Chapter 5 - Kennedy
FIVE
KENNEDY
I’M A GROWING BOY, I CAN HANDLE IT.
My life was a gigantic joke.
At least since I lost everything.
You’d think shoving a three-year engagement down the drain would have been the hardest part, but nope.
Moving out of the very spacious, three-bedroom condo because the place had been a gift to Joe by his parents was.
I never felt comfortable with the fact we didn’t own something together, and it was a constant conversation in our relationship, but ultimately, Joe convinced me to stay put until after our wedding.
I couldn’t argue with his logic, since the wedding expenses were quickly stacking up.
In the end, though, I was grateful we didn’t own anything together.
Considering how unhelpful Joe was with the aftermath of the wedding that never happened, I couldn’t bring myself to imagine what a nightmare it would have been to divide any assets.
I was already in enough debt as it was, and even though Joe should have been helping me pay-off everything we weren’t able to cancel when we called the wedding off, I refused to lose the only thing I had going for me—pride.
I’d pay every goddamn cent to every single vendor by myself, even if it was the last thing I did.
Which is why I was considering moving in with a hockey player. And not any player, of course. Because life said, “I know you’ve been having a few shitty months, but I’ll raise you this one since you’re so desperate. You’re very welcome.”
Anderson didn’t know this—no one did—but he was the only person throwing me a lifeline I so desperately needed.
I didn’t want to do this, but really, what other option did I have?
I had toured every possible apartment building in the area, and nothing affordable was available.
And crashing at Val’s house wasn’t ideal, because her boyfriend wasn’t all too happy I was there, which made no sense, because he didn’t even officially live with her anyway.
I hit my head against my desk and murmured, “God, Kennedy. You are pathetic.”
Someone knocked on my office door, and when I looked up, Anderson’s head popped in. “Hey, am I early?”
I waved him in with a shake of my head. “Right on time, come in.”
He opened the door fully and walked in with a take-out bag in tow.
My eyes involuntarily raked over him. I didn’t know how he managed to do it, but his clothes were always so…
perfectly tailored. His gray workout shirt hugged his biceps and pecs perfectly.
And believe me, Anderson had a lot of muscle to show off.
My eyes shifted a little south, and oh God, the vein porn on his arms? Straight up diabolical. They made intricate patterns underneath his pale, freckled skin and disappeared underneath the sleeve of his shirt.
Stupid hockey players and their good looks. Or, well, this specific stupid hockey player.
I shifted in my seat and stared at my computer. I had countless emails sitting in my inbox that I suddenly became very interested in, because if he caught me staring, I would have never heard the end of it. That was the last type of ammunition I wanted to give him.
“Is this your lunch hour?” I asked. “You should have told me, we could have rescheduled or something.”
“It is, but I’m leaving tomorrow night and won’t return until Monday. This is the only time I have available. Plus, I figured you’re probably hungry, too.” He grabbed a Caesar salad, a small club sandwich, and a bottle of Diet Coke from the bag and placed the items in front of me.
My stomach grumbled at the sight of my favorite type of lunch.
I’d been so slammed with work, eating was a forgotten task.
Everything was a total nightmare, as expected.
The media hadn’t let up on the fight, even though it had been almost two weeks.
Anthony made a statement that we took these types of situations seriously and were diligently working on it.
There had been some rumors circulating that the organization was contemplating a trade, but we assured the loyal fans of Chicago that their favorite star center wasn’t going anywhere.
My life had been centered on reaching out and scheduling photo ops for Anderson.
I had also been planning the Family Skate we host closer to Christmas time with Val.
And, to top it all off, Brad decided to assign Matt and me to organize Strikers Unite—the annual gala we hosted for our sponsors and season ticket holders toward the end of the season to raise money and awareness for our favorite nonprofit organizations.
It was our biggest event every year, and even though it was months away, Matt was a total nightmare to work with.
How could I put this delicately? Matt was the type of man who liked to cut corners, and thought because he had a set of balls, the world owed him shit.
We butted heads a lot. It was also no secret he thought I was “too vocal” and had even said I was “too much of a woman” behind my back.
Funny how it all worked, right? Because if I had been a man with the same personality traits, I’d have been considered “strong” and “determined.”
Double-standards sure were a bitch in the twenty-first century.
I loved my job. So what if I had to work with a misogynistic, stuck-up asshole?
He knew damn well I’d fight him back every chance I got.
He could call me everything he wanted—to my face or behind my back.
I wasn’t going to back down. Especially because I knew this was a test. I may have only been working here for three years, but I knew my boss well.
Brad taught me many things, and he loved to challenge his employees to their maximum potential.
“This is my favorite type of lunch. How did you know?”
Anderson shrugged. “I ran into Val at the employees’ cafeteria.”
“Val isn’t here today.” I raised an eyebrow. “Why are you lying?”
He had the decency to look embarrassed as he relented, “Fine.” Blush crept up his cheeks, making his ridiculously cute freckles pop. “You always get the same thing, so it was easy to remember. It was no big deal.”
I reared back in my chair in shock. He sure was observant.
It was the second time he had done something similar, and I had mixed feelings about it.
Not even Joe remembered basic things like my favorite type of soda.
He’d always been kind of clueless. It never bothered me, I guess.
I understood that not every man was the detail-oriented type.
“Why are you being so nice? Still trying to get on my good side?”
He took a seat with a scoff. “It’s just lunch, Kennedy. Not everyone’s out to get you.”
He wasn’t wrong, but the comment still left a mark.
