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“Thursday at ten-thirty is perfect.” I found the slot on my planner.
It was when Zach would have his next practice.Shit.
“What is Thursday at ten-thirty?” Andrew asked around a mouthful of cookie.
“Great. So, it will be you and…”
“Andrew Hall.” I said my boss’s name, and he groaned, realizing he would be joining me whether he wanted to or not.
“You’re kidding,” Carl began and laughed. “Hall and I go way back. It will be nice to catch up.”
“Is there anything we need to bring?”
“If you have a spare Power Play banner we can set up, that would be great. A retractable standing one or a wall banner. Either is fine. Nothing else.”
“Sounds great. Thank you very much.”
“We’re excited to get involved. See you on Thursday. Have a great day.”
“You too. Bye!” I practically slammed the phone down and turned my elated expression toward a concerned Andrew. “The Hammerhead Foundation and the team are hosting a pre-season game, and we’re the recipient of the proceeds.”
“You’re kidding.” Andrew gaped at me. “Are you kidding? Don’t play with me, kiddo.”
“I’m not kidding,” I replied with a tightness in my throat, shaking my head. “Is this really happening?”
Andrew crossed the space, barrelling past the chairs on the opposite side of my desk. He yanked me into his arms in a tight, loving hug as I started sobbing.
I wasn’t sad. I was…relieved.
“We’re doing this, kiddo,” Andrew whispered against my hair, and he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Now wipe those tears. I can’t stand to see you crying.”
Andrew had only seen me cry once. Well…twice now.
The first time was on my dad’s birthday. Sometimes it hit me harder than it had the year before, like I forgot that he was gone, and then I would be wracked with guilt. How could I forget that my dad was dead? How could I ever get so busy that I forgot something like that?
I had been sobbing silently in my office a few months ago, on May twenty-second, and Andrew had come in to ask me a question, finding me in a complete, teary mess.
It was in that moment that I knew Andrew loved me like I was his own. I had never seen him jump to action faster than when he nearly climbed over my desk to pull me into a hug. He didn’t ask why I was crying. He didn’t tell me to stop. He just let me cry and hugged me as I blubbered about my dad.
“These aren’t sad tears,” I told him when he stepped back and peered down at me with concern etched into his face. “Happy tears. Very happy tears. This could save us.”
“It could do more than that,” Andrew began, and popped the final bite of cookie into his mouth. “Now, come on. Tell me what’s going on.”
He motioned for me to sit, and he rounded my desk, adjusting the chair he had bulldozed through on his way to comfort me. He took a seat and rested his elbows on his thighs, leaning forward eagerly.
“That was Carl Strickland, the Hammerheads’ GM.”
“I know Carl,” Andrew interjected with a nod.
“He mentioned that. He said that the Hammerhead Foundation is interested in a partnership with us. We’d be the recipient of what’s raised during the pre-season game, and he wanted to set up a meeting with us, so I said whenever.”
“Thursday at ten-thirty,” Andrew mused and reached for my planner before I could stop him. “Looks like you’ll be missing practice.”
He grinned up at me as I snatched my planner back, heat rising faster than I could cover my cheeks.
“Shut it,” I grumbled. “Carl wants us to bring a banner. Retractable or a wall banner. Which would be best?”
“Screw it, we’ll bring both.” Andrew leaned back in the chair, and it groaned in protest. He brought his left foot up to rest on his right knee. “Might as well bring a few brochures and whatever else we can find that will sway them further. Do we have any recent success stories?”
