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The place couldn’t be more perfect for her. It’s painted a bright yellow with dark green shutters and a sky-blue door. Eclectic and whimsical, a lot like she is. It needs some work, a new roof and flooring to start, but that’s what she wanted. It’s the first house she’s ever owned, and she wants to make it hers.
After that, we viewed a few condos in the city for me. All of them were fine, none of them stood out. I’m not picky, it’s just a place to store my shit and crash at the end of the day. Yet I’m not ready to throw down a million plus on a mortgage for a place that doesn’t feel like home.
Hockey players make decent money, me included, but we’re not at NFL salary levels. My first contract with Boston was five and a half million for three years. My second contract bumped me up to four million for two years. The new contract with the Seattle Blades is even better. It’s very good money, but it’s not the kind of money that lasts me a lifetime if I’m not smart about it. I can’t afford to splurge on a penthouse with three-sixty views of Seattle, or a prime Medina home where I’d bump elbows with the ultra-wealthy.
“Maybe find a few to look at a little farther north,” I suggest to my agent, Peter. “Our practice facility in Northgate. Just nothing east of I5.”
“I’ll work up a list. Are you opposed to untraditional? I have a client ready to list on Eastlake. It’s at the high end of your budget, but ones like this don’t come up too often.”
“Email me whatever you have. We’ll narrow down showings from there,” I answer.
“Great, I’ll email you a list shortly and set up viewings for the morning.”
* * *
“How is she,” my mother asks at dinner later in the evening. We’re staying at a hotel for a handful of days, then we’ll head back to Boston to pack up and head out this way. I left the travel arrangements to her and as I should have known, she’s picked a more frugal location than I would have. She doesn’t love me spending money on her, it was a battle to convince her to let me buy a house for her. Easing her into being comfortable with my salary is a long road.
Even though I would love a steak right now, I opted to grab burgers from Dick’s, a local legend around here. One of many things I’ve missed about this city.
“I can’t say,” I answer, not pretending that I don’t know who she’s talking about. “She still hates me, that much was clear. She’s more beautiful than I remember.” I drop my napkin to the table, luckily done with most of my meal as my stomach tightens.
“Being a beautiful woman was never an issue for her, inside and out.”
“No,” I agree. My mom loved Isla, too. When I told her we broke up, she wasn’t only upset with me for how it all happened. She was sad that she’d lost someone she’d considered a friend and something like a daughter. The one person who, for three years, was always by her side at my games. Isla was a loss for us both. “Her issue was me. Still is, apparently.”
“How are you going to fix that? She’s part of the same organization, Cill. She needs to feel safe in her position. At least comfortable enough around you to be able to do her job,” she says, then finishes her bottle of water. “Besides the fact that it will weigh on you if you don’t make things right.”
“If you know a way for me to make it right, I’m all ears. But I do intend to talk to her. I tried to find her after I met with Coach, but she’d left already.”
“And how was your talk with Robert?”
“It went about as how you’d expect. He punched me. Twice.”
“Cillian,” she gasps. “He didn’t!”
“He did, and it’s fine. I deserved it, even if it’s a bruise to my ego. And maybe my cheek.” I turn my head to the side and point at the spot his fist landed. Mom scowls but shakes her head. “Well, at least there’s that.”
“How are you two going to work together?”
“It’s going to be okay. I still respect him, maybe even more after today. He fought for her. Which is more than I did.” Though I wanted to, so fucking badly. Youth and ego stopped me.
“She didn’t give you much choice there,” my mom says, but I know she doesn’t disagree with anything Isla did.
“I didn’t give her much choice, either.”
“Mmm, decisions of a broken heart,” she muses.
“Yeah.” I let out a long sigh. “Where do I even start with her?”
“With the truth, Cillian. That’s where you lost your way before, don’t repeat the mistake.”
She heads off to her room after that. Leaving me to replay every detail of today and all the big life moments that have led me here. Fuck, if Isla doesn’t play a starring role in all of it. I’ve gone years without so much a mention of her name. Today, hearing it and then seeing her, brought back so much. Not only the good times, but the guilt and pain too.
My situation with Trina wasn’t what I intended, and I would change so much if I could go back. When I left for Boston, I was as confident as Isla was in our relationship. I’d never once had a wandering eye; Isla was my world. Besides hockey, anyway. It quickly became apparent that my world up to that point had been incredibly small.
Now, all I can do is move forward. And hope that Isla gives me a second shot at being a person in her life. Even if not in her bed.
I’d be a dirty liar if I said I didn’t hope for that. Isla always made me want her merely by existing. A few short minutes with her today was a bleak reminder of what I had and lost. Her smile is like a ray of sunshine, but it was her spicy temper that I always loved most. She feels with her whole heart, rational or not, it’s just who she is. I never considered that as a flaw, I loved her temper. Until she broke shit off with me, then it terrified me.
