Austin
FIVE
“Wait, say that one more time. I don’t think I heard you right.” The hand that’s holding my beer is frozen in mid-air, the rim of the bottle poised in front of my open lips.
Stella rolls her eyes, a hand going to her hip.
“I told my co-worker you’d join us for dinner.
It’ll be me, Emmett, you, and her. She’s thirty-three years old, never been married, no kids, and makes great money as an anesthesiologist. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, and very nice. I think you’d get along really well.”
I set my drink down on the counter in front of me, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Stell, for the nine hundredth time, I don’t want to go on a double date with you.
I appreciate the offer, but I’m not interested.
I’ve got way too much going on right now to get into a new relationship, and I certainly don’t want to lead anyone on and make them think that’s what I’m looking for. ”
She lifts a dubious brow. “Too much going on? Austin, do you hear yourself right now? You go to work and come home, except for when you’re hanging out with the guys, which is two—maybe three times a week. Even on those nights, you’re in bed by nine. It’s so boring.”
“Maybe I like boring,” I toss back, taking a sip of my drink. The cold liquid slides down my throat, and for just a moment, I’m at peace. At least until she starts back up with the reminders of just how pathetic I really am.
“I don’t know how to say this nicely”—she leans forward, her palms flat on the counter across from me—“so I’m just going to say it. You’re not getting any younger, Austin. And I’m not saying that you need to be in a relationship to be happy, because you don’t, but I worry about you being lonely.”
I shrug, my shoulders slumping, but she continues, this time her tone softer as she reaches out and takes my hand.
“When you made the decision to retire, do you remember what you said to me? You said that you have all this”—she gestures around the gigantic, luxury home I live in by myself—“and nobody to share it with. Those were your words, and we all want you to have the happily ever after you deserve. But the clock is ticking.”
Setting the bottle down, I let my cheeks fill with air before exhaling slowly.
This is Stella—my teammate’s wife and the woman who was my live-in nurse while I was going through what should’ve been a really dark time.
My career-ending shoulder injury, followed by an infection that almost took my life, had the potential to really fuck me up mentally.
But she was right there, tough-loving me through it all.
She’s my best friend, and I know she means it when she says my happiness is important to her.
“I hear you,” I say quietly. “I don’t want to be alone forever. Most guys my age are married with children, and here I am, freshly retired with no idea where to start.”
Her lips pull to one side contemplatively, which is her go-to move when she’s trying to find the right words.
If I’m honest, though, I like the unfiltered version of Stella’s advice.
It may sting a little sometimes, but it always hits the mark.
I probably need whatever reality check she’s holding back right now.
“Just say it, Stell.”
She smirks, amused by the fact that I can read her like a fucking book, although I don’t know why.
There was a time when she was all I had, and I was the same for her.
That is, until she and Emmett, the Renegades’ star wide receiver, crossed paths after divorcing seven years prior.
Fate brought her here to Cleveland—back to the love of her life—and I got the most loyal, loving, pain-in-the-ass friend I’ve ever had.
I wouldn’t trade her for the world.
“Do you think maybe you should knock that chip off your shoulder and stop self-sabotaging because you’re afraid of getting hurt?”
Fuck. Yeah, that one’s gonna leave a mark.
She’s right, as usual. But that doesn’t make it suck any less to hear out loud.
Bianca ripped my heart out when she cheated with the real estate agent she told me not to worry about—while searching for the home we were supposed to move into together—and I’d be lying if I said I’ve moved on from it.
I’ve all but forgotten that she exists, but the way it felt to find out along with the rest of the world when photos of them looking freshly fucked surfaced on the internet?
That’s not something I’ve been able to recover from.
I loved her. We were supposed to spend our lives together, and she threw me away like I wasn’t enough, when that’s all I ever wanted to be.
Rattled, I lift my beer from the counter and bring it to my lips, anxiety gripping at my throat so tightly that I can barely swallow.
Stella doesn’t let me off the hook, though, waiting for me to answer her question as she taps her hot pink nails against the marble.
She’s the only one in our friend group who really challenges me when it comes to my personal life, because she knows how badly I want a wife and kids of my own.
My parents passed away in a car accident when I was in college, I have no siblings, and we were never very close with my aunts and uncles.
The Renegades are my family, and while it’s been amazing to watch them all fall in love over the past few years, Stella’s not wrong. I am lonely.
I want my life to begin.
“Alright,” I say, carefully setting the bottle back down. “I’ll go on the date.”
Her entire expression brightens, an ear-to-ear grin blooming across her face.
She hops up and down, clapping her hands together with a squeal.
You’d think she just won a new car or something with her over-the-top reaction, but I don’t roast her about it because I know she just wants to see me happy.
I want that, too. But at my age, I wonder if maybe I’m too late, and the family I’ve always wanted is too far out of reach.
“Oh my God, Austin! We’re going to have so much fun, I promise!”
“Fun doing what?” a masculine voice says from the doorway, and we turn just in time to watch Emmett enter the room.
As always, Stella beams, even more excitement radiating from her tiny frame as she takes off toward him.
She’s wrapped around him like a koala bear seconds later, his hands under her ass as they kiss like they haven’t seen each other in months.
Stella is the first to pull away, answering his question with a smile as he carries her toward the counter. “Austin finally agreed to double date with us. I’m setting him up with Doctor Kessler.”
His expression twists, and immediately, I want to know what he’s thinking. But thankfully, it’s Emmett we’re talking about, and he never holds a single thing back. “I don’t think that’s a good pairing, Wild Girl.”
She scrunches her nose, unwrapping her legs from around his waist and sliding down until her feet hit the floor. “What? Why not? She’s gorgeous, classy, successful, and super smart. What’s not to like?”
Em lifts a brow. “She’s amazing, babe. But Austin needs some excitement in his life, and Doctor Kessler is kind of”—he pauses, looking for the right word—“boring.”
See. The man doesn’t mince words.
She rolls her eyes. “Okay, so maybe her idea of a good time is frequenting the local antique shops to look for porcelain dolls to add to her collection, but she’s so nice. And—most importantly—she’s single. She makes good money, too, so we won’t have to wonder if he’s being used.”
“Porcelain dolls, Stell?” I ask. “Abso-fucking-lutely not. I’m not inviting that kind of creepy energy into my life. My aunt had some when I was a kid, and I swear to you, their eyes moved.”
“They did not,” she replies, her shoulders slumping. “Anyway, I’m not asking you to move in with her. Just go out with us. If anything, it’ll be good practice so you can finally get back in the game.”
I scowl in her direction, my upper lip curling. “I don’t think I like you meddling like this.”
She smiles sweetly. “Payback is a bitch, Baker. It isn’t fun having someone stick their nose in your business, is it?”
“No,” I grumble. At least when I was scheming to get her and Em back together, setting them up in situations where they’d have no choice but to work their shit out, I knew they both wanted it.
They may have been in denial at the time, but any idiot could’ve seen the way they missed each other.
They were destined to reconcile eventually. I just helped them along.
“Too bad,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Friday at seven o’clock. I’ll text you the details.”
Goddammit.