Chapter 41 Chapter Forty-One
Danny POV
My phone rang pulling me from dreaming and I jolted awake, my heart pounding, sheets twisted around my legs from thrashing in my sleep.
Vanessa's name flashed on the screen, I answered before the second ring.
"Hey, are you okay?"
"Good morning to you too," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
"Did I wake you?"
"No," I lied, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
"Been up for hours. I just finished my morning workout."
"Danny, I can literally hear the sleep in your voice," Vanessa laughed, and the sound made my chest warm. It had been so long since I heard that sound from her and I was more than happy to hear it again.
"But I need a favor."
"Anything," I said, already throwing back my covers and reaching for a shirt.
"What's wrong? Is it Marco or Bean? Did he—"
"Relax," she interrupted gently.
"It's nothing bad. I just... I need help with the project. Dr. Han has been emailing me asking for updates, and between taking care of Bean and everything else, I haven't even looked at it. Can you come over today?"
I glanced at my calendar on the wall, the weekend was over so we had practice at two, but that gave me plenty of time.
"Yeah, of course. What time?"
"Now?" Vanessa asked, and there was something tentative in her voice.
"Bean's staying at Sophia's place for a few days—”
“ What” I croaked in surprise and she laughed
“ Not that Sophia, a different one from her sorority” she mumbled and I sighed with relief
“ Thought I was going crazy for a second” I muttered and she paused
“ I could use the help."
The fact that she was asking, like I'd ever say no to spending time with her, made me smile.
"I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Make it thirty," she said.
“I need to make myself look less like a zombie who's been surviving on coffee and stress."
"You always look beautiful," I said automatically, then felt my face heat up.
I had become this guy, the guy who said cheesy shit before his brain could stop him?Vanessa was quiet for a second, then said softly,
"Thirty minutes, Glover. Don't be late."
She hung up, and I sat there like an idiot, grinning at my phone.
I made it to her apartment in twenty-five minutes, stopping at the campus coffee shop to grab her favorite—vanilla latte with an extra shot. I also grabbed chocolate croissants because I remembered her mentioning once and I grabbed myself a bagel.
When I knocked on her door, she opened it almost immediately, like she'd been waiting right there. My breath caught in my throat the way it always did when I saw her.
She was wearing leggings and an oversized Thunder Hockey sweatshirt— it was my sweatshirt, one I'd thought was lost years ago.
I had given it to her and she'd claimed she'd lost but apparently here it was. Her ginger hair was pulled into a messy bun, and she wasn't wearing any makeup, and she was absolutely stunning.
"Is that my sweatshirt?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Vanessa looked down like she'd just realized what she was wearing, and a blush crept across her cheeks.
"I don't know what you're talking about. This is mine."
"Uh-huh," I stepped inside, holding out the coffee and pastries.
"Sure it is."
Her eyes lit up when she saw what I'd brought.
"Oh my God, you're perfect. Have I told you that?"
"Not today," I said, trying to play it cool even though her words made my heart do something stupid in my chest.
She grabbed the coffee and took a long sip, her eyes closing in what looked like pure bliss.
"I could kiss you right now."
"I'm not going to stop you," I said, and she laughed, that genuine, unguarded laugh that I had not heard out of her in years.
She set down her coffee and kissed me. It was a slow kiss soft and sweet, tasting like vanilla, and for a moment I forgot why I was here. When she pulled back, she was smiling, but there was something sad in her eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
Vanessa sighed and moved to sit on the couch, patting the spot beside her. I sat, and she immediately curled into my side like it was the most natural thing in the world when we had only been dating officially for at least forty-eight hours.
"I've been going out a lot since what happened with Marco," she said quietly and I hummed holding her closer.
" Bean has been insatiable, amusement park, coffee shops bakeries where we could eat cake samples by pretending it was for a wedding”
“ I couldn't say no to her because it seemed like she wanted to be anywhere that wasn't here. Anyway, she doesn't have to think about everything."
I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer.
"That's understandable."
"Is it?" She looked up at me.
