“Great.”
“Just come out tonight. It's Saturday, no practice tomorrow.” He sighs. “Ty, I shouldn’t have to say this… But you have to have good relationships with everyone. Not just me.”
Ramiel is constantly trying to rope me into everyunofficial hangout. I know I need to have good working relationships with the entire team—not just a select few, as he frequently reminds me—because whatever happens off the field translates over to gametime. And I get that. I understand that was my issue on my last team. Despite knowing I should agree and take him up on his offer, the last thing I want to do is leave my house. Practices have taken over my schedule in prep for this season’s kickoff game in two weeks. I want time at home to relax before I spend the rest of the fall and winter neck deep in travel, games, and more practices.
“Thanks, Rami, but I already made plans.”
A hiss emits as he exhales, echoing off the bathroom walls. “Suit yourself. But I’m not gonna stop asking.”
“You’re relentless.”
“I am. I’ll see ya back at practice in a few days.”
“See ya. And thanks.”
He hangs up without another word, and I’m relieved when my music starts again. I pop out my contacts, carefully filling my case with new solution, then I finish undressing, yanking off my jeans first. How is it that Avery has caught me mid-strip twice in one week? It’s like she’s a heat-seeking missile or something. A smile spreads across my lips as I drop my drawers and head for the shower. Maybe I should have pulled my shirt back on before I answered the door, but she looked so cute with pink cheeks that I’m glad I didn’t.
The water’s so hot it almost burns my skin, and I jump back and ratchet up the cool setting. Slowly, I edge back under the cascade, soaping up and rinsing away today’s debris. Then I squeeze a big blob of purple shampoo intomy hand. My sister swore I needed it to brighten up my naturally blond hair, but I never would have sought it out myself.
Maggie’s always good with stuff like that. Without her, I wouldn’t have half the toiletries I do. That’s what I get for swearing off relationships. At least for the time being. In the past, the girls I dated were the ones who kept me “in the know” about what products would be best for me, but it’s been years since I had an actual girlfriend. Not for lack of trying. I dipped my toes into the Las Vegas dating pool before moving to Vista City, and all I found were dysfunctional relationships. Ones that poisoned everything in my life. It was always the same. All they amounted to was wasted time spent in destructive relationships with girls who mostly liked me for my profession. I was miserable, and that became obvious both at home and on the field.
Vista City gave me a fresh start, and I’m not going to ruin it with another dead-end relationship that has no guarantee it’ll last. At this point in my life, I’m looking for security. Whether that involves someone special or not, I don’t care. There’s too much else to focus on—too much to lose—to get caught up in finding someone. Most guys on the team have a wife and kids or a fiancé or a handful of girls at their disposal, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that balancing both a successful career and personal life is next to impossible for me. I crave a stability that I’ve only been able to find when I’m on my own.
Just as I’m wrapping up my shower, there’s a screeching sound. A smoke alarm shrieks from somewhere in the house, and I barrel out of the shower, across myroom, and throw on the pair of last night’s sweats from the top of my dresser.
Avery.
Before I reach the landing, I smell it. Bitter, suffocating smoke. Dollyboy scrambles under a couch as my feet struggle to gain purchase on the slick floor.
I whip around the newel post in the foyer, taking a sharp turn toward the kitchen. “Avery?” I yell to be heard over the chaos spilling from down the hall.
Metallic bangs and the hiss of steam echo through the house, and I make it just in time to see Avery standing over my kitchen sink. Any trace of sunshine that usually lights her up has evaporated with the smoke out the window that she’s opened.
My vision is a little off without my contacts or glasses, but I don’t see any flames licking the ceiling. She doesn’t look at me as I climb onto the island, reaching overhead to silence the alarm. For a long moment, nothing but the caustic smell of dissipating smoke and babble of running water remains.
Slowly, Avery shuts off the faucet, staring at what I now see is a charred pan in the bottom of the sink. “I ruined it. The piccata is ruined. I thought I turned the stove off… It was almost done…”
I don’t remark that I think it’s my copper pan she’s ruined. Lowering myself from the top of the island and back onto the floor, a rush of relief eases my racing heart. My house is still standing. Avery didn’t burn it down.
“Are you okay?” I ask, stepping closer. “Didn’t burn yourself, did you?”
She shakes her head. “Burned just about everything but me. I’m so sorry, I?—”
“It’s not a big deal.”
She tilts her head. “You should be way more mad about this.”
“Why?”
“Because I almost turned your house into an inferno.”
“That’s an exaggeration.”
She shakes her head. “One guy I was seeing screamed at me because I always forgot to turn the lights off.”
“I mean, you do leave the lights on a lot.”
She groans. “And I once dated a guy who broke up with me because I used the wrong cutting board with a certain knife.”
