Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(13)

That thing I’ve been looking for since I moved to Chicago? That connection? That one person some search their entire lives to find? I had already found her when I was twelve years old.

At least, I thought I had.

I know what I’m looking for because I had it once, and now the only girl I’ve ever loved is moving into the house next to mine.

Again.

I turn back, headed straight for my place, needing to put a fucking door, wall, anything between us. I’m halfway across my lawn when a visual of her at my game tonight pops into my mind. I didn’t miss that she was there with someone.

“The guy you were with tonight.” I slowly shift back to face her. “Who was he?”

The set in her jaw is evident even from here. “Not your job to worry about.”

Nodding, I turn back to my house, hands casually tucked in my pockets as I continue to walk. With my back to her, I make sure my words are loud enough for her to hear them.

“Lose him.”





Chapter 5


Hallie


Lose him.

Lose him?

Where the hell did he find the audacity to say that to me after six years without seeing each other? Without speaking to each other?

Rio DeLuca can go ahead and fuck himself.

I mean, I did lose Brian, but not because I was told to. As soon as I could, I ran out of the arena and got a rideshare back to my car. Then I gave Tyler an earful this morning about doing his research before thinking of setting me up again.

But Rio believing he has any right to tell me who I can and can’t date? It’s clear now that sometime during the last six years he lost his goddamn mind.

He lives next door . . . again. What the hell did I do to earn this kind of bad luck? I’ve been overextending myself, trying to make ends meet financially, and now that I’ve finally found a place I can afford enough to keep from falling farther into debt, he ends up being the neighbor.

Yesterday was spent paranoid, periodically watching out my new bedroom window to make sure I wasn’t coming or going at the same time as him.

And I have to do that until May. How the hell am I going to avoid him until May?

“Hallie,” my name rings somewhere around me. “Did you hear me?”

I blink out of my daze to find the entire design team staring at me from their seats around the conference table.

“I’m sorry.” I sit up, adjusting in my chair. “What did you say?”

Tina shoots me a look from the front of the room, notepad in hand. She’s Tyler’s right-hand woman. She’s not a designer, by any means. There’s not a creative bone in her body and she’d tell you that herself, but she’s the organization and business brain behind Tyler Braden Interiors.

Even though I’ve been zoned out and not listening to a word of the meeting she’s facilitating, I like her.

“I was congratulating you on your next project,” she says. “A full house renovation and the client requested you specifically. Said he loved what you did to his neighbor’s home and put a deposit down on his project the same day as his inquiry.”

The entire team claps for me and I’m certain I can’t turn a deeper shade of red. My eye catches Tyler’s, sitting at the head of the table in his three-piece suit, beaming a proud smile and clapping for me along with the rest of my peers.

Well, they aren’t my peers per se. They’re mostly full-time designers who make a shit ton of money working for Tyler Braden. Then there’s me and the three other newbies who started working here this spring with the promise of a one-year internship. Tyler doesn’t always hire his interns full-time, but from what my coworkers have told me, if he’s impressed by my work, he most likely will.

Unfortunately for me, he’s not going to be very impressed when I tell him this project fell through.

“With how large this renovation is,” Tina continues, “it should take up the rest of your internship. Two full home renovations in your first year is impressive, Hallie.”

My attention falls on Silas, another one of the interns. He couldn’t look more annoyed with me, and I completely get it. He hasn’t had a solo project yet, and instead spends most of his days fetching coffee, shredding documents, and cleaning up after client meetings. If I didn’t have Wren’s house to work on this summer, I would’ve been there right along with him.

“This week, I’ll go over the client profile with you, and next week, you can meet with him face to face,” Tina says. “He’s a professional athlete, so he travels quite a bit. I know you can’t work evenings, but you may need to be flexible with your schedule on this project.”

I can’t work evenings because I’m already working . . . at my second job that no one here knows about.

“Oh, a professional athlete.” One of the designers whistles. “Which sport?”

Tina looks down at her notepad. “Hockey.”

“Hot.”

“Jealous.”

“I’ll be your second assistant on the project,” all echo around me.

Swallowing, I keep my eyes on the pen in my hand that I can’t stop tapping against the table. “Actually, that project fell through. For me, at least. There’s a . . .” I hesitate, still unable to look at anyone, namely Tyler. “Conflict of interest. I’m sure he’ll be calling soon to get someone else on the renovation.”