Текст книги "The Girl with Hearts"

Автор книги: Savannah Blevins

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Текущая страница: 9 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter 16

 

 

HENRIK’S MOVE

Henrik made himself at home in Drew’s apartment the next morning. Of course, that was after listening to Drew lecture him about anything and everything under the sun, including the fact he’d brought breakfast with him. Apparently, providing Leila with food in any form or fashion was some kind of sin in this house.

It was just a couple bagels, for crying out loud.

Drew and Austin didn’t realize it, but he was finished following their rules. He’d allowed Austin to ruin his chances for a romantic relationship with Leila a long time ago, and he wasn’t about to let them ruin their friendship, too.

Now that Drew was gone, his fruitless effort to make him wait in his own apartment failing, he found a comfy spot on the couch and dug into his bagels. He heard the shower turn on down the hall, so he knew Leila was awake. Her words continued to haunt him, though, along with the thousands of what ifs circulating through his mind.

What if he had ignored his best friend’s warning and pursued Leila anyway? He was only nineteen at the time, not exactly in the frame of mind for a serious relationship. Would she have made the difference, or would he have just broken her heart? Scenarios flooded his mind, but somehow they all rounded back to Leila in that damn shower.

The water kicked off before his thoughts finished, and he was thankful for the interruption. It was foolish to dwell on the past, and especially about things that could never happen. Or, at least, things that could never happen again. He took the last bite of his breakfast, standing to go grab a bottle of water, when he heard her voice boom down the hallway.

“Drew! You’re going to be late!”

She must have heard the television still on, he decided, but before he could alert her of his presence, she turned the corner. Her hair was wet and dripped down her bare shoulders as she clutched a barely there, navy towel around her. She sucked in a breath, her eyes rounding as she took in the vision of him standing before her. “You’re not Drew,” she stuttered, taking a step back and tightening her hold on the towel.

He swallowed. “Guilty.”

Eyes on her face. On. Her. Face.

His adrenaline kicked into overdrive, or maybe it was his tortured and abandoned libido. Either way, he could have cried.

Leila’s gaze darted around, unsure of what to do with herself. “What are you doing here this early? It’s not even six o’clock yet.”

A hundred different excuses and lies ran through his mind, but he decided against it. They were friends now, and that meant he could be honest. “Couldn’t sleep,” he explained while mentally shouting at himself for flinching when the slit in the towel suddenly revealed two more inches of thigh. “Obvious reasons.”

She watched him intently, and he wondered what she was thinking. So for good measure, he pointed at the plate of bagels sitting on the coffee table. “I also brought you breakfast.”

She peeked over the couch at the plate, and then frowned at him.

“What? You don’t like bagels?” The disappointment was evident in his voice, but he was too distracted to really care at the moment.

“Yes, bagels are fine. It’s just—” she paused, studying him for a moment before deciding whether or not she wanted to continue “—I was going to make you eggs when we got back.” She nervously tucked a strand of her wet curls behind her ear. “You know, to make you feel better because—” then she pointed to her nose and winced “—obvious reasons.”

He sighed. His nose looked gruesome. The swelling was much worse, stretching across his right cheekbone, up into his eye. Not to mention the unrelenting pain. However, a small bit of the constant, throbbing ache dulled at the thought of her wanting to make him feel-better eggs. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry. I appreciate the thought.”

She smiled weakly at him. “How does it feel this morning?”

He could feel her scrutiny, and practically read the guilt on her face. “Fine. It doesn’t hurt at all,” he lied.

She shook her head at him, laughing. “You’re full of shit.”

“You’re right.” He grinned, touching it gently with the tips of his fingers. “But I’ll survive. Now come eat breakfast with me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Let me go put on some clothes first.”

“I don’t recall making that a stipulation.”

They smirked at each other, and his body relaxed.

It was real. They were actually friends now.

He couldn’t keep the constant grin off his face as he waited for her to come back, and he felt like a complete idiot for it. When had he ever been giddy over becoming friends with a girl?

Never. The thought was ridiculous.

He smiled anyway, unashamed and unfazed by the scrutiny of his own self-consciousness. When she returned, beautiful as ever, he noticed something different about her. It took him a moment to realize it was the hint of freckles sprayed across her cheeks. He’d never noticed them before.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked, glancing over while she grabbed the plate of bagels. She dove into them as if she hadn’t eaten in days, and it made him smile.

