Page 87 of Facing the Line

Hunter: Next year.

Hadley: If you’re still a Wolf then. You could be a Blackhawk.

Hunter: Shhh don’t jinx it!

“You didn’t have to come.” I reach across the center consul and squeeze Jonas’s hand, though, negating my words. Checking the road, I pull out of the parking garage and head towards my mom’s condo. My thoughts are a chaotic mess, but I’m too tired and preoccupied to sort through them. Going through the motions of normal activities helps me shift them to the back corner of my mind.

He squeezes back and stares over at me from the passenger seat of my mom’s Lexus LX. “I know. But I wanted to.”

I tried to talk him out of it. It’s not his problem; I can take care of my mom myself. But the minute I booked a ticket, he booked one next to me. And here he is, helping me drive her home from the surgeon’s office.

The past thirty-six hours were a whirlwind. We rushed from the Wolves arena back to Jonas’s house, found a flight, packed, and made it to the airport by the skin of our teeth. We arrived in Boston late last night. I barely closed my eyes in my childhood bedroom before it was time to get up and take my mom to see her doctor. And then I sat, restless, in the waiting room during her procedure.

I glance at her in the rear-view mirror. Her head rests against the window, mouth open slightly as she snores. They gave me all kinds of instructions as we left—Jonas nodded competently and took notes on his phone while I zoned out, overwhelmed. I remember the nurse saying my mom would be out of it the rest of the day, though.

“I’d rather be back in Chicago,” I mutter, focusing my attention on the traffic.

Jonas shrugs. “It’s not a big deal.”

I snort. “It shouldn’t be. But my mom turned it into one.”

He shifts in his seat to face me. “You’re mad about this?”

I bristle, mostly at the fact that he’s not. “Yes, I am. And it’s totally justified, by the way.”

“I don’t see?—”

“Jonas, she made me think it was an emergency, but it was elective surgery. When Brandon decided the ProAm golf tournament in Hilton Head was more important than being here for my mom’s recovery, she could have canceled. But she had to have this tummy tuck.” I roll my eyes. “Though it’s the last few days of my break.”

And I already had plans. With Hunter and Natalie. With Jonas and his family. God, it was awesome to be surrounded by a normal family at his house in Chicago.

Jonas adjusts the brim of his cap. “It’s only a few days. It’s?—”

“If you say, ‘not a big deal,’ again, I will scream. Not all of us have a nursing background and a heart of gold.” He chuckles, and I sigh. “I know I sound incredibly selfish. And I guess I am? It’s just—there’s more to it than my mom asking me for help.”

His brown eyes are full of warmth when he gazes at me. “Can you explain?”

I bite my lip, wanting the right words. “If my mom had asked me in advance to come home and take care of her for a few days, I wouldn’t mind. But the fact that Brandon bailed on her—that stings. Or it should. It doesn’t bother her.”

“And you want it to?”

“Yeah. I want her to want more from her partner. Would you ever put your career over someone you care about like that?” If he plays professionally, he’d have to. Like Hunter will have to leave Natalie. Miss birthdays and anniversaries, even rough days at work and days when she’s lonely and needs a hug. Her schedule will have to bend to his, like my mom’s. That’s how the world works, but I don’t have to like it.

So I rush on, “I mean, yeah, I know you’d have to. But if my mom would find a nice accountant to settle down with, she could build her life around someone who would at least be stable.”

“Even accountants have busy seasons,” he says, philosophically. “Like nurses or firefighters.”

I growl and glare. I’m not here for his rational thinking right now. “You know what I mean.”

“I get your point. I’m sorry that you feel like she doesn’t know her worth.” Then he smirks, the corners of his mouth turning up. “An accountant, huh? That was the best job you could come up with?”

“Yes.” I sound defensive, but I have to fight the smile that wants to pop out at his teasing tone. He makes me feel better, though we can’t change the situation.

“Well, it is pretty sexy.” He stretches his arm over, resting it along the back of my seat and toying with the stray hairs at my nape that escaped my messy bun. Shivers run down my spine at the rough timbre of his voice, and I want to sink into the distraction he offers. “All those spreadsheets and…okay, I can’t think of anything else.”

Before I can get too invested in flirting with him, I turn onto our street. The doctor’s office sent us home with a handicapped parking tag, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I can find a spot in front of our building. I do my best, though, parking a small distance from our condo.

While in the middle of the city like Jonas’s house, it’s as different as possible. The sleek and modern high-rise in Southie has all the amenities my mom could want, but it feels sterile after spending time with the Kaminskis.

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