in front of the doors where she’ll come out. The plane landed on time, so she should be out any minute now. I’m almost jangling with nerves, which is unlike me. I rarely get nervous these days. Games get me pumped up, sure, but it’s excitement, not nerves. Even the playoffs. I want to do well, of course. But I know myself. I know my team. Worrying something might go wrong makes it more likely to happen, in my experience.
Plus, I have my lucky socks. Of course, luck runs out eventually, but those things have given us numerous winning streaks over the years.
The reality is, though, that I know what to expect with hockey. I’ve been doing it all my life.
With Hailey?
I have no fucking clue. She texted me she’d see me soon. Does that mean she’s looking forward to it? And is she looking forward to seeingmespecifically? Or just looking forward to notwondering if she’ll have enough money to pay for rent and food and gas? And if sheisactually looking forward to seeingme, how much of that is bound up in the second thing?
It seems dumb to worry about that now, though, doesn’t it? I’m the one who put us in this situation.
“What other choice did I have, though?” I mutter to myself. “I couldn’t justabandonher.”
Someone sitting on one of the few benches glances up at me, and I clamp my mouth shut. Right. Talking to yourself in public makes you look nuts. Noted. I tug my hat down a little lower, hoping that person’s not a hockey fan and doesn’t recognize me.
But then I look up, and she’shere, and all worries about looking crazy vanish.
I’m grinning like an idiot at the sight of her, and I close the distance between us in long, ground-eating strides.
Her eyes widen as I get closer, but then an answering smile tugs at her lips, and she stops in front of me. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I parrot, still grinning. “How was your flight?”
“Good. Boring. You know how flights are.”
“Do I ever.”
“Ha. Yeah. I guess you probably fly a lot in your line of work.”
“We’re away about every other week during the season, so yeah. Especially being based out of Seattle. None of the other teams are driving distance. At least not a reasonable driving distance.”
“Right.” She adjusts the strap on her shoulder.
“Can I take anything?”
