Of all the days to be running late, this wasn’t the one. It was Thursday night, and I’d told Soren I’d meet him at the apartment at five. It was five fifteen by the time I started busting up the stairs to the sixth floor.
“Soren! I’m ready to go, sorry I’m late!” I announced after unlocking the door and flying inside.
The apartment was still dark. Shuffling the bouquet of flowers into my other arm, I wrestled my phone from my purse to find I’d missed a text from him a few minutes ago. Running late. Meet me downstairs at 5:30?
After punching in a quick reply, I took advantage of those few minutes to gather up the garbage to take downstairs. Soren had said his mom was serving dinner at six, so I knew we’d be pushing it to make it in time. His practice must have run late, as seemed to be their habit. He was on the road this weekend and had heard rumors that some scouts might be in the stands, so he’d been putting in extra time at practice lately.
The garbage wrangled into one bag, I grabbed the flowers again and left the apartment. As I was locking it back up, I noticed a door down the hall open. The very door I’d been waiting to open for what felt like forever.
Number sixty-five. Mrs. Lopez’s unit.
Stalling with the lock, I waited until a figure floated into the doorway before turning. Let’s see what the woman my roommate had been “helping out” looked like.
The garbage bag fell out of my hand when I saw her, my jaw falling too.
Mrs. Lopez. She wasn’t anything like I’d pictured her. Not one bit.
For starters, she was old enough to have been my grandma, if not my great-grandma. She was barely topping five feet and had her silver-white hair combed back from her face. She wasn’t wearing a crimson, form-fitting gown and kitten heels like I’d conjured up in my mind—she was wearing a house dress in a pastel floral print, and navy corduroy slippers that looked like they’d seen better days.
Wait. Maybe this wasn’t the Mrs. Lopez. Maybe this was her mother or great auntie or . . . since she was shuffling a bag of garbage outside too, a housekeeper.
“Mrs. Lopez?” My thoughts manifested verbally.
Her attention turned my way, an easy smile forming when she saw me. “You’re Soren’s roommate, right?”
I nodded as she teetered down the hall toward me. “That’s right. I’m—”
“Hayden,” she said, a glint of recognition sparking in her eye. “Hayden Hayes. He talks about you all of the time.”
Moving away from the door, I headed toward her to take her bag of garbage. It was half the size she was. “He does?”
“Won’t shut up about you most of the time he’s over helping me out.”
She thanked me with a smile as I took the garbage, while I wrestled with feeling like the biggest jerk in the whole entire world. I’d been assuming he’d been hooking up with the sexpot neighbor next door, when really, he’d been helping an old woman out around her apartment.
I needed my head examined. By a team of specialists.
“Soren’s a good guy,” I stated, still reeling from the revelation.
Mrs. Lopez’s head shook. “Soren’s the best type of human being there is, honey. I’ve been around a long time, seen a lot more—people like him are hard to come by.”
I found myself leaning into the hall wall with her, feeling a surge of clarity come over me. The haze of hesitation, the fog of uncertainty, evaporated. Everything felt so clear now. So glaringly obvious.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I smiled at the Mrs. Lopez before moving toward the stairs with both garbage bags in hand. “Finally.”
“Nice to finally meet you too,” she replied with a wave, shuffling back to her apartment.
The whole journey down those six flights, my head wouldn’t stop shaking. Not just because of Mrs. Lopez, but because of everything else. What was I so afraid of? Why had I been so afraid?
Yes, Soren was a man, but that was the only quality that matched my dad. Soren went home for family dinners, even when his schedule was so busy sleep came low on the priority list. He helped out old ladies. God, he helped me out. All. The. Time.
That wasn’t a person who ran away. That wasn’t a man who bailed when the mood struck.
I was so buried under the barrage of revelations, I hardly noticed the cab pull up to the curb beside me as I was heading back into the building after dropping the garbage in the dumpster.
“Please tell me you aren’t just coming back from the dumpster, tucked in the back of the building, alone, and it’s practically dark.” Soren’s head popped out of the back of the cab, giving me a look I was familiar with.
