Page 116 of Beauty
“Have to? Please. It’s the next best thing to having you on FaceTime.”
She ducks, hiding a smile. “Ready for the game tomorrow?”
“Yeah. I’m also ready to get home.”
“Miss Ollie?”
My chest constricts.I miss youis what I want to say.But if I tell her that, I’ll scare her off. So I nod and leave it at that.
“How’s the hockey studying going?”
She shrugs. “I had a documentary on before you called. Figured I could listen while I worked.”
“You’ll be an expert by the end of the season.”
“Better be, or Ezra will have my head.” Her shoulders sink. “The dick had the audacity to ask me if I’d taken up nannying since I was hanging out with Ollie in Orlando.”
“Asshole,” I mutter through my teeth.
I’m a level-headed guy, and I’m always good with management, but Ezra has been an absolute prick to Sienna.
I’d be pissed that her brothers haven’t spoken up for her yet, but I have a feeling she has told them to keep their mouths shut. She wants to prove she can do this, and she thinks that means she has to handle everything without backup.
“Can I ask you something?”
Sienna laughs. “As my father always says, you just did.”
“What happened in Paris?”
Right before my eyes, all the joy drains from her expression and her shoulders tense. “I’d rather not talk about it.”
“Please,” I say, infusing as much sincerity into my voice as I can. “I want to know you. I’ve missed so much?—”
Her eyes cut to mine aggressively, and she opens her mouth like she’s going to shut me down.
Before she can, I barrel on. “And a lot of that was my fault. I should have spoken up sooner. I would have if?—”
I squeeze my eyes shut and roll my neck. I can’t find it in me to bring up what I saw the night I finally found her. The other guy doesn’t matter. Previous relationships don’t matter. It’s obviously over with him or she wouldn’t have let me touch her.
I clear my throat. “The point is, I should have been there for you. And I want to be now.”
Head lowered, she focuses on her drawing, though the pencil in her hand doesn’t move. “They took everything,” she says so quietly it’s hard to make out the words. “Everything I worked for, everything I am.” She looks up, pain and devastationswimming in her watery eyes. “But they didn’t take this.” She nods at her drawing. “I’m only now realizing that. I’ve been so angry that I couldn’t see what I still had.”
My chest aches and my hands itch to hold her. “You’re incredibly talented.”
She gives me a tentative smile. “For most of my life, it was the only thing I was good at. But I’m finding new things, and I’m rediscovering my love for old ones.”
This time the words don’t feel so sad. And they don’t feel like they’re only about her career.
“I hope you do.”
With a shake of her head, she pulls her shoulders back, clearly ready to move on, and launches into a recap of the documentary she had on when I called. That conversation evolves into one regarding the teams I’ve played for through the years, which morphs into a discussion about the places we’ve traveled and our favorite foods in each location. When she yawns for the third time, I realize we’ve been on the phone for three hours.
“You should get some sleep,” I tell her as a yawn sneaks up on me too.
“Shit, you’ve got a game tomorrow.” She straightens and gathers her pencils into a neater pile. “I’m the worst owner ever, keeping you up all night.”
I bring the phone close to my face, ensuring she’s looking at me. “I’d fight the sun with you every night, butterfly.”
