AllFreeNovel
Share Us
1
NOVA
This isn’t happening.
Half an hour ago, we were at the gala celebrating the team and my mural.
Now, Clay’s moving to LA.
Rain streaks the window, and I wrap my coat tighter around me even though we’re in the car. The headline replays in my mind. I could pull it up again, but I don’t have to. Those words are emblazoned in my mind.
Trade Rumor Confirmed:
Denver Kodiaks Forward Clayton Wade Sent to LA in Multiyear Deal for Kyle Banks
“It’s going to move fast from here.” Clay’s voice has me looking toward the driver’s seat.
His bowtie is still fastened, the tattoos snaking up his neck and out the cuffs of his tux. His hair sticks up from the hand he shoved through it after getting in the car. He sat there for thirty seconds staring into space before starting the engine and pulling out of the stadium garage.
“How fast?”
His phone buzzes with alerts between us, the screen lighting up every second. He flips it over. “I need to call my agent and go see Coach.”
“It’s eleven at night.”
I feel him watching me, gauging my reaction even as he’s dealing with his own.
“I’m not getting any sleep. Doesn’t mean you can’t.” He pulls up in front of the condo building and takes my hand.
He drops a key into my palm. “I’ll see you later.”
I shift out of the car, disbelief washing over me as I race to the doors of the building. I love an adventure, but this one feels like a game where everyone can keep up except me.
Six months ago, I was living alone in Boston unemployed after my cowardly ex ran away in the night.
Now, I’m in Denver and moving in with my six-five, tattooed and grumpy all-star pro athlete boyfriend.
At least I was supposed to be.
“Clay…”
I start to turn back, but he’s already gone.
I go up to Clay’s place and let myself in, kicking off my heels at the door. I turn on the lights and wander around the living room without a destination.
He’s wanted a trade to LA for so long. It was his endgame, and I’d almost come to accept that he’d be leaving.
Except…
He told me Harlan had agreed to keep him in Denver. That he wanted it.
It’s not clear what this means for us, but I’m desperately afraid I’m going to lose him.
A knock on the door makes me jump. I cross to the peephole. Brooke.
“Clay’s not here,” I say as I open the door to find her still in her gala outfit, no sign of rain on her anywhere, a bottle clutched in one hand.
“I figured. I came for you, dummy.”
