Chapter 6

Six

Rowan

I wake up to an empty bed and an empty box of condoms.

A small stream of light filters through the break of the curtains into the quiet room. I sit up in bed, the sheet resting over my legs and lap. The shower isn't going, and all her clothing that was discarded haphazardly last night is gone.

She's gone.

I don't have to look at the hotel notepad to know there's no number with a note that says, "call me."

We both knew the deal. This was a one-night thing, but I can't deny that I enjoyed spending last night with her more than I anticipated. Usually I'd welcome a woman being gone without any complications, so I'm not sure what this melancholy feeling is.

I get out of bed, head into the bathroom, and turn on the shower, but the minute I do, a memory from last night is triggered—Leigh pushing me against the wall, one of her legs over my shoulder as I got her off with my mouth. Fuck, she was so responsive.

Once the water warms, I step under the stream and close my eyes, washing the memory of her off me, along with our mixed scent from hours and hours of sex. At this point, I'm not sure if I should find some other woman to erase Leigh from my mind or seek Leigh out, which feels impossible anyway. We live in a city of almost three million people.

I could ask Mila for her contact information, but she and Jack are leaving for their honeymoon this morning. Mila convinced him to take a two-week trip to Fiji, but we all know his laptop will be nearby the entire time.

It doesn't matter anyway. Leigh and I had an agreement before coming up to the room. Neither one of us was looking for anything more than last night.

I finish showering and get dressed, dropping a tip for the maid on the dresser. I take a moment to stare out the window at Chicago, pushing away all my anxiety about what I need to prove to the Falcons' fans this season. Coming into a team and being the new guy who replaces their favorite player is hard in any city. Most fans know Jennings was losing his stamina and had little time left in the league. We played together here at the end of last season, but as of this season, it's me the fans and the organization will look to as their star player. The pressure to make sure I keep them on my side is like a slow drip poison inside me that I can't find the cure for.

Grabbing my shit, I walk out of my room, looking back as if I'm afraid that once I step out, the memory of her won't linger in my head any longer.

What the hell am I doing? It was a one-night stand. Get a fucking grip, Landry.

The door clicks shut, and I walk down the hallway toward the elevators. Another flicker of memory accosts me when the doors open. I need to get the hell out of this hotel, then she'll be gone from my mind.

I stand in the corner, shutting down all thoughts of her swollen lips after I kissed her right against the glass wall to my right.

What seems like a lifetime later, the doors slide open. After mumbling a good morning to the reception staff, I step out of the lobby. The doorman opens the door for me and flags down a taxi.

The taxi pulls away from the curb, and I stare at the outside of the hotel, certain that last night with Leigh was the best sex I've ever had. From the moment I saw her across the room, I was drawn to her. Yeah, that's all it is. Leigh was the best sex I've had, and our chemistry was insane. That's the only reason she's still holding my thoughts hostage.

Twenty minutes later, because of traffic, the taxi pulls up in front of my building. I toss the driver some bills and step onto the sidewalk.

Another damn sign that says The Nest is taped to our black iron security gate. Our building used to house three football players from the Chicago Grizzlies, which got it coined as The Den. So when Tweetie, Henry, and I moved in, it was coined The Nest. Women write their numbers or leave notes—stuck up with chewed bubble gum—about how much they love us, how they want to hold our sticks and be our lucky charms.

I walk right by the pieces of paper flapping in the warm breeze and open the gate, then make sure it's closed and secure behind me. Tweetie, one of our left wings, has the top floor unit, while I'm on the second. One of our right wings, Henry, is the level above the ground floor bar with his son, Bodhi.

I climb the stairs, and when I'm about to open up my door, I hear Tweetie's door open above. He barrels down the stairs with energy I find surprising given that he's the old man in the league. I'm always surprised by how fast he recovers from his parties.

"Magic! You missed one helluva get-together last night. More than one girl was asking for you." He smacks my shoulder.

"I had my friend's wedding."

He eyes my bag and pushes his chin-length blond hair behind his ear. "And you spent the night?"

"Yeah." I don't give him any more information than he needs, but his eyes bore into mine as if he's looking for more. "What?"

"You hook up with a bridesmaid who's always a bridesmaid and never a bride? Those are always the best. Desperate to please."

I shake my head but can't help laughing.

"You did."

I punch the code into the keypad and step into my apartment.

"Come on, we're going to breakfast." He picks up my bag and tosses it into my condo.

"Tweetie!"

"Bodhi wants us to go to that pancake place again." He nods toward the stairs.

"I'm exhausted," I say, not in the mood to join the Sunday brunch rush.

"You need to replenish those calories." He remains outside my door. He's wearing joggers and a Chicago Colts shirt that he bought since the top of our building is fitted with a rooftop bar and stadium seats that overlook the Colts' baseball diamond.

My stomach growls, and he gives me his classic look that says get your ass moving, we're going. I might as well just go with them—it'll help me get Leigh out of my head anyway—so I throw on my baseball cap and lock up my condo.

"By the way, those notes are getting worse, and every time I tear down the sign for The Nest, someone puts one back up. Bodhi lives here, and he doesn't need to see that shit." I'm hoping Tweetie will eventually see that for Henry's sake, we need to make our building a better place for Bodhi to grow up. The kid is only six years old.

