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Jay sets my luggage in the corner, and awkwardly looks around. “It’s always been yours,” he says quietly.
Silence fills the room, “Jay…”
“Right, so through this door is a deck.” He points to the French doors. “You can sit out there if you want.” He opens one. Cool air blows into the room and I smile, spotting two comfy chairs on the big balcony.
“If you squint, you might spot the ocean on a clear day between those mountains,” he says, with a proud look on his face.
I stare at him, not saying anything.
“And right through there,” he says, pointing to another white door, “is your own bathroom.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets. “And here you can hang your clothes if you want and…”
“Jay,” I say, standing, “it’s perfect.”
He clears his throat, and takes me into his arms. He kisses my hair, surprising me. After an awkward grunt, he lets me go. “If you need anything, I’ll be outside getting shit organized with the boys. See you downstairs in a couple?” he asks, walking to the door.
Smiling, I sit on the edge of the bed. “Sure.”
“We usually have dinner together after a tour ends. Drew is a great cook, but I thought with you being here, I could light up the barbeque, say, around seven?”
“I’d like that,” I answer.
He nods, putting his hands in his pockets again. “I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He gives me a small smile and closes the door behind him, leaving me alone.
I fall back on the bed. Turning my head, I take one last look out toward the training ground, and close my eyes.
After a couple of minutes there is another knock on my door. “It’s open,” I say, sitting up.
“Here’s the last of your stuff,” Hunter says, dropping my bag on the floor with a thud.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” he drawls, and shoves his hands in his pockets, staring at me.
“You want something?” I ask, taking a deep breath to get my racing heart under control.
“Yeah, I don’t know what your fucking deal is, but we have a good thing going here. We don’t need someone to stir shit up,” he warns.
“I’m not here to stir shit up,” I tell him as he turns his back to me.
The asshole stops in the door opening and flashes me an angry glare over his shoulder. “Whatever,” he spits out. “Just stay the fuck out of my way, and we’ll be good. Jay is the best fucking trainer in the game, and he doesn’t need you to reserve a seat for him at your pity party table.”
I gasp, “This has nothing to do with you. I don’t even know you.”
“Whose fault is that Park Avenue?” he asks, raising one brow like a dare.
“Fuck you,” I spit out.
“Good one. You know, you could have come here many times over. That’s why you’re here now isn’t it, to even some fucking score?” he says, and turns around. “Guess what Sky, we’ve all had a shitty past, you ain’t special.”
“I think you need to leave,” I warn, what a fucking asshole.
“Stay out of our way, and we’ll get along fine,” he repeats, glaring at me.
Standing, I stride to the door. The fucker stands his ground, the side of his mouth twitches, like he’s enjoying our little back and forth, and doesn’t move an inch. I place my palm flat on his chest and push, taking him by surprise. “Get the fuck out. And for your information this is between me and Jay. Certainly not between some lost puppy he took in to make a buck off,” I say, the moment the words leave my mouth I want to take them back.
If looks could kill, this guy wouldn’t have a problem knocking me out.
“Remember what I said, Sky,” he says, spitting out my name.
“Fuck you, Hunter,” I say, slamming the door in his face.