“You have freckles,” he told her as if she didn’t know.

“I am a redhead,” she reminded him with a laugh. “It’s kind of a package deal.”

His eyes narrowed at her. “I’ve never noticed them before,” he explained.

“Well, normally, I wear more make-up, and it covers them. I usually don’t host company fresh out of the shower.”

“Your choice, not mine,” he said with a smirk.

She shook her head disapprovingly at him, but that was it. He was happy his harmless flirting no longer set off a hate-filled chain reaction that ended in them screaming at each other. It was progress. “I like your freckles,” he decided with certainty. “They’re endearing.”

She snorted. “You’re really laying it on thick this morning.”

Henrik shrugged, still unashamed. He eased closer to her on the couch. “I find these endearing as well.” He smiled, touching his finger lightly to her neck where the string of tattooed hearts trailed up behind her ear. He remembered those hearts, his tongue on them, his lips pressed against her smooth skin, and more importantly, the sigh it had elicited.

Her entire body went rigid, her hands clenched around the plate in her hand. “W-w-what are you doing?”

“What’s wrong? You look at mine all the time.”

She shot a sideways glare at him. “Once,” she barked. “I looked at them once.”

This time he snorted. “Sure, whatever you say.”

She eased away from his touch, her stern expression still visible. “What?” he asked again.

“You have to push the limits on everything. Don’t you?”

“I barely touched you.”

“That’s not the point, Henrik. You don’t touch friends like that.”

He cringed. At first he didn’t realize why. It was the word friend. He didn’t like the way she said it. Or rather, he didn’t like what it meant.

“Who made that rule?” he tried, fumbling around for a solution. “I touch my friends all the time.”

“I’m sure you run your hand seductively up the side of Austin’s neck every morning.”

He raised a curious brow. “You thought that was seductive?”

He honestly hadn’t been trying anything, but judging by the scowl she shot him, his innocent gesture had been taken out of context. “Sorry, I was just—” he began, but realized no matter what he said, it wouldn’t change anything. She was right. Friends didn’t touch friends like that. “I’ll keep my hands to myself from now on.”

“I didn’t say that,” she grumbled more to herself than him before stomping out of the room.

***

She was exceptionally quiet on the walk down to the parking garage, and Henrik knew her well enough to leave it alone. They were similar that way. Talking would only make it worse. “Keys?” she demanded, reaching her hand out.

He lobbed them over to her, but she paused, frozen in place as they hit her shoulder and fell to the ground. Henrik followed her gaze, and his stomach sank. Of all the mornings for a hot pink thong to be tied to his windshield wipers, it had to be today.

He groaned, stomping past her to quickly rip it off. He left her to throw it in the nearest trashcan, and when he returned, she hadn’t moved, not even an inch. He slowly picked up the keys and held them out to her.

She looked at him, her nose scrunched up. “Does that happen a lot?”

“More than you’d think,” he sighed. “It’s annoying.”

“And disgusting.”

“Well, at least those looked new,” he added, turning toward the passenger side door.

He could see her gaping through the window. “You mean sometimes they’re not?”

He opened the door, laughing. “I keep rubber gloves in the dashboard.”

Her face was contorted when she finally opened the door and hopped in. She busied herself with the heater, her demeanor returning to normal. He didn’t know whether to be happy or concerned. A part of him wanted her to be mad about the panties, because it meant she cared.

She dramatically threw her hands in the air. “I give up. How do you work this space contraption?”

It took him a moment to realize she meant the car, which was odd because Austin had a G55 too, and she drove it all the time. That’s when he noticed the hint of red tinting her cheeks and her teeth tugging at her lip. She was flustered.

She did care.

He reached up and pushed the button she tried to find, sending the heat blasting out. “Thanks,” she mumbled, pulling out onto the street.

He leaned his head back against the seat and frowned. He’d officially made it five hours before screwing up, and even though that was a record for him and friendships with girls, he wasn’t satisfied. He would have to make it up to her somehow. Dinner? A gift? He’d have to ask Jiri, one of his few married teammates, for advice on an acceptable gift for a girl who was just a friend.

He cringed again.

Before he could contemplate it further, Leila’s phone started ringing. He shook his head mockingly at her as the “Backstreet’s Back” melody blared through the car. She knew he hated that boy band, and she smiled despite herself. It disappeared quickly, though. She took one quick glance at the screen, grunted, and threw it in the cup holder in disgust.