"Season starts soon, and it'll cool down." I side-eye him and he chuckles one of his full belly laughs, then raises both hands. "I can't control the women."

He's right, but the parties aren't helping. I give him a look.

"Okay, I'll cool it with the parties. I gotta detox for the next few weeks if I don't want to suck at training camp anyway."

Tweetie doesn't have to worry. Sure, he's one of the older guys on the team, but he made his reputation a long time ago as one of the best left wingers in the league. Everyone loves him. He's one of those balls-to-the-wall players who always gives one hundred percent. I just had no idea the guy could party like he does. He's like Peter Pan and doesn't want to grow up.

We reach the second level as Henry is opening his door, Bodhi coming out with his small football.

"Hey, Bodhi," I say, holding out my hands for him to throw me the football.

He throws it to me, and I examine the small Grizzlies ball with all three of the players' signatures who used to live here. "Man, Damon Siska, Miles Cavanaugh, and Cooper Rice? Pretty awesome, bud." I toss it back to him.

"Cooper's way of keeping us happy since he's been getting complaints." Henry eyes Tweetie. "Trying to keep the good tenants, I think."

Tweetie laughs, and I walk down the stairs with Bodhi.

I'm not sure how Henry does it. This is my first year playing with him, but what happens to Bodhi when we travel? I guess I'll find out soon enough.

"You're both giving me hell about having fun. I just told Magic I'll slow down, okay?"

I open the gate to the sidewalk, and Bodhi walks through it.

"Some woman knocked on our door last night," Henry tells me, and I glance over my shoulder.

Henry shoves Tweetie and gives him a look that says, straighten out, asshole.

"Sorry about that, Bodhi," Tweetie says. "We're just four bachelors living in a building from now on."

I look at Bodhi, and he raises his eyebrows as if he doesn't believe him. I'm not sure I do either.

"Maybe I should've shacked up with some other players," Tweetie says as we stop at the light.

"There's still time," I say, and he tries to put me in a headlock, my hat falling to the ground.

"Walk sign." Henry grabs Bodhi's hand, and they cross the road.

"Thanks, Daddy, I have eyes," Tweetie says, using Henry's nickname.

It's not really original, but the description fits. I'm not sure about all of Henry's story and why he decided to adopt, but I haven't asked since he's never offered the information. But even without Bodhi, I think that Henry would be the father figure on the team. I mean, he adopted a kid as a single professional hockey player. Who does that?

Henry flips Tweetie off behind his back, and Tweetie laughs. The man takes nothing seriously.

"So, who's the woman?" Tweetie asks me when Bodhi and Henry end up a few people in front of us.

Henry always makes it clear that we don't talk about the women we bed in front of Bodhi. This is common sense, but then again, Tweetie can forgo common sense sometimes.

I'm not a kiss-and-tell asswipe, so I give him limited information. "She was a guest at the wedding."

"Duh. And?"

"And nothing. I hooked up with her." I shrug.

"So, it was a one-and-done."

I nod, turning the corner toward the breakfast place. I could probably ask Tweetie. From what I know, he's never had a serious girlfriend. "Hey, what are your thoughts about marriage?"

He laughs, causing people to look at us, and I lower the brim of my hat. I am not in the mood to be recognized today, although it will probably happen since I'm with two other players.

"I don't have any thoughts about marriage because I never think of it."

"Have you ever been in a serious relationship?" I ask.

He doesn't answer immediately, and I notice that he's trying not to step on any cracks as we walk the sidewalk. "Uh…once."

The tone of his voice makes me think I shouldn't pry, so we walk for a few minutes in silence, something I didn't think Tweetie was capable of.

"What? You think this woman from last night is the one?" he asks when he breaks the silence.

"Hell no." I don't. "But I wouldn't mind a repeat."

He knocks his shoulder with mine, and I almost run into an elderly woman holding a bag of groceries.

"It won't be as good the second time," he says. "I've been there. Just move on."

"We didn't exchange info, so I couldn't find her anyway. At least not until the bride returns from her honeymoon in a couple of weeks."

"Well, think of it this way. If she wants to, she can find you."

Fuck, he's right. I didn't even think about that. Maybe there's a chance after all.

We catch up to Henry and Bodhi right outside the breakfast place, and they hold the door for us. It's so crowded in the small waiting area, I pick up Bodhi and hold him at my side while Henry talks to the hostess and name-drops me like an asshole to get us seated faster.

I shake my head, pretending I'm not really with them, but the hostess glances in my direction. Then a few of the people waiting turn to stare at all of us. If you follow the Falcons, you know who we are.

"Can we go look at the guy making the pancakes?" Bodhi asks.

"Sure."

I weave through a few tables to get over to the window where you can watch the cooks making the pancakes, but when I'm almost there, a waitress zips in front of us to drop off an order at a table. My gaze stops on the woman sitting in the booth. She's not in a dress and heels anymore, and she's not wearing any makeup, her hair thrown in a messy bun. But it's Leigh, I know it is.

Is this some weird sign from the universe?