Chapter 4
Notes
Okay, I’m freaking out, and this is my distraction.
My manager emailed me today. I have a meeting with her tomorrow.
The rumors are true. At least three people have been called in and never came back, so I’m guessing this is about to be it.
Am I catastrophizing? Yes. I am. I’m prone to doing that.
But I’m also facing down the very real opportunity of being that weird guy who lives in his parents’ basement. I don’t want to be that guy.
But hey, you are all going to benefit from it, because we get some more Milo and Rowan time.
Milo
“What are you doing down there?”
A familiar voice forced me to look up from my phone.
I was sitting cross legged on the hallway floor with my back against my condo door.
My locked condo door. Because I’d messed up, and in my hurry to get downstairs to the gym, I’d left my keys inside.
Our building had the nifty security feature of doors that locked automatically when they were closed.
It had been a great selling point when I was looking for a safe place for me and my aunt to live.
Especially since she’d spent most of my high school years yelling at me for forgetting to lock the door when I left the house.
Unfortunately, Aunt Ethel, the only other person with a key to my unit, had an active social life.
That afternoon, she was at bingo or bridge with her friends, and I knew that I wouldn’t see hide or hair from her until later.
And the building’s maintenance staff didn’t view me being locked out as an emergency.
They’d said it could take a few hours to get there and unlock my door.
I’d accepted my fate. I had been sitting on the floor for far too long.
It felt like forever. (My phone said it had been less than thirty minutes, but I was pretty sure my phone was a liar.) I couldn’t even go downstairs to the gym because I needed my keys to get in.
More specifically, I needed the key fob on my keychain.
My eyes dragged up the long legs in front of me, right up to Rowan Rangecroft’s crossed arms and handsome face.
He was looking down at me expectantly, and I realized that he was probably waiting for my answer.
I smiled what I hoped was a charmingly sheepish smile. “I locked myself out of my apartment.”
“Damn, that’s rough. Have you called maintenance?”
Did he think I was a complete idiot? Actually, scratch that.
I’d seen the way he’d looked at me in the locker room a few times, usually when Jonesy and I were goofing off before or after practice.
He probably did think I was a complete idiot.
“Why didn’t I think of that?” I asked, sarcasm dripping from my every word.
He opened his mouth again, like he was going to say something, and I cut him off.
“Yes, I called maintenance. They said it would probably be a few hours.”
“So, you’re just going to sit there until they come?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Not like I have a lot of other options.”
“What about your aunt? Edith?”
“Ethel,” I corrected. “Aunt Ethel. And she’s out with her friends. She probably would have rushed back if I called her, but I didn’t want to ruin her night.”
He nodded in understanding. There was a beat of silence, and then he extended one of his big hands down to me. “You can wait at my place.”
At his place? He did realize that at his place, it would just be the two of us.
I would probably end up talking his ear off and annoying him, the same way I had the week before in the gym when he’d snapped at me for talking too much.
I’d been careful not to have a repeat performance since that night.
I hadn’t spent a lot of time with him before or after practice.
I’d smiled at him in the hallways, but I hadn’t talked to him much.
Once or twice, I’d gone down to the gym and saw him on the treadmill through the door.
Instead of going in, I went outside for a run.
Now that I thought of it, I could have done that instead of just waiting at my door. But then, I would’ve been locked out of the building until either Aunt Ethel or maintenance showed up to let me in. That probably would have been worse.
Rowan’s hand still lingered in front of me. “Are you sure?”
“We have a flight tomorrow and a game in two days. I’m not dealing with the knowledge that our running back isn’t up to snuff, because I left him sitting on the floor for a few hours.”
That made sense. I reached out and clasped his hand.
He pulled me up with an ease that was actually impressive.
I wasn’t a small man, not by any means, but Rowan Rangecroft was a giant.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d made such quick work of lifting me to my feet.
He could probably carry me without breaking a sweat.
Oh, that was not a helpful mental image.
I should not think about my very attractive teammate being able to lift me that easily, because my mind started to wander down a dangerous path. A very sexy, but very dangerous path.