“I thought that look was only reserved for me. Who’s calling you this early?”

“No one of importance.”

Her posture stiffened, and her fingers gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were practically white. He knew that reaction. There was only one person who could elicit that much hatred. “Was that Derek?” He was almost in disbelief when he said it, but he could tell he was right. “He still calls you?”

“It would appear that way,” she grumbled.

The flash of anger was sudden and all encompassing. He loathed that asshole with every fiber of his being, and that was before he broke Leila’s heart. He couldn’t believe he actually had the nerve to call her. “Give me your phone.”

Her head snapped over, but this time, she smiled at him. “All right, Shrek, calm down. It’s not that big of a deal. He calls sometimes, and I ignore it.”

He ground his teeth, absently touching the puffy edges of his eye. “Give me your phone.”

Her smile grew. “I thought you said if I wanted his ass kicked I should tell my brother.”

His features set straight as he growled, “I owe him one.” He was annoyed that her anger had instantly vanished. He wanted her to hate him too.

“For what? That barely there cut on your lip during the last game?”

“Are you taking up for him?”

“No. It’s just funny. You’ve always hated him. Do you realize that over half of your fighting majors in your career have been against the Devils?”

“What’s your point?”

“I know why I hate him,” she explained. “Why do you?”

He rolled his eyes. “I just do. The guy is a degenerative spawn unleashed on society for no other purpose than to make my life hell.”

Her eyes grew softer, a look he recognized immediately. It was the same one she used for Drew. The one she used when she was sincerely concerned. “What did he do to you?”

“It was a long time ago.”

She didn’t speak, only glanced over at him expectantly, and he knew he would tell her. He’d tell her anything when she looked at him like that.

“It started when we were in the Junior World Championship,” he said, looking out the window. “I was living with Gus by then, but I still had to play for the Swedish National team. I’d heard about Derek before I even showed up at the tournament, but it was minor stuff. Everyone said to watch out for him, because he’d do his best to get under your skin. I didn’t think anything of it. A lot of guys do that. Except Derek had done his homework on me.”

Her expression turned curious. “What did he say?”

“What didn’t he say?” He gripped the door as he recalled the memory. “Called me a bastard child. Orphan. Made so many ‘I fucked your mother’ jokes I lost count. By the end of the game I had all I could take.”

Her face fell. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to it than you just beating the crap out of him?”

“The chicken shit wouldn’t drop his gloves with me, so I got a five minute major for fighting. He scored with sixty seconds left to win the game.” His heart thudded in his chest at the memory. Even after all these years, it ate at him. “My country lost a chance at a medal because of his mouth, or rather my inability to tolerate it.”

Leila shook her head, her previous annoyance with her ex evident of her face again. It made his heart beat faster. “He still brings it up, doesn’t he?”

“Every damn game.”

She reached over and took his hand, intertwining their fingers. “We need to let it go. He’s a jerk, and he rightly deserves to be punished, but we need to move on.”

“We?”

“Yeah.” She smiled softly. “We can help each other, like a post-Derek support group.”

He laughed. “Will there be meetings? And free food?”

“Maybe, but mostly it will be just us, helping each other try and figure out how to move on.”

He had never considered letting the feud between them go. Probably because he never thought it was possible. But sitting there with her hand in his, her optimistic smile radiating over at him, he realized all the anger he’d felt only moments before was gone.

He squeezed her hand. “That, I can do. Especially if it means you’ll forgive me for my oversight this morning.”

She looked back at the road, her smile evening back out. “I wasn’t angry with you this morning, Henrik.”

“Really? Because it definitely looked that way on my end.” He half laughed.

She glanced back at him, and then removed her hand from his as she started to pull into the parking garage at Madison Square Garden.

“What?” he inquired.

“It’s nothing. Let’s just get you to the doctor. From the look of your face, I suspect we’ll have a lot of time to discuss it later.”

Chapter 17

 

 

LEILA’S SURRENDER

 

As much as Leila hated to hear it, she was correct in her assessment of Henrik’s condition. Not only was his nose fractured, but he had a bone bruise on his cheek, and the swelling caused him to lose peripheral vision in his right eye.

She broke the captain. Officially.

