“I’m not ready to go back yet.”
I nod and accelerate back toward where we came from, watching out the windshield as the buildings slowly go from endearing—albeit a bit rusted and chipped—to stiff and modern. Bleak. No personality. I sigh as we turn onto my street and head toward my building. It’s the tallest one on the block. Sleek. Industrial. Cold. Nothing like the cozy little house I grew up in. It may have been falling apart half the time, but it was home.
The year I signed with the Kings, this building was brand new, the best in the city, and I bought a condo right then and there. I was twenty-two, a fifth-round draft pick, and eager to start my career and spend whatever was negotiated in my rookie contract. That was when I realized I’d finally made it. The years I’d invested my all and let my parents pour whatever time and little money they had into my dreams had finally paid off. They did it for Ian, and then they did it for me.
This building was proof of my success beyond the jersey and the paychecks. But the longer I live in this place, the more I realize how different I am from who I was when I chose it. Every day I’m here, I crave something simpler more and more. Somewhere with a yard to mow, for Princess to spend her golden years in. For now, it just makes more sense for me to be in the city, close to where practice is. Where the stadium is. Where my life is.
I peek at Lena from the corner of my eye. That’s one thing we have in common, I guess. Both of us are on the road for work quite a bit, at least part of the year. I wonder if she gets tired of it the same way I do. Although, I’m grateful my travel stints are typically only a few days. Up until my injury last year, I loved it. Now, I’m not so sure.
I clear my throat. “So, where do you call home?”
“Like the city or what?”
“Wherever you consider home.”
She thinks for a moment. “Well, I’m from Florida. And I love Florida. My dad’s still there. So I guess that’s home. But work is mostly here, so I spend the majority of my time in Vista.”
“Why doesn’t he come to Vista City?”
“He visits sometimes, but won’t move here. It’s kind of a long story.” She’s quiet as I pull into my building’s private parking garage and find my spot. Then she sighs. “He thinks I work too much. My mom disagrees. They don’t like being around each other much anymore, so he stays in Florida, and we stay here. Or there. Or wherever my next show is. You get it.”
“So, are they divorced?”
She shakes her head. “Probably should be, but no. Not yet.”
“Do you think you work too much?” I ask.
“Not really. It’s work. It’s a lot of dedication, but I love music. And if you love what you do, it’s not really work, right?” A faint smile finds her lips as her eyes meet mine. “At least that’s what they say.”
“But what dotheyknow?Theyall think we’re dating.” I smirk, pop open my door, and round the car to open hers like the gentleman I am. At least when I have a girlfriend—even if it’s pretend.
“Wearedating.” She latches onto the bag in her lap and wiggles out of the car. A finger pushes into my chest. “And don’t you forget it.”
I laugh, shutting the door behind her before guiding her out of the garage. “Kind of hard to forget when everyone has already started whispering about it. Even the deli guy was gettin’ in on the gossip.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah, he was way more into this than any of the other rumors.”
She’s quiet for a long moment as we hop into the elevator. “Well, now I definitely need to know what these rumors are. I should knowsomethingabout my boyfriend.”
“You know a few things.”
“Like what?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
She turns to face me, leaning back into the mirrored wall of the elevator. In this reflective box, there’s a hundred of her, and it strikes me just how beautiful she is. Not a single bad angle.
She presses her lips into a tight line, squinting at me like I have the answers written on my face somewhere. “Your older brother plays for the Kentucky Miners”
It’s cute how pleased she looks with herself. The elevator dings and I step out to guide her in the right direction. “Okay, so you know something about Ian Trace. What aboutDeckerTrace?”
“I know he speaks about himself in the third person.” She makes a gagging sound before dissolving into giggles. “What do you know about me? Huh? Time to put you on the spot.”
“I know you like sour gummy worms.” We approach my door, the welcoming echo of Princess’s nails clicking against that hardwood floor on the other side. “Probablytoomuch.”
I unlock the door and crack it, then turn to face Lena whose mouth is hanging open, her dark brows angled sharply down her nose. She looks like she wants to fight me, but as soon as she hears Princess whining on the other side, her face relaxes, her demeanor shifts, and her pretty blue eyes shine up at me. Then she’s shoving me out of the way and falling to her knees in my doorway.