The mental image shattered when he dropped his hand from mine. He motioned for me to follow him, and he led me across the hall to his unit. He hadn’t forgotten his keys, and he opened his door right up.
I didn’t know what I expected his condo to look like.
Maybe I thought I expected it to look a lot like mine.
It did, in terms of layout, but that was as far as the similarities went.
My condo looked like a home. His looked like an overpriced hotel for executives.
The open floor plan was decked out in black leather and chrome fittings.
There was a large black leather couch that took up most of the room and a black glass and chrome coffee table situated in front of it.
The large, flat screen television was mounted on the wall over a glass and chrome entertainment center.
There were black leather bar stools by the long counter that divided the kitchen and living areas.
What there wasn’t were splashes of color or personal effects. The built-in bookshelves along the far wall were empty. There were no framed pictures. There weren’t even generic art prints. It was cold and empty, and it filled me with an immense sadness.
How could anyone live in a place that felt that impersonal?
“It’s a short-term rental. It came furnished,” he explained. Had my thoughts been written that plainly on my face? “It was either something like this or staying in a hotel.” His nose scrunched, and for the first time, I thought that maybe we were on the same page.
The idea of staying in a hotel long term sounded like a nightmare to me. I spent enough time in hotels throughout the season, but I couldn’t imagine living in one. “You should buy some decorations for it. A throw pillow or something? Maybe get some pictures?”
He let out a snort of laughter and settled onto the couch. He motioned for me to sit, and I folded myself onto the other end of it, my body angled toward him.
“I’m not too worried about it,” he told me. “My place back in Fayetteville’s decorated, but that was my home for years.”
“And you’re not sure if this is going to be a years thing?”
“This isn’t,” he said bluntly.
Okay, wow. So, he wasn’t planning on staying a Scorpion for that long.
It made sense. A lot of players got moved around at a moment’s notice.
I didn’t know the details of his contract.
I didn’t know if he’d been traded on a one-year deal or if he’d signed something more long-term.
Not that it mattered, because he probably had something more long-term back in North Carolina.
“I’ll find something more long-term later. Maybe after the season’s over, or maybe before then. I’m not too worried about it right now. I’m more worried about making sure I know the playbook, you know?”
Oh. He meant this unit in particular.
“You should still get something to add some warmth.” I was probably being annoying again. I sighed. “But I guess it’s your place, your decision.”
He didn’t say anything. I wondered if that meant I’d said too much.
I probably had. I shifted uncomfortably on the couch, my legs sticking to the leather.
If he had some kind of throw blanket, I wouldn’t be having this problem.
It wouldn’t be a problem if I’d not been wearing gym shorts, either, so I guessed it was partially on me.
“So,” he said after a few moments of very awkward silence, “are you ready for tomorrow’s flight?”
I grimaced. “I was planning on packing after I went to the gym,” I admitted. I hadn’t done anything beyond picking up my pregame outfit from the dry cleaner that morning. “But now, I’ll probably be rushing around and I’m going to end up forgetting something. I already know it.”
“You should make a list,” he advised. “That way you don’t forget something important.”
“Tried that. If I don’t pack in a certain order, I forget things.
It’s just how it is. Doesn’t matter how many lists I make.
” I’d learned this the hard way. Even when I did everything the way I typically did, I ended up forgetting things.
I’d learned to live with it, and as long as I didn’t forget anything I needed for the game, I was usually okay with it.
“Are you ready for it? Have you ever played at the Nashville stadium?”
The Fayetteville Foxes were part of the Union Conference, not the National Conference.
They only played the teams from our division about every four years.
There were teams in the Union Conference I’d never played, and there were stadiums I wouldn’t visit until much later in my career, if I ever visited them at all.
And that was just provided that I stayed a Scorpion my entire career.
I couldn’t remember the last time the Foxes division played the NC North teams.
“My rookie year,” he answered. “Last time we played them, it was a home game. I’ve only played the Trojans twice.”