Chapter 1: Maisy “You are a strong and confident woman,” I tell my reflection. My blonde hair has been carefully curled, casual beach waves that dust the tops of my shoulders. I lean closer to the mirror to apply mascara. “Today is the first day of the rest of your life,” I remind myself, capping the mascara wand. “Good things are on the horizon. You just have to be open and willing to accept them.” I take a deep inhale, slowly let the breath out, and grin when the timer on my oven dings. “And making a great first impression includes sweet treats.” I finish my moment of manifesting and hurry into the kitchen to remove the muffins before they burn. Ooh, but they are perfect! I beam as I stare at my baking creation. It’s one of my grandmother’s swear-by recipes, and the first one Mom taught me when I was five. Back when she still enjoyed baking with me. Before the butter and sugar became a no-go for my diet and muffins too fattening for breakfast. I inhale the delicious aroma filling my kitchen. Fluffy muffins with big blueberries that look gooey and delicious and smell like a bakery. I carefully plate the muffins and wrap them in tinfoil, set on taking them into the office for my first day of work at my new job. Starting in Human Resources with the Tennessee Thunderbolts hockey team is a far cry from my former position as attorney-at-law Tim Clancy’s personal assistant. But already, it feels better. I’m done with Tim and his constant belittling of my intelligence and comments about my weight. I’m a strong and confident woman who bakes a mean muffin and is an organizing whiz. Sure, nerves are ping-ponging around my stomach and my hands are clammy. But I’m stuffing my anxiety back where it belongs and embracing the day. Today. Good things are on the horizon. When the muffins and my purse are stashed by the door, I make one last trip into the bathroom. My sundress, a pale blue, has a tie at the waist to punch it up. I’ve paired it with a soft white cardigan, pearl earrings, and espadrilles. I’m flirting the line of professional and casual, just like my best friend, Mila Lewis, the team’s personal trainer, recommended. After nearly a decade of pencil skirts and blazers, it’s refreshing to wear something pretty and fun to work. It’s another sign that my life is improving. “Strong and confident.” I meet my reflection with a steely gaze before winking at myself. Then, I swipe up my purse and muffins and drive to The Honeycomb, the team’s arena and my new office. As Adele’s voice softly fills my speakers, I stop at a red light. My phone chirps with a new message and I glance at my purse, wondering if it’s my parents, my sister Missy, Mila, or my boyfriend Josh messaging to wish me luck on my first day. The light turns green, and I sing one song, loud and off-key, before pulling into the parking lot. I settle my purse across my chest, carefully lift the tray with muffins, and with my head held high, enter The Honeycomb and its fulfilling promise of change. My phone beeps again and I stall. What if something’s wrong? What if Missy needs me? Or Mila forgot to tell me something important, something pertaining to the Thunderbolts, before I start my first day? Sighing, I pull my phone out of my purse, pulling up short as the words on the screen register in my mind. Josh I can’t do this anymore. I’m done. What the fuck? Josh I’ll get my shit out of your place by the end of today. A bubble of disbelief swells in my throat. Shaking my head, I clutch my phone and resume walking toward the main office. Josh is…breaking up with me? Via text. It’s so ridiculous, so hurtful and humiliating and a cruel twist to the past year of our relationship that my shoulders shake. My lips rub together. My hands tremble. And I laugh. We weren’t relationship goals or anything, but I thought he’d at least have the decency to dump me in person. The last few months, we’ve been less like a couple and more like roommates anyway. I can’t say I’m surprised at the demise of our relationship but shit, a damn text? You know, it’s just like Josh to take the easy way out. To solve his problems behind a screen, behind a distraction. He’s such a coward and— “Ooh!” I shriek as I collide with a moving body. The muffin tray flips up, all eighteen muffins hitting me square in the chest, the aluminum foil drifting to the floor like a paper airplane. “Watch where the fuck you’re going!” an angry voice shouts. I stumble back a step, nearly tripping over my feet, at the harsh tone, the angry, wild eyes. The guy, one of the players but I don’t know who, grips the back of his neck, a quick look of remorse flaring in his eyes. “Fuck!” he swears again, sidestepping