Baden moves closer to the plant, plucking off a dead leaf. “It’s just that seven months ago, I was in a bed paralyzed. You brought me a plant, and I was mired in misery. Now we’re roommates, and this plant will be hanging in your house. It seems very full circle.”
“It does,” I murmur in agreement.
Most of the time, my relationship with Baden is so easygoing and natural, it almost feels like we’ve been friends for years. But then some moments—like now—we connect over a sentiment or a memory, and the surrounding air seems to go still. It can feel heavy, but never oppressive. As if there’s a weight to the bond that is pressing down on me like a message, as if I should recognize something deeper to what we are, and the universe is trying to clue me in.
It happens now as we stare at each other, caught up in how fate has brought us together, and how over time, has kept us together.
I break the moment because sometimes—like now—I feel like I might succumb to whatever this feeling is and start babbling about things that could become awkward.
So I look around and ask, “Do I get the dime tour?”
“I’ll give you the quarter one,” he says with a laugh, and picks up the suitcases again.
I follow Baden up the stairs, and he puts my carry-on in the first guest bedroom on the left. “This has its own bathroom.”
“Fancy,” I tease as I look at the tastefully decorated room filled with transitional-style furniture and coordinated bedding and drapery done in soothing blues, silvers, and cream. I’m guessing he had a decorator as the pairings are perfect. “I bet it sucks to leave this and live in my much smaller, much older home, huh?”
“Doesn’t suck at all,” he assures me, then looks at his watch. “Want something to eat or drink?”
I shake my head. “No time. We have work to do.”
“We have time to eat,” he counters. “Certainly time for coffee or water.”
“You have to get going soon,” I remind him. “How about you show me where to start?”
I am, after all, here to help Baden pack. It’s one of the things I insisted upon when I agreed to come to Phoenix. He wanted me to have a relaxing getaway, have fun at the game tonight, and return home refreshed with the knowledge that the trip was as stress-free as he’d promised it would be.
But I want to help him wrap up his life here and get settled in Pittsburgh. It’s tough leaving your things behind and living out of a suitcase.
Baden takes me through the rest of the house, which is as beautifully decorated as the guest bedroom. His master bedroom is on the first floor, done in deeper blues and grays, concurrently masculine and calming.
“Your house is stunning,” I say as he opens the large walk-in closet that holds most of his clothing. It’s primarily what he’s interested in packing up to ship.
“The people I bought it from decorated it, but I liked it well enough,” he replies, rifling through hangers of shirts. He moves to the opposite side and peruses a row of hanging dress pants and suit jackets. “Think I should pack everything?”
“Do you wear everything?” I ask.
“No,” he admits with a guilty smile. “I have a lot of clothes I don’t wear. I should donate most of it.”
“But you don’t have time to sort through it all,” I remind him, tapping my own watch as a reminder. “I say we pack it all, and you can sort through it at your leisure in Pittsburgh.”
Baden smirks, spreading his arms out to indicate the breadth of the closet. “No offense, but I don’t exactly have the same room in my closet at your house for all this.”
“We can put the boxes in the dining room and work from there.” We never eat in the formal dining room, preferring to sit at the cozy table in the kitchen. “If you take a few minutes each day and tackle a box, you can have it knocked out in no time. I can handle getting donated items to the proper place.”
Baden looks around, considers my proposal, and nods. “That makes sense. I had boxes and packing tape delivered. Should all be in the garage.”
I give Baden a playful punch on the arm and throw my head toward the door. “Then I think you better get going. You have a goalie to psych up before the game.”
He smiles, those warm, amber eyes lingering long enough to make me feel a little flustered. But then he nods and starts to brush past.
I follow Baden, intent on seeing him to the door and then finding the packing boxes, but he stops and I run smack into him.
Shuffling back, I tip my head to find him staring down at me thoughtfully. “How are you doing?”
God, why does he have to be so considerate and caring? I’ve had a relatively stress-free day, as traveling with Baden has been a comfort. I was even excited about this trip, and I’m honest-to-goodness glad to be able to help him with the packing.
And yet… he’s still checking in because he wants to stay in tune.
Because he’s just one of those people who truly has a kind, genuine soul. Warmth rushes through me, and I wonder if this is the beginning of me truly falling for this man. The exquisite care he has taken to make this a good experience for me…
“I’m good,” I assure him.
“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” he presses.
“I would.”
I really would. I feel like I could tell him anything and not be at all ashamed.
“How are you doing?” I counter. It has to be sad returning to a life he left in such a hurry.
“I’m good,” he replies. He reaches out and tucks a curly lock behind my ear. His eyes focus there a moment, as if he’s considering saying something else. The gesture is so intimate, my belly flutters—reminiscent of that old high school crush feeling when a guy you like first notices you.
I hold my breath, but the moment passes, and Baden steps back. “Okay… I’m going to head out. Emory and Jenna will be here around six.”
Baden planned everything.
He didn’t want me to feel stressed about getting to the arena, so he arranged for his friends to pick me up. Emory is dating his former line mate, Jett, and Jenna is Emory’s sister who is moving to Pittsburgh soon. He thought this would be a great way for us to meet since he and I are going to work together to help Jenna feel welcome and comfortable in her soon-to-be new city.
Jenna has been through a lot. Baden told me the basic story of Jenna’s brush with death in an apartment fire, the scarring that has shattered much of her confidence, and how important this move is to help her rebuild her independence. I was so moved by her struggles, I asked Baden if she should move in with us. It was a legitimate offer, and Baden passed it on to Jenna.
I admire the hell out of her because while she’s appreciative of the gesture, she wants to be independent right off the bat. I know she will be a woman I’ll learn from, and I intend to figure out the source of her strength.
“I’ll be ready to go. I’ll probably be the lone Titan there cheering you on.”
“You mean cheering the team on,” he teases.
“No, I mean you,” I reply with an impish grin. “But I guess I’ll cheer the team too.”
Whatever my words mean to Baden, he makes a move that shocks me to my core. Leaning forward, he presses a fast kiss to my cheek. “You’re the best,” he murmurs.