My body instantly responded—my stomach swirling, my heart racing, my mouth turning up. “It’s barely dark.” I headed for the cab. “And someone had to take the garbage out before it started radiating toxic gases.”
He scooted over to let me slide in. “I was planning on doing that tonight after we got back.”
“Now you don’t have to worry about it.” As I slid in beside him, I realized what we were in. “I thought we were taking the subway?”
Soren and I took the subway everywhere. Even though my cash flow had improved dramatically since moving to the city, we still kept to the underground for our preferred means of transportation. I was especially surprised he’d chosen a cab for tonight’s journey since his family lived outside of the city.
He motioned at his ankle. “I broke myself at practice earlier. Figured it would be a good idea to keep as much weight off of it as possible until the swelling goes down.”
My eyes bulged when I saw his ankle. It wasn’t just swollen; it looked like someone had blown up a small balloon inside it. He was still in his practice uniform, but had slid the pant leg up to his knee and had his red sock bunched down below his ankle. When I lightly brushed my fingers across his ankle, Soren shifted in his seat. It was already starting to bruise.
“What did you do?”
“End of practice. We were all leaving the field and I stepped on a damn stray ball lying on the ground.”
My face pulled up as I leaned down to give it a closer look. “Damn stray balls.”
The corner of his mouth pulled. “They can really ruin a person’s day.”
“What did your coaches say? Are you sure you can still go to dinner tonight? Shouldn’t you rest it or elevate it or something like that?”
His eyes lifted. “Please. If I called to say I couldn’t make it to dinner because I rolled my ankle, my brothers would never let that go. Ever. They’d still be going on to my grandsons about the time their grandpa hurt his ankle and instead of shaking it off and getting on with things, he cried and cancelled dinner.” He motioned at his ankle like he’d barely hurt it. “And I didn’t tell my coaches. I don’t need them getting overzealous and benching me this weekend.”
“You didn’t tell your coaches?” I blinked at him as I dug some hand sanitizer from my purse to put on.
“It’s fine. It’ll be good by tomorrow. There was no reason to get everyone worked up over nothing.”
“Soren, your ankle looks like it swallowed a cantaloupe. This isn’t nothing.” Leaning back into the seat, I settled the flowers beside me and patted my lap.
When he took a moment to think about it, I gently lifted his leg and rested his ankle in my lap. At least it was elevated now. We’d just have to wait for the ice until we got to his parents’ place.
“Sprained?” I guessed as I took another look.
“Twisted,” he stated, shifting so his back was pressed into the door.
“It looks like it hurts.”
Soren’s foot nestled a little deeper into my lap. “It’s feeling better now.” A goofy grin stretched across his face as his eyes went from his foot in my lap to my eyes.
Every nerve inside me stood on end as he appraised me in a way that hinted at the very same things I felt when I looked at him. Possession. Desire. Reverence.
His face, like his uniform, was streaked with dirt and sweat. The ends of his light hair curling around his ball cap were extra pronounced tonight. The scent of him was all man and so strong that being stuffed into the back seat of the cab with him made me feel drunk from it.
“What?” he said, still staring right back.
My head shook in an attempt to break the spell. “Nothing.”
He leaned forward, his hand covering mine. “What?”
Letting my fingers tangle through his, I let go of the breath I’d been holding. “I’ll tell you later tonight.”
His fingers squeezed mine. “I’ll be listening.”
After that, the ride went quickly. I did my best to keep his ankle from bouncing around, and he made it a point not to wince at the slightest movement. I knew he was in pain—just looking at his ankle made mine hurt—but there was something oddly appealing about the way he was capable of shrugging off anguish like it barely registered. Survival of the fittest or something primal like that.
And men were the supposed brutes . . .
“You brought my mom flowers,” Soren noted when the cab pulled up in front of the house he’d grown up in. “She’s going to love you even more now.”
“You say that like she already has some reason to love me.” Pushing open the door, I crawled out and turned to help Soren if he needed me.
“You put up with me. That’s plenty of reason to love you in Mom’s book.” Soren slid across the backseat after snagging his bag and set his good foot down on the street outside.
I held out my free hand for him to grab and pulled him up. “Watch your head.”