"Because while I understand her I feel like running away is not a long term solution for the Bean I know. She's been so brave,so far."
"She's allowed to avoid things for a little while," I said firmly.
"Vanessa, what happened to her —that's not something you just get over in a few days."
Her jaw tightened, and I saw anger flash in those green eyes.
"I hate him so much right now, Danny. I hate that he made me feel scared in my own body. I hate that he hurt Bean...” She broke off, shaking her head.
"I know," I said quietly
"I wanted to kill him, in that hallway, when I saw him touching you and you were trying to push him away—I've never felt rage like that in my life."
Vanessa tilted her head to look at me fully, and a small smile played at her lips despite the heaviness of the conversation.
"My hero."
"I'm serious," I said, even though I could tell she was trying to lighten the mood.
"If you hadn't been there, if I hadn't needed to make sure you were okay, I don't know if I would have stopped hitting him."
"Well, lucky for Marco that I was there then," she said, but her hand found mine and squeezed.
"Though I have to say, watching you defend my honor was kind of hot. In a completely messed up, this-is-not-the-time-to-be-attracted-to-you kind of way."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"You're ridiculous."
"I know, but I like to think you love it," she shot back.
"I do," I admitted.
"I love you."
The words still felt new, even though I'd said them before a long time ago, it was like I was testing them out.
Vanessa's expression softened.
"I love you too." She paused, then added,
"Even when you show up to study sessions and distract me with your stupid perfect face."
"My face is not a distraction," I protested.
"Danny, you have a literal fan club on campus dedicated to your face," she pointed out.
"There's an Instagram account. Bean showed me. It's called 'Glover's Eyes' and it has, like, three thousand followers."
I groaned.
"Please tell me you did not find it."
"I wish I was," Vanessa said, but she was grinning now, and seeing her smile after the sadness in her eyes earlier felt like a victory.
"But don't worry, I'm not following it. I don't need three thousand other people telling me what I already know."
"Which is?"
"That you're annoyingly attractive and I'm probably going to fail this project because I can't concentrate when you're around," she said, but she was already standing up, pulling me toward her reading table where her laptop and a pile of books were spread out.
The table was positioned by the window, and I could see sticky notes plastered everywhere—some with research notes, others with what looked like reminders to herself.
"You're doing great, already." I gestured and she quickly peeled it off, crumpling it in her hand.
"Ignore that."
"Hey," I caught her hand before she could throw it away.
"You are doing great, what do you need help with?"
She looked at me for a long moment, something vulnerable flickering in her expression. Then she nodded and smoothed out the sticky note, placing it back on the table.
"Okay," she said, her voice more businesslike now.
"So, Dr. Hans wants a preliminary report on team dynamics and individual player psychology. I was thinking we could start with interviewing some of the guys? Get their perspectives on what motivates them, what their biggest challenges are, build up on what I've already written”
I pulled out the chair next to her and sat down, close enough that our knees touched.
"That works. Though I should warn you, getting hockey players to talk about their feelings is like pulling teeth."
"Good thing I'm studying psychology then," Vanessa said, opening her laptop. The screen came to life, showing a document she had been working on earlier.
I leaned in to read what she'd written, and she tilted the screen toward me. Her notes were thorough, organized.
"This is really good, Nessa," I said, impressed.
"Don't sound so surprised," she said, but she looked pleased.
"I might hate hockey, but I'm good at my job."
"You don't hate hockey," I said, watching her face carefully.
She was quiet for a moment, her fingers hovering over the keyboard.
"No," she finally admitted.
"I don't, maybe mild dislike”
It was a bigger admission than she probably realized, for a girl who'd spent three years running from anything hockey-related.
"Now, help me figure out how to approach interviewing your teammates without them thinking I'm psychoanalyzing them."
"But you are psychoanalyzing them," I pointed out.
"Yes, but they don't need to know that," Vanessa said.
"I need them to be honest, not defensive."
We spent the next hour going through her notes, talking through different approaches, and debating the best way to get meaningful responses from a group of hockey players.