Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(27)

After I left is what she meant.

More tension lingers between us.

I wait for her to meet my eyes again. “You look good, Hal.”

Too nice.

What am I doing? Either I want to hate her or I don’t. I swear, I’m going to need someone else to start sitting in on these meetings to keep me from slipping up and saying stupid, honest shit.

Hallie’s attention slices back to her computer. “We should talk about the house. Your hopes for the renovation. Your overall goals.”

I clear my throat. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Reaching between us, I find the leg of her chair and pull, bringing her seat flush to mine.

“What are you doing?”

Hell if I know.

“I . . . uh . . . couldn’t see the computer.”

Her brows are cinched before she eventually exhales a laugh. “You’re as charming as ever, DeLuca.”

“Thanks, b—” I stop myself, thank God. “. . . Hallie.”

That was almost a slip of the fucking tongue if I’ve ever heard one.

Thankfully, she doesn’t seem fazed, which means she has no idea that I almost just referred to her as “baby” like I used to when we were younger. Sometimes I’d use it in normal, everyday conversation. Sometimes through text. Always when our clothes were off.

Professional. Working. Relationship, I remind myself.

But clearly, I have no clue how to do that. Not with her.

When I look at Hallie, all I see is the girl from my past, my literal favorite person. But then I remember that she’s not her anymore, I’m no longer that same guy, and that pisses me off. I’m either too comfortable with her or too mean, when all I need is to be professional.

“What are your goals for your home?” she asks. “What are your plans for it?”

I get my mind focused back on the task at hand. “It’s in a good neighborhood. In a good school district. I bought it with the intention of building a family there.”

Hallie’s fingers halt, hovering over the keys.

Just when I thought this meeting couldn’t get any more difficult.

It only grows more tense when she asks, “And do you still see that for yourself? Having a family in that house?”

She braves a look at me, her eyes asking a whole lot more questions than only that one.

“I’m not sure,” I tell her honestly. “But if I sell, I’d imagine a family would be the buyer, so it seems practical to gear the renovation towards that. Either my family’s home or someone else’s.”

Having this meeting with her, of all people, is a special kind of fucked-up.

Hallie types again, filling the answers in on the form, but then her fingers abruptly halt once more. She closes the laptop, turning her entire body towards me.

“You’re really thinking of selling?” she asks. “To buy something newer?”

No one in Chicago, other than Wren, has heard me say this. But it’s Hallie. She used to be the first person I talked to about anything.

“To move back to Boston, actually.”

“Oh.”

“If I were to wait until free agency and see if they make an offer next off-season, I mean.”

“You’d leave?”

“I’m not sure. I haven’t made any final decisions, but it’s a possibility. My mom wants me home.”

She smiles softly. “I bet she misses having you close by.”

Then, somehow, even more tension settles in because my family is not a safe subject for us to discuss.

“But yeah, that makes sense,” Hallie shifts the conversation. “Playing for Boston was always the dream, right?”

One of them.

“No one else really knows, so that needs to stay between us,” I add. “Well, Wren has an idea. That’s why I wanted to hire you in the first place. I’m not sure that I’m leaving, but I want the house to be ready to sell in case I do. Wren’s brother will be putting his house on the market around the same time I might. I want to make sure I get the biggest return on my investment if I go that route.”

She nods in understanding. “Update the house without breaking the bank on a renovation you might not get to enjoy long-term. Makes sense.”

“Exactly.”

She opens her computer and types more notes. “Your friends don’t know you’re thinking of leaving?”

“No. I mean, my closest friends are either professional athletes or married to one, so I think they probably understand what it means that I didn’t sign my early contract extension. But I haven’t explicitly said anything, so if you can keep that between us, I’d appreciate it.”

She breathes a soft laugh. “Who am I going to tell? I don’t know your friends.”

“But you’ll probably meet them. You’re about to spend a lot of time in my house. They come over quite a bit. It feels inevitable that your paths will eventually cross.”

She hesitates for a moment before asking, “Is there anything else that you’d like me to keep between us? If I do meet them, I mean.”

My eyes search hers and I know exactly what she’s asking.

“They know your name. I think they’ve all picked up on the fact that there’s history between us, but they don’t know the details. The way I see it, they don’t need to.”