Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(17)

“I’ve been called worse.”

She shook her head, but under her annoyed expression, I thought I saw hints of a smile.

“I’m too tired to deal with you,” she said, turning to climb the last few stairs.

“Need someone to tuck you in?”

“Goodnight,” she called when she dipped out of view, and I stood there at the bottom smiling even after I heard her door click closed.





Mary

The first dust of dawn was falling over the city of Boston when I shook out my yoga mat on the back patio. It was surrounded by the lush garden Holden had grown in his time here, and I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of flowers and herbs and vegetables as I wiggled my toes on my mat.

Usually, I’d wake and bake sometime around eleven, maybe even noon, before I’d settle in for a yoga session. But that was because under normal circumstances, I was at the tattoo parlor until two or three in the morning. I’d been off the last couple of nights to get my current situation under control, and it felt like a piece of me was missing.

I couldn’t wait to get back tonight.

Still, even without being at the shop last night, I couldn’t believe I was up this early. I blamed the lack of sleep in a new place.

Holden’s bed was comfortable enough, and the house was quiet once the boys went to bed. But it felt like trying to sleep in a tree knowing creatures lurked in the forest around me. I was on edge, too aware, like I knew I didn’t belong there. It was just… strange, and I couldn’t fully relax.

I’d given up somewhere after midnight, tossing the covers off and deciding to wander the house. I used to have trouble sleeping when I was a kid, and I swore Dad was connected to me in a way no one else in the world was because he would sense it. He’d knock softly on my door, and then he’d tell me to put my shoes on and we’d go for a walk.

We never talked, just walked side by side around the block a couple times. It wouldn’t take long to quiet my mind, still my heart, and find myself a bit more relaxed.

I always slept better after those walks.

Of course, last night, I didn’t feel safe walking the neighborhood at midnight, even if we were in a relatively safe suburb. Instead, I walked around my new home, slowly taking in the eclectic décor as I ran my fingers down the walls. The Snake Pit had character, that much was easy to see. There were so many remnants of the past football players who had lived there — pictures, knick-knacks, scuffs on the walls.

Everyone who lived here left a small piece of them behind.

I still felt a little wound up when I finally ambled back to my bedroom, but I did manage a few hours of sleep before my body woke me with the desire to get on my mat.

With my eyes still closed, I inhaled, sweeping my arms overhead and stretching up to the sky. On an exhale, I folded, fingertips touching my toes as every kink in my back and hamstrings let go with a sigh. On a halfway lift, I inhaled, folded once more, and then easily stepped back for my first cobra into downward dog. It took me a few salutations to get fully ready, to really slip into the session.

I was on my third one when a slap sound had my eyes popping open.

I peered up and found Braden.

Shirtless.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his mat already laid out beside me.

“I didn’t realize you practice.”

“Good for mobility,” he said simply, and then he was quiet, which I appreciated. I was worried for a moment I’d have another Leo on my hands. Instead, Braden moved through his own practice next to me, the only sound was our breaths as we flowed.

Once we were back in the rhythm, my brain decided to be an asshole and filter through the memory of last night. Leo pinning me with that curious gaze again, the way he’d said he felt like he knew me.

It was like a knife twisting in my gut.

Part of me wanted him to know, wanted him to remember what he’d done to me, to give even one small shit about the girl he hurt all those years ago.

The other part of me didn’t want a single damn thing from him other than to be left alone.

I’d worked hard on letting go of what happened between us — both the good and the bad — and I didn’t want to be reminded.

I wondered how impossible that would be now that his room was two doors down from mine.

And okay, so if I was being completely honest with myself, I hadn’t truly done that much to let go of what had happened. In fact, I’d maybe done the opposite, holding on to those wretched memories and using them to form a block of protective ice around me.

I’d learned to live despite what happened to me. And maybe that made me stronger than if I’d just forgiven and forgotten.

Shaking off the thoughts, I sank back into my practice, and for the next forty minutes, it was just me, my body, and my breath.

It was around six thirty when Braden and I rolled up our mats and tucked them under our arms, walking back into the house. As soon as we shut the back door behind us, my nostrils were invaded with a sweet, mouth-watering aroma.

Braden moaned. “Fuck yeah, pancakes!”

He took off in a run, abandoning his mat at the door. He slid to a stop at the end of the hall and paused, turning back to me.

“Come on,” he said, beckoning.

I didn’t know why I felt so nervous, like I was intruding on something not meant for me. But I offered as best of a smile as I could before placing my mat next to his and following — albeit at a much slower pace.