Chapter 10
JACK
One thing I’ve never struggled with is sleep—something Jon used to comment on when I would pass out on the uncomfortable and noisy team bus. Give me any kind of surface, flat or otherwise, and I’ll be drifting off in no time.
The exception to the rule? Apparently, that’s when Kendra Hart is climbing into bed just on the other side of my bedroom wall.
Lying awake until the early hours, thinking over my new reality, was a unique kind of torture—a cocktail of fantasy and panic, topped off with a what the fuck am I doing garnish.
The team plane leaves for Colorado in three hours, and last night, I got even less than that in sleep.
Since I spent all of yesterday morning cleaning my apartment and packing for this away series, it takes me next to no time to get up, grab a shower, get dressed, and gather my bags.
It’s just after five in the morning when I quietly step out of my bedroom. I do not expect the dim light that creeps down the hallway from the silent living area.
Did I leave a light on last night after Kendra went to bed?
The answer to that question? No, and also, fuck.
Like she can sense the presence of my eyes burning into her Lycra-covered ass, Kendra stands from a weird pose and spins around to face me, AirPods tucked into her ears, the TV lit behind her.
“Jack,” she says, pulling out her earbuds. She reaches across and pauses the program, which I can now see was some kind of Pilates class.
With my case in one hand, I lift my other and motion to the screen, but instead, it looks like I’m staring at the skimpy blue crop top she’s wearing.
Words try—and fail—to leave my mouth as continue pointing at her tits.
“Er you, um, you do Pilates?” I ask.
She turns to the TV and then back at me, a shine coating the skin on her chest and forehead.
Jesus.
“Badly, but yes. I try and get a session in at least three times a week.”
I remain still until my brain finally kicks into gear and I drop my hand.
“Heading out then?” she asks.
“Yeah, I thought you’d still be sleeping.”
She picks up her water bottle from the coffee table and shakes her head on a sip. “No. I have soccer practice”—she pauses and raises a challenging brow at me—“later this morning, but I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get my stretching in now rather than stare at the walls.”
I nod. “You didn’t sleep well?”
She sets her bottle back on the table and then looks down at the blue yoga mat beneath her feet—which, to be honest, has seen better days.
“No. Normally, I do, but I don’t know. Maybe it was just a first night in a strange place …
I mean, not that the bed isn’t comfortable or you haven’t been welcoming. ”
I can’t help but return a raised brow as she continues to ramble at me.
Cute as fuck.
Her eyes fall to my dress shoes and she opens her palm, fiddling with the AirPods in her hand.
“Do you usually wear those to work out?” I tip my chin at her hand.
At this point, I’m now running behind schedule and risking pissing off not just Jon, but the pilot, but my feet refuse to move from this spot between my living and kitchen area.
“Sometimes. I just didn’t want to wake you this morning. I wasn’t sure how early when you said early.”
This time, I’m successful when I look at the screen rather than her chest. “Do you find it helps you? You know, with your game?”
When she reaches up to adjust her ponytail, her crop top rides up with it, but I fight to keep my eyes on the paused instructor on the screen.
“I guess it’s no secret that I have ongoing issues with my left knee. My ACL is relatively unstable, so I do all I can to strengthen it. Pilates is great for that, and with a strong core comes reduced risk of injury. I’m barely into my pro career and already facing physical battles.”
I know she’s struggled with sporadic injuries; I remember overhearing Tyler talk about them in college.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the keys to my truck, knowing I have to get going, but still unable to prevent myself from asking one last question. “Got any plans for your upcoming birthday?”
Last night, she dropped that she was turning twenty-three soon, but I’d already known.
I never went to any of the parties her friends threw for her, but it always stuck with me that we were born exactly a week apart, and consequently, we’re both Libras.
When I’d found that out in our first year of college, I can’t say it surprised me.
Kendra and I are similar in a number of ways, but mainly in that we love to socialize.
As I stand, waiting for her to finish another sip of water, I can’t help but hope that she noticed my birthday when we were in college.
She shakes her head slowly and runs the back of her hand across her mouth. “No. I was planning on having a few of my teammates over at my place for pizza and maybe a couple of cocktails, but”—she shrugs and picks up the TV remote—“that one went out the window.”
