“I like the way you relate,” I tell him. “It’s comforting to me.”
He coughs a laugh. “Yeah, yeah.”
“It’s true,” I tell him. “Anyone scared off by your bark isn’t paying close enough attention to your actions.”
Troy hums under his breath.
“What?” I ask.
“Just not used to someone liking it, I guess.”
“Well, I do.”
I take his hand, and Troy doesn’t pull away. We lay there in the silence for a while, breathing together in the darkness, and I soon fall asleep.
When I wake up the next morning, he’s gone. There’s a note on the table, though.
Breakfast in fridge. Will check in today when your training crew arrives. Troy
The fact that he added his name makes me laugh to myself. As though I had anyone else in my bed.
My morning routine of stretching, eating, and very cautiously showering myself takes a surprisingly long time to complete. But the time I’m ready for the day, Stace is at the door.
She throws her arms around me when I answer. “Damn, Orlando,” she says. “I’m so sorry about your injury.” She releases me and lifts the paper bag she’s carrying. “I know you’ve got a great physical therapy team, but I brought you some herbs I’d recommend and a book about recovering from fractures anyway.”
I take the bag with a grateful smile. “I’ll check it out, thanks. And yeah, it’s a whirlwind.” I gesture inside. “Come in.”
After I grab some soda waters from the fridge, we take a seat at either end of the couch, right across from the mattress and the unmade sheets.
“You’re on your way to school?” I ask.
“The business lab,” she says with a nod. “But I wanted to make sure you have everything you need.”
I rest my hand on my fractured clavicle, healing but still sore sometimes. “I think I do. It’s killing me to not be in touch more with the team. They won the game last night with the new offense, and I know they’re good without me.” Hell, it was one of the best games they’ve played, which I’m trying to not feel insecure about. “I’m just impatient. I want to at least talk strategy, get the latest.”
Not being in constant contact with the team probably would make me lose my mind in normal circumstances. Troy keeps reminding me, though, that what they really need is for me to recover. His constant grunting about it is like a calming mantra at this point.
“Everyone misses you for sure,” Stace says. “They want you there for the championships, especially the MLS Cup. Everything else is pretty much business as usual.”
It’s pretty rare for a cup game to happen on home turf. I can’t miss a chance like that, especially since it will be our last opening to win a spot to CONCACAF.
“By the way,” she says. “Kevyn says hi.”
I arch my eyebrows. “You saw Kevyn? Hold up. Are you an item now?”
Stace laughs. “No. I tested the waters carefully and, when I felt confident, proposed that we have an NSA situation. Scratch each other’s backs.”
I grin, delighted. “What did he say?”
Stace scoffs at me. “He said yes. Obviously.”
“I’m a matchmaker.” I lean back on the couch, enjoying how good it feels. “I’m a successful matchmaker.”
Stace laughs. “You are not. I did all the heavy lifting on my own. And if it works out, Kevyn and I will be strictly casual.” She pushes a hand through her hair. “You’ve been pining over Troy, but I’m confident that I can handle some recreational fun without distracting myself from school and my business plan.”
“I have not been pining. And I’m still focusing on my game and my recovery. Troy isn’t a distraction. If anything, he helps me stay focused on what matters.”
When I first told myself that, it was twisted logic to justify something I knew was a bad idea. Telling Stace now, though, I realize how true it really is.
