“Got it, toots. Later.”
“Later,” I say quietly, and disconnect the call. I rub the end of the cellphone over my lower lip thoughtfully. Avery gave some good advice. Trying to rekindle anything with Hawke would not be a smart move. I’m here temporarily. As soon as my dad’s better, he’s going home to Sydney and I’m going…well, I don’t know where I’m going, but I’m probably not going to stay here long term. Besides, no matter how combustible we may still be in the sex department, that alone isn’t reason enough to be with someone. And it’s been abundantly clear, past the sex and maybe a timid fondness for an old friend, we don’t have much else binding us together.
I take an extralong shower, relishing the actual time I have to dawdle. I have to say, the one good thing about Dad being in the hospital and me taking a few days off from work, I’ve totally caught up on my sleep. After blow-drying my hair, I put on a pair of old Penn State sweatpants and a white tank top. While I’d normally go braless in this “pre-sleep” getup, and would just shed the sweatpants prior to climbing into bed, I decide to go watch some TV with my dad and hang out. As such, the bra goes on under the tank top, because as much as I love my dad and we make pretty good roommates, there are just certain clothing requirements that have to be maintained. I wear a bra at all times in his presence and he promises to never come out of his room in just his boxer shorts.
Putting my hair up in a loose ponytail, I decide I’ll do my nails while I hang with my dad and grab some Perfectly Pearly Pink nail polish from the cabinet underneath the sink. He’ll probably want to watch sports, which is fine by me. I’m just relishing every day I have with him, even if it’s spent doing something as mundane as painting my nails and watching TV.
The minute I open the bathroom door, I hear a voice…deeper and more rumbling than my dad’s. It takes me no more than a millisecond to recognize it as Hawke’s. With one foot across the threshold of the bathroom and one foot still inside, I freeze…a momentary lapse in motion so I can contemplate what to do.
I can jet into my bedroom and let them visit. Perfectly Pearly Pink will go on just as well in either place.
Or I can go out there, because curiosity has the better of me and my blood is already racing at the prospect of seeing Hawke.
I wince, duck my head in shame even though no one can see, and take a step into the hallway. Despite everything I just promised Avery, and despite all the ways in which our history has fucked both of us up, I can’t help but want to see him.
But I’ll play it cool.
Act surprised to see him.
Sit on the opposite end of the couch from him and pretend indifference as I paint my nails.
I’ll reinforce to him that all we’ll ever share is a mutual love of my father and a working arrangement. Anything past that is just…well, in the past.
Chapter 17
Hawke
I hear the bathroom door open behind me and can’t help the tension in my shoulders. This is either a smart move or a dumbass move on my part, but I can’t leave things as they are with Vale. The last two days it’s been gnawing at my insides…an unrealized epiphany that keeps my head swimming. I purposely visited Dave at the hospital early yesterday morning, hoping to avoid a run-in with Vale. It was cowardly, but until I could process what was really happening inside my gut, I needed to stay away from her, and besides, I had a game to concentrate on.
But when I woke up this morning, still a little high off the win last night with a shorthanded goal compliments of yours truly, a clarity that was more crystal than a Waterford vase seemed to permeate my entire being. I knew what needed to be done where Vale was concerned.
I didn’t dwell on the implications, I didn’t hesitate in my actions. In fact, I called Dave once he was home from the hospital and told him what my plan was. Well…I told him part of what my plan was. The other part a father doesn’t need to know about his daughter.
Vale hesitates a moment, and I know this even with my back turned to her because the hallway has loose floorboards under the carpet that squeak when you walk on them. I remember this from the other morning when I was making my way out of her apartment, chased by demons of the past and the uncertainty of my present. I suspect her hesitation is merely the result of being mired in as much awkward confusion as I’ve been.
Finally, I hear a squeak, and then another, and I know Vale has decided to come into the living room. My shoulders remain tense as I prepare to jump my first hurdle.
Getting her out of this apartment.
My head turns to look at her over the back of the couch, finding her eyes pinned on me. Christ, she looks sexy as fuck in a tight tank top and sweatpants that fit her just a little too good, despite the fact they’re rattier than all get out.