Chapter 11 Annika
The sound of voices from inside, followed by raucous cheers, makes my stomach pitch. Not only am I unsure of the welcome I’ll receive, but I’m interrupting the Arizona Reapers game.
You’re off your game, Nik.
But it’s too late now. Another day has already passed, and the guilt is eating me up from the inside out. So here I am, the lasagna in the baking dish getting a little too warm in my hands. Taking a deep breath, I use my elbow to awkwardly knock on the door.
Soft chuckles get closer until the door swings open, bringing me face to face with a startled Owen.
“Nik? Is everything okay?” His eyes dart behind me and around the landing between our apartments.
“Everything is fine, Ox. I just… Um…” I start to chew on my lower lip before I decide I can be a big girl and pull my panties up—not that I’m wearing any. “I’ve come with a peace offering.”
I hold the dish out, and he stares at it for a second before his eyes slowly inch up to meet mine.
“I smell garlic!” Carson calls out, his footsteps coming closer. “Please tell me you ordered…”
“It’s homemade lasagna, and I’ve got a thing of garlic bread that just has to go in the oven for about five min. I’ll run back to my place to grab the salad I put together. Didn’t have enough hands to carry it all. And—”
“You made us food?” Carson asks, eyes wide.
Owen’s rapt stare hasn’t left my face. “Says it’s a peace offering.”
“Sure it’s not poisoned?” Roscoe chimes in sarcastically from somewhere inside.
My eyes narrow.
“He’s kidding.” Owen reaches out and grabs the heavy dish. “Here, let me take that.”
Carson takes the bag with the garlic bread. “You said oven for five, right?”
I nod. “Instructions are on the bag. I'll run and grab the salad.”
“Just come in. No need to knock.”
I glance up and see Owen’s unreadable gaze still locked on me.
“Okay. Be right back.”
The entirety of the short walk to my place and into my kitchen to grab the bowl off the counter, I ask myself what the hell I’m doing, though deep down inside I know the answer.
Despite all the years between that past and the present, I still feel absolutely terrible for how I treated them.
Lasagna doesn’t solve all problems, but it can’t make them worse, right?
Approaching the door, I hesitate for only a second before grabbing the knob and walking in.
It feels… I don’t know…strange to be entering into Owen’s space.
With one foot inside, I can already tell that this apartment is much larger than mine.
The living room and kitchen share a wide open, airy space with a massive TV on the wall that’s broadcasting the football game.
There’s a short hallway with what appears to be more doors, but I’m dragged out of my not-so-subtle snoopery by a low voice.
“Here, I’ve got it.” Smooth hands brush against mine, sending goosebumps racing along my skin.
Roscoe doesn’t look at me, just takes the bowl and carries it into the kitchen.
A little unsure what to do with myself, my hands wring together nervously as I watch them hustle about the modern space, taking in the white cabinets and pretty white and gray marble backsplash that matches the center island.
There are three barstools there, and I can picture the guys hanging out together, eating pizza and watching whatever game may be playing.
If things had played out differently, Dre might’ve been right here with them.
“You look like a deer in headlights, books,” Carson says softly, having come closer than I realized. “Aren’t you gonna come eat with us?”
I’m shaking my head before I can fully process his words. “No. That’s for you guys. An…apology of sorts.”
“Apology?” Roscoe says, the spatula frozen mid-air with a generous slice of lasagna already on it.
“Um, yeah. For, well, the way I treated y’all back in high school.”
All three of them stare at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Nik, look—”
I hold up my hand, which is shaking ever so slightly.
Hopefully, they don’t notice. “No, let me get this out there, then I’ll leave you to your meal.
” I can’t quite bring myself to look them in the eyes, so I stare at the pretty twinkle lights strung around the top of the cabinets.
“I’m sorry. How I behaved back in high school is unforgivable.
We were friends, and I should’ve at least talked to you before I labeled you enemies.