me. Shocked and uncertain, I glance around the quiet front office. The silence is too loud, with too many eyes staring at me in varying degrees of surprise, horror, or embarrassment. For me. I screw my eyes shut for a heartbeat and let the mortification, the pure cringe, wash over me. You are strong and confident. You will not cry. You’re…fine. I force my eyes open, and they snag on the receptionist/office manager, Betty, who made me feel welcomed during my interview for the job. She opens her mouth and— “You okay?” A gruff voice, followed by a gentle touch to my elbow. I look up and gasp, this time for an entirely different reason. Axel Daire peers down at me, his dark eyes midnight, an angry slash twisting his lips. But his touch is gentle. His eyes are filled with so much concern—for me—that tears prick the backs of my eyes. “Maisy.” He says my name, his tone raw, as if he understands the depths of my humiliation. As if he can taste the mortification currently turning my cheeks red. I glance down at my dress, my chest covered in muffin, my cardigan smeared in blueberry. Don’t cry. You’re strong and confident. Don’t cry. Good things are— “Betty, she’ll be back tomorrow,” Axel announces, his tone sharp. “Of course,” Betty agrees, rushing over and gently turning me back toward the door. She stuffs a handful of napkins into my clenched fingers and lowers her voice. “You get cleaned up and tomorrow, we’ll start over. Don’t worry, the first week is onboarding. Lots of paperwork and nothing you’re missing out on.” She chuckles and I know I should at least smile or say thank you or react. Instead, I stare at Betty and Axel in a daze. My phone chirps again and I close my eyes, remembering Josh’s message. He’s probably at our place, my place, right now, packing away pieces of a home I wanted too much to believe in. My heart aches. A damn text message. Is that all I’m worth? Is that the sum of value Josh views the last year of my life? “Come on, Mais,” Axel’s tone is soft, at odds with the fierce lines of his expression. He wraps an arm around my shoulders and steers me out of The Honeycomb. Numbly, I follow along, not putting up a protest as he tucks me into the passenger seat of his truck and pulls the seat belt across my chest, buckling me in. It’s not until he turns on his truck and music fills the space between us that I snap out of it. “My car—” I point to my small VW Bug. “You shouldn’t drive when you’re upset.” He puts the gearstick in drive and pulls out of the parking lot. I turn to look at him, surprised but oddly comforted, that he’s here. Helping me. Taking care of me. Axel Daire is a giant of a man. When he enters a room, he commands the energy in it. He eats up space and expands with it. Not with loud words or flashy clothing, but with his steadfast silence, his quiet observation. Axel Daire is a man who perceives things without your having to say them. He’s gruff and growly. He rarely smiles and hardly laughs. But when he looks at me, he sees straight to my soul, and the compassion in his gaze almost breaks me. It’s the same as the first night I met him. Over the summer, in a crowded sports bar. Mila was introducing me to Devon, one of the players and now, her boyfriend. But that night, it was Axel who held my gaze, who bought me a drink, who offered me a ride home. It was Axel who saw me. He heads in the direction of my house, having dropped me off a time or two after a night out with Mila and Devon. Still, it surprises me that he remembers where I live and drives there quietly, unbothered by the silence, the elephant, in the space between us. I glance down and note that my hands are trembling. “River never should have spoken to you like that,” Axel says after a beat, his eyes drifting toward me for a blink. “He’ll apologize,” he adds with a finality that I don’t question. Because if need be, Axel, also known as Brawler, will make River apologize. “It’s fine,” I say, my voice sounding small. “No, it’s not,” Axel’s tone is hard. I sigh. “It’s not just that. I, my, Josh broke up with me.” Axel’s neck snaps in my direction, his jaw locked, his eyes flaring. “What?” I lick my lips. “My boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend, Josh, broke up with me via text message. I received the message right as River ran into me. It wasn’t his fault, I was standing in the middle of the hallway, staring at my phone. I wasn’t paying attention.” “He didn’t even check that you’re okay,” Axel bites out. I frown, trying to understand his words, until I realize he’s still talking about River. Patton! River’s last name flies into my head. He plays right wing. But then, Axel adds, “What a