Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Foster
I’m beat. All I want to do is drop my bags at the door, walk to my bedroom, and collapse on my bed. I never sleep well at hotels, and a ten-day stint in them has made me feel like an insomniac.
I type in the code for the main gate, and we all make our way into the building. Decker and Easton peel off on their floors, none of us bothering with a goodbye because we’re exhausted and we lost earlier today, so we’re in shit moods.
I push open the door, and the first thing I notice is a soft glow and the scent of… vanilla?
Stepping into my condo, I look around and notice a lot of changes since I left ten days ago. I lean back to make sure I’m on my floor. It would be just like Decker to have this girly feel to his condo.
Yep, definitely my place.
Callie steps out of the spare room, which I need to think of as her room now. “Oh, you’re back.”
Is she even wearing shorts under that giant sweatshirt? Two seconds in the door and I’m already faced with temptation.
But it’s a Chicago Grizzlies sweatshirt, and the caveman who only comes out when I’m around her wants to tear it off of her and throw my Colts sweatshirt over her head. Fuck, I need to get this beast under control.
She must notice me staring at her shirt because she looks down. “Oh, I found this in the back of the closet. I wonder how long it was there for.”
“I heard the condo was Miles Cavanagh’s place before Tweetie’s. Back when they called this place The Den.”
She nods, appearing to have no intention of taking off the damn thing.
Fuck Miles Cavanagh.
“Sorry about the game, but you won the Texas series. That’s good, huh?” She flits over to the fridge and pulls out a water. “Want one?”
I drop my bag by my bedroom door and walk to the kitchen, seeing that sadly, she is wearing shorts. They’re just short as fuck, showing off her long, lean legs.
“Sure, thanks.”
She smiles, straightens, and hands me a water. I peer into the fridge before the door shuts and see that it’s filled with food.
She must notice me looking because she grabs the door and holds it open as though she’s a The Price is Right model. “Look. Real food.”
There’s fruit and milk and eggs, and it looks like no fridge I’ve ever had in my life. At least not one I remember, but those years before I lived with only my dad are fuzzy at best.
“Good,” I mumble, twisting off the bottle cap and downing half the bottle.
She pulls out a pouch of microwavable popcorn, puts it in the microwave, and leans against the counter. “Shit, I’m sorry. I’m not supposed to engage with you, right?” She cringes.
“I decompressed on the plane and bus. It’s fine.”
“Do you want to talk about it then?”
I shake my head. “I sucked and lost the game for us. Not much else to say.”
She opens a cabinet and pulls down a bowl. Does she already know where everything is in my place?
Of course she does, asshole. You gave her full access, and you’ve been gone for ten days.
“I don’t think it helped that the DICs didn’t get one hit the entire game. They’re definitely in a slump lately. All three of them.”
“You watched the games?” I fiddle with the back of the breakfast stool, contemplating if I should sit or not. Is this what people do? Am I being presumptuous that she wants to talk to me if I sit down? Maybe she just wants to make her popcorn and go back to her room.
“Yeah, my brother plays for the team.” She chuckles.
“Of course.” I was a fool to think otherwise.
“I’m kind of invested in all of you. And in my opinion, Blue messed up two of those calls. Greer was out before he ever got that hit.”
I’m not sure the last time I talked game to anyone outside of coaches and teammates. She’s not trying to placate me with things like “it’s just a game” and “the shitty comments don’t matter.” I like it a little too much.
“That’s what pissed me off so much.” I immediately regretted showing my emotions on the mound.
Although I didn’t yell at Blue like I normally would, I saw the replay.
Hayes calling time right away and coming to visit me on the mound.
Me giving the ump a death glare and mouthing off, just not directly to him.
“I saw, but you had good reason. You guys lost because Blue called that one pitch a ball when it was right on the outside corner.”
I slide up on the stool, and she takes the popcorn out of the microwave and puts it in a bowl. Then she places it between us.
“Did you eat on the plane?”
“We did, but who can say no to popcorn?” I grab a fistful, and she gets up on the counter, legs crossed. “Your brother got me addicted back in Seattle.”
She laughs. “It’s kind of a Carlisle obsession, honestly. I feel like it was a nightly snack in our house growing up. So now every time I want to get cozy and watch television, I make a bowl.”
I turn to look at the family room area and see that the television is paused. There’s a blanket thrown on the back of the couch. “Oh, you were going to watch something? Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.” I slide off the stool. “I can give you some privacy.”
She chuckles. “Stop. I don’t need privacy.”
I’ve never felt like such a fool. I palm the back of my neck. “Oh.”
She chuckles again. “It’s weird, right?”
“It’s been a long time since I’ve lived with a woman.”
She slides off the counter, and I’m surprised by the disappointment I feel. I would’ve enjoyed a little more time with her.
“You lived with a woman?” Her shock takes me a minute to figure out—she assumes it was a romantic partner.
“I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that I moved in with my dad when I was eleven. He wasn’t big on comfort items.”
She picks up the bowl. “I see. Well, now that you have a woman’s touch back in your life, you might not ever want to go back.” She smiles. “Want to join me and watch some reality television where we can worry about other people’s drama instead of our own?”
I don’t want to interfere, and I’m not sure where the line should be drawn. Sure, she’s here because I want to know her better, but how much should our lives intertwine?
“Um…”
She places the bowl on the table and walks back over to stand in front of me. It’s really unfair how hot she is. I mean, your best friend’s little sister should not be this fucking attractive.
She says, “Go get changed into comfy clothes and come watch. I’ll explain who everyone is to you.”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do in there?” She motions toward my bedroom. “Brood over the loss? Think how things should’ve gone differently? Let me take your mind off it.”
I know a way she could get my mind off it.
She puts her hands on her hips and tilts her head, waiting for my answer.
I nod. “Give me five.”
She smiles, appeased, and turns to walk away. “Oh, are you okay with the candle? You’re not sensitive to scents, are you?”
“It’s girly, but…” I look around the place, and it definitely has a different feel to it than it did ten days ago. “It smells nice.”
She looks so happy that I want to admit that coming home tonight was, for lack of a better word, nice. Yeah, coming home to someone was really fucking nice.
Instead, I turn around and go into my bedroom, shutting the door. It’s the one space she hasn’t touched, and I can’t help but notice how cold and bleak it feels.
My chest tightens.
Maybe living together was the worst idea I’ve ever had because she’s already getting under my skin—in a good way. And nothing good can come of that.