Hail Mary: An Enemies-to-Lovers Roommate Sports Romance(40)

When he leaned in just a centimeter, I panicked, hopping up and breaking all contact.

“Fuck, man,” I said on a laugh, running my hands through my hair. “What a night. Nothing an edible can’t fix.”

Nero chuckled, slipping back into the persona of the boss I knew as he braced his hands on his knees and stood. “Get out of here and go wind down. It’s slow, anyway, and I can clean up.”

“You’re sure?” I asked even as I started packing up my bag. I had to get out of there. Now.

“I’m sure. I’ll see you tomorrow. And hey,” he said, grabbing me by the shoulders and hauling me up to look at him again. I fought the urge to squirm out of his hold. “It’s going to be okay. You’re doing great. And you’ll have your own spot in this shop before you know it.”

My heart did a somersault.

If he’d said this to me even ten minutes ago, I would have leapt into his arms.

Now, I wondered if he meant it, if I really was ready, if I deserved to have my own chair and clients to fill it.

Or if he just wanted in my pants.

“Thanks, Nero,” I said.

I squirmed out of his hold without another word and darted out the door, trying and failing to calm my breaths as I fumbled for my keys on the way to my car. Once I was inside, I locked the doors as if that could keep out the questions assaulting me.

What the hell was that?

Was he… hitting on me?

I shook my head even as I thought it, sure I was wrong.

Then, I shook my head at myself for not trusting in my gut that I knew was the only thing I could really rely on.

But to actually believe he was hitting on me? What would that mean for my apprenticeship, for the last year of my life, for my future, my career?

What about his wife?

It made me sick to even consider, so I banished all thought with a squeal of my tires out of the parking lot and a twist of the volume knob on my stereo. I blasted The White Stripes, rolling down all my windows and letting the cool evening air waft in.

I’d just taken maybe my first calm breath all night when my phone started ringing.

Mom.

I groaned, head dropping back against the headrest. I considered not answering, but I knew well enough by now that if I didn’t, she’d call repeatedly until I did, or threaten to report me as a missing person to the cops.

With a tap of my thumb, her voice filled the car.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?”

I smiled at the somehow comforting shrillness of her worry. It made me feel at home. “Hello, Mother. To what do I owe the pleasure of a late-night phone call from you?”

“Don’t be smart with me,” she warned. “You never answer if it’s before noon, and I know you’re probably working at that parlor, anyway.” She spat the word parlor as if I’d been working in a brothel. “Or are you even working at all?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that we got a past-due credit card statement in the mail today with your name on it.”

I froze.

Shit.

I prided myself on never using the credit card they set up for me when I left the house at eighteen. I hadn’t wanted it, but Dad had practically begged. He wanted to know I had it if I ever needed it, no matter how much I assured him I could do it on my own.

Since that day, I’d only charged a few things to it, paying it off immediately and letting it collect dust in my wallet the rest of the time. But when everything went down with the pipes and the unexpected move across the street, I had broken down and charged gas and some groceries. I meant to pay it off as soon as I got my paycheck, but I’d forgotten.

And it was with this notice that I realized I hadn’t checked my mail since I moved to The Pit.

“Fuck, sorry, Mom. I meant to—”

“Don’t curse at me, young lady!”

“I didn’t curse at you, I cursed to you.”

I heard her going off on the other end, but it was softer now, the sound far away as if in a cave that I was only catching the echo of. You worry us to death, Mary. I don’t understand why you won’t just come back home. Or go to college, for goodness’ sake. You won’t let us help, you won’t—

It sounded like a hand was smothered over the phone, and then after a long pause of silence, the sound cleared, and a deep voice bellowed my name.

“Hey, Mare Bear.”

I almost cried at the sound of my father’s voice. “Hey, Dad. I’m sorry about the card. I’ll pay it as soon as I get home, I’m on my way now.”

“It’s all good, I already took care of it.”

My neck heated. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re our daughter, we’re supposed to take care of you.”

I ignored the sting in my chest. “I’ll wire you tonight. Just tell me what the overdue fee was.”

“I’ll send it right back if you even try.”

“I don’t need your money, Dad.”

“Hey, I’m not asking for anything in return.”

He shot the words out like he knew that’s why I was insistent, and I couldn’t even lie and say it wasn’t. Last time I’d asked for their help, they’d offered it along with a set of conditions — move back home, get a regular job, enroll in college, get my life together. I’d expected it from Mom, but with Dad… it hurt.