douche. A text message?” I snort, nodding. “Awful, isn’t it?” Axel shrugs, turning on his blinker to make a right-hand turn. “It’s his fucking loss, Maisy.” “Yeah,” I agree. “The fact that he dumped me through a text is proof enough that I dodged a bullet.” Axel glances at me, as if to mark the sincerity of my words. Satisfied, he turns back to the road and nods. “Exactly.” But when we turn onto my street and I note Josh’s truck in the driveway, my heart drops to the floor and I feel like vomiting. Scenarios from the past few months drift through my mind. Josh blowing off Sunday dinner with my family because he had to work but instead, went to his buddy Steve’s place to play video games. The way he took his phone with him, even to the bathroom, as if he didn’t want me to look at it even though I never snooped. Or how we haven’t had sex in months and when I tried to initiate, he’d make an offhanded comment about my body. As if I repulsed him. As if he couldn’t stand to see me naked. Tears prick the corners of my eyes at my own weakness. I know I deserve more than what Josh gave me. I know I’m worthy of a better, more committed partner. I know all this and still, the thought of walking into my house and confronting him makes me feel like I’m breaking out in hives. My skin prickles, my heart rate increases, and my breathing doubles. “I can’t go in there,” I nearly wheeze. Axel idles next to the curb in front of my place, his eyes on mine. “I can go with you if—” “No.” I shake my head. “Please. I don’t want to confront Josh. I just want, I want to get out of here.” My eyes are pleading and after a long, searching look, Axel nods. He scans my body, his eyes lingering on the blueberry smudges. I’m hot mess express right now. The sensible thing would be to go into my house, change my clothes, and leave. But that would mean confronting Josh. I shiver at the thought, hating any type of confrontation. And maybe even worse than exchanging words with Josh, would be Axel witnessing it. “Do you trust me?” His voice is so low, I think I misunderstood. My eyebrows dip as I stare at him. He tilts his head to the side. “Do you trust me, Maisy?” “Yes,” I breathe out, realizing that I do. I trust Axel Daire more than most men, even though I hardly know him. He gives off that vibe, always checking that his teammates have a ride home at the end of a night out. Always inserting himself into the middle of a team quarrel or the showdowns that have taken place between the Bolts and the Knoxville Coyotes football team at the sports bar, Corks. Hell, he even excuses himself to check in with his daughter, a student at the University of Tennessee. Maybe it’s because he’s a dad. Maybe it’s because he’s lived through shit, raising a daughter from a very young age. Or maybe, it’s because he’s truly one of those unicorn men. Caring, considerate, and compassionate. Whatever the reason, I don’t question him as he pulls away from the curb and turns back onto Main Street. Instead, I settle back into the car seat, clutch the seat belt where it cuts between my breasts, and stare out the window. When we pull up in front of a boutique I love, my gaze swings to Axel. How does he even know about this place? My eyes widen, conveying my thoughts. The strangest thing happens. One side of his mouth tugs upward, curling into an almost-smile that smooths out his roughness. God, he’s gorgeous. Strong, fierce, and beautiful. “I got you, okay?” His voice is so gentle, I feel like crying again. Luckily, I don’t. I watch as Axel slips out of the truck and enters the boutique. It’s a beautiful shop, filled with stylish summer dresses, eclectic accessories, and must-have cowgirl boots. It effortlessly blends boho and chic and western styles and is a staple store for the University of Tennessee sorority girls as well as young professional women. In fact, there’s a dress in the window I’ve been admiring for weeks, but the V-neck is deep and I’m always worried about it being too much. Will it look like I’m trying too hard? My whole life, I’ve been too much but never in the right ways. Only in the ways that men, or my mother, have commented on. Too thick, too big, too slow. But when Axel looks at me, it feels like he doesn’t see any of my natural shortcomings. Instead, he sees me and it’s right. I turn away from the window, controlling my emotions before he comes back. This morning, I set out with the intention of turning over a new leaf, of embracing a new beginning. I never thought that would lead to sitting in the passenger seat of Axel Daire’s F-150, but I’m not mad about it. I am strong and confident. And as Axel steps out of the boutique, his shoulders