Page 17 of Taking Sides

“We’ve been over this,” I say, doing my best not to let my own irritation bleed into my tone. “I signed a contract in the spring. You knew this.”

And because I really need him to hear me this time, I add, “I’m not coming back. Even if this job doesn’t work out.”

He’s quiet for a beat. Long enough that I worry he’s hung up on me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“So that’s it? You’re quitting on me for good? What am I supposed to do?”

“Hire a real assistant,” I say, exasperation finally winning out. I step farther away from the ice.

“I don’t like people up in my business. Besides, you and I already have a system.” His words are tight and clipped as if gritting his teeth. “I’ll double your salary.”

“This isn’t about money, Victor.”

“Then what is it? Tell me what you want.”

I search for an explanation that might get through to him. I’m not sure why I bother since I’ve already tried a dozen different ways.

“This is something I need to do for myself. I can’t be your assistant forever. I want more than that. And I like teaching and coaching. The kids are great, and it feels good to be doing something that feels valuable.”

He clicks his tongue again.

“What happened to the last woman you hired, Anna?”

“She was hopeless.”

“You’re going to have to give someone else a chance. That or do your own laundry and shopping.”

He lets out a snort that somehow breaks the tension between us. Victor and I have our differences, but we grew up relying on each other when we had no one else. I don’t want that to change, but I need to do some things for myself too.

“My agent sent over some new applications. I have to find someone before the season starts.”

“Do you want me to take a look at their résumés?”

“Would you?” There’s a vulnerability to his voice that reminds me how much I did for him. And how hard it’s been since I left. It was best for me, I maintain that, but it’s been an adjustment for him too. I’ve been managing most aspects of his life since he joined the NHL. It started as a part-time gig while I was in college, and somehow, I just never left.

“Yes, of course.”

“Thanks, Whit.”

I nod, even though he can’t see me. “How’s everything else?”

“Fine.”

“Dad?”

“You know . . . the usual. He’s been busy lately with the business though, so I haven’t heard from him much.”

“Yeah, well I still haven’t heard from him at all.”

“Can you blame him? You left with almost no warning, didn’t tell me or Dad what you were doing, and then announced that you’re moving into Mom’s house—who neither of us had heard from for years before she died, and then want to pretend like it isn’t weird as fuck for all of us.”

“And whose fault is it that we hadn’t talked to her?” I ask. Regret slices through me, the same way it did when I found out she’d passed and left me and Victor her entire estate, which admittedly wasn’t much, but it was all she had.

“I don’t want to fight with you; just . . . do what you need to do there and come back.” His voice softens. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too, jerk.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “How’s the team looking?”