A few beats pass between us until she points to the keys in my hand. “Better get going, or you’ll be catching a red-eye to Colorado at this rate.”
I look down at my keys and then back at Kendra, my brain in overdrive at all she said. “Right, yeah. I’ll be back in three nights.”
Kendra
The second the door closes behind Jack, I look down at my skimpy black Lycra shorts and sky-blue crop top.
Nice one, Kendra. Way to make a guy feel uncomfortable in his own place.
With my focus completely off track, I point the remote at Chelsea Rayne—my favorite online Pilates coach—and the screen goes black, plunging the room into darkness.
Overflowing with frustration at my lack of awareness for my roommate, I grab my phone and open up the message thread with Tyler. The last five texts are all from him, asking if we can meet up to talk things through.
I stare down at the flashing cursor and think over the best way to go about this, Jack’s advice to bring closure repeating in my brain.
Me
How about we meet when you get back from your away series? I can hand you your stuff at the same time.
The second I hit Send, panic shoots through me. How would I know he’s on an away series without someone telling me? Or worse still, me tracking his movements like I’m missing him or something.
I open up a new message and begin rushing out another response as three dots appear below. My fingers fly across the keyboard, and I feel like I’m in a race to send an explanation before he can get there first.
Tyler beats me to it, and I pause on typing to read his response.
Tyler
Yeah, sure. What about Friday night? I can pick you up, and we can go to that French place you always wanted to try out. P.S. Good to know you remember my schedule. *winking face*
I audibly groan into the dark room as I move across to the L-shaped couch and drop down with a thump. Picking me up is not an option, and no way am I letting him take me out to dinner. And to the place I suggested more times than I’ve run sprint drills? A little too late for that.
Me
How about a coffee somewhere?
I think back to the place I ran into Jack and smile at the way I fucking loved that scone—with or without the jam on top.
Me
There’s a café not far from your place, called Rise Up. I’ll meet you there at one, if that works.
Dots appear and disappear over and over again, and I’m ready to give up on waiting and head for the coffee maker when my cell finally buzzes.
Tyler
Well, it’s nowhere near your place, but if you’re set on meeting me somewhere and not having me pick you up, then I guess that’s okay.
I’m poised and ready to shoot Tyler a reply when Ollie lights up my screen.
Making my way over to the kitchen, I flick on the coffee maker and hit Accept.
“What time do you call this?” I ask.
“Noon,” my brother replies with a single word.
Ollie is four years older than me, but didn’t go to college since he got signed by a top Spanish team at eighteen, and he has been playing in Europe ever since.
And it shows; his accent is sometimes confused—a bit like Jack’s. I can still detect Ollie’s strong heritage, but occasionally, a twang of the place where he’s spent years living creeps in.
“And only six here,” I complain.
“Yeah, well, I figured you’d be up and busy training, like the pro you are. Or if you weren’t and you were wallowing instead, then I’d stop you from being a lazy brat.”
As I pour myself a black coffee, my mind circles back to his wallowing reference.
“Why would I be feeling sorry for myself?”
Since it’s only ever been me and my brother, we’ve always been close.
Although I can’t deny the envy I’ve had over the ease he experiences in his career as opposed to mine.
I remember him complaining one Thanksgiving a couple of years back that his team in Madrid hadn’t paid a higher performance bonus.
It’d been frozen at a casual seven hundred thousand euros.
I wanted to slap him for that. Instead, I threw a green bean at him.
“Well, I was hoping you’d tell me that, Kend. You know, since you’re my sister and everything.” The background noise behind him disappears, and I realize he’s just climbed into his car when I hear the door shut.
Still no wiser, I take a sip of coffee and pull back when I burn my lips, remembering Jack’s coffee maker is way more efficient than mine when it comes to actually serving a drink hot.
“I’m sorry, but I’m lost.”
He blows out a breath. “Tyler, Kend. Your now ex-boyfriend, allegedly. I thought you’d be crying over him, but apparently, you’ve forgotten.” He chuckles. “Now, him calling me kind of makes sense, come to think of it.”
My brows knit together. “What?”
Ollie exhales again. “Yeah, you know how I barely even spoke to the guy since he was a huge douche? Well, he called me out of the blue last night, asking me to talk with you. Sounded kind of angry more than upset though. He was fed up with you ignoring him or something.”