“Open up! What’s taking so long?”
I knew that voice. Jordan. I got up from the chair, ran a hand over Oliver’s forehead, and moved to the hallway. Rachel returned an hour ago and didn’t ask a single question, which I think all of us appreciated. Oliver had enough heavy shit today, so she eased tension and helped out. She stood in the kitchen, pouring an iced tea as I warned her.
“Be prepared. Jordan is like an overgrown puppy.”
I unlocked the door and offered a shy smile as he waltzed in, not even giving me a second glance. “I brought juice, snacks, and a cactus.”
Rachel tilted her head. “A cactus?”
He shrugged with an expression that read “duh.” “It’s low-maintenance and emotionally resilient. Kind of like our man Oliver.”
“What nonsense are you talking about?” Oliver walked out of his bedroom, and my breath caught in my throat. He wore loose sweats, an old T-shirt, and his hair was messy and sleepy, but he was so beautiful. Strong. Sexy. Mine.
“Jordan insisted on the stupid plant, and I tried talking him out of it.” Noah walked in after Jordan, carrying a bunch of balloons that said HAPPY EARLY RETIREMENT.
He set the bouquet beside the couch and grinned. “We couldn’t find any ‘congrats on surviving your own heart’ balloons. This seemed like the next best option.”
“Appreciate the effort,” Oliver said dryly. “Why are there so many of you here?”
Quinn was last, carrying a gas station fountain drink and a tiara. “Because we care about you, you dipshit. Here is a tiara because you won the team’s most dramatic exit off the field of the year so far.”
“I’m so honored, thank you.” Oliver met my gaze and grinned, and my heart clenched. He was so loved here. So happy. How could he walk away for me?
“Good to see you, Doc. We can all acknowledge now that you and OJ have been banging?” Quinn said, wiggling his brows. “Right?”
“Shut the fuck up, dude,” Jordan smacked Quinn’s head. “Be classier. Some of us knew, but it ain’t our business now, is it?”
“Jordan, that is very mature of you,” I chimed in, my pulse fluttering as three of the guys stared at me. “But yeah, we’re together. Will probably get fired for it.”
“Must be good in bed,” Quinn added.
“Oh, he’s the best,” I fired right back. That broke the tension, and Oliver joined me at the counter, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and planting a kiss on my temple. It felt nice, right, perfect, to be able to be together around his friends and teammates. I didn’t feel weird or nervous or uncomfortable. If anything, we were all allowed to be ourselves in the safety of Oliver’s condo. No cameras, rules, or bullshit.
They made themselves at home within thirty seconds. Jordan kicked off his shoes and claimed the recliner footrest like it was his. Quinn opened the fridge, commented on how disappointing the snack selection was, and pulled out a cheese stick. Noah sprawled on the floor next to Oliver’s chair, already mid-story about Ty nearly fighting a mascot two seasons ago after a hot dog cannon misfire.
“Go on, go sit with them.” I nudged him, leaning into his side for a beat. “They love you and are probably worried sick.”
Just then, a loud bang echoed in the door, and none other than Callum O’Toole flung it open. “You motherfucker. Couldn’t answer your phone? Couldn’t reassure your best and oldest friend that you didn’t fucking die? God you are an asshole, and I need a hug.”
Callum didn’t wait before running toward Oliver and picking him up in a bear hug. “I need a full minute of chest to chest before I settle down.”
“You are so weird,” Oliver said, but he wrapped his arms around Callum and returned the hug. “Ivy knows how I’m doing. She could’ve told you.”
“She did, but bros before hoes. Oh shit, I didn’t like that. Did it sound like I called my wife a hoe? See, I’m distraught over this. We were friends first. We were roommates and teammates, so I should get some text back from you.” Callum cupped Oliver’s face, and seeing the evident love there had my eyes prickling.
“My phone is at the stadium, probably in my locker. Not really in a hurry to get it back.” He shrugged. “My sister is here, so I talked to my parents, then Sloane. I’m sorry, Cal. I should’ve known better.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Callum patted Oliver’s back one more time then looked around. “What is so funny? I love this fucking idiot, and oh, hey, are there more cheese sticks?”
And just like that, Callum went to the fridge as Oliver and I shared a smirk. This was so good for Oliver’s healing. He needed his community, and I wanted to hug each and every one of them for being here for him.
I stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, watching the way the energy filled the space. The guys were loud. Obnoxious. Exactly what we all needed. They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t bring up the field. Just kept talking, eating, and shouting over each other about whose turn it was to pick dinner.
At 4:30 p.m., my phone buzzed.
Team meeting scheduled. 5:00 p.m. Staff suite only.
Confirmed: Mac, Booth, Ivy, William.
