The Den: The Complete Series

Chapter 1

CHAPTER

ONE

MILES

The Uber pulls up to a typical Chicago three-flat in the heart of the north side, just across the street from the Colts baseball stadium.

The driver retrieves my bag as droves of people file down the sidewalks toward the stadium, wearing red-and-blue jerseys with their favorite players’ names on the back.

“About fucking time!” Siska screams from the doorway of the bar on the ground floor of the building.

I glance at the sign above my old college buddy and teammate on the Chicago Grizzlies.

Peepers Alley is the complete opposite of every other high-end bar on this street. Where everything else around here is modern, Peepers’s dingy appearance makes it seem as though they’re trying to be unique or stand out.

I grab my suitcase and duffel bag from the driver—all my other belongings were delivered earlier today from the rental I’ve been staying at since being traded to Chicago in the middle of last season.

“We couldn’t have done this when there wasn’t a Colts game going on?” I say from the other side of the sidewalk, then I thank my Uber driver and tip him before pocketing my phone.

“Dad! Dad!” A boy, probably about eleven, looks between Siska and me, tugging on his dad’s arm. “That’s Miles Cavanaugh and Damon Siska.”

I smile at the kid and wink. His eyes widen and I almost laugh. I remember when I was his age and saw my first professional athlete out in the real world.

The dad is too busy hustling his family toward the stadium, talking about being late, to listen to his son, but the kid keeps looking over his shoulder.

When there’s a break in foot traffic, I take the opportunity to breach the distance between Siska and me.

“Come have a beer and then I’ll take you to your place.” He pats me on the back as I step into the bar. It doesn’t look as if it’s been renovated since the building was erected.

Siska was my teammate in college, and although he can be a total dick at times, he’s a good friend who always has my back.

Like right now. When I first came here late last year, he welcomed me to this city like a brother.

And now he’s helped me get into the sought-after condo building he shares with the Grizzlies quarterback, Cooper Rice.

Each player has their own floor in the three-flat.

At training camp last week, Siska informed the other players that had been bidding on the third floor that he was pulling veteran rank and getting me an in with the owner of the building after the player living there retired.

Needless to say, it didn’t make me the team’s favorite player.

The bar isn’t as crowded as the others I passed on the way here.

Older men sit on stools around the actual bar, but a lot of the tables are empty.

A woman behind the bar is arguing with a man at the end about the new shortstop the Colts got on a trade, Easton Bailey.

She’s adamant he’s the player the team needs, while the guy is arguing that they need better pitching.

The guys around the bar look like the kind who’ve followed sports their entire lives and refer to their favorite teams with an us instead of them, as if they’re on the field, diamond, or ice too. Some wear older player jerseys and I assume they must be die-hard fans.

“Rubes!” Siska shouts.

The older woman behind the bar waves at the old man she’s talking to and looks at us. She has a grandma look to her, but one I wouldn’t want to meet in an alley.

Siska points at me and her bored frown tips up at the corners slightly.

Every barstool in the place slowly spins and all the older men are staring right at me.

Whispers commence. I’m sure if they’re Grizzlies fans, they probably weren’t all on board with my trade even though they needed me. Their last safety was beyond his prime.

“Ah, Miles Cavanaugh, huh?” She opens the bar top to step from behind the bar and comes over to us. “It’s about time you stopped in my bar.”

“Sorry?” I say.

She laughs. A deep raspy one that suggests she’s a smoker or was one for many years. “You don’t have to be sorry, but now you’re one of my boys. Any of you who live upstairs, I take care of.”

Siska puts his arm around her. “Miles, this is the owner of the place. She inherited Peepers when her old man died.”

Ruby gives Siska a look and he removes his arm from around her, sipping his beer. “She’s not one for affection.”

Interesting that she says we’re her responsibility, but she doesn’t like affection. I really hope the team doesn’t pay her to keep track of us and every move we make.

“Nice to meet you…”

“Ruby or Rubes, I’ll answer to either. Welcome to Peepers. What kind of beer do you like?”

I don’t drink beer, but I have a feeling if I say that, I’ll offend every patron in the bar because they all have mugs of beer in their hands and beer bellies to match.

Siska laughs, knowing I’m not big on drinking.

