CHAPTER THREE - Kasey Williams
I knew that I should've questioned Georgia more about who I was going to work for. Then I wouldn't be in the horrific situation that I am now which is standing in front of Ryker Young who looks just as shocked to see me as I am to see him.
"Um, hi," I awkwardly say with a slight little wave. Oh. My. God. Why did I just wave to him? What is wrong with me?
"You're Kasey," he responds, looking as dumbfounded as I feel. "Georgia said it wouldn't be you."
"Yeah, well, she didn't exactly tell me it was going to be you, either," I replied. "But here we are."
He tilts his head slightly as he takes in my appearance. I've changed a lot since high school. I've put on some weight and grown into my curves, my hair is slightly lighter and I've grown. My growth spurt came the summer after graduation so I'm not the five foot three, timid girl knew me as. I'm now five eight and I've grown a backbone.
He obviously doesn't look the same either, but for the past four years or so, I've been seeing him on TV playing hockey, so he appearance as this massive hulk of a man isn't too shocking. I mean, clearly he looks older, having gained a hell of a lot of muscle and gotten himself a sleeve of tattoos.
"Shit, Kase," he sighs before gesturing for me to come inside. I think this meeting would be significantly less awkward if our relationship ended on a better note than it did but that's another story. "You look good."
"Yeah, so do you," I nod to him as I take in the hallway of his house. All I can say is it's a step up from the two bedroomed flat he used to live in with his parents back in high school.
"So, what have you been up to?" He asks as he scratched his arm awkwardly.
I let out a chuckled and shake my head. "You don't need to do that, Ryk," I tell him, the nickname slipping off my tongue just as mine did for him. "Let's not pretend like we don't know each other and let's not pretend that I'm here for you. I'm here for your son and him only."
A lazy grin slips onto his face. "Yeah, you're right, which if I remember rightly, you usually were. Ben's right through here."
"Does he prefer Ben or Bennett?" I ask as we go through the hallway, where pictures are displayed. I recognize a couple of the people in them as Brody and Hailey and there are a few of his teammates, but the majority of them are of a girl I knew all too well back in high school. Heather Stanfield. Ryker's girlfriend during their senior year.
"He's three," he chuckles. "He prefers what he's told he will, but he's a strong-willed thing, so normally, he won't answer to Ben unless he deems you worthy or something like that. I'm no child psychologist, so I can't tell you exactly what he thinks about."
"Aw, dammit," I tease. "Here's me thinking that you were great at everything."
"Then you're way off the mark," he replies as he pushes open the door. "Ben! What are you doing?"
When I poke my head inside the living room, I'm greeted by an upside down mini-me of Ryker. "Um, I'm copying the monkeys on the TV, daddy. Duh."
Ryker turns back to me with a sigh. "As you can see, he's a bit of a handful."
"I wonder where he gets that from?" I ask sarcastically, knowing fine well that Ryker was a little wild back when he was younger.
He just gives me a small smile before turning back to his son. "Get down, Ben and come and meet your new babysitter."
Bennett does as he is told and comes over to us. "But I'm not a baby!"
"Okay, fine," Ryker smiles as he crouches down so that they are at the same level. "Big-boy-sitter."
"Better."
"Ben, this is Kasey. She's going to look after you tonight during my game, okay?" He says, running a hand through his son's dark hair. God, they are almost identical. It's the kind of like-father-like-son that makes you question if there was ever a mother in the picture. They have the same eyes, hair, and cheekiness about them.
"Hey, Ben," I smile at him, forgetting that he won't answer me because he didn't know me. I should've called him Bennett.
His big blue eyes settle on me and I can feel him judging me. God, this three-year-old scares me more than the bitches in high school. "You're really pretty."
"Um, thanks," I awkwardly chuckled. "You're very handsome, too, Ben."
"People always say I look like my Daddy and he's handsome, so I must be," he replies, a toothy grin on his face. Woah. He's an intelligent three-year-old as well. I've worked with a lot of different kids and not a single one could've strung together a sentence like that at three. It's scarily brilliant.
"Well, they're definitely right," I say before turning to Ryker. "So, what's the normal routine?"
"I'm going to talk to Kasey, okay? Just go back to whatever you were be doing and we'll be back in a bit," he says to his son before leading me out and into the dining room where there is a couch in the corner, which is what Ryker sits down on.