Too late.
Rubbing the spot on his forehead where he’d hit the doorway of the cab, he hopped a couple steps forward. “Maybe everyone will be too busy staring at the knot on my head to notice the cantaloupe lodged in my ankle.”
I grimaced when I lightly touched the fresh red mark on his forehead. We were going to need two bags of ice.
After Soren paid the driver, I made him sling his arm over my shoulder so I could help him.
“So this is where you grew up?” I took a moment to inspect the house we were approaching, unable to keep from smiling. It was a modest house with a small yard, like most of the houses near a big city would likely have, but it had been taken care of. Around back, I could just make out an old, rusted swing set. Around the yard, a few flowers were just starting to push through the soil.
“Dad and Mom brought all four of us home from the hospital to this place. Dad taught me how to throw a ball right out here”—he indicated the front yard we were passing through—“and my brothers taught me how to how to run fast and estimate the number of stitches I’d be getting while en route to the emergency room.” Soren’s arm slung more around my neck than my shoulder, drawing me closer to him. “Mom pretty much taught me everything else.”
When we made it to the bottom of the few stairs leading to the door, we paused.
“Want me to get one of your brothers to help?”
He snorted as he started hopping up the stairs like he’d done it a thousand times. He moved up them as quickly one-legged as I did on two. “Help, in my brothers’ book, would be greasing the stairs to see how many I could make before wiping out.” When we made it to the front door, Soren paused with his fist in the air before knocking. “Ready for this?”
I sucked in a breath. “Ready.”
After Soren knocked, footsteps could be heard moving inside. A few moments later, the door opened and a woman was standing on the other side of it. I knew where Soren got his smile from.
“Sorry we’re late, Mom. It was my fault.” Soren pulled the screen door open, waving me through first. “This is Hayden. Hayden, this is my mom.”
Soren’s mom waved us inside then wrapped her arms around me as soon as I made it through the door. “I also have another name—Caroline, not Mrs. Decker like I could tell you were about to call me.” She nudged me as Soren moved through the door. “I’m a former Midwest girl too.”
When I realized I’d been about to call her Mrs. Decker, I cleared my throat. “Thank you for having me. These are for you.”
Her hand covered her chest when I held out the flowers. “Gorgeous and thoughtful. Who would have thought a girl could be both? Isn’t that right, Soren?” Mrs. Decker—Caroline—lifted an eyebrow at Soren as he leaned in to kiss her check.
“Subtle, Mom. Real subtle.”
“Soren always used to complain that it was impossible to find a decent girl in this day and age. I told him he just had to be patient.” She patted his cheek a few times. “And look, his patience paid off.”
Soren and I exchanged a look, his leaning toward apologetic. “Hayden’s my roommate. We share the same living space. We’re friends. Let’s not make her uncomfortable before she even makes it past the front door.”
I waved it off, but yeah, kind of awkward. Especially with the realizations that had poured down on me an hour ago.
“Your dad and I were friends,” his mom said, turning toward the kitchen. “One marriage and four grown children later . . .”
“Mom,” Soren groaned, following her with me.
The smile fell from her face when she noticed the way Soren was moving. “What did you do now?”
“Nothing.”
Her hand went to her hip as she pulled a vase from one of the kitchen cupboards. “You’re limping.”
“It’s nothing. Just a little twist.” Soren stopped moving and leaned into the kitchen doorway. “Where are they?”
“In the living room. I told them they had to stay in there to give Hayden a chance to settle in before they all came at her at once.” Caroline filled the vase with water and unwrapped the bouquet. “Your dad’s in there with them, making sure they behave.”
Soren huffed. “Good call. Do you mind if I take a quick shower before dinner? I didn’t have time after practice, and well, I stink.” His nose dropped to his armpits and he took a whiff. His face scrunched up.
“Sure. I figured you’d be running late, so I stalled.” Caroline gave him a look that was all mother. “You’ve got a half hour.”
“Do you have a couple of baggies I could steal to fill with ice?” I asked as she arranged the flowers.
She opened the cupboard where the baggies were. “Did he hurt more than his ankle?”
I glanced at the red mark forming below his hairline. “His head too.”
