Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(16)

“That piece of shit doesn’t even have Bluetooth!” someone else adds.

Rio doesn’t look away from me the entire time. He doesn’t engage in the conversation around him. His teammates have to move around his frozen form to get to the locker room, and it only draws more attention to us.

Zanders pauses next to him, following Rio’s line of sight until he finds me. His attention goes right back to his teammate, and he continues that back and forth a few more times.

The silence is screaming that there’s a story here and Zanders picks up on it when he asks, “And who is this?” in a far too amused tone.

“No one,” I say at the same time Rio says, “Hallie.”

His tone is gentle when he says my name, and for a moment I think maybe he forgot about the jaded history between us.

The silence lingers again.

“My neighbor,” he finishes after blinking his way out of his stare. “She moved in with Wren.”

That doesn’t even begin to explain who he and I have been to each other over the years, but it’s enough that Zanders doesn’t press the issue. He simply removes his glove and reaches his hand out to shake mine while introducing himself.

“Well, I’m going to leave you two to whatever the hell is making this moment so awkward,” Zanders finishes while joining the rest of the team headed to the locker room. “Nice to meet you, Hallie.”

I offer a wave to his back. “You too.”

“What are you doing here?” Rio must remember that we’re more enemies than friends these days, judging by the sharp bite to his question.

That’s the moment I decide to stand, as if anything could make up the height between us. He’s a solid 6’3” barefoot, and now with his skates, he’s got to be around 6’7”.

I’m more than a foot shorter than that, and with the heavy bulk his pads add to his frame, I couldn’t feel smaller.

But I can’t. I need to be big. I need to find my assertiveness. I need to figure out a way to get us both what we want, while reminding him that what he wants is me.

As a designer, I mean. I was the designer he requested to work on his house until he realized our history.

“I need you to let me do your home renovation.”

Rio scoffs a laugh and walks right past me, not even bothering to spare me a “no.”

I grab his arm to stop him, and I wish I hadn’t. Even through his jersey and undershirt, I can feel the muscle he’s added to his forearms in the years since I last saw him.

He stops, staring down at my hand that’s holding him, so I quickly remove it.

“Sorry.”

I rarely felt embarrassed around Rio in the past, but that’s certainly changed between this interaction and the last.

His glare hardens, and for a moment I wonder if it’s odd for him to despise me so much. Hatred was never a natural inclination for the lovable boy I grew up with.

“Please.” My tone is soft, but the desperation is clear. “I need this.”

Those green eyes soften, searching mine, and I swear I see him. The person I was most comfortable with. The one who knew what I needed without me having to ask. The person who knew me better than I sometimes knew myself.

But then he reminds me that we aren’t those people anymore when he simply says, “Not a chance.”

“Rio, I’m begging you.”

“Well, stop begging then, Hallie. It’s not going to work. There’s not a dollar amount in the world you can bribe me with to allow you to spend every day of the next six months in my house.”

Ouch.

I nod my head once. “Well, I guess it’s good that I don’t have a dollar to spare for that bribe, even if I wanted to.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means that I need this job, Rio. I desperately need this job. Do you really think I’d allow myself to come begging to you if I didn’t?”

His eyes once again search my face for the answer. “Why?”

I can’t give him the detailed explanation—that I need this salary to pay off my debt—because there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to explain why I’m in that kind of debt. And I know him. I know that will be his next question.

But it’s clear I need to give him something.

“I’ve got a shot at my dream job here.”

“Okay. How about you find a dream job in a different city then?”

I don’t let that response linger. “I’m interning for this big-time firm, and I could get hired on as a full-time designer at the end of it, but I need another project to showcase what I’ve got.”

“Find a different project then,” he says simply. “Preferably in a different city.”

“Can you get over that already? I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, so deal with it.”

His jaw hardens.

“As far as the project goes,” I continue, “it’s not that easy to find a new one. Not for an intern, at least. I got lucky with Wren’s house and even luckier when you accidentally asked for me.”

At that moment, a few of Rio’s coaches skate off the ice.

“Leaving for the airport in ten, DeLuca,” one of them says as they pass by us.

“Yes, sir.” He nods. “I’m on my way.”