Page 132 of The Right Move

“And I rented a couple tables and chairs.” She offers me a playfully cautious smile. “You need to stop treating this place like a personal prison and start living again. Tonight is a good start.”

Of course, I should’ve known the second Indy learned everything about my past she would attempt to help me begin healing from it all. She’s good like that, caring like that.

The house is prepped and she’s clearly excited. Whatever is cooking in the oven smells phenomenal and knowing that girl’s pure intentions, she believes tonight will be good for me.

I’ll most likely be a ball of anxiety, having so many people in my safe space, but for her, I’ll try.

I remove the magnets holding all our agreements to the fridge. I don’t need my teammates finding out I have a bucket list in order to learn how to be a passable boyfriend, or that the woman who is supposed to be my live-in girlfriend has a lease agreement.

“I’ll hide these.” I hold them up, showing the random scratches of paper that make up our entire relationship.

She chuckles, but before she goes back to chopping vegetables, I catch the sad smile fall on her lips.

I want to kiss it off her and tell her she’s not allowed to go anywhere. Not when she fits so right here, when she makes it feel like home, but the knock at my door keeps me from doing so.

Dom’s mid-chew of the most incredible chicken parmesan I’ve ever had. His eyes roll to the back of his head as another loud moan escapes him. “Holy shit, Shay. She’s only your girlfriend and you get all this? This is wifey material.” Indy pours him another glass of wine, trying not to laugh. “Indy, if he won’t marry you, I’ll do it. Right now.” He begins to stand from his seat as if he were to go down on one knee in front of her.

“Get your ass back in your seat,” I command from the head of the table.

He ignores me, focusing back on the stunning blonde. He gestures between the two of them before silently mouthing, “You and me. Call me.”

She giggles and it’s my favorite sound.

Indy has barely sat down, constantly running from the kitchen to the makeshift dining room with more food and drinks for the team. I haven’t seen these guys so relaxed since dinners back at Ethan’s house. The food is phenomenal, but I wish Indy would take the open seat next to me and eat with us. She made herself a single serving of eggplant parmesan but has yet to enjoy it.

“Shay, your place is incredible,” Leon says, much more outspoken than the last team dinner.

I was hoping to start working with him one on one, but now with my injury, that’s off the table.

“Thanks, man.”

“Why haven’t you had us over yet? This food…” He shakes his head in appreciation. “Holy shit.”

“I’m not sure. I guess it didn’t feel right until recently.”

My eyes wander back to the kitchen to find the reason why I’m so relaxed. Surprisingly, I haven’t felt too much anxiety since the guys began showing up. They’ve been talking about upcoming games and girls they’re seeing. No one attempts to snoop around my space. Instead, they just enjoy being together outside of work.

Both my room and Indy’s are locked shut, keeping everyone confined to the kitchen and living room, and entirely unaware that we have separate bedrooms.

“How long have you lived here?” Leon continues.

“Four and a half years.”

“Wow.” He shakes his head. “I’d love to have a place like this one day.”

A place like this makes sense for a guy like him. Single. Young. I guess I’m single and young too, but there’s not much about my life that works in an apartment like this anymore. More and more I’m itching for a bigger place. Somewhere with land to be outdoors and unbothered. Somewhere that feels less like a reminder of the life I thought I’d once have.

“You get us through the next month and I’m sure there’s a nice little raise coming for your next contract,” I reassure.

He laughs it off. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’m not exactly ready to fill in for Ryan Shay of all people.”

Ethan overhears our conversation, our eyes meeting.

I put my fork and knife down, leaning back in my chair. “You are. You have to be.”

Leon looks down the table of our teammates before directing his attention back to me, his voice quieting. “I can’t do it. I’m a bench guy.”

Leon is my backup, only playing in the fourth quarters if a game is a blowout. I lean forward so only he and Ethan can hear. “Yes, you can. I’ll help you.”

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