The Hockey Star’s Remorse

Chapter 63

Chapter 63

The aroma of simmering sauce and fresh cheese wafted through the air, filling the space with a tantalizing scent. As Timothy moved about the kitchen with at practiced ease, | sat awkwardly on the edge of the couch.

Timothy glanced my way, a playful glint in his eyes. “Oh, your friend is coming to greet you.”

| smiled, slightly curious about who he was referring to. Right then, | saw Duke leave one of the back rooms and eye me curiously from afar. After the recognition set in, he barked and cbounding toward me, his tail wagging.

“Hi, boy! How are you?” | greeted, scratching behind his ear. He suddenly flopped onto his back, revealing his belly for a good rub. As my fingers ruffled his fur, | started to feel more relaxed.

Timothy's voice broke through my thoughts, his question drawing my attention. “So, Evie, how’s business been since my case closed?”

| turned toward the kitchen, my lips curling into a smile. “Actually, business has been picking up. It seems like It seems like my success with your case has mademore noticeable.” Timothy emerged from the kitchen, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “Noticeable? In what way?”

“Well,” | started, my eyes daring around, “Let’s just say I’ve been getting a bit more attention than I’m used to. Your fans seem to have taken an interest in the lawyer who helped clear your name.”

Timothy's lips twitched into a knowing smile. “Ah, so you’re becoming a bit celebrity yourself.”

| shrugged, a mixture of amusement and hesitation coursing through me. “I guess you could say that, though I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with it.”

Duke bounded back over, dropping a tennis ball at my feet with an expectant look. | obliged, sending the ball skidding across the floor as Duke chased after it with gusto.

Timothy's gaze lingered on us, his expression thoughtful. “Do you enjoy the 1/6

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| leaned down to ruffle Duke’s fur, my mind turning over his question. “Not really,” | admitted. “It’s nice to be recognized for my work, but it also attracts some.... interesting characters.”

Timothy raised an eyebrow. “Interesting characters?”

| sighed, my thoughts lingering back on Linda. “Obsessed fans, to be more precise. I’ve had a few encounters with paparazzi, and with the whole Linda situation, it’s honestly a little unsettling.”

Aknowing glint appeared in Timothy’s eyes, as if he understood the weight of my words. “Sounds like you've had your fair share of Linda types.”

| nodded, my gaze briefly flickering toward the dog that had returned to my side.

Not exactly, but | had spaparazzi camping out on my doorstep.”.

Timothy offers a sympathetic smile. “Ah, yes, the paparazzi. Fhas its downsides.”

| giggled. “I suppose so. But enough aboutand my newfound fame. How’s the lasagna coming along?”

Timothy's attention shifted back to the kitchen, his movements fluid as he checked on the dish. “Still perfecting the sauce. Needs to be a bit chunkier.”

As he returned to his culinary task, | found myself appreciating the easy flow of our conversation. It was as if the initial awkwardness between us had dissipated, replaced by a genuine sense of comfort.

“So, Duke seems to be quite the companion,” | remarked, flapping Duke’s ears. Timothy's grin was infectious as he nodded. “Yeah, he’s a handful, but | wouldn’t have it any other way.”

I started to laugh again, but the tranquility was short-lived. A sudden clatter echoed from the kitchen, my head snapping toward the source of the noise. Without a second thought, | hurried into the kitchen, my heart quickening at the sight that greeted me.

Timothy stood at the counter, his brows furrowed. Blood welled up from a fresh cut on his finger, staining the edge of a tomato he had been slicing. Instinctively, |

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Chapter 63

rushed forward, my voice edged with concern. “Timothy, are you okay?”

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He glanced up, a small grimace on his lips as he watched the blood ooze. “Yeah, | just... managed to cut myself. You would think I'd know how to use a knife by now.”

Gently, | guided him toward the sink to rinse his finger. The proximity between us was impossible to ignore, but | forced my thoughts on the task at hand.

As Timothy’s hand cto rest on the counter, | turned my attention to the tomatoes. “I can take over cutting the tomatoes if you need to clean that cut properly.”

Timothy smiled. “Ah, but | can’t make my guest cook.” “It's just dicing tomatoes,” | said, waving him off. “Go on.”

As Timothy left to tend to his cut, | gingerly picked up the knife, my fingers trembling ever so slightly. | had always considered myself more of a takeout enthusiast than a hcook, and the realization that | was in uncharted territory sent my heart racing.

With each careful slice, | felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The rhythmic motion of the knife against the cutting board was oddly soothing. However, as | glanced at the uneven slices of tomato, my confidence began to

waver. Timothy returned, his expression one of amusement. “You're doing great, Evie. Just take it slow.” I smiled sheepishly. “Yeah...1 think?”

