Chapter 6

Though I shouldn't have been surprisedby the sight in front of me, my breath caught and my eyes went wide. It made sense that Mason would live in a fancy high-rise apartment, but the extravagance of the full glass building, the waterfall feature out front, and garden circle with valet was intimidating. I almost wished I'd insisted on staying at my rinky-dink place.

Before I'd even come to a stop in the circle in front of the entrance, Mason was pushing open the door and hopping out. I rolled the window down and sucked in a breath, ready to call his name, because I had no idea what to do from here, and he'd just left me without instructions.

But he just strutted away like he wasn't suffering from a concussion. "Hey, man." Mason spun his sling away from the man standing by the front doors like he was trying to hide the injury and slapped palms with him.

"Dude, that catch was some shit."

Mason chuckled and, in his sling and everything, tucked his arm into his chest and bounced his shoulders, doing the dance that fans loved. "Gotta make the big plays. Can't say I remember it, though."

The guy shook his head. "I wouldn't watch it if I were you."

"If only I'd stuck the landing," Mason joked, waggling his brows.

The guy chuckled. "You out for a while?"

Mason's smile stayed plastered to his face, but the light flickered from his eyes. "Depends on what they can do to put my head back together. It's all foggy, man."

"Sucks."

"This is my shadow for the next few days," Mason said, pointing my way. "Can we find a place for her car? Just put it on my tab."

"Absolutely."

As the guy headed my way, I climbed out of the car and opened the back door so I could get my bag. When I straightened again, the man was beside me, hauling it out of my arms. "We'll send that up, ma'am."

"Oh." I blinked and stepped back. "Right. Sorry."

Once he'd confirmed that I'd left the keys in the car and that all I needed was the one bag, Mason waved me over.

The second we were in the elevator, he let his smile fall. His eyelids drooped, too, as he rubbed his temples.

"You okay?"

He opened his eyes and examined me for a beat. "I don't know."

The honesty in the answer yanked at my chest. He'd been in good spirits all day, or he'd at least put on an impressive act, but it was obvious that he was hurting.

"It's rough keeping up conversations. Hell, it's hard to remember where I am, even if I know, you know?" His eyes went wide, and he waved a hand like he was afraid I would panic. "It's just"—he frowned—"confusing for a second or two."

I rubbed his good arm, going for soothing. "It will get back to normal, but healing takes time. For head injuries especially."

He lowered his chin, fixating on where my palm was still splayed over his warm skin. I pulled it back quickly.

"Will it?" He swallowed and rested his head against the stainless-steel wall. "Because I like how it used to be, and I miss that."

The words were mumbled and far off, like he was talking about more than just the concussion. When the elevator dinged, he finally opened his eyes. He ushered me out into the hallway, then toward one of the two doors on this floor. Inside his apartment, I was met with a massive open-concept living space and an incredible view of the city.

"Wow." I had to fight back the tingles working their way through me as I took in the Boston skyline. This was so out of my league.

"Yeah, I thought it was weird."

Weird was the last word I'd use to describe this place. It was gorgeous, stunning. Expensive.

"Who would have thought we'd have the exact same sofa?"

What?

I spun away from the window, and sure enough, a sofa identical to the one I'd bought at Ashley Furniture sat in the middle of his living room. Along with the couch, he had the chair and love seat to complete the set.

For a moment, I continued taking in his space and discovered a larger version of my table.

"Table too," I mumbled.

"There's that expression about minds." He frowned, his emerald irises going dull. "Like they all think good."

I bit back a chuckle. The poor guy was struggling, and the last thing I wanted to do was make him feel worse.

"Great minds think alike."

He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. "Yes. That's why we always liked the same music and TV shows."

He was right. We'd discovered so many commonalities during those months that we'd been lab partners. He had been more into sports than I was, but otherwise, we enjoyed so many of the same things. Even though he was the typical popular jock and I was anything but, we'd connected over our love of science and music.

He would come over to work on homework, and we would talk and laugh for hours. If we hadn't existed in completely different social circles, maybe we would have become more. Maybe something would have happened before that night he kissed me. But every time we were together around other kids from school, his friends always seemed to pull him away.

Each time, I'd remember that I wasn't good enough for him. His friends knew it too. And that night, when the girl had pulled him away from me, in my mind, hadn't been an exception. It was just one more instance of someone from his friend group saving him from the pathetic nerd who looked at him with hearts in her eyes.

For one second, I wondered how different it would have been if I hadn't blocked him so quickly. If I'd gone to see him after my mom told me he stopped by the house. If I'd given him a chance to explain.

