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I open the front door and lean against the frame while waiting for Chase. I have no idea why he’s here, but I’m glad he is. I could use the familiar face. Oakley must’ve told him where I was staying. She wanted to google the apartment building to look at pictures online when I told her how swanky it was.
The hallway is quiet. There are two other units on this floor, but I’ve only run into one of my neighbors so far. She was an attractive, recently divorced flight attendant that I met yesterday on my way back from rehab. She gazed at me with interested eyes and an inviting smile as the elevator ascended to our floor. All I noticed when I looked at her was that she didn’t have the blonde hair and cerulean eyes that I’d become obsessed with over the past few weeks.
The elevator dings right before the doors slide open. Chase steps into view with a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. He drops it to the ground when he nears, and we slap hands and do that half-hug thing guys do.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask, but I can’t hide my smile or the fact that I’m happy to see him.
He lifts his bag again and steps across the threshold, depositing it just inside the door. He stops to look around. “I thought I’d surprise you with a visit. Had to see this place for myself. Make sure you weren’t slumming it.” He hums as he glances around with his eyebrows arched. “You are definitely not slumming it, my friend.”
Chase knows I’m frugal. I have a hard time spending money on myself. Now that I have a massive contract, that should change. But I don’t know if it will. Blame it on my middle-class upbringing, but I’ve never been comfortable dropping large amounts of cash. A place this expensive is out of character for me. Then again, I’m not the one paying for it.
Chase glances at my knee as I hobble back to the couch. The limp is slight now, but it’s still there.
“I see you aren’t done faking the injury …”
I flip him off and work on zipping my leg into the ice compression system the team hooked me up with. Everything here is top-notch. They have all the latest and best gadgets to facilitate my rehab. This thing circulates the cold along my entire extremity.
Chase touches the edge of the contraption. “I guess the days of icing with frozen peas are long gone.”
“Nothing but the best for the pros,” I say mockingly. But the ice sleeve is impressive.
Chase walks to the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazes out at the view.
The apartment sits on the twentieth floor, and the windows wrap around the living room. One side looks out over the city and the other over Lake Michigan. The place is impressive for the view alone, but the finishes and the furniture scream money. I’m sitting on a comfortable, oversize couch across from a seventy-two-inch television that’s mounted to the wall.
“So, what brings you to the big city?” I ask him while settling back into my seat. “Did Oakley make you come?”
He walks over to the other wall of glass to look at the water. The sky is clear today, but the sun is setting. There’s an orange glow coming through the panes.
“Oakley doesn’t make me do anything,” he scoffs. “I came here of my own volition. I finished the construction job back home and had a few days to kill …”
I smirk, but he’s still gazing at the view. After a few seconds of silence, his eyes whip over, and he spots my expression.
“Okay,” he relents. “She might have suggested that this was a good time to come visit.”
“She wanted you to check up on me,” I surmise. “I’m doing fine. The knee is coming along. It gets a little better every day. And I should be good to go by the time camp and preseason come around. That’s all that really matters.”
“That’s the textbook answer.” He saunters over and plants himself on the other end of the couch. The sectional is so big that he might as well be in the other room. “But how are you really?”
I scowl. “I’m fine.”
“You haven’t seemed fine on the phone.”
“That would be relevant if you and I talked on the phone,” I quip. “We haven’t.”
I meet his eyes across the room and give him a hard stare. Chase and I are both men of few words. We never have heart-to-hearts. About anything. And we never talk on the phone for anything more than the five minutes or less it takes to secure plans. This is coming from Oakley, and we both know it.
He blows out a breath. “Fine. Your sister said you sounded depressed. She said Mads sounded weird too. She wanted me to check on you. Cheer you up.”
“And she sent you to cheer me up? You being here is the quickest way to get me in a worse mood.”
I chuckle when it’s his turn to give me the one-fingered salute.
There’s a knock on the door again, and Chase jumps up to get it.
“You didn’t need to buy me dinner!” he exclaims after securing the bag from the deliveryman and shutting the door.
“I didn’t.” I throw a pillow at him.