She was utterly devastated. Even on her worst day of hating Henrik, she wouldn’t have wished that on him.

“I’m sorry, Henrik, but I can’t clear you to play tonight.” It was the third time the team physician had expressed the sentiment, but in true Henrik fashion, he wasn’t going down without a fight.

“I have to play tonight. It’s the Kings. Our offense has to be clicking on all cylinders if we want to compete with their front line.”

The doctor’s face turned stern. “I’ve been waving my hand next to your head for the past thirty seconds, and you haven’t even flinched. You can’t play if you can’t see what’s coming at you. You’ll just end up getting hurt worse. Missing one game is better than missing ten.”

Henrik, who sat on the examination table, his feet hanging over the edge like a little kid, put his hands on his knees and huffed. “All right. Fine.”

The doctor gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’ll let your coach know.”

When the doctor left, Henrik turned around, his shoulders slumping. Miserable. “Well, looks like you were right.”

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized, standing.

She made herself walk slowly to him. She wanted to run. Most of all, she wanted to continue to fuss over him and force him to let her take of him.

“It’s just one game.”

“You honestly expect me to believe that after listening to you complain for the past half hour?”

Again, he shrugged. “I had to give it a shot. It’s tradition.”

Hockey players and tradition. They weren’t talking about a ridiculous playoff beard. It was his health, and she hated that he wasn’t taking it seriously. What she hated even more was that she cared that he wasn’t taking it seriously.

“Can I take you home now, or do they need more x-rays?”

“I think they are done prodding me. For now. I just need to stop by and talk to my coach on the way out.”

She nodded, the guilt still eating her alive. A few inches higher and she would have ruined his career.

“Stop it.”

Henrik jumped off the table and grabbed her chin, pulling it around to look up at him. “What?” She instantly darted her eyes back toward the door. Anywhere but at him.

“You’re fretting.” He smiled. “I can see it in your eyes. Stop it.”

How could he read her so easily?

“What if I just ruined your season? The team—”

“The team can survive one game without me,” he interrupted, “so stop worrying. Look on the bright side. At least we’ll have the apartment to ourselves tonight.”

She shot him a look.

“For strictly friend-type activities,” he added. “I hear Scrabble is super fun. Especially with your clothes on.”

She pushed him away to keep from laughing. He made her laugh too easily. “You actually believe Drew will still go to the game and leave us there alone?”

“Of course not.” He grinned. “I meant my apartment. He doesn’t have a key to my apartment. He can’t get in if I don’t let him.”

She smirked, trying not to laugh at the vision he suggested. Drew would beat the door down. Literally. “I would like to see that.”

He grabbed his coat off the examination table and threw his arm around her shoulder. “I’m his big brother. He’s not going to have a choice.”

***

That afternoon, Leila lay on her bed resting while optimistically searching through job listings in the city. Biology majors weren’t exactly in high demand. She lucked into her research assistant job in Newark. She needed something closer to her family, though. Something closer to home. Her phone beeped next to her, and bile rose in her throat. It was probably Derek again.

He’d called three times in the last week. She hadn’t told Henrik that part. He didn’t need to know. He was already too involved, and it would only make it worse. She needed a new number.

She eased over to peek at the screen, pleasantly surprised to see it was only Austin, until she read the message.

Austin: My apartment. Now.

 

She reluctantly sat up, having a sneaking suspicion what her brother wanted to talk to her about. His practice would have ended a couple hours ago, which meant he knew Henrik wouldn’t be playing in tonight’s game. Henrik might be Drew’s big brother, but she was still Austin’s little sister, and her brother would have something to say about the opportunity Henrik’s injury would provide.

She made her way down the hall and let herself into their apartment. Austin and Henrik sat on the couch, facing each other. Austin looked rather determined, while Henrik just looked guilty. “What’s up?” she asked as casually as possible.

Austin turned to Henrik, waiting expectantly.

“It has been brought to my attention,” Henrik began, shooting a sideways look at his best friend, “that a good, responsible teammate would go to the game tonight, and support his team even if he was on injured reserve.”

Leila looked between the two friends, wondering what kind of conversation they’d had before Austin texted her. She’d never seen them look uncomfortable around each other. “Even if you can barely see to watch the game?” she clarified.

Without looking at Austin, Henrik nodded. “Apparently.”

