Page 13 of The Sweet Spot

The giant in front of me had looked defeated. I’d reached out a hand and patted his shoulder. “I know this is tough. You could talk to our player rep. Quinn is a professional and will keep this strictly confidential. He will put you in touch with someone you can talk to, and if you need it, you can enter the players’ assistance program. I know we all think we have to be warriors, but it’s okay to ask for help.”

He'd shaken his head. “I don’t want to do that yet. I just need a little help. I’ve thought about talking to Quinn, but what if he tells the other guys.”

“He’s more of a lawyer on the team than I am,” I’d said, using Ryan’s speak. “He won’t tell anyone. And neither will I. Maybe he can find you some help that will keep you on the ice.”

“You think so?”

“I do. And maybe a nutritionist to get you back on your feetwith food. Maybe that person could work alongside Wolseley if that’s the route you want to take.”

“Yeah, maybe. Thanks for this, Warde. I was worried you were going to be an asshole, but this has helped.”

He’d stomped out of the room—because he stomped everywhere—and had left me digesting that. I’d been digesting it all the way to my apartment. Wolseley had offered to do the tasting at my place, but since she was still getting her bearings around the city, we decided on her place—or Ethan and Tangi’s, not that it made a difference to me.

After another hot shower to massage my aching muscles from a long day of physicals, I changed into jeans and a T-shirt. I grabbed a jacket because clouds had already rolled in, and rain was expected all evening and into tomorrow. The one thing I hated most about Vancouver was the rain, sometimes for days on end. I understood why guys liked playing in the Southern States, but that didn’t appeal to me either. I wanted four damn seasons. Full stop. Was that too much to ask? And more sunshine.

Wolseley let me into the building and said she’d leave the front door open since she was busy in the kitchen. The closer I got to her door, the more my stomach grumbled at the smells coming from her place. I’d know garlic anywhere, and I loved it. Mixed in with that were various spices and definitely some oregano. The team had provided us with lunch today, but I could guarantee that nothing would match what I was about to eat.

I knocked on the door and stepped inside the condo.

“In the kitchen,” Wolseley called.

I took off my shoes and hung my jacket in the closet. If nothing else, I liked to keep everything orderly and polished, and by the looks of the kitchen, I gasped just a little. It looked like a hurricane had swept through it, but I had to remindmyself this wasn’t my kitchen. But then it hit me. It would be my kitchen if I hired her. Nope. I wasn’t here to judge her cleaning skills, and honestly, she was in the process of cooking. If she left a huge mess when she was done, well, that was another issue entirely.

“I know, it’s a disaster in here. I don’t usually have this many things on the go. I promise you I’m not this messy,” she said as if reading my mind. “Please sit at the island. I should have something ready for you right away. I made enough to sample and for you to have to take home. I want you to be able to try it more than once and reheated since you will have to reheat some of your late-night meals.”

I was impressed already. I sat on one of the bistro chairs and watched as she juggled pots, pans, the oven, and some items from the fridge.

“I hope you can give me a few hours. I should have told you that. I want you to be able to savor and judge everything. What can I get you to drink?”

“Just some water.”

She hopped over to the fridge and returned with a few bottles of water.

“You changed your hair,” I said. She’d trimmed it below her ears and had colored it fuchsia with platinum blonde bangs. On anyone else, I would have questioned the look, but it suited her perfectly. She had that Boho look about her. Today, she was sporting an oversized white shirt with a frilly edge and blue jeans that had holes at the knees.

“It was time. I like to change my look. My real hair color was just for the wedding. I didn’t want to upstage the bride in her wedding pictures,” she said, tucking some hair behind her ear. Was she a bit nervous? I couldn’t quite tell. “Can you imagine Tangi and Ethan looking at wedding pictures withtheir kids and seeing my blue, orange, or purple hair? I’d stick out in their wedding pictures, and that’s not right.”

She headed for the stove to check on something, then skipped over to the fridge, where she pulled out some cut strawberries, a small bowl of blueberries, and another bowl of raspberries. Next, she pulled out butter and what looked like maple syrup. She then tended to her skillet again and came back with a small stack of pancakes.

I didn’t question it because I needed to eat carbs right now, but the last thing I wanted to eat first thing in the morning was a stack of simple carbs, but I went with it. Old me would have made a comment or lectured her, but new me was giving her the benefit of the doubt. I’d find a way to gently explain to her later that pancakes weren’t suitable for my breakfasts.

“I thought we’d start with pancakes,” she said. “I want you to try these. I could have paired this with turkey bacon or eggs, but you know what those taste like.”

I also knew what pancakes tasted like, but I kept my mouth shut.

“You can put whatever you’d like on them. The butter is vegan.”

The butter did look a bit off, almost a white color. I spread it on one pancake and asked her what it was.

“I make it myself. Lima beans, coconut oil, and a few other ingredients to enhance the flavor. It’s my go-to.”

Good to know. I put some berries and a bit of maple syrup and tried the pancakes. They tasted like pancakes. I wasn’t blown away, because, well, they were pancakes, but they tasted great.

“So those are protein pancakes. Most of the carbs came from the maple syrup and the berries.”

I blinked a few times in shock. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” she said proudly. “Each serving is around threehundred calories and about thirty-five to forty grams of protein. Obviously, you’d want more for a breakfast, but I didn’t want to waste space in your stomach with eggs, whole grain toast, etcetera. My goal is to make your breakfasts come in around seven hundred to eight hundred calories.”

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