I targeted you every chance I got. Called you awful names. Bad mouthed you. I…”
Tears are threatening, but I ruthlessly force them back because I have no right to them.
“Nik, we never blamed you. We—”
“But you should have.” I shake my head. “Now that I know just how wrong I was, I'm struggling to understand why each of you lifted even a finger to help with my ex. I don’t deserve that.”
“You think we’d just sit back and let a man terrorize an innocent woman?” Roscoe has abandoned the food in favor of crossing his arms over his chest. “That the kind of men you think we are?”
“But I’m not innocent. I’m—”
“But nothing, Nik. That man followed you halfway around the globe, refuses to take no for an answer, and is genuinely a dickhead. We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior ‘round here, especially from outsiders who are judgmental bigots that wouldn’t know the first thing about decency if it bit them in the ass. You should know that.”
He’s right. If there’s one thing—other than the broken stoplight—that everyone complains about, it’s outsiders who threaten or put down our small-town way of life.
“And you’re not just an innocent woman, books,” Carson says softly. “You’re our friend.”
My breath catches, and tears threaten again. “Even after the terrible things I said to you guys?”
“Look,” Owen says, placing both palms on the countertop. “That was years ago. We hold no hard feelings, and we understand why things went down the way they did. We could’ve handled things better on our end as well, and—”
“Wait.” I can’t help but interrupt when his words touch on something that’s been lurking in the back of my mind.
“That brings up a good point. You all never tried to correct me. Never tried to give me a reason to even question what I thought of as the truth. Instead, it was almost like you egged me on. Why?”
The three men share looks, and I can’t help but admire their closeness while being jealous it doesn’t include me.
Not really dating, Annika, I remind myself for the umpteenth time.
Carson leans back against the island, flips his hat backward, then slips his hands into the pockets of his black sport shorts. “That’s a two-part answer.”
“Okay. Part one?”
Owen straightens. “We’d never come between you and your brother.”
“And part two?”
“Ego,” Roscoe says, his eyes glued to my face. “It hurt that you blindly took his side even though we one hundred percent understood why.”
“So you don’t hate me?” I whisper.
Owen starts to take a step toward me but stops himself. “We could never hate you, love bug.”
Meeting each of their eyes, an exhausted breath rushes out between my lips. I feel like I’ve run a marathon even though I’ve done nothing but stand here while my brain runs an emotional gauntlet. I don’t think I realized, until this very moment, just how heavily the toll was weighing on me.
“So we’re good?”
“Of course we are,” Carson says, a large smile crossing his face. “We’re honestly just happy to have you home.”
The others nod.
“I’m happy to be home, believe it or not.”
Carson motions to the food with his head. “Now, come on. Let’s eat.”
“Oh, no. Nope. That is all for you guys. I’ll let you get back to football.” I turn to head out the door, but Owen’s voice stops me.
“Stay.”
Looking over my shoulder, I find all of them watching me.
“Have you eaten?” Carson asks.
“No.”
He grins. “Then eat with us. We’re watching the game. It should be a good one. They’re playing the Cyclones, and I’ve got money on the Reapers.”
“I don’t know…”
“We don’t bite.” Roscoe’s face is completely emotionless, but there’s something underlying his tone that gets certain parts of me way more excited than they have a right to be.
“Well, most of us don’t,” Carson quips, earning a slap to the back of the head from Roz. “Ouch, bro. Geez.”
I chuckle because this is what I missed being a part of most—their banter, good-natured ribbing, and love taps.
“Stay,” Owen repeats. “It’s just a meal.”
I should stick to my guns and head home. Except… I can’t seem to get my feet to move in that direction.
“And friends share meals.”
“Only if you really don’t mind…” I hedge.
I really shouldn’t, but to be honest, I wouldn’t mind watching the game and the one thing missing from the apartment is a TV.
“Not one single bit.” Carson turns, grabs a plate, and holds it out to me.
We spend the next forty-five minutes eating and avoiding anything to do with serious conversation.
