Page 14 of Defend Her Heart

Connor makes a fake gagging noise, and I kick his shin under the table.

“Ouch! Fine! But you have to try mine first.”

Reaching into my box, I find the smallest piece and pull it out. “Absolutely not. We’ll try them at the same time. I don’t trust you one bit, so I’m going to feed you like a child to make sure you actually try it.”

Connor finds a piece for me to try and we both raise the slices into the air. Then, simultaneously, we lean forward until our mouths are inches away from the food.

“You ready?” I ask in challenge.

He takes a dramatic breath and then looks me dead in the eye. “On the count of three?”

I nod, and then together we count.

“One. Two. Three.”

Opening my mouth, I inch forward until I can feel the heat of the pizza on my lips. Neither of us bite down, and we begin chuckling at the same time.

Raising an eyebrow at Connor, he groans and bites down on my pizza. Feeling victorious, I squeal and then take a bite of the piece Connor is holding out to me.

A plethora of flavors burst on my tongue as I try to distinguish what they are. It’s definitely a meat lover’s pie, with bacon, pepperoni, and sausage dominating my palate. It’s not until I taste banana peppers that a moan escapes me.

Clasping a hand over my mouth, I begin shaking my head. “Oh my god, you did not hear me do that.”

My eyes fly to Connor. His eyes are wide now as he continues to chew.

Wanting to change the subject as fast as I can, I blurt out, “What do you think?”

He continues chewing on the bite he took as he tilts his head back and forth. When I go to pull my arm back that’s holding the slice, his hand flies out and grips my wrist. Slowly,he pulls my arm and pizza back until it’s inches from his mouth. I watch as he finally swallows the food he’s been chewing.

With his eyes locked on mine, he rubs his thumb against my wrist, and in the most flirtatious voice I’ve ever heard he says, “It’s not horrible.”

“I told you that you can stay with me as long as you need. Now, stop apologizing for taking up space in my apartment. Iwantyou here until you’re back on your feet,” my best friend Tamara shouts from down the hall.

When I left St. Louis, I had no plan. All I knew is that I needed to get out of there as quickly as possible and there was only one place I felt safe going—straight to my best friend’s apartment in Wisconsin.

Tamara and I were roommates at Wisconsin for three years. We both joined the team our freshmen year and went through the grueling life as rookies on one of the best college hockey teams in the country. We bonded over burpees and down and backs. The rest is history. When I called her crying from somewhere in Illinois, she didn’t even hesitate. “Get your ass to Green Bay. We’ll figure the rest out later.” Now here I am, still sleeping on her couch, my life as hot a mess as it was when I left Missouri.

Tamara enters the kitchen, her hair looking as fabulous as ever, her natural coils bouncing with each step she takes. Big brown eyes meet mine as I take a sip of the smoothie I madethis morning. Tamara is one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever met. She greets me with her signature full-toothed smile, her lips painted a berry-red, popping against her flawless dark bronze complexion.

Being gorgeous hasn’t made Tamara’s life any easier unfortunately. As the only Black female sports agent for the NHL, it only adds to the ridicule and judgment people are so quick to toss her way. All the haters are constantly commenting on her appearance, rather than how badass of an agent she is. As a woman, I’ve faced my fair share of sexism and bias in the industry, but I’ve never had to face the added layer of racial prejudice that Tamara deals with far too often. She has to work twice as hard as I do to be taken seriously. I can’t wait for the day when we as women aren’t judged by our body parts or skin color, but rather by our accolades and accomplishments. Maybe one day.

“I know what you told me but I can’t help feeling guilty about being a freeloader. I hate having to rely on other people. Story of my freaking life.” I look down at the counter, ashamed of the situation I’m finding myself in, yet again. I haven’t even told my parents about my money troubles yet. They’re worried enough about all my health issues. I know they’d offer to pay even if they couldn’t afford to. But I want to figure this out on my own. Ineedto.

“Nope. We’re not doing that.” She plants herself next to me, resting a hand on the counter, but I still don’t look up. “Look at me.”

Knowing she won’t stop until I do, I turn and look my best friend in the eyes.

“Bryan made youthinkyou needed him. You do not need a man. You do not need anybody. But youareallowed to ask for some help. You are Avery Chamberlin, and you are a fierce woman who just snagged a job on an NHL team.Youdid that. All by yourself. Give yourself some grace.”

Emotion creeps up my throat and I quickly gulp down some more of my smoothie trying to push it back down.

Tamara gently places her hand on top of mine and lowers the tumbler from my mouth. “I know you’ve been through some shit lately. But you’re finally focusing on yourself and your health, both mental and physical. What type of best friend would I be if I didn’t support you? My couch was empty, so now it’s yours. I’m barely here anyway, you know that. Please stop feeling guilty.”

I nod once before depositing my smoothie on the counter and throwing my arms around Tamara’s neck. She stands at six foot one so I reach up onto my tiptoes so I can increase the force in which I’m squeezing her. She squeezes me back, her strong arms wrapped around me making me feel more grounded by the second. Once I’ve finally pulled myself together, I release my grip on her.

“Thanks, T. Sometimes I feel myself slipping into old ways and believe all the bullshit Bryan told me about myself. Thanks for reminding me of who I really am.”

Tamara waves me off, then turns to the refrigerator where she starts pulling out Tupperware to take with her to work today. Sometimes she’s gone before I’m up and not back until after I go to sleep. My best friend grinds and she’s truly an inspiration.