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“Does Ollie live in the building too?” I ask, leading her back to my bedroom.
She nods. “He’s a couple floors up. Several of the guys from the team have places here.”
Madison rents a small apartment less than a mile from here. I know because I’ve been there before. She refuses to move in with Ollie before they get married.
She said, “Why would he buy the cow if he’s getting the milk for free?”
But I’m pretty sure he’s getting all the milk he could possibly want anyway. Regardless, she has her place, and he has his. For now. But I think she stays over more often than when she sleeps at her apartment.
I kneel on the floor and start ripping the tape from a box with bedroom stuff written across the top, wishing I’d been more specific when I labeled these.
“Where’s Jude?” Madison asks, plopping down on my bare mattress.
“Jude?” I squint over at her. “Oh, Jude …” The patron saint of lost causes. “He’s in his room.”
“Is he treating you okay?” She lies down with her head propped on her hand. “Because I can kick his ass if he’s not.”
“For the full twenty seconds I spoke to him”—I shrug—“he was all right, I guess.”
I fail to mention the snooping part. Or the fact that he caught me.
She sighs and rolls over until she’s staring at my high ceiling. “He’s probably going to give you a hard time at first. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about getting a babysitter.”
“Companion,” I rectify.
Babysitter sounds so wrong when referring to this situation. Naughty almost.
I stop lifting things from the box long enough to ask a question I’ve been wondering. “Does Sam know who I am?”
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“We bumped into each other a couple of times in college. Does he know we went to Sinclair at the same time?”
She rolls her head until she’s looking at me. “He received a bio on you yesterday from that background check we ran on you.”
The PR firm and the Hawks organization dug into my past before officially hiring me for the job. They insisted on it before I was placed into Sam’s space. I think it’s more for legal reasons than his safety though. But if we continue having interactions like we just had, I might turn into a security risk when I murder him in his sleep.
But that’s not really what I’m asking Mads. I want to know if he remembers me from back then. Probably not.
I unpack my bedding and throw it onto the mattress beside Mads. She rises, and we start making the bed together.
“Tell me taking this position wasn’t a bad idea,” I whine to my friend, tugging until the fitted sheet slides over the rounded corner of the mattress.
She laughs at my expression. “It’s not a bad idea. Sam knows he has to toe the line if he wants to keep playing hockey. And all he’s ever wanted is to spend his days and nights on the ice. He’s not going to blow it now. His contract depends on it.”
“Famous last words,” I mutter.
“Don’t worry so much,” she assures. “I mean, how bad could it be?”
I narrow my eyes at her as I picture just how awful things could get, and she laughs again.
“Pass me that pillow,” she orders with a smile.
Mads keeps me company for the next hour while I continue to unpack before leaving to meet up with Ollie. Sam doesn’t make another appearance, staying in his room the entire time.
I take a break mid-afternoon to go grocery shopping because Sam’s pantry and refrigerator are bare. Not that I would eat his food even if he had some, but I’m still surprised to find none. I thought an elite athlete would be stocked up with healthy, energy-producing meals.
The apartment is quiet when I return with my food. Sam’s bedroom door is closed, but he could be in there, and I wouldn’t know it. I put away my purchases and snack on some hummus and carrots before returning to my room, where I spend the next few hours organizing my space. My phone rings late in the afternoon. It’s Eliott, wanting to grab a bite to eat. I agree to meet him in the lobby in thirty minutes. I don’t feel right about having him up to the apartment for some strange reason. Maybe because it’s Sam’s place and not mine.
