Page 104 of What If I See You

I hear you. I want to be in perfect shape when we face off against Chicago.

Oliver

Those damn birds

Me

I think you mean those FAM birds. You are related to Landric.

Oliver

Yeah, yeah, don’t remind me Makes it easier for me to rip his feathers out on the ice when I’m not thinking about it.

Letting the conversation with the guys drift, I pocket my phone and take a few quiet steps into the living room to see what Layken’s doing. From the other side of the room, I can see she’s scrolling through a website so she’s definitely not writing.

“Hey. What are you up to?” Stepping up behind her and rubbing her shoulders I can see she’s scrolling through a job search website.

She visibly relaxes at my touch, her shoulders falling, but continues to scroll. “Looking for a new job. My old boss, Julia, sent me a few links to check out because she’s been looking around too.”

“Ah. Right. Forgot Corrigan mentioned you were both let go.”

“Yep. They took the other team when we merged. So, she and I were both out. She was the best boss. And she believed in me when even my own family didn’t.”

The mere mention of her family not believing in her hits a nerve with me.

“So, you’re looking for the same kind of job?”

She shrugs. “Yeah for now. It’s one of the only things I’m good at.”

There she goes again with the self-deprecation.

I spin her around on her chair so she has to look at me. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why do you think so low of yourself?”

She frowns, her cheeks pinkening with embarrassment. “What do you mean?”

I take her hand in mine, hoping she doesn’t hear my comments as any kind of slight against her. “Charity work is not the only thing you’re good at, Lake. I mean, yeah, you’re great at that kind of work and I’m immensely proud of you for what you were able to accomplish at the hospital. They were stupid to let you go in my opinion. But on top of everything you did there, you also write and publish fucking books.” I cup her face in my hands.

“Let me say that again. You wrote thousands upon thousands of words and strung them together in coherent inspiring entertaining thoughts and other people pay to read them. And you’re doing it all over again. You have accomplished more in your life by seeing a project like that through in its entirety than many people who even think of writing a book. Do you know how many people think about writing a book and never put pen to paper? Or how many start and never finish.”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“I don’t know the actual number.” I shrug. “But let’s say a fuck ton.”

She smiles at my encouragement.

“And you accomplished more than most of them because you actually fucking did it. You’re great with people. You’re kind. You’re compassionate. You’re a beautiful human being inside and out.” I shake my head, confounded. “But for some reason you don’t believe it about yourself. And I don’t understand why you seem to think you’re not?—”

I stop myself before I finish my statement because I see the answer in her glistening eyes.

“Fuck.”

A few tears break the surface of her warm cocoa-colored eyes and slip down her cheeks. I swipe each one away with my thumbs.

“Your parents,” I whisper.

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