“Oh.”
“Did you want to go?” Dom questions. “You almost never go out with us, so I didn’t think to ask. Sorry, man.”
I shake my head. “Nah, it’s cool. I wanted to be home.”
Ethan and I are the two homebodies on the team. Ethan because he has a wife and three children and me because leaving my house and risking negative headlines is almost never worth it. The last time was almost a disaster. I punched an old teammate for treating Stevie poorly, and thankfully, my sister’s boyfriend took the blame to keep the heat off me. But I didn’t realize I had declined my teammates so much already I was no longer getting invited.
Dom could’ve called me for a ride at least. Sure, he didn’t realize that I was wide awake most of the night wondering why my new roommate wasn’t home yet, but I was.
I have ten more minutes to ice my shoulder before I can hit the showers and head to the airport, so I stand around shooting the shit with a handful of my teammates. Dom recounts the hookup he had in the back of the club last night, and Ethan fills us in on how his oldest daughter’s dance recital went.
The two spectrums of our team. Sleezy hookups in a club and dance recitals with children. I don’t know where I fall between these guys. It’s hard to relate to anyone when the only thing I care about is getting this team to the playoffs.
“Ethan,” our GM projects from across the gym. “Caroline is looking forward to dinner on Monday.”
Ron Morgan wears the happiest motherfucking grin as he looks at the previous team captain at my side.
“Annie is stoked too,” Ethan replies. “Can we bring anything this time?”
“We’ve got it! Caroline is making that rhubarb pie you love so much.”
“Oh man!” Ethan’s head falls back. “I can’t wait.” He smiles, holding his hand up in a quick wave.
“What the hell was that?” I ask.
“What was what?”
“That. Caroline is looking forward to dinner on Monday.”
“It’s exactly what it sounds like. His wife is looking forward to having dinner on Monday.”
“How did you get so chummy with him? He hates me.” Looking back, I find Ron speaking to the head coach. His creased forehead and disappointed features are back, quickly replacing the relaxed smile he wore while he spoke with Ethan.
“Exactly that. Caroline. The man goes completely soft when it comes to his wife, and she loves Annie. We’ve been doing date nights together for years now. You get in with Caroline, you’ve got Ron too.”
I nod my head. “Caroline is great. That should be easy.”
He laughs condescendingly. “Not a chance, man. She doesn’t give a shit about basketball. The topic never comes up at the dinner table and you don’t know how to talk about anything else. She’s big on family, they both are, and the only reason Ron invited us out the first time is because Caroline wanted to get to know Annie. She was and still is the only consistent woman around the team, so I should really be thanking my wife that Ron likes me as much as he does.”
“Holy mama,” Dom says loudly enough to pull my attention, his eyes glued behind me. The rest of the team follows suit, turning back towards the practice gym’s entrance.
“Hot damn.”
“Good God,” they echo.
Turning around, I’m not so pleasantly surprised to find Indy strutting into the building like she owns the place, wearing a soft purple sundress on this unseasonably warm October day. Her high-top white Converse are embroidered with colorful shapes, and her hair and makeup are re-done, looking like a completely different woman than I left at the apartment a few hours ago.
“Shay, you are the luckiest man alive. Please tell me you’re hitting that.”
My head whips around to my teammate. “Watch your fucking mouth.”
“Well, if you don’t try, I will.”
“Dom,” Ethan warns, trying to hold back his laughter. “Ryan is about to combust, so I’d tone it back there, buddy.”
Shifting my attention back to Indy, her eyes wander the practice facility. Even though she’s clearly out of her element, nothing about her stance seems nervous. And her being comfortable in a place where she has no business being is something else I’ve quickly learned about her. I don’t think the girl knows how to be embarrassed.
Multiple pairs of eyes stick to the blonde beauty as Ethan watches me with amusement.
“Stop looking at her,” I warn. “Go hit the showers or get to the airport or just about anything other than look at her. She’s not available.”
“So, you are hitting that.” Dom nods in approval.
“No, I’m not hitting that. And neither are any of you. Stop looking at her or she’ll be the last thing you ever fucking see.”
“Ooooh. Protective Shay is here, and his sister is nowhere to be found. Someone write this date down. History is being made, people. Ryan Shay gives a fuck about someone other than Stevie and something other than basketball.”
“Dom, you’re about to get your ass kicked. If not by Ryan then by me.” Ethan shakes his head at our big man.
I ignore the retort Dom comes up with as I quickly make my way to Indy while she wanders into our practice space.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, taking her arm to pull her into the corner of the gym.
“Well, hello to you too.”
“How’d you get in here? This is a closed practice.”
She circles an index finger around her face. “Charming. Remember?”
Of course, my overconfident roommate could talk her way past security and into our closed practice while the gates outside are lined with eager fans, hopeful for a photo or autograph.
Her eyes fix to the ice bag strapped to my shoulder. “What happened?”
“Nothing. Indy, you can’t be here.” I want to add especially not looking like that but she could be wearing a potato sack and all my teammates’ eyes would still be on her.
She holds out a key. “The key you made me didn’t work. I went to buy curtains and when I got back, I couldn’t get inside.”
“You’re sure?” I take the key from her.
“Positive.”
“Okay. I’ll get you mine, but we need to get you out of here.”
“Shay!” I hear my name coming from the offices that line the top half of the court. “Come here for a moment. I’d like a word.”
Ron Morgan stands in the doorway of his office, hands tucked in his suit pant pockets.
“Fuck,” I exhale, turning back to Indy. “Stay here. Don’t move, and don’t talk to anyone either.”
“Cranky this morning,” she mutters under her breath as I jog away from her.
I hold my hand out when I reach the office. “Mr. Morgan.”
“Shay, I’ve known you for four years. Call me Ron.” He puts his hand in mine.
“With all due respect, sir. I’d prefer to call you Mr. Morgan.”
“Of course, you do. With your sirs and ma’ams. You’ve always had those Southern manners.”
He stares up at me, eyes narrowing, and I’d be lying if I said this man didn’t intimidate me. He might be smaller than me, but he holds my future in his hands. I’m here as long as he wants me, and the moment he doesn’t, I’ll be traded. That’s how this business works. I’m worth a pretty penny and my salary takes up a good amount of his budget. I’m acutely aware that I haven’t delivered him a championship or even a playoff berth in return for his investment.