Hesitantly, I take a seat next to him and cross my legs together. He turns to face me and rubs a hand over his mouth as he tries to find the words to say. Oh, who am I kidding? This is weird. It's really fucking weird and I'm not sure how to deal with it.
Eight years ago, this guy knew me better than anyone else. Better than anyone else ever had and now, we're sitting in his dining room and I'm babysitting his kid. Christ. If you told me that when I was sixteen and hopelessly in love with the guy, I would've laughed in your face.
"This is weird, isn't it?" Ryker finally comes out and admits as he looks across at me. "I honestly never thought I'd see you again after I graduated."
I let out a laugh. "Yeah, well, small world and all that."
He lets out a deep breath. "Look, Kasey, I never actually apologized for what happened. I was an immature douchebag and I shouldn't have done it. Seriously, it was awful of me."
I nod. "Yeah, it was and at the time, you broke my heart. I'm not going to lie to you, Ryker, or sugar coat it. I thought you were wonderful and then you went and did that and I thought my world was ending but it was eight years ago. We're both past it."
"Doesn't stop me from feeling awful about it," he responds. "I honestly have no idea why I did it. None at all."
"Because you were young and stupid," I answer softly. "Stop beating yourself up over it. We were in high school. It was years ago. You need to get focused on the game you're about to go and play. Don't disappoint us and lose. I'm pretty sure my brothers have money on you guys winning this game."
He let out a laugh. "Shit! I forgot about Max and Jer. How are they?"
"They're great," I nod. "Still pains in my ass, but great. Max has a girlfriend."
His jaw drops. "No way. Manwhore Max has a girlfriend?"
"Yeah. It surprised me too when we came home the Thanksgiving of his freshman year of college, announcing he had a girlfriend, but they've been together ever since. I think he's planning on proposing soon," I caught him up to speed. "It's insane."
"Fuck. That's crazy," he shakes his head in disbelief. "What about Jer? He still the same?"
"The day Jer isn't a lazy slob is the day pigs fly," I scoff with a laugh. "He's got a job down at the local construction company. He's making decent money but wants to move away somewhere. He hasn't told us where yet, but he's looking. How's your mom? Is she alright?"
He lets out a sigh and I know that I hit a nerve. Shit. "She's, um, fine. We don't really talk much anymore."
Well, that didn't make sense because Ryker was the biggest mommy's boy that I had ever met. He would do anything for her and yes, I know it's been a while since I knew him like that, but still.
"Oh, okay."
I didn't know what else to say. I don't want to ask why because it feels like we only met about fifteen minutes ago and asking why seems like a bit too much of a personal question to ask. I don't think we're ready for personal yet. Or ever, really.
"Yeah, things have changed, haven't they?" He lets out a brash chuckle before turning to face me. "Look, I need to go and get dressed and hit the arena. I'll be home by ten, at the latest. I'll try not to hang around for too long after the game. Help yourself to the kitchen and everything else."
"Thanks, Ryker," I genuinely smile at him. Things might have changed, but deep down, I know he's still the same guy that I fell in love with as a teenager. Definitely. "Have a good game, alright? Win for us."
"I'll try my best," he chuckles before standing up and leaving the room.
I don't move for at least five minutes. It's a little overwhelming being in your ex-boyfriend's house, who you haven't seen in six years because you're here to look after his kid of the girl he was with after you.
Ryker then appears, a duffle bag thrown over his shoulder wearing his game-day suit. Holy shit. He looks even better in it in person than on the TV. Wow.
"You good?" He asks me as he grabs his keys. "I'm running a little late so I'm going to have to boost."
I nod and lean against the doorframe. "I'm fine. Go win this so you can get to the playoffs."
"Yeah, well, I'm not holding my breath," he chuckles before smiling at me again. "Like I said, I'll try not to be too long tonight. It all depends on how much the press care about me and Brody."
"You two play so well together, though, it's no surprise that they like to talk about it so much," I shrug. "Now go! You've got a game to go and win!"
With that, he finally walks out the door and I take a couple of minutes just to sit and collect myself.
I'm the in the house of my ex-boyfriend, babysitting his kid whilst he goes and plays a game of professional hockey. Jesus. If you told me this would be happening eight years ago, then I would've laughed in your face.
Once I decide that I'm not going to cry or anything, I make my way into the living room where Bennett is still watching the TV. "Can we have pizza for dinner?" He asks me as he spots me in the doorway. "I love pizza."
"I love pizza too," I smile at him as I take a seat on the couch. "What do you like on your pizza?"
