Page 28

Alex

T he modern condo with marble tile floors, white walls, and a wall of glass windows overlooking the city wreaks of wealth and prestige, which I guess Jesse Clarkson is. He’s been making seven figures since his time with Chicago, which was how many years ago now?

I heard him telling one of the other guys that he paid eight hundred and fifty thousand dollars for this place, almost one hundred thousand dollars less than the initial asking price. Almost a million dollars for a home that was made of more windows than regular walls.

I’m staring out at the impressive view when I hear someone come up behind me and tap me with something cold. When I turn, I see Belle standing there with a tumbler of what looks like scotch in her hands.

“Did your stepbrother ask you to cater his party?” I ask, accepting the drink.

The brunette smiles warmly. “Actually, I’m somewhat of a cohost.” My eyebrows go up when her thumb jabs behind her at the long hall that has at least four different doors off shooting it.

“I live in one of the guest bedrooms. It’s just a bonus for him to have someone here who knows what his friends like to drink. ”

They live together? Interesting . “Bet it gets tiring dealing with his moody ass twenty-four-seven. Didn’t get enough of that growing up together or…?”

The prying question makes humor dance along her face.

“Our parents didn’t get married until we were in our teens.

It’s a long story that I won’t bore you with.

But living together never really got old because he moved out when he was drafted only a short time after me and my mother came into the picture.

” Her shoulder lifts. “I owe him a lot. He… Well, that’s not just my story to tell.

Jesse is a good person. And he’s different with me than he is with the guys, I imagine. He’s still moody but…less.”

For her sake, I hope so. “It’s a nice place,” I compliment, looking back out the window. The view in the living room is of the skyline. It’s not as pretty as New York’s view on top of the Empire State Building, but it’s not bad.

She sidles up beside me. “It’s even prettier at sunset, you’ll see.

Speaking of, the guys are on the roof. Jesse is grilling some burgers and chicken.

I’m sure Moskins is requesting hot dogs too if you want any.

He usually eats at least one package on his own, especially the drunker he gets.

And I made sure to bring plenty of beer, so the cooler up there is stocked. ”

I saw a few people heading to the elevator when I got here, offering them stiff nods that they returned with little to no communication otherwise.

Nelson accepted the ice I was told to bring and took it up with him with a smile that was a little more friendly than the others.

I guess that’s what happens when you spend more time worrying about your mother than forging friendships with your team.

“Are you coming up or hiding down here?”

“If I wanted to hide, all I’d need to do is lock myself in my bedroom with my Kindle and a glass of wine. Frankly, I might do that when the alcohol starts flowing. I like the guys but some of them can be a little too much when they’re buzzed.”

I only know what a Kindle is because Olive used to bring hers to my place. We didn’t always hook up. On the nights we just hung out, she’d sit in read on her tiny device while I worked on homework or watched TV. It was kind of nice.

Domesticated.

Or as close as I got to that.

I’m sure Belle has seen the guys in their drunken forms more than I have, so I’ll take her word for it. “You’re just playing host then?”

She turns and looks at me. “Jesse was right. You’re very cynical. I’m friends with people here too, you know. What? Were you not hugged as a child or something?”

I take a slow sip of scotch. “I’m inclined to think I’m realistic, not cynical. And, yes, I was. Less so after my dad died in a car accident but…”

Her eyes widen comically large. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t have made that joke.”

Maybe it’s fucked up, but I laugh. “It was a while ago. Don’t worry about it. I’ve always been a bit of a glass half empty kind of guy. You and your brother wouldn’t be the first to notice.”

“Stepbrother,” she corrects, making the corners of my mouth twitch with the threat of a smile.

“Of course. My bad.”

Belle looks away, nibbling her lip. “I used to have my own apartment. It wasn’t great, but it was a roof over my head.

I put everything I had into Belle’s Place, did all the marketing, most of the bartending, and turned it into what it is today.

But Jesse helped make it a success. Because of him, and the team, it’s reputable.

I sacrificed a lot to make my baby bloom.

Then, one day, the building I lived in caught fire.

Thankfully, there were no fatalities. Barely any injuries.

A majority of us lost our stuff, though.

And, like always, Jesse swooped in and saved the day.

