Page 47 of Stick Fight

“Thank you,” she answers quietly.

I guide her to the elevator, and press the button. “We’re on the twelfth floor.”

She nods, and remains quiet as we head up. “I can show you around the city tonight. It’s New Year’s Day and not much will be open, but I can show you where to find shopping. You’re going to need clothes, and other things.”

She yawns, but it doesn’t hide the uncertainty in her expression. “Thanks, Roman. Is it okay if I just stay in?”

“Sure, but tomorrow, I have practice, and then games next week. I won’t be here to show you around.”

She hugs herself, and I don’t think it’s from the cold. “I’m not sure I really want to go anywhere, anyway.” She glances at her feet and I can’t help but wonder if she thinks this is a colossal mistake.

“Gabs,” I say gently, and she slowly lifts her eyes to me. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you do decide to go out, Everett will call you an Uber—” She quickly glances down again, and it catches me off guard, until I read the tightness in her body. “I’m going to give you my credit card.” Her eyes flash to mine and I hold my hands up. “You can pay me back,” I add before she can protest. “I’m in no hurry for that, but when you’re on your feet again, you can. Until then, just get what you need, okay?”

Her lips part like she wants to say something, but then something in her softens. “Thank you.”

I chuckle. “You can stop thanking me.” I pause, my voice dipping lower, teasing. “Wait, unless you want to do it without words.” Jesus, I haven’t been able to get last night out of my mind. Sex with Gabby was explosive, and fireworks weren’t just going off in the night sky or my pants. They were going off in my brain.

Gabby laughs, but I see the heat in her eyes, the way she shifts just slightly closer. As the elevator climbs higher, I remember the way I slid my fingers beneath the lace of her panties last night. The way she trembled under my touch. From the look in her eyes, I know she’s remembering it too.

I shift, adjusting my dick, and Gabby’s quiet chuckle fills the space between us. My mouth quirks. “Yeah, I’m thinking about last night,” I admit, shaking my head. No point in denying it. Not when the memory of her is still burning through me like molten lava.

The elevator dings, and we step out onto my floor. I place a hand on her back, a light touch meant to guide, but she hesitates for a beat. I tilt my head toward the right. “Just down here.”

She follows me, her eyes taking it all in as I slide the key into the lock and push open the door. I suddenly see my place through her eyes, and that’s when I cringe.

The eat-in kitchen, the barely furnished dining room, the simple two-bedroom, tiny den, one-bath layout—practical, lived-in, but undeniably bare. No warmth, no touches of home. Just a place to crash between games and practices.

“Wow,” I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck. “I really had no idea how much of a bachelor pad this place was until now. I’m sure it’s not at all what you’re used to.”

“It’s perfect, Roman,” she says, stepping inside looking a little more sure of herself. “Exactly what I need.”

Something in my chest tightens unexpectedly. I never cared about having one of those sprawling houses on Beacon Hill like the other guys. They have wives, serious relationships—things I never saw for myself. So I never bothered investing in something bigger. But for the first time, I wish I had. Wish I had more to offer her.

She turns toward me as I set the bags down. “You should have seen my apartment in New York. If I had company, one person had to back out of the kitchen before the other could get in.”

I arch a brow. “Sounds cozy.”

She exhales a short laugh, but it fades as her gaze flickers away. “I gave that up when I moved in with…”

Her words trail off, the pain still too fresh to voice, and I don’t push. Instead, I watch as she walks through the space, taking it in.

“There are two bedrooms,” I say, nodding toward the hallway off the living room. “And a small den.”

Gabby heads down the hall, and I pick up her bag, but I hang back, waiting. Letting her decide. I don’t want her to think she has to sleep with me. That this arrangement comes with expectations.

She steps into the spare room, pausing in the doorway. The single bed, neatly made. Unlike my room the blankets are half on the floor—right where I left them when I tumbled out in a rush to Vegas.

“I can get you a double bed,” I offer, my voice softer now.

She glances back at me, a hint of a smile. “No this is perfect. I don’t need much.” She walks to the window and before she looks out I see something on her face, something that says she wants to take up as little space as possible. “I don’t want to put you out in any way, and I hope to be gone before I’m a nuisance.”

My chest tightens. “Hey.” I drop her bag on the bed and pull her to me before she retreats deeper into those thoughts. “You are not a nuisance, and if I hear you saying that again…”

She cocks her head, a playfulness about her that I’m happy to see. “You’ll what?”

I glance at the bed. “Oh, maybe tie you to the posts, and kiss the hell out of you until you’re screaming my name.”

“I’m a nuisance.”

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