I got that he was guarded. We all saw the scars on his back under the huge tattoo that covered them. No one asked questions, but we all knew he was that way for a reason. We accepted him, offensive, ill-tempered and all.
Kai was the kind of friend you wanted next to you when the zombie apocalypse happened or if you needed to hide a dead body. Not to mention, he's the only one who knows about Valor.
He was different. He was withdrawn around anyone who wasn't on the hockey team. Talking to the media wasn't a strong suit, puck bunnies? He'd rather die than stick his dick in them. Every time I'd seen him with a woman, it was a chick in a suit or dressed like she was headed to a business meeting.
He was peculiar, but hell, who wasn't these days?
Kai leans on the counter and Nico flops onto the couch with a sigh. I look around the new apartment still in shock. I can afford a place like this now. If my ten-year-old self saw me now? He'd laugh.
"Nice place, jealous I didn't find it first," Kai says from the kitchen and I scoff.
"As if your apartment doesn't cost the same as a human heart," I retort.
When I was drafted and saw those numbers on my contract I almost shit myself. I knew I was going to be making quite a bit of money, but this was insane. I went from eating ramen to being able to afford a brand new Lambo if I wanted one.
I've never seen a number that high in my life and to have it in my bank account was a fantasy. I used to count change in order to eat, now I was moving into a loft apartment with an entire wall that was a window and cost more than most people make in a year.
I had already been living in Chicago for a bit. A modest one-bedroom apartment. It had a bed, a roof, and heat. I was content there until JR saw it. He insisted we look around for another apartment better suited for my 'lifestyle.'
That was a nice way of calling me a manwhore.
Granted I was a professional athlete now, except what JR didn't know, what none of the guys knew besides Kai was I didn't take women back to my home. It wouldn't matter if I lived in a cardboard box or a mansion in The Hills. Some guys have a no kiss rule, and I have a no coming home with me rule.
We went all around the city but everything always felt too…big.
I was a kid who grew up in a run-down two-bedroom apartment in a small town. It always smelled like smoke and booze. I guess I was looking for somewhere that felt like Coach Eric's house. I wanted a place to make me feel welcome, felt like home.
This was one of the last stops. If any place was going to be my home it was this one. Except even as I look around something feels missing.
Kai and JR were hesitant to look at it, but from the outside, it was exactly what I wanted. The inside was much the same, unique, three-level floor plan, and a twisting contemporary staircase.
It's on the fifth floor of an old brick timber warehouse building. The main level contained the living room, dining room, master suite, and kitchen. All of which are decorated with old wooden planks, metal decor, and edgy colors. The living room wall is a giant window that allows one of the best views of Chicago.
The next floor has its own private entrance leading to a home office which I made into my hockey memorabilia room. Old broken sticks, my first pair of gloves, trophies, etc. There was another bedroom that I left empty, and a man cave that had a pool table, Xbox, Sports Illustrated posters. Everything the guys would want in there. I didn't spend much time in that area. I just figured it would be a great place for Nico to crash.
The last level is probably my favorite, a roof deck with retractable glass doors, a fire pit, and a brick privacy wall frames the skyline to the east. It's peaceful up there, and in a world where I am continually thrown into chaos, it's refreshing.
"I'm hungry and I want a beer that doesn't taste like shit, can we go to the bar?" Nico whines from the couch. I roll my eyes as I walk up the steps with a box in my hands.
I can't help but wonder if my mom would be proud? Maybe if my parents were still alive I'd be a lawyer or maybe a mechanic. Would I have even met Eric and Anna? Maybe I was always meant to play hockey. This life has always been so uncertain up to this point. This was the first time I was putting down roots.
I walk into my hockey memorabilia room when my phone starts buzzing in my pocket. I set the box down and pull my phone out, answering it without looking at the screen.
"Go for Bishop," I mumble squatting down to look through the box on the floor.
"Guess what I'm wearing right now…"
I nearly drop my phone and choke at the same time when her voice penetrates through the speaker. I stand up, looking around to make sure no one is around, peeking out in the hallway, and swiftly closing the door resting my back on it.
"Vallie, you can't say shit like that," I whisper yell into the phone. I let my head fall back onto the door with a thud, shutting my eyes and all I see is her.
She's like a mirage always coming and going in my mind constantly. That smirk, that laugh, her crazy ass hair, and fucking lemons─always lemons.
I'm not sure when Valor went from being a lanky, frizz head to a bombshell with a model fucking body, but it happened.
And let me just say, I was not equipped for it. Hell, no man was ready for that.
My morals are slapping the shit out of me for thinking that Valor is attractive but the heterosexual male in me? Thinks she's…something.
"Check your messages."
"I swear to God, Valor Lila, if you sent me a fucking…"
"Just shut up and look, B," she cuts me off and I groan. I remove my phone away from my ear to check my texts from her.
A smile brightens up my face as I stare at the picture. There she is. Her fun-loving self, always grinning. The picture is of Valor in a Chicago University hoodie standing in front of her mirror. her jeans cling to every curve she has. Fuck no. She does not have curves. Bad Bishop. Normal thoughts, I tell myself.
The Catholic necklace dangles on the outside of her hoodie, my necklace. Another reminder of how connected we are. Her room is a disaster, much like her hair. I see hockey skates, pants, shirts, her covers are thrown off her bed and in its place is a bunch of different textbooks and papers. I shake my head, with a laugh, as I look at her mess.
I put the phone back to my ear and I hear her soft voice filtered through the phone.
"Guess who just signed with Chicago University?" she almost murmurs. I can hear the tremor in her speech and all I want to do is wrap my arms around her.
"I'm so proud of you. You earned this. God, Valor, you deserve everything," I breathe into the phone. My heart is swelling. She's the only girl, the only person who makes me feel my heart in my throat like this.
"Yeah, well I just thought I'd let you know," she smarts off. I can almost see her biting the inside of her cheek.
"Vallie…" I start but she's already talking again.
"If you're so proud of me, then where have you been? Why haven't you answered my phone calls, my texts? You tell me we were a mistake and then you just…you just leave me?" The emotion is thick in her voice. I can see the tears falling down her face, and those green eyes are shining gray.
I shut my eyes hoping this door will be able to hold me and my emotions up.
My lips mold to hers flawlessly, and she tastes like goddamn lemons. All that fucking candy she has been engulfing on all these years has made her sweet, tart, tangy, sugary. A holy combination determined to send me straight to purgatory.