To my surprise, Timothy moved closer, his presence envelopinglike a warm embrace. “Letshow you a trick,” he said softly.

His hands settled atop mine, his touch gentle yet firm. My heart skipped a beat as he guided my movements, his fingers interlacing with mine. Together, we moved in sync, the blade of the knife gliding through the tomato with ease.

His closeness was intoxicating. | could feel the steady rhythm of his breath, our gazes locked as if titself had slowed. In that moment, it wasn’t just about cutting tomatoes.

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As the last tomato was diced, Timothy withdrew his hands, a soft smile gracing his lips. “See? Not so bad, right?”

| couldn't help but laugh, the tension that had once filled the room now replaced with a sense of camaraderie. “You make it look easy.”

With the meal finally prepared, we sat down at the table, the air alive with a newfound ease. The lasagna was every bit as delicious as | had imagined it would be.

“So, how did you learn to make lasagna like this?” | asked, my curiosity getting the best ofas | took another bite of the savory dish.

Timothy chuckled, a hint of pride in his eyes. “Well, my grandmother was Italian, and she passed down sof her best recipes. This lasagna was a childhood favorite.

| nodded appreciatively, savoring the rich flavors. “It’s absolutely delicious. Your grandmother must have been an amazing cook.”

“Yeah,” he said with a grin. “Trustwhen | say | was a chubby kid as a result.” As we ate, our conversation flowed effortlessly, dipping into various topics like a gentle stream. From favorite books to memorable travel destinations, it felt as if we were discovering new facets of each other's lives with every exchanged word. The initial awkwardness that had characterized our interactions seemed like a distant memory.

As we finished our meal, Timothy leaned back in his chair, his expression one of contentment. “That was a delightful dinner,” he said with a satisfied sigh. “Thank you for joining me, Evie.”

| smiled warmly, the sensation of genuine happiness bubbling up within me. “The pleasure was all mine. | must admit, | was a little apprehensive at first, but I’m glad

I came.” Timothy's gaze met mine, a softness in his eyes that sent a flutter through my chest. “I’m glad you ctoo.”

As the evening sun cast a warm glow over the room, | realized that thad slipped away faster than | had anticipated. Reluctantly, | pushed my chair back, my fingers tracing patterns on the tablecloth.

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“| should probably get going,” | said with a hint of regret. “It’s getting late.” Timothy nodded, his expression understanding. “Of course.”

“Lethelp you with the dishes,” | said, gesturing to the mess in the kitchen. Timothy shook his head firmly. “Don’t even worry about that.”

“I'm helping,” | stated, already gathering the plates before he could protest further. With a sigh, he relented and followedto the kitchen. Together, we cleaned up, a comfortable silence settling between us as we worked in tandem.

Once the last dish was placed in the drying rack, Timothy turned to me, his expression one of gratitude. “Thank you for your help.”

| waved off his thanks. “It was the least | could do. We made quite the mess.”

As we walked back to the living room, an awkward tension filled the air. | shifted. on my feet, suddenly unsure of how to proceed. Timothy seemed to sense my hesitation and spoke up.

“| can walk you to the door.”

| nodded, relieved that he had taken the lead. As we reached the door, my heart. began to race, a flurry of emotions swirling within me. | turned to face Timothy, my words caught in my throat.

“Timothy, | want you to know that | believe you,” | said earnestly, my voice soft yet resolute. “I know Linda’s claims are false, and I'm here to support you.”

His eyes bore into mine with a certain intensity. “It means a lot to hear that from you.”

We stood there for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. The connection we had forged over the course of the evening felt palpable, and | found myself wanting to hold onto it just a little longer.

“Goodnight, Timothy,” | said, my voice infused with sincerity. “Goodnight, Evie,” he replied, his voice gentle.

As | turned to leave, a surge of emotion overtook me. Without thinking, | turned back to him and reached out, pulling him into a hug. His arms encircled me, and for a brief moment, | fell into a daze.

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“Take care of yourself,” | whispered against his chest, my heart racing. “You too,” he murmured, his breath warm against my hair.

Reluctantly, | pulled away, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest. With a final smile, | stepped out into the hallway, my steps echoing in the quiet.

As | walked away from Timothy’s apartment, a sense of elation filled me. The evening had exceeded my expectations in ways | couldn’t have imagined.

With each step | took, | couldn’t help but think about the future. What lay ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: Timothy and | were in this together. With that in mind, | couldn’t help but feel a glimmer of hope lighting up the path before me.

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