"Finishing Bones wasn't the same without you around."

I blinked back to the present and ducked my chin. "I didn't finish it."

"Really?" He cocked his head. "Why?"

I'd never admit that it hurt to watch it without him, so I summoned my best look of indifference and said, "No time."

"Hmm." He looked at me for a long minute, almost as if he could see there was more to the story. But then a bolt of confusion flashed in his green irises, and once again, he'd lost track of the conversation.

I let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't one we needed to have anyway.

"What do you want to do for lunch?" I changed topics.

He dropped onto the sofa and slumped back, closing his eyes. "We ordering something? I'd love to say I'm an amazing cook, but I'm not, so what are we doing?" The last sentence came out mumbled, like he was exhausted.

I glanced around, taking in the books on his shelves. Our tastes were similar in that respect too. From what I could see, I had more romance than he did, but he had plenty of books.

"How about we order pizza, and I can read The Sorcerer's Stone to you?" With a concussion, watching TV was out, and in high school, we'd both loved Harry Potter, so hopefully he didn't think it was a stupid suggestion.

He smiled. "When you read it to me the last time, you used all kinds of voices."

My cheeks heated, so I dropped my chin to hide the blush. God, I was such a dork in high school. "I was just messing around."

"I thought you did a good job." With his eyes still closed, he pointed toward the kitchen. "The takeout menus are in the closest drawer to the fridge. The one for the pizza place around the corner should be on top. You still a ham and pineapple fan?"

"Yup. Still my favorite." I pushed to my feet and pulled open the drawer.

"Mine too. Get that."

Once I'd ordered, I wandered back into the living area, my palms sweaty and my heart beating a little too quickly. I wasn't sure what to do next, and I wasn't sure how to be alone with this man.

He hummed from his spot on the couch, sending a tiny wave of comfort through me. "You should read the illustrated one by Jim Kay. You'll love it."

Mason still hadn't opened his eyes or moved from where he'd planted himself when we arrived. I wouldn't be surprised if he was fast asleep by the time the pizza came.

I moved over toward the shelves anyway.

"Middle one, second shelf from the bottom."

Sure enough, the large illustrated editions of the first five Harry Potter books were there.

I hadn't gotten them yet, although I'd eyed them more than once. I already had two sets of the books, and I really didn't have the space for a third. Mason clearly didn't have that issue. His bookshelves covered one entire wall of his massive apartment. But he'd been drafted straight to the Revs after his senior year at Penn State, so he was in his eighth season with the team, and he was making eight figures a year.

I crouched and pulled the book from the shelf, then shuffled to the chair.

A few pages in, we were both lost in the Potterverse. It was amazing how the story could grip me and make time fly, no matter how many times I'd read it. I had strong-armed Mason into reading the series during Christmas break of his senior year. He'd teased me endlessly about how it had ruined his week because he couldn't put the books down.

Once the pizza arrived and I'd plated a couple of slices for each of us, we continued reading. I'd just finished a second slice when movement from Mason drew my eye again. More than once, he'd lifted his left arm and winced. Although nothing was torn and his shoulder wouldn't require surgery, the impact had caused some swelling in his rotator cuff.

"We probably need to do some exercises." I closed the book and stood up.

Ignoring his sigh of annoyance, I helped him remove his shirt and get situated in a chair, then stood in front of him. I settled so that one of my legs was on each side of his thick thighs.

Clearing his throat, he shifted in the chair. The movement made the outer edge of his gray sweats brush against my inner thighs. He froze, his attention fixed on my black pants, and swallowed harshly. A tension buzzed in the air between us, sending my pulse skyrocketing and making my breaths come faster.

He fisted his hands on his legs and grimaced, almost like he was in pain, but I hadn't even touched his shoulder. This stretch was common. It was one I did with players almost daily. Not once had it felt weird. And yet, right now, I was half ready to jump out of my skin and half wanting to lean closer to him.

But this was my job. Get a grip, Rory. Giving myself a mental lecture, I let out a breath. Then I gripped his left wrist and slowly guided it across his body.

As we stretched his muscles, his intense jade eyes locked on me. My palms on his warm bare skin made my stomach tighten. He studied my face and paused for a heartbeat on my lips before focusing on my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest. And for a second, I forgot to breathe. I couldn't look away, not even if I wanted to. And I definitely didn't want to.

"You know I would have never blown you off, right?" His words were laced with a fierce desperation. Like he needed me to believe him. "Not then, and not now."

I searched his face for any indication that he was lying. As much as I wanted that to be the truth, the awkward girl buried deep inside me wasn't sure that something wouldn't get in our way again.