“So you'll do it?”
“Let me check my schedule.” I hear papers rustling. “I had a cancellation this morning, actually. I could be there by ten to assess the situation. If it works out, I'll need your full schedule. And I'll need at least two weeks' notice for any schedule changes when possible.”
“Done. Whatever you need.” I give her my address and brief her on the morning's chaos.
When Olivia arrives at ten sharp, she's exactly what I need. A competent woman in her thirties wearing practical clothes and carrying a bag full of supplies.
She takes one look at the puppy chaos in my living room and laughs. “Well, you certainly don't do things by halves, do you, Mr. Novak?”
“Call me Liam. And no, I don't.”
I share with her my schedule for the next couple of months.
“And you'll need me during all practices and away games?”
“Yeah. And honestly, even on days I'm home, it would help to have you come for a few hours. These guys need more attention than I can give them right now.”
She's typing notes into her tablet. “I can do weekdays from nine to four, and I'm available for extended care during your road trips. For five thousand a week, I can also do emergency calls if something comes up.”
“Perfect. When can you start?”
“I'm here now, aren't I?” She grins. “Let me get them settled, and you go do your hockey thing.” She grows serious. “I would advise that you think about giving some of them away.”
“No,” is my immediate reaction. I already love the little rascals.
Olivia shrugs and turns, busying herself with the puppies.
As I leave for practice, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself. Maybe now, Avery won’t think I’m such a fuck up after all.
The thoughts of Avery get me pissed off all over again. And hurt, if I'm being honest.
I've had my share of women. Plenty of them. But not one of them made me feel the way Avery does. Not one of them made me want to be better, do better, be more than just the guy who scores goals and makes headlines.
And she can't even stick around long enough to have a conversation about it.
I park and head straight inside, but instead of going to the locker room, I find myself taking the elevator to the PR department. I need answers. I need to understand why she keeps running from something that feels this right.
Avery's office door is open, and she's at her desk, looking perfectly put together in a navy blazer and white blouse. Like last night never happened.
I knock on the doorframe, and she looks up.
“How are the puppies?” she asks in an even tone, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.
“Alive. Fed. Got a professional sitter this morning, though. She's with them now.”
A smile tugs at her lips. “That's good. Smart move.”
“You left.”
My tone comes out angry, but I'm tired of pretending this doesn't matter.
Her smile disappears. “Liam.”
“That was the second time.” I plop down on the chair and pin her down with a stare. “What is it with you and disappearing acts?”
She glances toward her open door, then back at me. “Close the door.”
I do, then return to my seat. The tension in the room is thick enough to cut.