filling up the doorway, his hair pulled away from his face and tied in a messy bun at the back of his head, I realize it’s still true. Good things are on the horizon. He slides back behind the wheel, wordlessly handing me a shopping bag. My stomach twists with a flicker of panic. Did he buy the correct size? Or did he size down, the way Josh always did? Even though Josh knew my dress size, he’d always choose a size smaller and give me a look like, “you could lose weight if you tried,” when it didn’t zip fully or the buttons pulled. I let out a nervous exhale and reach into the bag, my heart in my throat when I see the dress. The soft peach fabric, decorated with a thousand tiny wildflowers. The one with the deep V neckline. I take a sly glance at the tag and want to weep in relief when I note the size. My size. Axel’s watching me carefully. I clear my throat, my emotions clogging my ability to speak. “Thank you, Axel.” I dig into my purse, pulling out my wallet to grab some cash. Axel’s hand darts out, settles over mine, and stops my movements. He shakes his head, his eyes on my wallet. “You’re welcome.” It’s all he says before pulling away from the boutique and pointing his truck in a new direction. I let out a shaky breath and settle back against the seat, clutching the dress in my hands. He bought me a dress. A beautiful, correctly sized, dress. Right now, I don’t need to know where we’re going. Or why. I feel so much better just being here, next to Axel, feeling seen. And cared for. Still… “I should go back to work.” “Betty said to come in tomorrow.” “What about you? Don’t you have to go back? You can drop me at Mila’s.” Since my best friend’s parents passed away a few years ago, I’ve had a key to her place. Axel slides his hand over the top of the steering wheel and shoots me a quick glance. “Nah. I had an early skate and hit the weight room already. I’m free for the rest of the day.” “Oh.” “Are you hungry?” “What?” He almost smiles. Again. “Are you hungry?” His eyes slip down to my chest for a moment. “Because I’ve been starving since I realized I’ve missed out on trying one of your famous muffins.” I think it’s the most words I’ve ever heard him say in a single stretch. “I’ll bake you more.” I blush. “As a thank you.” I hold up the dress. “Come eat with me and we’ll call it even.” “Okay,” I agree softly. Stunned. Did the universe send Axel to me today? Is the cosmos playing a joke? Is this, right now, the new beginning I didn’t see coming? He tips his chin down and turns the music up slightly. We ride the rest of the way in silence, but it’s comfortable. Things between Axel and me hold an easiness that I never experienced off the bat with other men. I don’t feel like he’s judging me. Or criticizing. Instead, it feels like he truly wants to be here, in this moment, with me. The thought makes me smile and I turn to look out the window so he won’t think I’m losing it. When he parks in the lot for a trendy cafe near campus, I quirk an eyebrow. “You know all the cool spots.” He ducks his head. “Lola.” “Ah, that makes sense.” I open the door and slide from the truck. Of course his university student daughter would keep him in the know. It’s probably how he knew of the boutique too. Axel’s hand hovers over the small of my back as we step into the cafe. He’s not touching me and yet, I feel the heat of his large palm. I sense the protectiveness in his stance, and I shuffle back a half step, wanting to feel his touch. Wanting to be rooted in the kindness he’s showing me. Once we’re seated, I hold up the shopping bag with my new dress. “I’ll be right back.” “Take your time.” I scurry toward the restroom. As soon as the door is locked behind me, I glance at my reflection and blanche. Blueberry stains my cardigan and dress. Bits of muffin still stick to the swells of my breasts. My hair is a mess, the soft waves of the morning giving way to erratic curls. I take a deep breath. “You’re confident,” I scold my reflection. Then, I clean off the muffin bits with some water and paper towel. I take off my clothes and pull on the new dress, loving the feel of the material as it slides down my body. I fix the bodice and my eyebrows shoot up at how incredible my chest looks. The material clings to my breasts, making them appear high and perky. It skims along my waist and over my hips, in a flattering A-line, that is feminine. Flirty. I give a little laugh and twirl. It’s not my usual look, but I love it. I feel pretty and confident. On a day that has gone sideways, I have Axel Daire to thank for reminding me that that’s who I am. For showing me that my manifesting has come true. Good things are on the horizon.