I snuggle into the pillow and inhale. Wade’s clean, soapy scent, mixed with something spicy, fills my nose. Then reminds me of where I am. I snap my eyes open and push up on the bare mattress. A neatly folded stack of pale blue sheets sits at the foot. Three dresser drawers hang ajar, as if waiting to be filled, and the nightstand surface is cleared off.
Soft dusk light filters through the window blinds, dousing the room in a rosy blush. I toss off the lightweight navy comforter draped over my legs and feet—Wade must have thought I was cold. He’s always done things like that—looking out for his sisters and me. I knew he would be a safe place to land until I could figure out how to deal with my past.
Am I nuts to think—hope—Florida is far enough away from Texas that I won’t have to worry about my ex crashing into my life here? I’m sure he’ll find some other gullible woman to fill my shoes. That thought brings a fresh wave of guilt and shame. I shouldn’t wish that on any woman. If I could expose him for what he is without tanking my career, I’d do it in a heartbeat.
For now, a new job in a different state will have to do the trick.
I make quick work of putting the clean sheets on the bed, hesitating a moment before I strip the pillowcase, but notice the other pillow is missing. Wade must have grabbed it for the couch, but he left the comforter. Another wave of guilt washes over me for taking over his room. The man even emptied half his dresser for me, and a glance into the closet confirms what I suspect—he moved his stuff over, leaving me the larger side, which includes a shoe rack.
Does he think I hoard shoes or something? I pretty much live in boots or slip-on trainers for easy shedding because I’m a hands-on kind of girl when it comes to my profession. If a video clip would look better shot while hanging upside down, that’s what I’ll do—and have done in the past. When you’re building a sports brand, physicality is a big part of it, just like it is for the players.
I’m a firm believer in doing whatever it takes to get the job done. Although that might be why I wound up in the predicament I’m in. Chase certainly took advantage of my work ethic.
Once I divide the clothes in my suitcase between the drawers and the closet, I pick out my favorite pajama shorts and top to change into after a shower. I drove straight through from Texas and feel like I’m wearing half of the road I traveled.
Since I’m almost positive my hair dryer is in one of the many boxes in the living room, I pull the wet strands into a messy bun, then grab my phone and laptop before walking out of the bedroom.
Wade’s running on a treadmill positioned in front of a glass sliding door that faces a lake in the center of the apartment complex. His earbuds must have masked my sounds because he’s clueless that I’m watching him.
I lean against the doorjamb, admiring his physique as he keeps a steady rhythm. Well-developed biceps swing back andforth with his strides. Muscled thighs and calves pump up and down as he jogs. My perusal lands on his shoulders, which seem broader than I remember.
The last time I saw Wade in person was about three years ago at Christmas. He’d just signed with the Sun Kings and hadn’t filled out yet. But now…now I understand why he’s referred to often as one of the top goalies in the ECHL, if not the best. He’s honed his body and done the work to earn that reputation.
When his strides slow, I push off the doorway and head to the dining room table to set up my laptop. The owner, Rebecca Piedmont, gave me the go-ahead to set up multiple social media accounts when she confirmed I had the position. I want to get those in place and optimized so I don’t waste any time on my first day. Even though I already have the brief video clip with Ethan and Elias, I’d like to create some branding graphics to run by Rebecca and Zach, her general manager, so we’re on the same page.
I sit at the table with one leg folded under me as Wade steps off the treadmill. He still hasn’t noticed me watching him. Sweat drips down the side of his face and neck. He lifts the front of his shirt, pulling it over his head and then using it to wipe himself down.
Wade Pierce has a six-pack? What happened to the lanky guy I used to hang out and ride horses with? He was always the tallest one in the school, but the rest of his body hadn’t caught up yet. Well, it certainly has now.
He startles when he finally notices me. “Hey, you’re awake.”
I’m careful to keep my eyes on his face, even though I’d rather study those abs of his. But he’s my best friend. Friends don’t check each other out, do they?
“Yeah, sorry about that. Guess driving straight through caught up with me.”
Caught up with me? That’s the understatement of the century. I still feel embarrassed about wrapping myself around him and crying like a scared kitten.
The analogy fits well, though. I did kind of climb him like a tree. “Look, about earlier…”
His brows furrow as he watches me, but he says nothing.
“I didn’t mean to get so…”
“Clingy?”
I cover my face with my hands, then drop them to my lap with a groan. “Yes, whatever. I was exhausted and…”
“Happy to see me?” His grin tilts, and that mischievous spark I remember from our childhood appears in his eyes.
This would be way more humorous if he weren’t standing there, shirtless, looking more like a sports model than my best friend. “Don’t get a colossal head about it, okay?”
He slings his shirt over his shoulder. “No promises.” His expression turns serious as he approaches the table. “What happened, Bree?”
I’m not sure exactly what he’s asking me. So muchhappenedthat I don’t know where to start. I’m still trying to make sense of what was real and what I misread. What if I tell him all the sordid details, and he winds up thinking I’m the biggest idiot in existence for allowing someone to use me that way? I know I do.
I blow out a breath and shrug. I’m not ready to tell him everything, but I don’t want to lie either. “Oh, you know—the usual. I left the Stars to start my own business, and it didn’t work out. Your text couldn’t have come at a better time.”
It’s all true. I did try to start my own PR firm, more like a one-woman show, to get away from my ex. But that didn’t deter him from trying to manipulate me into making him my biggest client. The jerk didn’t even pay me. Unless you call takeout from Whataburger fair payment—his idea of buying me dinner to say thank you.