Ruby looks at him. “Don’t tell me he’s one of those girly seltzer drinkers?”

“Nah…” Though I can be and they’re actually pretty good. “I’m just a water guy.”

She smiles and pats my forearm. “Good for you.” She waves for me to follow her over to the bar. “You don’t want to end up like these guys, all looking like they’ve got a pillow under their shirts.” She hands me a water bottle after unscrewing the cap for me. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She winks then turns her attention to a grumble on the other side of the bar.

Siska leans in and says, “She’s great. Nosy at times and will give you hell when you play like shit, but she’s like the grandma I never had.” Siska waves me toward an open doorway on the side of the bar. “Come on, Cooper is over here. You can meet his best friend.”

We walk into the other room and the Grizzlies quarterback, Cooper Rice, is sitting at a table, drinking a beer and laughing with a gorgeous woman sitting next to him.

“Cavanaugh!” he says, putting out his hand.

I shake it and turn my attention to the blonde next to him.

She smiles at me, and my first thought is that she’s totally the kind of girl I can envision Cooper being into.

She’s tall with blonde hair to her shoulders and barely any makeup on.

Looks like the girl next door, but I have a feeling when she’s done up, she’s something else.

“This is Elle.” He thumbs in the girl’s direction.

She puts out her hand. “Ellery actually, but call me Elle.”

Then I remember that I saw her at a couple of games last year, waiting for Cooper afterward. But Cooper and I didn’t hang in the same social circle after I got traded. Then again, I didn’t hang with a lot of the guys. I was still getting used to a new city, new team, new dynamic.

I sit down. “What’s it like to date Chicago’s most sought-after professional athlete?”

Elle laughs.

“She’s my best friend. It’s not like that.” Cooper shakes his head at me.

“I value my life, Miles. I do not like drama, and I get enough of it just being his best friend,” she says.

“That’s why my invitation always stands.” Siska opens his arms wide.

She guffaws. “You’d be done with me after one night.”

“Not you. You’re different.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m sure you say that to every woman.”

Siska places his hand over his heart and falls back into his chair. “That really hurts.”

Siska’s reputation has been cemented in the tabloids. He was a player back in college, and when I arrived in Chicago last year, I realized that nothing had changed in that regard.

We talk about the Colts season so far and how we have rooftop access to the bleachers on top of this building overlooking the stadium.

After about fifteen minutes, I’m eager to get to my place to make it start feeling like mine, so I stand. “I’m gonna get going. I want to get settled before our first practice tomorrow.”

“I told you, Elle, creature of habit,” Siska says.

“Oh, Miles, our friend B is coming and we’re all going to the rooftop to watch the game. Want to join us?” Elle asks.

It sounds like a lot of fun, but if I’m not settled before tomorrow, my week will be chaotic and I won’t function.

It’s imperative that I have a killer year.

Being traded sucks and the last thing I need is to be traded one year after joining a new team.

Then my reputation will tell other GMs I’m replaceable, and being replaceable in professional football means a shortened career.

I worked my ass off to get here and I am not fucking replaceable.

“Next time, for sure. It was nice meeting you, Elle.” I shake her hand and do the handshake thing with Cooper again.

“I’ll walk you up.” Siska waggles his eyebrows at Elle. “Make sure your friend sits right next to me.”

Elle sighs. “She’s already been warned about you.”

Siska leads me out a back door to a staircase behind the building, and we walk up the three flights of stairs.

“How come you didn’t want the top floor?” I ask.

“Fuck if I’m walking up these stairs every day.”

I don’t see the big deal. The exercise is good.

As if he can hear my thoughts, he says, “Yeah, perfect for your neurotic ass.”

We laugh because he’s right. Although I was pissed when I got traded, it’s good to be here with Siska.

I’ve missed him, and unlike my three close friends back in San Francisco, he’s single like me.

If I had to go to one more housewarming or engagement party, I don’t know what I’d do.

Being the seventh wheel isn’t exactly fun, especially after your little sister finds her happily ever after with your teammate. It’s kinda depressing actually.

I’ve decided to approach this season as a new city and new possibilities. Who knows, maybe I’ll find the woman of my dreams here in Chicago. God knows it wasn’t happening back in San Francisco.