Page 9

CHAPTER NINE

KENDRA

S tanding outside Jack’s apartment door with two duffel bags on my back and a suitcase by my feet is the strangest kind of surreal.

Single, homeless, and about to move in with my ex-boyfriend’s rival.

“Jesus, Kendra,” I whisper under my breath as I lift my hand and knock twice on the white double doors.

I don’t need to see inside his apartment to know that this place is an NHL player’s stomping ground. The lobby and hallway were enough to clue me in. But when Jack pulls the door open and light cascades in through the huge windows, bouncing against the vast white walls and marble floor, I’m reminded of the other side of pro athlete life.

“Hey.” Jack speaks first, swiping the back of his hand across his brow.

“Hey,” I reply awkwardly as I try—and fail—to disguise the once-over my brain can’t seem to prevent.

Today, he’s wearing light-blue gym shorts and a dark blue Blades T-shirt, and by the flush on his face, I assume he was working out.

He moves to one side, opening the door slightly wider, and when I step through, he reaches out and takes my suitcase from me, our fingers brushing in the process.

“You found it okay then?” Jack closes the door behind him as I continue taking in the open plan living space.

As I swivel around, I wear a sarcastic look that could be interpreted as confidence, but really, I’m nervous as shit and way out of my depth. “You mean using the directions to one of the most exclusive apartment buildings in Brooklyn? Yeah, the taxi driver found it just fine.”

He huffs out a laugh and sets my suitcase by the side table, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I don’t own it or anything.”

“Is this the kind of living budget the Blades offer then?”

On a wince, Jack scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s Jon’s. Last year, he bought five apartments to rent out, this one included.”

I nod my head lightly, but don’t move.

“I pay him market rent though. Wouldn’t want to take handouts now, would I?”

When I look up at him, his cheeks are still flushed red, and his hair is a cute, disheveled mess.

I can’t help but press my lips together with amusement. “That would never do, Morgan.”

He rocks back on his white Nike sneakers, which look brand-new, just like this apartment.

“You keep the place nice,” I say, taking a step toward the insanely big kitchen situated behind Jack. When I reach the island, I pull off my duffel bags and dump them on the counter.

“Not always,” he replies, following me and heading for the fridge.

Opening the door, he pulls out two bottles of water and holds one out for me, which I take .

“Ah, the cleaner just left then.” I smile, swallowing my first sip.

He sets his bottle beside him and leans back against the counter, gripping the gray granite in his palms. “Speak for yourself, Hart. I clean up my own mess.”

Silence spreads between us as he picks up his bottle and takes another sip, and as I do the same, I find myself trying to work out the atmosphere between us. Would I call it awkward? Not exactly since it’s clear Jack has no problem making eye contact with me. In fact, he hasn’t stopped watching me since I walked through his door. Still, whatever it is settling in the room between us, it’s charged to fuck.

I clear my throat, trying to move past the feeling. “So, which one is my room?” I ask.

“Shit. Yeah, sorry.” Jack pushes off the counter, almost like he was locked in the same kind of thought process as me.

Walking over to my suitcase, he picks it up and then heads straight for the island, grabbing my bags and holding them in his other hand.

When he reaches the threshold to a long hallway, he pauses and turns to me. “I gave you the room that overlooks the city. There’s a good view of the bridge, and the bed is bigger in this one.” He closes his eyes, but only for a millisecond before they’re back on me. “In case you like to, you know, spread out and have lie-ins.”

After the best part of two weeks living out of a suitcase, unpacking my clothes and organizing them into a dresser was nothing short of therapeutic. And the same with this apartment. Jack’s spare room and en suite about brought me to tears when he opened the door and the cityscape and large black bed came into view. The room has a monochrome finish with low-level lighting around the floor. Which, incidentally, is also heated.

