Page 45 of Lose You Twice

And maybe warn him.

“Friday works,” I say.

“Pay is through work-study. Hours will vary, but I can give you as much notice as I can. I run a tight room. Be on time, ask questions, don’t pretend you know something if you don’t, and don’t let the guys talk you into doing their personal laundry.”

I blink. “That happens?”

“Once.”

“Should I ask?”

“No.”

“Okay.”

He stands, so I stand too.

“Welcome aboard, Calloway.”

My eyes sting. Not because I’m overjoyed about hockey laundry.

Because for the first time since the financial aid office, there is one problem with a partial answer. Not a full answer. Not enough. But something.

Something I earned. Something I can do.

“Thank you,” I say, and my voice only shakes a little. “I appreciate the opportunity.”

He nods toward the door. “Work-study should email you by tomorrow morning. If they don’t, call them. Don’t wait.”

“I won’t.”

“And, Calloway?”

I pause with my hand on the strap of my bag. “Yeah?”

“You look like someone who’s used to carrying too much.”

My throat tightens, making words impossible.

His voice stays gruff. “Don’t carry the hockey team too. That’s their own job.”

I leave before my face can betray me.

The hallway is colder than the office. I walk straight past the rink doors without looking through the glass because I don’t trust myself not to search for him.

Kai is probably not even here, not that it matters. My brain has never needed facts in order to be inconvenient.

Outside, the air hits my cheeks and helps. I stand near the side of the building, one hand wrapped around my phone, and pull up the group chat with Mom and Holden.

Wren: Got the job. Start Friday.

Mom replies first.

Mom: Oh honey! That’s wonderful. I’m so proud of you.

Holden replies three seconds later.

Holden: stinky sweaty hockey socks. glamorous.