Instead, we shout at players and refs alike when plays don’t go our way and cheer like lunatics when they score.
Nights like this used to happen frequently back before everything went to hell.
Didn’t realize just how much I missed it.
The game is tied, fourteen to fourteen with ten seconds left. Reapers have the ball at the five-yard line, and it’s third down.
“I swear to Christ, if they miss this, I might just become a Cyclone fan.”
Giving Owen the side-eye, I grin. “Aren’t you actively being scouted by the Reapers? Wouldn’t that be frowned upon?”
One eyebrow raises. “You been asking around about me, love bug?”
I roll my eyes. “Dre hasn’t shut up about it. He wants an offer before you get one.”
Owen laughs. “Competitive bastard.”
“Go, go, go!” Carson shouts, throwing himself to his feet from his spot on their comfy sectional.
The Reapers’ quarterback fires the football right into the hands of the wide receiver, who catches it in mid-air and scores the touchdown for the win.
“Yes!” I shout, clapping wildly.
Owen high-fives Carson. “Thank fuck. I really didn’t want to be a Cyclones fan.”
I laugh, immediately followed by a yawn. “Alright, fellas, I need to head home. Have to be up early tomorrow. Bookstores can’t run themselves.”
Standing, I notice them all once again sharing looks.
“Look, I know we didn’t talk about the situation with Frederick, but I know him, and it won’t be long before he grows bored and goes home. We can keep up the pretense for maybe another week, two max, then things can go back to the way they were.”
“About that, books…”
I study the three of them, who suddenly look shady as fuck.
“What? If you need to drop the charade now, that’s totally fine.
I realize I didn’t even ask if there was anyone else in your lives, and I’d never want to come in between any relationships y’all might have.
I can deal with him on my own. No worries at—”
“Owen told him we’re all moving in together.”
Roscoe’s words halt everything in my brain. “I’m sorry. It sounded like you just said that he thinks we’re moving in together.”
Owen runs his hands down his face. “Yup. That’s my fault. It just…came out. I didn’t think about the ramifications before I said the words.”
I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale slowly to avoid lashing out. Old habits die hard, apparently.
“Okay. No big deal. I don’t need to really move in. We can just play it up in order to get him to back off.”
“But we were talking, and…” Carson’s watching me nervously when I open my eyes. “What if we all really did move in here?”
“What? No!”
“Look, baby girl,” Roscoe chimes in, “we’ve been worried about what he might do if you’re alone in that apartment by yourself. He seems to be getting a little desperate.”
“I can’t.”
“You can,” Roz counters.
“I won’t.”
“Please, Nik? I really have a bad feeling about that guy,” Owen says, and the worry straining his voice knocks all the wind out of my sails.
My mind is once again a mess, fighting the absolute denial while also wondering about the what ifs. The angel and devil on my shoulders are bickering back and forth, and all I know is that I’m too tired for this conversation.
“Ya know what? We’re going to talk about this tomorrow. Right now, I don’t have the energy or the brain power to rationally discuss all the reasons why that is a terrible idea.”
“We have tutoring tomorrow night. Don’t forget,” Carson reminds me.
“Shit. Thanks for the reminder. I need to get that area shifted around in the store.”
“I can come over a little early and help?”
The independent woman in me is ready to argue, but the exhausted girl who is tired of doing everything alone decides to give in.
“That would be great. Thanks.” I slip around the coffee table and head for the door. Before I leave, I glance over my shoulder. “Night, guys.”
“Sweet dreams, books.”
“Good night, love bug.”
“Night, baby girl.”
All that testosterone and all those nicknames have me feeling things that are going to need to be handled by DJ Vibrato before I fall asleep.
And that’s one more reason I can’t move in with them. He’s not exactly the world’s quietest B.O.B., and with all the temptation residing closer than ever, I’d be going through batteries faster than the Energizer Bunny could keep up with. I’d keep him going and going and…
Yeah. Moving in is definitely not an option.