“Of course he did,” Caroline chided good-naturedly. “Ice is in the freezer. We don’t have one of those fancy ice makers yet.”
“Thank you.” I freed a couple of baggies from the box before moving to the freezer.
Soren stayed in the doorway, waiting for me.
“Do you need any help with anything?” I asked as I cracked a couple of ice trays to fill the baggies.
“I’m just waiting for everything to finish cooking. Why don’t you go with Soren and let him give you the grand tour?” She pushed her sleeves up higher as she finished arranging the flowers. “Make sure he keeps those bags of ice on longer than thirty seconds, would you? I have a feeling you’ll be a more convincing nurse than I could be.”
Soren tipped his chin out of the kitchen at me, looking like he was even more uncomfortable with the conversation than I was.
As we moved toward the stairs, I whispered, “Your mom’s really nice.”
“She’s also really pushy when it comes to her family,” he whispered back. “Sorry if any of that made you uncomfortable.”
“I’m good.”
“Yeah, she just knows you’re great, and she thinks I’m great, so she’s going to try really hard to get all of that greatness to come together.” He sighed, rolling to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. “If it gets to be too much, just let me know. I can talk to her.”
“Soren, it’s fine. You are great. She’s totally right in her estimation.”
His hand caught mine as I started up the stairs. “I’m great?” His eyebrow disappeared into his ball cap. “Me? Is this your opinion or you repeating my Mom’s?”
“Please. You know you’re great.”
“But you just said ‘you are great.’ So does that mean you think I’m great too?”
My instinct was to turn and disappear up the stairs before I had to answer. I forced myself to stay and look him in the eye. “I don’t think you’re great. I know you are.” I wiped at a smudge of dirt streaked across his cheek. “Happy now?”
He blinked a couple of times. “Bewildered now.”
I laughed, pulling him up the stairs. “Come on. Let’s get you iced up.”
“Hey, Butt Munch? Is that you?” a voice boomed from the room behind the stairs.
“Of course it’s him. He laughs like a girl,” another voice replied.
“You heard what your mom said. Be nice,” an older male voice rumbled next.
Soren looked like he was bracing himself as a thunder of footsteps moved toward us.
“Did your imaginary model roommate bail on you, little brother?”
“Yeah, did she have some photo shoot she was at and couldn’t make it?”
Soren turned, putting his back toward me as three guys appeared at the base of the stairs. Their smirks disappeared the moment they noticed me lingering behind Soren.
“Hey.” I waved at the three of them, about as different-looking as brothers could be. “I’m Soren’s imaginary model roommate.”
One of them elbowed the brother on his right. “I’m seeing things, right? Please tell me I’m imagining this, because if baby brother tagged and bagged a mega hottie before any of us, I’m going to kill myself.”
The other brother blinked at me a few times then shook his head. “You’re not seeing things. Mega hottie at your twelve o’clock.”
“You live with Soren?” the first one asked.
“We’re roommates,” I answered slowly.
“You do anything else with Soren?” he continued.
That was when Soren went into action, shoving the three brothers back like he was trying to create a perimeter.
I decided to play along though. “I do plenty of other things with Soren.”
The scuffle came to an instant halt.
“Do explain,” one of them asked. “In great detail.”
I had to look down to keep from smiling at the scene in front of me. Limbs and fists tangled all together, four heads turned my way, waiting. “Why should I explain when your imaginations can do a much better job?”
Soren’s mouth was the first to fall open. Three more followed.
“I use my imagination all the time—”
“Every night . . .” one of them muttered, which was answered with a fist to the arm.
“My imagination would love a break, so please, do tell. Talk slowly. Use particulars.”
Soren grunted as he shoved the brother who was currently speaking. “Are you kidding me right now? You guys promised you wouldn’t behave like a bunch of miscreants if I brought Hayden home. What do you call this?” Soren gave the other two a shove for good measure.
“Chill, baby bro. We’re not cursing, we’re wearing nice shirts, and we haven’t starting spilling all of those juicy stories no dude wants his girl to know about.”
“She’s not my girl. She’s my roommate.”
