Chapter 2
Chapter Two
NASH
“Welcome to your new home sweet home.” Wyatt spreads his arms out wide. “Your room is all ready for you.”
I want to barrel my way into those arms and have him tell me everything will be all right, but I keep my feet firmly in place.
We drag my luggage through the door of Wyatt’s three-story townhome in downtown Houston.
“It’s like it always is when I visit, I’m just staying way longer.
” It’s so weird that for the last year I’ve been the one visiting him when this is my hometown.
Now, I’ll be living here with Wyatt while I get back on my feet.
Surely nothing can go wrong living with the man you’re secretly in love with, yet also in the ‘just friends’ zone.
“I put more towels in your bathroom for that exact reason.”
“Thank you.”
“And I’ve already picked up a six pack of your preferred brewski.”
“Can we start there? I don’t want to deal with any of this right now.” I gesture at the mound of luggage beside me.
Wyatt takes a bow like a Victorian butler. “As you wish.”
We ascend the stairs toward the second floor, which is actually the main floor. Everything looks the same as the last time I visited. Weird that he hasn’t bothered to hang even one thing on the wall in the time he’s been here.
I’ve only ever stayed here a maximum of like five days, mostly to see him play, but I’m sure living here while I get my feet firmly entrenched on American soil will be fine.
We spent so much time at each other’s places in college, it was almost like we were living together.
There was a month the football house didn’t have a working dryer, so Wyatt washed and dried all his clothes at my apartment, so we spent a lot of time together then.
I could have stayed with my parents, but who wants to do that? Besides, their suburb is much farther from the practice gym and game arena.
“The place looks great,” I say as I set the flowers on the kitchen island.
“Thanks, I’ll probably sign for another year in July when the Hurricanes decide what to do with me.”
“Do you like the area?”
“I do…” He hedges, leaving more unsaid than just his simple reply. Seems par for the course in this friendship.
I know Texas was never in his long-term goals.
When I met him our freshman year of college at the University of Wisconsin, he never had a plan outside of Wisconsin and being a Green Bay Butcher.
That was it for him. His childhood dream.
But after finishing his rookie contract with the Butchers, he left last year—heartbroken—to play a one year ‘prove it’ contract with the Hurricanes.
“Well, maybe you’ll buy something here. No rush obviously since now you have a roommate. Besides, I came here to play volleyball,” I say with fake sternness, “not to be your personal mover. So stay put for now, huh?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got no plans on going anywhere as long as you are here.”
As he strides toward the fridge I watch, inspecting him, wondering if there was more to what he just said but squashing that wayward thought as soon as it entered my mind.
I know the Hurricanes lost in the first round of the playoffs this year, and that must have stung.
To go that far and yet not far enough. I know the feeling.
We’ve talked about it enough over the phone, so I don’t bring it up now.
As I round the island, stepping up to him, I say, “Speaking of plans. What are the plans for this?”
“This?”
“Us,” I say, and his eyes go wide. Now that I think about it, my heart is also kind of beating fast.
“What about us?”
“Living together?” I elbow his ribs teasingly. “Roomies.” He seems to deflate at my teasing, which is weird. We’ve always had a lighthearted friendship even when I’ve wanted more.
“Why would it be any different than when you’ve stayed before?”
“This will be much longer than a holiday weekend.”
“That’s kind of a given.”
I roll my eyes. “I was just saying.” I grab the peanut butter pretzels out of the pantry and start munching. I never like the meals they serve on the long-haul flights, so I’m starving.
“We’re friends, Nash. It’s not going to be that hard to be roommates.”
“What if I want to bring a guy home?” I pop another pretzel in my mouth to cover my own shock at what just came out of me. Why did I say that to him? Why would I want him to think I’m interested in anyone else? If he brought someone home, could I stand to witness that?
Wyatt’s normal blue eyes take on a shade of gray. Like the Arctic Ocean when it’s trying to sink a ship. “No,” he scowls. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that look on his face.
“No?” I balk. “What do you mean no?”
“I’m not letting any random man in here. There’s a rule for you—no strangers.”
“If I know him well enough to fu–” Wyatt cuts me off mid profanity. “I said no.” The heat I hear in his voice takes me by surprise. It also makes my stomach swoop. I can only imagine how good that commanding voice would sound when he’s telling me to—whoa. Stop that right there.
I put the pretzels back in the pantry, using the three seconds I’m not facing him to let a wave of confusion roll through me at the seriousness in his voice.
What was that about? I dabbled in dating during college, though nothing ever got serious.
I was too busy with school and volleyball to have a boyfriend.
By the time I realized my feelings for him, we were firmly in friend territory, destined to go our separate ways.
Same for Italy; though, I may have sampled the local specialty on occasion when the mood struck.
Nothing ever got close to serious though, because none of them were Wyatt.
“Okay, geez. I hear you loud and clear.” I dust the salt off my hands and move to fill a cup with water. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m jet-lagged and gross. I want to get settled in before we do anything else today.”
And before I do something crazy like kiss you. Just like we did the night before I left for Rome.
Whatever came over him a second ago is gone now.
In its wake, he looks a little bashful and unsure.
When I walk past him to head up the stairs, I put my hand on his shoulder.
I’m going to poke the bear. “Your teammates don’t count as strangers, right?
” His scowl comes back, brows pinched together, and I duck as he tries to wrap his arms around me.
“You little–”
I squeak as I bound up the stairs, just escaping his grasp. I run all the way to my room. It isn’t until I shut the door behind me and lean against it that I realize I left all of my stuff downstairs.
“Shit.”
In all of about three seconds of our tenure as roommates, I’ve already put my foot in my mouth several times. Why the hell would I ask about bringing a man home? Not only am I not looking for that, but I’m going to be way too busy making this league work to waste time fooling around with a guy…
Unless, of course, Wyatt is amenable.