Chapter 13

“You mean…you knew?”

“You think?”

“I…well…”

I was a bit distracted. I would never admit that out loud. By your words…your actions…

“Did you think I wasn’t observant enough to see the camera set up right there?”

I blushed even though Barnett couldn’t see me. His tone during the workout had been its usual forceful one, but something about how he had conducted himself, about what he said, how close he was to me when he said it—it was too much for me even now.

“Well?”

I shook my head, realizing I had lost myself in my thoughts.

“No, I guess…I don’t know what I thought. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Just remember that other people might not be as cool about it as I am. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And in the future, I don’t mind being in your videos, any time you need me.”

“Okay,” I said, a bit surprised.

“I am your trainer, after all.”

• * *

That night, I dreamt of a memory from 10 years before.

I was 17 and in the prime of my high school ice hockey career. Practices always took place early in the morning, before school even started, but Barnett had me on extra strength and cardio training in the evenings to help with my stamina.

One evening, I was focusing on cardio, so I didn’t need a spotter. Barnett, who had been working overtime, had taken the chance to catch up on some sleep in the adjoining lounge. Before I knew it, an hour had passed.

With my cardio finished, I went into the lounge to see if Barnett wanted me to switch to weights or if I could go home early since it was a Friday. I found him deep asleep on the couch.

“Coach Cogsworth?” I called out quietly, unsure of whether I wanted to wake him.

He didn’t stir.

“Coach Cogsworth?”

He snored and rolled onto his back, but he did not wake up.

I approached him slowly. Awake, he was breathtakingly hot. Asleep, he was unbelievably adorable.

Even with Barnett mouth-breathing, I couldn’t help imagining my lips pressing against his. Did his breath taste as minty as it smelled when he spotted me on the bench press? Were his lips moist, or were they cracked from a long day coaching out on the ice?

Before I knew what I was doing, I had bent over Barnett’s sleeping form and pressed my lips against his. I lingered long enough to enjoy the feel, until I felt his slightly open lips begin to move against mine.

I panicked.

I reared back, saw that Barnett had begun to wake up, and ran for the door. Running for the women’s locker room, I tripped on the carpeted steps and fell head-over-heels down the stairs. My scream of agony brought Barnett scrambling to my aid.

I broke my ankle in that fall, forcing me to sit out the rest of the season. I was too embarrassed to ever return to the rink. Even my Olympic aspirations could not compare to my shame at having kissed Barnett and then broken my ankle running from it.

I woke up expecting to feel the searing pain of my broken ankle. Fortunately, that was ten years past, and I no longer had to worry about that reminder of my blunder. What I did feel was the lingering sensation of Barnett’s warm lips on mine.

I was too cowardly to speak of my crush on him back then. Now, the space between us was just impossible to cross.

He was 12 years older than me and married—happily so. In fact, I remembered an interview he had with People in which he said that he and Julia were very, very much in love. I couldn’t try to ruin that just because my own marriage had folded like a house of cards.

I groaned as the ringer on my cell phone went off. A quick check of the caller I.D. revealed it to be the oncologist’s office.

“Yes?” I answered groggily.

“Is this Anna Leonard?” the too-chirpy voice on the other end of the call asked.

“Yes, this is she.”

“This is Celeste from Dr. Williams’s office. I just wanted to remind you to make a follow-up appointment—”

“I’m sorry, do you think I could call you back? I just woke up, and I don’t think I’m in the right mind to handle this right now.”

Celeste seemed taken aback. “Of course. Call back whenever you feel ready.”

“Thanks.”

I hung up before more niceties could be exchanged. I had no intention of calling them back. Still, I didn’t have the heart to tell Celeste that I didn’t want to spend my last six months in the hospital, either.

That was my business, and no one else’s.

• * *

After having breakfast and getting dressed, the last thing I did before heading out the door was to take my medication. It wasn’t a cure, but it eased the pain in my stomach. I slipped the bottle into my purse, ensuring to bury it so that no one would be able to see it when I opened my bag.

As I made my way to the elevator with all my equipment, I mentally checked off everything I had to do that day. I was so consumed by my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice that I was sharing the elevator.

“Hello, Anna.” The familiar voice made me jump.

“H-hello, Barnett,” I replied as I struggled to keep a hold of everything.

Barnett set down his suitcase and reached over to help me right my bags and makeup case.

“Quite the load you have there,” he remarked.

I chuckled. “You have no idea.”

“This is all to style just one man?”

“A lot goes into styling.”

Barnett arched a brow at me. “He’s that high maintenance, is he?”

I shook my head quickly. “No, no, not at all. He’s a nice man, once you get to know him.”

Barnett hmphed. “I’ll take your word for that.”

“I know he can seem a bit—”

“Toxic? Arrogant?”

“I would more say cold and eccentric, but he’s really not. He’s sincere, daring, and simpler than he lets on.”

Barnett hmphed again, but there seemed to be something behind it…disbelief? Annoyance?

“Well, let me know if he gives you any trouble,” he said.

“Oh, right, you own the building he works in.”

“Yes, I own the building.” His tone suggested that he was holding something back, but I decided not to push it.

We stepped off the elevator and headed toward the parking lot.

“So, since we’re headed to the same place anyway, would you like a ride to work?”

I couldn’t find a reason not to. It would surely save me some gas.

“Sure, why not?” I said. “Thank you.”

“Right this way.” Barnett motioned towards his Rolls Royce, the same one that had picked me up the night that he had rescued me from my old home.

My heart fluttered at the sight.

Then a head of long, silky blonde hair poked out of the red 2024 Porsche 911 next to Barnett’s car. It was soon followed by the most voluptuous body to grace a magazine in the 2020s.

“Barnett! Why aren’t you answering your phone? I’ve been calling all night!”

Julia.