He’d been living in a smaller condo at the time, but insisted on moving me in.

When he realized we’d need something bigger, he found this place because he said it reminded me of everything I love. ”

She looks around with a shimmer in her eyes that brightens her face.

“He’s always there for me and the people he cares about or believes in.

When he sees something in someone, he doesn’t let them slip away.

And trust me, I’ve had a handful of times when I could have messed up everything. But he never let that happen.”

If it were up to Olive, would she try self-sabotaging? I felt bad leaving the other day, and she hasn’t responded to any of my messages or calls since. Is that going to stop me from working my way back into her life? No. Sounds like Clarkson is the same way, and he’s got the girl.

“Why are you telling me this?” I ask.

She takes a deep breath. “Because Jesse believes in you. He tells me about everybody on the team, but from day one, he saw something in you that he related to. You may be cynical, but my stepbrother seems to think that works in your favor. It makes you focused on whatever it is you’re cynical about. Or because of.”

If that’s her way of asking me the reason, it’s subtle enough to impress me. But not enough to share. She already knows more about me than most. When was the last time I admitted my father was dead to anybody? Probably not since Olive.

“I’d hate for his belief to be misplaced,” I tell her honestly, staring down at my drink.

Her hand touches my forearm only momentarily, causing my eyes to lift. “There’s that cynicism again.”

My lips kick up a little higher. “I guess it’s from all those missed hugs as a child.”

The captain’s sister groans. “I’m sor—”

“If you’re done flirting with Belle, you should join your team,” Clarkson cuts in, causing Belle’s hand to drop as we turn to him. Neither of us heard him walk over to us. The man is a damn ninja.

His eyes are looking at Belle. Not me.

I lift my cup. “She was just getting me a drink and telling me where you guys were. I brought the ice you texted me about. Somebody took it up already.”

Finally, the captain’s eyes find mine. “You want to help me bring a few things up? Belle brought some appetizers from the bar to help soak up the alcohol. And based on how many empty beer bottles are up there, we’re going to need them.”

I dip my chin and follow him to the kitchen. “Thanks for the drink, Belle,” I call out, not hearing a reply if there is one because Clarkson guides us into the biggest fucking kitchen I’ve seen in my life.

The appliances are big, white, and polished. The refrigerator is one of those big ass doors that looks like a cabinet for some sort of aesthetic purpose I’ll never understand. And I’m pretty sure all the cabinet counters are marble.

He goes over to the fridge and starts taking trays full of food out to set on the giant island.

There are stools lining two sides, with a sink big enough for me to take a bath in on the edge of it.

Above the nook are wine glasses hanging from an expensive piece of wood with lights strung around the chains that keep it elevated.

“Did Belle decorate this place or you?” I ask, studying the long table off to the side with at least eight more chairs surrounding it. Everything looks too expensive to touch. “This place seems massive for two people.”

He closes the fridge with his foot and looks from the assortment of finger food to me. “She did most of the decorating. I don’t have time for that.”

“I can’t imagine she does either, running a business and all,” I comment casually. It’s more of an observation than anything, but his eyes narrow at my tone. “For the record, I don’t have a thing for her.”

His cheek twitches as he grabs the tray full of something wrapped in bacon. “Good” is all he says, passing the tray to me. “You grab those two and I’ll get these.”

He doesn’t say he’s interested in Belle.

But he doesn’t not say it either.

I smile to myself on the ride up to the rooftop.

All Clarkson says is, “Wipe that smirk off your face. I’m not in the mood for anybody to give me shit today.”

“Just Belle?” I ask jokingly.

His sigh is heavy.

Shaking my head, I say, “I won’t say anything. Like you said, we all have secrets.”

I can feel him watching me as I get out of the elevator first. He takes us to a table where drinks are set up already and sets the appetizers down.

Somebody calls out my name.

Another person asks how I’ve been.

It turns into a decent night.

But hours in, I find my mind wandering to a minty-eyed girl who isn’t here and won’t return my calls.

*

It’s three in the morning when Clarkson and I dump Moskins into the spare bed. He makes an incoherent noise that sounds vaguely like a protest, but neither the captain nor I care.

“Thanks,” Clarkson says, closing the door behind the man who’s currently laying on his stomach and mumbling under his breath.