1
Clay
My phone vibrated on the end table beside me, and I reached over blindly to grab it, keeping my eyes glued to the game playing on the giant television. I was watching the New York Nighthawks game tapes from last season. Fall was fast approaching, and I’d only been traded to the team a couple of months ago.
When the owner of the Nighthawks, Lennox Madison, offered me a ten-year deal, I jumped on it. He had a reputation for being one of the best owners in the sport. And knowing I’d be here for at least the next decade meant I could put down roots. Thirty-eight was ancient in football, so it was more than likely I would retire a Nighthawk. Being from Upstate New York, I loved the idea of hanging up my jersey here.
Plus, it gave me the opportunity to play with Jordan Stallard, an offensive lineman for the team. We were roommates, best friends, and teammates through all four years of college. So I was fucking ecstatic to make this change. It felt like coming home.
Shortly before I moved to New York, I bought a house on Long Island that was a quick train ride from the city—not far from the home of our quarterback, Prentice Wright. However, it was older and needed some serious renovations. When I mentioned to Jordan that I was looking for a temporary place to live, he told me to stay with him. He had a big place and was single, so it made sense. Especially since it wasn’t as though we hadn’t lived together before.
When I arrived, it was a little like going back in time. After dropping my shit in the guest bedroom, Jordan grabbed us a couple of beers. Then we dropped onto the couch, turning on the sports channel to whatever game was playing. Our conversation quickly turned into some reminiscing that had us laughing our asses off. We’d been troublemakers back then, not enough to get us kicked off the team, but punks nonetheless.
I was looking forward to having my own place again, but it was great to reconnect with my best friend, especially right before we stepped on the field as part of the same team for the first time in six years.
Jordan had given me the inside scoop into my new teammates, but in order to be as prepared as possible, I was studying every player on the Nighthawks, learning their style, their tells, and how they responded to each other and situations on the field. Being new to the team, I would still have to prove my worth to the guys on that field. My reputation as a ball player didn’t matter to them. This was a different team dynamic, and I had to be adaptable. Knowing my teammates was as vital as knowing about my opponents.
My phone vibrated again in my hand, reminding me that I hadn’t read the text. I paused the game and tapped the screen of my cell to wake it up. The message was from Jordan.
Jordan:Bringing Wrenley home in an hour. Sorry, man, but you gotta clear out.
I rolled my eyes when I saw that he’d silenced his notifications, meaning the asshole wouldn’t see a response.Chicken.It was after midnight. He couldn’t have given me until morning? Or warned me that he was planning to bring her home tonight after the gala.
It was tempting to ignore him and pretend I never got the message. Seeing Jordan nearly blow a gasket was always amusing. However, I decided to play the nice guy. Theonlyreason I turned off the television and stood was because I knew Wrenley was special to him. She’d been all he could talk about for the past month.
We both wanted families someday, but with the dating scene being what it was these days—one fucking disaster after another—neither of us was sure it would ever happen. One too many gold diggers had crossed my personal boundaries, so I hadn’t actually gone out with a woman in years. As far as I knew, neither had Jordan—until Wrenley. I threw all my focus into my career, and until now, so had my best friend.
So I’d clear out, sure. Especially since Jordan finding the woman of his dreams gave me hope. But that didn’t mean I wouldn’t be giving him major shit about it later.
* * *
An hour later,I stepped out of a beautiful glass shower stall and grabbed one of the fluffy white towels from the heated bar on the wall next to me. After drying off a bit, I wrapped it around my waist and wandered over to the tall windows that overlooked Central Park. The view was amazing, and if I went out onto the terrace from the living room, it was even better.
Turning around, I swept my gaze across the big bedroom with its perfect, decadent décor. This luxurious grand suite was over twenty-five hundred square feet and was more like an apartment than a hotel room. Even so, I felt restless and itched to leave. Even in the city that never slept, rooms on the forty-second floor didn’t get much noise. It was too quiet and—as stupid as it made me feel to admit—lonely. Jordan’s place hadn’t exactly been home, but it had a lived-in feel that a hotel just couldn’t provide.
And I was stuck with hotel food for as long as I stayed here. I didn’t care how many stars their chef had. It was still room service. We spent more than enough time on the road with away games, photo shoots, and charity events. Having a home base had always been important to me. A space where I could fully relax, which Jordan’s house had provided me while I waited for my own to be ready.
Walking to the closet, I unwrapped the towel and tossed it on the nearest chair. The space was massive, which was every woman’s dream, according to my younger sisters. I’d hung up my shirt for the next day to avoid wrinkles, but I’d left everything else in my duffel and dropped it on the floor.
Pulling out a pair of clean boxer briefs, I tugged them on before padding over to the bed. At home, I slept naked, but I could never get comfortable enough in a hotel to do it. And I certainly wasn’t dumb enough to sleep at Jordan’s in the nude. It didn’t matter how old we got. An immature little shit lived in our heads and tended to come out when we were around each other. Like the time my supposedly adult roommate switched my toothpaste with diaper cream and my aftershave with pure alcohol. To be fair, though, he was retaliating against me for removing all the toilet paper in his bathroom and replacing it with sandpaper. Oh, and probably for the laxative I put in his beer right after to ensure he’d need to spend plenty of time on the toilet.
Sometimes we just seemed to bring out the jackass side of each other, I thought with a chuckle as I slipped into bed.
I put my hands behind my head and stared at the ceiling, not quite ready to close my eyes. Tomorrow, Prentice was hosting an all-day barbecue at his house. I hoped that Jordan would bring his girl. Then I’d get the chance to meet her sooner rather than later.
* * *
It turnedout that Wrenley was every bit as amazing as Jordan had said. I’d never seen my best friend happier, which was the only reason I didn’t immediately scoff at my—apparently former—roommate when he announced, “It’s decided. You’re moving into Wrenley and Marleigh’s apartment tonight.”
His tone made it clear he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I wanted to argue, but his girl, Wrenley, was looking at me with hopeful eyes. Even if I had the power to say no, Jordan would kick my ass for upsetting her.
Besides, my house would be under construction for another two weeks, and as much as I disliked the idea of staying with a stranger, it would be nice to live off real food instead of room service.
I glared at my—I was considering former on this as well—best friend before smiling brightly at Wrenley. “Thanks. That’s…swell.” Jordan coughed to cover up a laugh, and I shot him another disgruntled frown. Then I pointed at him and smiled evilly. “I’m sure you’re more than happy to help me with my stuff. It’s only fair, after all.”
Most of my things were in storage, but I had all my essentials at Jordan’s place. His face clouded at my statement. I knew he intended to leave the party to sweep Wrenley off to his place for some “alone time” as soon as she was ready.
“Of course he will!” Wrenley replied with a giant smile. She tipped her head back and smiled up at him with stars in her eyes. “Right?”