She gave her brother a knowing look, which implied that she didn’t appreciate his meddling. She got enough of that from Drew.

“It has nothing to do with you,” he stated with an unconvincing grunt.

Shit. Austin was suspicious.

Henrik made a face. A deer in headlights look. Like a man on death row. Austin didn’t notice. He just continued to defend himself. “Henrik here has been pushing for all of us to up our game lately, take our responsibilities more seriously. I merely pointed out that maybe he should practice what he preaches.”

“I only said maybe we shouldn’t go out so much. A little extra rest never hurt anybody,” he complained.

Austin shot him another look. “You stick to your story, and I’ll stick to mine.” He got up and started walking toward his room. “I’m going to go rest up for my game tonight, because, you know, that’s what we do around here now.”

Henrik didn’t respond. He just let his friend walk out. Leila waited until Austin slammed the door to his room. “Did I miss something?”

“Your brother being a pain in my ass? No, I’m pretty sure you caught the full end of it.”

“What was all that stuff about resting?”

Henrik shrugged. “Your brother is overreacting.”

Leila crossed her arms. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He stood and placed his hand on the small of her back. “Look, I’d rather not discuss it with him in the apartment.”

“Do you think he knows?” she whispered. “About us?”

“No. Trust me, you’d know if he did.”

“How?”

He scooted her through the door. “Because it’d make the news.”

She rolled her eyes at him as he pulled the door shut behind them. Even though they were in the safety of the hallway, he stood close to her, his voice only a whisper between them. “So, since obviously I’m going to the game tonight, why don’t you join me? I bet I can score you a seat up in the box with me.”

She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you scared of my brother?”

“No.”

It was quick. Too quick.

“Oh my God. You’re actually scared of him.”

He clapped his hand over her mouth and moved them further down the hallway. She pulled his hand away, still shocked. “He’s your best friend. You actually think he’d be that upset?”

“You don’t?”

“He might yell a little.”

“A little? I took his little sister’s virginity in a fucking hotel bathroom.”

“Okay,” she amended. “He might yell a lot.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “Yelling is what he would do if he knew I hit on you. What I did warrants castration. On national television. With a rusty knife.”

“Now you’re overreacting.”

“We’ll just have to agree to disagree. You know, with our mouths shut, because he can’t find out. Ever.”

“I agree.” She tried not to laugh at his horrified expression. “He’s already mad at you, though. Why is he upset about the extra rest?”

“It’s nothing.”

She poked him. Hard. “Tell me.”

He glanced nervously down the hall at the closed door. “Come to the game with me,” he tried again.

She opened her mouth to refute, but then he pointed at his poor, swollen eye. “You owe me, remember? Come to the game with me.”

His fingers touched her elbow. It was simple, yet significant. Denying him would be impossible. “Fine,” she sighed, “but only because I want to know what’s going on between you and my brother.”

“Trust me,” he answered with a relieved huff, “I’m still trying to figure it out myself.”

***

Henrik kept his word and got her a seat with him in the Rangers box. Usually, it was reserved for healthy scratches, meaning players who are on the team just in case one of the active players was injured suddenly, like Henrik. The box was relatively empty, only five or six other people, with some management coming in and out between periods.

Henrik could still barely see, even if the swelling had receded since the morning. She frowned every time she looked at him. Even with his injury, he still managed to take her breath away, in that wounded puppy kind of way. Especially when he was dressed up, his crisp, grey dress shirt pressed perfectly. It reminded her too easily of their night together, and she had enough trouble not thinking about it without the added encouragement.

The second period ended, and as everyone started to pile out to take a break, she figured it was the perfect time to ask him about Austin. She leaned over and nudged his elbow. “So, how long are going to avoid my question?”

He smiled, his eyes remaining directed toward the ice below them. “As long as you were going to let me by with it.”

“Well, you’ll have to forgive my curiosity. It’s just you and Austin never fight about anything. What’s going on?”

Sighing, he leaned back in his seat. “Austin asked if I wanted to go out last week, and I might have suggested we just go home instead. Now, he’s giving me grief about it every time I turn around.”

“Why? And don’t give me some bullshit excuse. I want the truth.”

The look on his face totally said he wanted to give her a bullshit excuse.

“Austin has this crazy idea that I don’t want to go out because—” He paused, not willing to finish his statement, but she already knew what he would say.