After I finished unpacking, I tested out the rainfall shower and threw my hair up into a messy bun. And as I stand, staring at myself in the full-length mirror, dressed in sweats and a Storm T-shirt, I run through how long I can feasibly stay here rent-free before I feel like I’m taking advantage of him.

Which I already sort of am.

“Kendra?” Jack’s voice filters into my bedroom.

Tucking a piece of loose hair behind my ear, I continue facing the mirror. “Yeah?”

“Can you come here for a second?”

When I reach the living space, I find Jack sitting at the island with his back to me, head down and deep in concentration.

“How can I help?” I say, taking a seat next to him and studying the grocery app he has open on his iPad.

Once another item has been added to the cart, totaling in excess of three hundred dollars, he turns his attention to me, his eyes landing on the pile of wet hair on top of my head.

He doesn’t say anything as he slides the iPad across to me. “I was going to do this earlier, but then I realized I don’t know what you like. So, just add what you want, and I’ve reserved a delivery slot for late afternoon.”

Checking out the contents of the cart, I select a couple of things I’m running low on, including deodorant. “I can give you half of the total cost,” I say, continuing to check out the list. Which is everything I could think of.

I pause on the clotted cream and look up at him, grinning. “But I’m not paying for this.”

With his chin resting in his palm, Jack braces his right elbow on the countertop. “Let’s not get off to a bad start now, Kendra. We both know you love a scone.”

I refocus on the grocery cart, but pause and scroll back up a couple of items. “Candles?”

Jack’s eyes fall to the list, his lips twisting slightly. “So, my sister, Darcy, really likes candles. She’s a similar age to you and says they make anywhere feel homey. I figured that, you know, you might like to have some here. In your room or whatever.”

He swipes a hand across his mouth as I continue to look at him, probably with mine hanging open.

“Sorry, it was a stupid idea.”

He reaches out to hit the Remove button on the list, but I beat him to it and cover the screen with my hand.

“No, no. Your sister is right. I love candles, and it’s true; they do make any place feel homey.”

I retract my hand, but Jack’s remains hovering.

“I’m surprised my apartment didn’t burn down, to be honest. Flames everywhere,” I muse.

Clicking the plus sign next to the vanilla-scented candle, he adds a few more. “I don’t want any money for groceries, unless you insist because it makes you feel uncomfortable or something.”

“It makes me feel uncomfortable,” I immediately confirm. “Just give me your details, and I can transfer whatever you need.”

Leaning back in his chair, he crosses his arms over his chest. I clocked his broader shoulders the first time I saw him at Lloyd’s, but today is the first time I’ve noticed his thicker forearms.

He also has a face, Kendra.

“Okay, deal,” he replies. “But that’s it. I don’t want anything else. Save the money you earn; otherwise, me putting you up for a few weeks is pointless if you go right back to square one.”

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “I can use it to subsidize rental payments until I sign a new contract later this season. Which will hopefully see an increase in my wages.”

Hitting Order on the app, Jack pulls the iPad back toward him and locks the screen. “I find it kind of gross that male pro footballers earn what they do, but not the women. It’s the exact same back in the UK.”

I run my tongue along the roof of my mouth. “Yep. Ty always said it was a male-dominated sport, and so it’s natural to have a pay gap.” I laugh sarcastically. “I’d love to see him survive on sixty thousand dollars a year.”

Jack’s eyebrows shoot up. “Yeah, it would last him a week.”

“This summer, I’m hoping to secure another twenty thousand since it will be my third season in the NWSL. That’s what Jenna thinks I’ll be offered anyway.”

“Did you tell her about moving in here?” Jack asks, changing the subject.

I shake my head. “Told her I was going to stay in a hotel a couple of blocks from our training center for a while. Said I wanted to give her and Lee some privacy. I’ll tell her tomorrow at practice.”

And I can’t wait for the look on her face when I do.

Silence stretches between us again.