"Peppahoni, bacon, teese and tomato," he grins as he tells me his favorite toppings in his cute little three-year-old voice. God, this kid is adorable.
So that's exactly what we have for dinner. Throughout the night, Ben is an angel. The only time he gets a little restless is when I try to tuck him into bed and he asks for his Daddy. I promise him that I'll send him in when he gets home from the game to give him a kiss and a cuddle. That soothes him and he falls asleep instantly.
To keep myself busy for the next hour or so, I tidy up the living room and kitchen so that Ryker can just go to bed when he gets in. God knows playing an hour of hockey must be exhausting. It's tiring enough watching it on TV.
Soon enough, the door creeps open and Ryker appears, still in his suit but his hair is still wet from his shower. "Hey," he smiles at me as he joins me in the living room.
We both take a seat on the couch and I turn to face him. "How'd it go?"
"We won," he shrugs like it's nothing but he can't keep the smile off his face. "How was Ben?"
"An angel," I admitted. "There were no issues at all. He wanted you when I was putting him to sleep but other than that, nothing. He was perfect."
"You don't know how happy that makes me," he says to me and I could see the earnest look in his eyes. "Ben's terrible for meeting new people. Even his godparents couldn't hold him for the first year and a half of his life."
"Well, he was perfectly fine with me," I smile before glancing at the clock on the wall. "I should probably get going. You must be tired as hell."
He shakes his head. "After four years in the NFL, you get used to it."
"It's a crazy lifestyle," I comment as my eyes land on a photo of him and Brody Miller two years ago with the Stanley Cup. I remember watching that game. It was intense. It was a draw - nil, nil - until the final ten seconds when Ryker scored the winning goal.
"Can't argue with that," he says as he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders. "Look, you don't have to run out. Stay for a drink."
"I'm driving," I start, my eyes flicking to the window in some sort of gesture.
He smiles at me and all of a sudden, I'm completely unsure as to why I'm fighting it. "It's just one drink. I'm not allowed to drink during the season so we'll both be doing something we shouldn't be."
It's all it takes for me to agree. "Okay."
"What's your poison?" He asks as he stands up and heads toward the kitchen. Except he goes through into the back of the house where I haven't ventured yet and stops behind a bar. Of course, he has a bar in his house.
"What have you got?" I ask as I perch on one of the stools.
"Anything and everything," he chuckles. "Wine, whiskey, vodka, rum-"
"Ooh, a rum and coke," I grin. "That sounds delicious!"
"One rum and coke coming right up," he smiles his devastating smile before pouring my drink and getting a small glass of whiskey for himself. We take a seat on the couch and he angles his body so that he's facing me.
He expels a deep breath and takes a sip of his drink. "So, what have you been up to in the past seven years since we had an actual conversation?"
"School," I shrug. "I got into CalTech-"
"Like I knew you would," he reminds me.
I can't help the smile on my face this time. He had always believed in me without fail. "I transferred to Chicago halfway through the first semester of freshman year and I've been studying since then." I pause for a moment. "I would ask you the same question, but your life's been televised since you were eighteen."
He nods. "Yeah, playing for the most decorated collegiate hockey team does that. But hey, I'm playing for the NHL for at least another six years so clearly something went right."
"Why'd you choose Boston College in the end, anyway? What happened to Quinnipiac?" As soon I ask the question, I want to take it back. I know why he changed his mind from his dream school.
"Heather," he says quietly. "She wanted to go to Boston University and Boston College accepted me before they did so I went there, knowing that their hockey team was incredible. Me being with here didn't exactly do wonders for my street cred due to the Green Line Rivalry."
I suck in a breath before expelling it again. "That's intense, isn't it? Max and Jer talk about it a lot."
"It's all bark with no bite, but still. We were like a modern day Romeo and Juliet: ice hockey edition," he chuckles but there was no humor to his laugh. Only sadness.
I manage to turn to the conversation around, making it on happier and more lighthearted topics. Before we know it, the clock strikes midnight and I am exhausted. I have enough energy to drive home and then not much else.
We say our goodbyes and exchange numbers, with Ryker promising to text me whenever he needed help with Ben. I then drive the ten minutes back to our house, go inside and collapse onto my bed.
I need to keel resounding myself that I'm doing this for Bennett. Not Ryker. He's just a bonus. But there, in the back of my mind, there's a voice that keeps reminding me that if I see more the man who used to own my heart, then it's going to be way too easy just to fall in love with him again.