“Because of me?” She watched his reaction, and it was clear in the way he avoided eye contact that she hit the nail on the head. “You’re not going out because of me.”

She mulled that idea over for a second, and the more she thought about it, the more it scared her. They were just supposed to be friends, nothing more, not anything that would only end up complicating her life more.

“I’m going to the restroom,” she blurted out.

Run. Escape. It was always her natural instinct.

Henrik whirled around her, though, and blocked her exit. “Leila, wait. You said you wanted to talk about it, so let’s talk. Don’t leave every time things get tough.”

She stood up a little straighter, her shoulders pulled back. “Henrik, I know you haven’t been out lately, and you haven’t had any girls over since that night I showed up here. I just—” she paused, taking in a calming breath “—you don’t have to deprive yourself for my benefit.”

“I’m not depriving myself,” he bit out, trying to keep his voice down.

“Look, this morning—”

“Do you think that’s what I was doing this morning? Depriving myself and then coming over and hitting on you?”

She stood her ground, though she dropped her voice too. “So, you’ve had sex since that girl I passed getting off the elevator?”

Now she was the one avoiding eye contact. She didn’t want to know. She couldn’t continue to lie to herself if he answered. She would no longer be able to ignore the obvious, which was that he was Henrik.

His finger touched the tip of her chin and tilted it up. “First of all, I didn’t sleep with that girl,” he offered. “I haven’t been with anyone since you.”

She barely even heard the words. It couldn’t be true. Nothing he said could actually be true.

“Like I said—you don’t have to do that for my benefit,” she replied, making a poor attempt to be casual.

His hand clenched at his side. “Damn it, Leila. I’m sorry for touching you this morning. I’m attracted to you. I’m pretty sure we both know that by now, and I’m not used to being a gentleman about it. I sincerely apologize. It was my mistake.”

She averted her eyes. It was all a mistake. Their night together. Their so-called friendship. It wasn’t supposed to happen.

“I need a learning curve here,” he pleaded. “Don’t push me away.”

“I have to,” she bit out, the tears already glossing her eyes as she finally turned around to face him. “You’re better off just spending your time with someone else.”

Her voice broke before she finished. She glanced away, but she knew he already caught the sight of tears. When she couldn’t hold it back anymore, she rushed out of the room, her hand covering her mouth.

She made it all the way downstairs and out the main entrance before she stopped. She ran head first into a crowd of people, backing up until she felt the hard concrete of the building at her back. Then she sank to the ground and curled her arms around her legs.

None of this could be real.

In real life, Henrik didn’t act like that. He wasn’t considerate and attentive. Henrik had sex with girls, and he flaunted it in her face. She was supposed to hate him.

She didn’t hate him. She was so far from hating him that she hated herself.

“Leila.”

She looked up, tears blurring her vision. He stood above her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his dress pants. She snuffled, wiping the tears out of her eyes. He sat down next to her, sliding down the wall until their hips connected. No one spoke. They sat there, pretending to watch the people walk by, listening to the high screeching of cab horns.

When she finally found enough courage to look over at him, he kept his eyes locked on the traffic in front of them. “Just so you know I like spending my nights at home.” He finally glanced over at her and smiled. His new, sweet Henrik smile. “And it has nothing to do with you.”

She quirked a smile back. It was faint, but it was there. He was a horrible liar.

“All right, so maybe it has forty percent to do with you, but the other sixty is me.” He leaned in toward her. “I’m tired of not getting any respect because of the way I live my life. I’m trying…to figure out what makes me happy.”

“You weren’t happy before?”

“I just know I’m happier now. Plus, the trade rumors have stopped, and my coach hasn’t given me a life lecture in about a month. I want to keep it that way.”

She nodded, because she didn’t know what else to do. He wiped away the remainder of her tears with the edge of his sleeve. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this Henrik yet. “I said we could be friends, and I meant that.”

He looked down his nose at her. “Why do I feel like there is a ‘but’ coming after that?”

“If you want to spend your free time at home, because that’s what you want to do, that’s fine. I just don’t want you to bail out on Austin, because you think that’s what I want. If you want to go out this week while you’re on the road, then that’s what you should do.”

She had never heard herself say something so unconvincingly in her life. However, she knew she had to make sure this new Henrik 2.0 was real and he was doing these things for himself. Not because he thought it was what she wanted from him.