“I’m leaving pretty early in the morning for my flight, and I’ll be away for three nights.” Jack reaches into his pocket and pulls out a key. “I got this cut for you, and I left the code to get onto the floor in your bedroom. The one you were given downstairs is a guest code.”

I take the key from him. “I saw it. Thanks.”

When he runs a hand through his hair, I can tell he wants to ask me something.

“Go ahead,” I say, granting him the opportunity.

“Does Tyler know about your place?”

I shake my head, thinking about all the times he’s tried to reach out to me over the past few days. Every single one is about him and the way I’m “ignoring” him. Not one asks me how I’m doing.

“No. I’ll tell him when I get set up in a new place. He didn’t really come around when we were together, so no danger of him turning up, unannounced. Even if he does keep blowing up my phone.”

For the past few minutes, Jack’s expression has been relatively relaxed, but I can’t mistake the way his jaw clenches .

“He’s bothering you?”

My hands immediately find my hair, and I rearrange my bun.

“Kendra, is he bothering you?” Jack repeats, more concern than any anger in his voice, which takes me by surprise, given his history with my ex-boyfriend.

I puff out a breath and drop my hands into my lap. “It’s always the same type of message. He says he’s sorry and wants to talk it out. But the thing is, I don’t. I want to get on with my life and soccer because, as I see it, there’s no way back for us.”

Jack pins his bottom lip between his teeth. “Then reply and tell him that.”

I nod, knowing he’s right. “I just don’t want to talk to him again. If you’d told me this time six months ago that I’d be in this situation—single and homeless—I’d have probably cried more at the single part. But honestly, I’m struggling to feel anything toward him. I just want him to leave me alone.”

Jack goes to speak, but I continue, feeling some kind of relief to say everything out loud.

“If anything, I’m kind of excited about the single part.”

His eyes grow wide as he runs a palm over the scruff of his jaw. “What do you mean?”

I pull out my cell and scroll to the Tinder app. “I’ve only set up a profile for now, but I’m thinking I’ll go out and have a bit of fun. I’ve been in a relationship for four years, and I’m two weeks away from turning twenty-three, so, yeah, I feel like maybe I’ve been missing out.”

The giddiness in my voice is not reflected on Jack’s face as he looks off to the side and then back at me, concern lacing his features.

“Yeah.” A gravelly noise escapes his chest. “I mean, yeah, for sure, you should enjoy yourself. Just be careful with”—he points to the phone in my hand—“guys you don’t know. Be safe, I mean,” he finishes, shifting awkwardly on his stool.

“I won’t be bringing anyone back here; you don’t need to worry about that.” I chuckle .

He scratches at his temple, blowing out a laugh that feels kind of forced. “Yeah, I know.”

I set down my phone, dropping my face into my hands.

Who am I kidding?

“Yeah, you’re right. Dating apps are probably a terrible idea for me.”

With my hands in front of my eyes, I can’t see anything. So, when Jack takes hold of my wrist and pulls a hand away, I feel his warm, slightly rough palm all the way to my toes.

His face is soft and comforting. “Hey, I’m not judging anything, Kendra. You do what you want, but I’m just saying, be careful. Plus, if closure is what you want with Tyler, then if I were you, I’d be getting his stuff back to him ASAP. That way, he doesn’t have any reason to contact you.”

I offer Jack a small smile, appreciating everything he is doing for me while somehow regretting I never got to know him better in college. “All I want to do is concentrate on playing soccer, getting to the World Cup this summer, and finding a place I can call home.”

A bigger smile pops Jack’s dimple. “Football.”

“What?” I reply.

“Football,” he repeats. “It’s the second time you’ve called it soccer since you started living with me.” He leans toward me, his smile turning cocky. “I don’t have many house rules, Kendra, but this is one. Whenever we talk about the sport where you physically control the ball with your foot, we refer to it as football.”

I narrow my eyes at him playfully, all the previous tension in my shoulders vanishing in an instant. “Hard pass, Morgan.”