Three sets of eyes lifted toward me. I answered them all with a shrug.
“Since paranoid and possessive here isn’t going to get around to introducing us, let me do the honors.” The tall, dark-haired one shoved around Soren with one of those smiles that had probably charmed the pants or skirts off a good handful of girls. “I’m Ben, firstborn and the favorite. Let me add that I’m also single. Very single.”
His dark eyes were drifting down my body when Soren slid in front of me, stepping onto the stair below me.
“That’s Michael, number two, and Tobin, number three.” Soren’s finger counted off the other two before finding my hand and moving up the stairs. “You’ve met everyone now except for Dad. That can wait until dinner.”
“We hate to see you go, Soren—”
“Not,” another grunted.
“But we love to watch Hayden leave.”
Soren’s hand went behind his back, his middle finger waving down at his three brothers. I didn’t realize he’d been walking up the stairs instead of hopping until we made it to the top.
I glanced at his ankle, shaking my head. “Macho much?”
“You just met the heathens I was raised with. Macho was a side effect of growing up with them.”
The jeering and whistling had come to a quiet downstairs, but I was still shaking my head over the whole thing. I had that much more respect for Caroline that she’d survived twenty years of that.
“Sorry about them. I tried to warn you, but there’s just no way to warn a person about that.” Soren’s hand stayed in mine as we moved down the hall. “They’re animals, and they clearly don’t know how to act around a girl, so yeah. If you want to leave right now or hide out in my room with a stomachache or something, I get it.”
My arm bumped his as we stopped in front of a closed door. “I don’t scare easily.”
His eyes dropped to where my hand was still secured in his. “Obviously.”
“Plus, they make you look good. Really good.”
He fought a smile as he opened the door. “Then maybe we should hang around them more often.”
“I think I’ll like your brothers best in small doses.”
“That’s something we have in common.” He moved inside the room, his limp more pronounced thanks to his jaunt up the stairs. “The room of my boyhood. In all its sports paraphernalia and denim glory.” Soren grunted as he waved at his room.
“Wow. You really must have loved balls growing up.”
I stepped into the middle of the room and did a slow spin. The walls were lined in a border decorated with footballs, baseballs, and basketballs. There was an entire bin filled with the real thing beneath one of the windows trimmed in, you guessed it, ball curtains. Even the twin-sized bed had a baseball diamond comforter, complete with a couple of throw pillows in the shapes of a mitt and a bat.
“Yeah, my mom has a tough time accepting we’re all grown men now. With me being the baby, it’s especially bad.” He motioned at a stuffed bear propped on top of the dark blue dresser.
“Aww. It’s so cute.” I nudged him in passing before snagging the stuffed bear from its perch.
“She still comes in here every week to vacuum, dust, and change the sheets.” Soren closed the door and slid off his ball cap. His light hair was plastered to his head.
“She loves her baby boy.”
“But at the same time, she’s trying to fix her ‘baby boy’ up with the first girl he brings home.” Soren moved toward the adjoining bathroom, kicking out of his sneakers as he went.
The baggies of ice started to slip from my fingers. I decided to set them on his nightstand before they fell. “Am I the first girl you’ve brought home?”
Soren answered with a shrug.
“Me?”
“Would you be eager to bring someone home if you had three siblings like mine to contend with?” He disappeared in the bathroom, the sound of a shower cranking on following. “I had to make sure the first girl I did bring home was tough enough to handle it.”
“I think that’s a compliment, so thanks?” I settled onto the edge of his bed, clutching the old bear to my stomach.
“That’s definitely a compliment.” His head appeared past the bathroom door. “I’m going to take a quick shower and then I’ll be out to ice. Scouts honor.”
“You shouldn’t even be moving around on that ankle.”
“Please. I was riding my bike with a broken leg a week after they’d put me in a cast.”
I heard the slide of a shower curtain and tried to focus on something other than the fact that Soren was, yet again, naked in the shower. This time, it was while I was resting on his childhood bed.
“I’m just going to wait here. Enjoying your balls.” I bit my lip when I heard his chuckle echo against the shower walls.
“My balls are always willing to volunteer for your enjoyment.”