Why the hell did I seek her out today? What was I even thinking? I’m not supposed to care, but I did. For a moment, I let myself believe maybe she would be different from all the rest.
God, that was stupid.
I grab my bag from my locker, running a hand through my damp hair. I hate feeling this exposed. I’m supposed to be the captain. The guy who keeps it all together, who protects his team from people who don’t hold their best interests.
Instead, I got distracted by a pair of beautiful eyes.
I slam the locker shut and take a breath. This isn’t about her. It’s about me letting my guard down. Look where it got me. That won’t happen again.
I don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to think abouther.
“Oi,” a voice calls out from behind me. I turn around and Stan is leaning against the lockers on the opposite wall, arms crossed but eyes sharp. “You alright, Bradshaw?”
I straighten up, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I’m fine,” I mutter, forcing the words out. “Just hate when people don’t treat others like human beings.”
Stan nods slowly, stepping closer. “I hear you, mate. But you know, sometimes there’s a reason for it. People can act cold, or like they don’t care, when they’re actually afraid of caring too much. Maybe there’s some pain behind that purpose.”
Stan’s usual gruffness is softened with something like understanding. His words hang in the air, and for a moment, they strike a chord deep inside me.
I think about Addison. About how guarded she was today. How she tried to keep everything at arm’s length but slipped up just enough for me to catch that flicker of realness.
Maybe she’s that way for a reason, just like me. Maybe the walls, the coldness, the distance are all a shield.
I grit my teeth, but the knot inside me loosens. I’m still pissed at her. Still angry. But maybe… maybe there’s something more there too.
9
level at the break
SOMEONE TO STAY BY VANCOUVER SLEEP CLINIC
I swivel slowly in my chair, letting the momentum carry me back and forth lazily. I’ve been sitting in my office for an hour, staring at my player files, angry at myself. I didn’t think it would bother me this much. I’ve had clients storm out of my office before. I’ve had them throw tantrums over photos that ended up published or articles put out that they thought were off the record. But this is different.
Oliver’s anger feels personal. Even more so because I deserve it.
I called them assets. I dehumanized the people that clearly mean the most to him. He doesn’t just playwiththem every week. He playsforthem. And he’s right. I don’t know them. I know enough about them to fill in a flashcard or a spreadsheet. I don’t know their lives or who they are as people.
I didn’t mean to be cold or impersonal, but that doesn’t matter. Intent doesn’t erase impact.
I rub my forehead and sigh, the pressure mounting behind my eyes. I need to leave before I spiral any further. Best to have a breakdown in the privacy of my own apartment, I think. I grab my bag and pull my coat on, shutting the lights off as I headout the door.
I head out of the elevator and into the lobby, and of course, there he is.
Oliver stops when he sees me, his jaw tightening the same way it did in my office. He clearly doesn’t want to see me, and I really don’t want to go for round two with him. He doesn’t say anything.
“Oliver,” I say quickly, stepping towards him.
“What?” he snaps, eyes flicking to mine, unreadable and guarded.
“I’m sorry about earlier.”
He crosses his arms like he doesn’t believe my apology. “You should be.”
“I am,” I insist. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I wasn’t thinking about how it would come across. That’s not an excuse, I know that. But I… I know I messed up. And you don’t know me very well, but I’ll tell you this: I don’t admit to messing up often. Can I buy you a drink? Maybe I can apologize and explain myself a little better?”
His eyes examine me, like he’s trying to decide if I actually mean it or if I’m able to polish and package my own words too.
Finally, he sighs, a reluctant surrender. “Fine.”
