Page 41 of Hot Puck
It takes me a few minutes to gain control of my anger enough that I can let go of the steering wheel. When I do and get out of the car it’s to find only Natalie waiting for me.
“Crystal sent me a text.” She holds up her phone. “Said they were in trouble.”
Dragging in a deep breath, I hold it and count. I only get to three before I need to blow it out. “Yeah. They apparently are and after the words I just had with the camp coordinator I probably am too.”
“What happened?”
“To be honest, I’m not really sure. She called them disrespectful and rude?—”
“Cassidy and Crystal?” Her eyes and mouth are open.
“Yeah.” I shake my head. “I can’t see it either. They’ve never been rude or disrespectful a day in their lives.”
“And you?”
“Oh, I was probably disrespectful. Rude too. Definitely angry enough to see red and want to run the woman over with Mom’s car.”
“Sounds like your actions might have been justified. Let’s go inside. Order pizza or something and get to the bottom of what happened. We can determine if you overreacted or if the coordinator was out of line.”
“Mrs. Bertram.”
“Who?”
“The coordinator. Apparently, her name is Mrs. Bertram.”
“Sounds like the headmistress of one of the horrible boarding schools my grandfather sent me to after my parents died.”
I’m a few steps into the house before her words register. Spinning around, I have to grab her shoulders to stop her from plowing into me. “You went to boarding school?”
“Yes. Three different ones from fifteen to eighteen.”
“After your parents died?”
She nods. “They were killed in a boating accident. My grandfather wanted nothing to do with raising a girl. If I’d been a boy, things might have been different.”
“Sounds like a story.”
“Maybe I’ll tell you one day.”
The smirk she gives me shouldn’t lighten my mood, but it does. And if I’m honest, just being around the woman lightens my mood.
I think we’re becoming friends. I know she’s my closest acquaintance right now.
Despite what she’ll be if I decide to sign with the Rogues, I want to continue to develop our friendship.
Her presence makes me feel comfortable, capable, when in the last few months, I’ve felt anything but.
“Promise me no matter what happens we’ll stay friends.” The words are out before I think them but as they echo in my head, I know I mean them. “If we move in with you, if we do what you suggested to make sure the girls are looked after, I don’t want me working for you to cause that to fall apart.”
“I can’t promise we won’t have problems. If you sign with the Rogues, I’ll be your boss and that could, probably will, cause friction between us, but I promise you that relationship or any you and I have, will not affect my relationship with the girls. Even if none of what we’ve talked about happens, I want to stay in their lives. Help make sure they get everything they, and your parents, wished for.”
Her words are almost like a vow, and I know she means them; they aren’t empty promises from someone wanting something from me. “Okay. I have to talk to the girls, but after this afternoon I think a move might be the best thing for all of us.”
She doesn’t gloat. Simply offers a nod then tips her head toward the kitchen. “Let’s get something organized for dinner and sit down with the girls. Find out what happened today, what to do about it. Then we can talk about everything else.”
“I’m ready to sign.”
Her gaze locks on mine. I can see the excitement and the fear and wonder what evokes the second. I don’t get a chance to ask though.
