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By the time I’d gone over the details with Rhonda, the dogsitter, Everleigh’s shower steam had dissipated and she’d come out of the bathroom wearing a different robe – this one a plush, white terry cloth – and was patting her hair dry with a towel. “Is everything alright?”
My fear from only minutes earlier had come true, and I shed a tear in front of the strongest woman I’d ever known.
“Gunnar.” She dropped the towel on the floor and rushed to me. “What is it?”
I brushed at the tear aggressively, angry that it had the nerve to fall from my eyeball. “You wouldn’t understand.”
She put her hands on her hips and squared her shoulders to me. “Try me.”
NINE
EVERLEIGH
The tripto Gunnar’s dog kennel would’ve been faster if he’d let me take the chopper, but I understood. If we needed to bring the dog to a specialist, a helicopter ride might have been a little too traumatizing.
As the heat and concrete of the city gave way to lush greenery, vibrant from the recent rainfall, I slipped my hand across the front seat of the car and squeezed Gunnar’s thigh. His quads were the most well-defined I had ever seen on a hockey player, and their shape was visible through his jeans. He didn’t look away from the road, but wrapped his hand around mine and squeezed it.
“Thank you for coming with me.” His voice was quiet, and for a stoic player known for being emotionless on the ice, I could feel the pain in his voice.
“Believe it or not, I understand what you’re going through.”
Behind his sunglasses his brow knitted. “You do?”
“Of course. Gunnar. I’m not as coldhearted as people think I am. I actually like animals a lot better than people.”
This made him smile. “Me too. Norman has been with me through everything. People think I’m crazy for doing all the things I’m doing, but he’s been by my side when there has been no one else. I can’t give up on him. Not yet.”
I felt the same way about my horses. When my childhood horse had died – the one that my mom had given me, I’d taken a month long ‘vacation’ on the King yacht. I’d continued to work from the Amalfi Coast, pulling myself together for conference calls and virtual meetings, but instead of eating at the top Italian restaurants and people-watching over my morning espresso, I had spent the whole month in bed grieving.
“They really do leave a hole in your life when they go.”
Gunnar inhaled and it sounded like he was choking on his words. “He’s not even gone yet and I already feel it.”
“How old is Norman?”
“Twelve.” Gunnar’s lips drew to a line and he tried to nonchalantly wipe away a tear.
The radio crackled as the current station mixed with a local talk radio station. Gunnar turned the dial on the dashboard to tune in the station with the best reception, and country music – twangy with fiddles, filled the air between us. The car was from the 1980s and not in a good way.
“Gunnar.” I turned down the radio so we could hear ourselves speak. “Is money an issue for you?” I knew how much he made a year, and there was no way he couldn’t afford a brand new six-figure car unless he owed someone some serious cash. “Because I could help with the vet bills.”
“Everleigh, stop.” Gunnar picked up my hand and kissed it. “I have more money than I know what to do with. I just don’t care about material shit like the other guys do. This was my grandmother’s car, and when I drive it I think of her.”
“For what it lacks in appearance, it sure has a smooth ride.” The car was the color of merlot, and the interior was covered in fake wood paneling.
“The other guys buy boats for the water. I prefer to cruise in this land yacht.” He laughed. “I’m surprised that you’re not embarrassed to be seen in it.”
“That’s the thing about being rich. You stop caring what people think.” All we needed was to be photographed together for the rumors to start flying and for our careers to be over. But when I saw how upset he was after hearing the news that his dog was hurt, I couldn’t let him make the trip to the country alone.
I had put on my best incognito, going-to-the-country look, which included a black baseball cap – the only one I owned that didn’t have a New York Thunder logo on it – and my biggest black sunglasses, then I’d wrapped my hair in a low bun. My clothes were baggy and the most casual that I owned. The Everleigh that stared at me from the visor of Gunnar’s land boat didn’t look like Everleigh King at all.
No one was expecting us to be seen together, and if we could fly under the radar for one more day and not get caught, everything would be fine. Canceling practice had been a selfish move on my part, but after our night together, I didn’t want Gunnar to leave. I took a deep breath, worried that the business side of me had been compromised. Canceling the practice hadn’t been a decision that had come from the brain – it had come from my heart. And that’s when mistakes were made.
But it was just this once.
Gunnar signaled and navigated the car onto a side road, its tires crunching over gravel as we made our way toward a brick farmhouse. As we neared, dogs started to bark. A very fit woman who looked to be in her fifties met us as we stopped in front of an outbuilding that I assumed was the kennel.
“Mr. Lockwood.” The woman extended her hand and he shook it. Then, to my surprise, Gunnar wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
