Friends. Right.
I used to have friends—a whole team of them. I rarely see my best friend, Nick, who plays for New York Liberties.
I blow out a breath. Maybe that will change tomorrow when my new roommate moves in.
______
NICK: Yo, man. I’m attending theSportsEliteevent. I’m staying with you.
ME: You’re attending. LOL. Is hell freezing over?
NICK: Rob’s making me. He said you’re being featured. If I have to go, I’m going with you.
ME: So, are you asking me to be your date?
NICK: Shit, man. You’re too pretty for me.
ME: Fine. You can’t punch anyone.
NICK: I don’t make any promises.
Chapter 5
RYDER
I twist the knob on the back door of our townhouse, bracing myself for what’s waiting inside. I have no doubt my sisters have been alerted and are poised to talk through every inferior detail of this assignment.
Nothing genetic ties us together, but sometimes bonds are formed through experiences.
I step into the kitchen, and Jamie stands at the counter, shaping pizza dough. Her long, red, curly hair is tied back in a loose ponytail, her petite frame hunching over as she kneads and flips.
“Don’t you ever get sick of having your hands in flour?” I ask, kicking the door closed.
Jamie runs a coffee shop and is up all hours baking for the morning crowd. When nighttime is haunting, it’s not a bad gig.
“I wouldn’t be tonight, except I heard it was required.” She pushes her fingers around the edges of the dough, creating a perfect circle. “Jos will be here any minute with the toppings and dessert.”
I hang my backpack on a hook behind the door and sit to unlace my boots. Four of us share this townhouse, and thanks to Tracker's stringent military standards, our open living space is kept tidy.
Our place isn’t large, but the pale blue walls, white trim, and tan furniture make it feel more spacious than it is, thanks to Lyla and Vanessa’s astute eye for decorating. The two bedrooms onthe first floor belong to Jamie and me. The two upstairs belong to Lyla and Van since they travel often and are only here part-time.
I kick off my boots, flipping them toward the door as it opens. Jos steps in, toting two grocery sacks.
“I heard you rounded up the troops.” I give her the stink eye.
Out of the five of us, Jos and I look the most alike, with blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s the youngest, the baby, but we’re careful never to treat her that way. She might only be nineteen, but she’s a badass of the best kind.
Her mouth creeps into a sassy smirk. “Van’s picking up Lyla from the airport. They’ll be here any minute.”
I stand to help her unload the bags.
“She maydayed us,” Jamie says, reaching for the onion and peppers.
I glare at Jos, and her grin only spreads wider. “Seriously?”
It’s our code, only to be used when we’re to drop everything and come running.
She raises and lowers one shoulder. “Ry, you’re moving in with a man. If there was ever a time for a mayday, this is it.”