I knew he didn’t mean anything by it. He liked to mess with me, sure, but doing things for his benefit had never been his MO.
I’d always questioned people’s intentions because it was rare for people to be genuine around me, and over the years, it made me…
cautious. Being guarded meant I came off as too rude, or a bitch. I couldn’t help it.
I gave him a small smile. “Thanks, I guess,” I mumbled. “I’ll transfer you some money for it.”
“Jonesy.” He fixed me with a bored stare. “You do realize I make millions of dollars a year, right?”
I opened the bowl and grabbed the dressing packet and opened it with my teeth then squeezed it. I placed the lid back and shook it a few times to spread the dressing around. “Always so humble.”
A knowing smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Why, thank you,” he replied as he lifted the lid of his chicken, rice, and broccoli bowl.
“So, what’d you wanna talk about?” he asked before taking a huge bite.
He swallowed it so alarmingly fast, I was afraid he was going to choke in the middle of my office.
“You’re going to choke eating that fast.”
He lifted his shirt slightly, revealing his perfectly sculpted abs, and patted his chiseled stomach. “I’m a growing boy, I can handle it.” He winked.
The movement alone was casual, but it still irritated the hell out of me.
Yes, Anderson was the bane of my existence most of the time, but it was unfair how he managed to make every action sensual.
I had been immune to it until recently. I didn’t know how it happened, or when, but I started to notice these little things about him. It was annoying, to say the least.
“Is it true you’re looking for a roommate?” I asked, not wanting to dance around the topic anymore. “I don’t want to be invading your space.”
He nodded. “I do need someone to take care of”—he coughed and cringed—“Captain Sushi, at least part-time.”
I laughed. “I thought the name was a joke.”
“Nope. Unfortunately, not a joke,” he muttered as his left leg began to bounce.
I nodded and took a bite of my salad as I stared at him.
Maybe if I fixed him with my well-known intense stare, he would break.
Or so I was hoping. Considering Hayes had been the one who brought it up, I was more than skeptical.
Let’s just say, though he was a nice guy and he meant well, he wasn’t the most reliable of the bunch.
“He’s the sweetest and won’t cause any trouble,” Anderson added.
“Is this like a temporary thing until the season is over?” I asked.
“You can stay for as long as you like.” He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. “But can I ask you a question?”
My stomach dropped slightly. I had a feeling what he was about to ask, and against my will, I gave him a soft nod to continue.
“How come you need a place to live? Aren’t you engaged?” I didn’t miss the way his gaze flicked to my ring finger for a moment before meeting my eyes again.
I reached for my diet soda and twisted the cap open with a sigh before taking a sip. I wished it had some rum. Hell, I would have even settled for tequila.
It was a fair question. But I was a private person by nature. I guess working in PR had taught me to stay out of the way because when you shared too much, it’d inevitably bring consequences. But the guy was potentially going to be my roommate, so what was the point in hiding it?
I dropped my gaze to my desk. I had been avoiding people who wanted to talk about the topic.
I hated the look on their faces. More than anything, I hated it when people pitied me.
It irked me. I wasn’t a damsel in distress.
I could survive without a man. It wasn’t the end of the world.
And believe me when I say, I was better off alone.
“I broke up with my fiancé recently and had to move out because the place was his, and finding an affordable place close to work has been impossible.”
The reason I couldn’t afford a place on my own was something I was going to keep under wraps. No one could ever find out. It was as embarrassing as it was stupid.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said softly.
“I don’t need your pity, Anderson.” My words come out snappier than I intended.
He frowned. “I don’t pity you.”
I snorted a humorless laugh but left it at that. The last thing I needed was to piss off the man who was potentially opening his home to me.
He scrubbed his face as he leaned forward. “I was thinking you could move in on Wednesday. It’s my day off, and that way I can be there to give you the tour and help you move.”
“I still have most of my stuff at his place.” Though it was barely anything.
Clothes, mostly. The condo came fully furnished, and it wasn’t much to my taste.
It was more of a bachelor pad style. His parents had decorated it as if I were a mere afterthought.
I didn’t care, for the most part. We had agreed we would move and get a place in the suburbs after the wedding.
For a girl who didn’t normally let people walk all over her, it annoyed me to no end knowing I let a lot of shit fly in our relationship. Now that we weren’t together, the goggles had started to slowly lift. It was a reality I wasn’t ready to face.
“Anderson, are you sure this is what you want?”
“It’s what Captain Sushi needs. I want to make sure he’s comfortable.”
“Okay, but this will mean we will live together. I will be invading your privacy, surely—”
“Jonesy.” He rolled his eyes, exasperated. “Are you moving in or not?”
Red flags waved in my head. But I wasn’t in the position of turning down any sort of help. I needed to swallow my pride.
After a beat of silence, I straightened my back and nodded curtly. “Yeah. I am. But”—I pointed my index finger up—“I will be paying rent. We can come up with a fair agreement later.”
He nodded as he closed the lid of his bowl and stood to his full height. “Sounds good to me, roomie.”
I groaned. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
He tilted his head back with a laugh. My eyes followed the movement of his Adam’s apple bobbing with the rumble of laughter. Had throats always been attractive, or was this something only he managed to make sexy, too? I didn’t want to know the answer. But boy, did the thought get stuck in my head.
“Probably, but I’ll make it fun, I promise.” The rasp of his voice sounded like an unspoken promise.
“Please don’t,” I retorted dryly, even though my stomach fluttered with an army of butterflies.
He gave me a knowing grin. “Whatever you say.”
This…was going to be painful.