Page 79 of Rookie's Redemption
A loud banging on the front door interrupts our breakfast peace, followed by the unmistakable sound of Blake Maddox inviting himself into my house without waiting for permission.
"Scott! You better be packed and ready because Coach is already—" Blake stops dead in the doorway to the kitchen, taking in the scene of domestic bliss. "Well, well. Look at this cozy setup."
Behind him, Connor appears with the kind of shit-eating grin that means trouble. "Aww, how cute. Rookie's playing house."
Heat floods my cheeks as both guys survey my kitchen—and by extension, my entire life—with the critical eyes of people who clearly have their shit more together than I do.
"Morning, gentlemen," Mia says smoothly, completely unbothered by their intrusion. "There's coffee over there if you want some."
"Thanks, Mia, but we're just here to collect our wayward teammate," Blake says, then turns his attention back to me. "Ready to go, Bigshot?"
"Almost. Just need to grab my bags from upstairs."
"I'll get them," Connor offers, already heading toward the stairs. "Where—oh, Jesus Christ, Ryder!"
His voice carries down from the second floor, followed by the sound of him moving around up there. When he reappears a few minutes later with my travel bag, his expression is a mixture of horror and amusement.
"Dude. Your bedroom situation is tragic. Like, genuinely tragic."
"What's wrong with my bedroom?" I ask, though I already know the answer.
"You're sleeping on a mattress. On the floor. Like a college freshman." Connor shakes his head in disbelief. "How is this beautiful woman staying overnight in what basically amounts to a very expensive camping situation?"
I feel Mia's eyes on me, her expression carefully neutral, but I can see the slight flush in her cheeks that suggests she's embarrassed.
But is she embarrassed at the attention, or the fact that they're right?
"It's temporary," I mutter. "I just haven't had time to—"
"Bullshit," Blake cuts me off. "How long does it take to buy a bed frame?"
"And maybe some curtains," Connor adds helpfully. "And possibly some furniture that isn't made of cardboard boxes."
"Guys—" I start, but Blake's just getting warmed up.
They start picking my place apart, but all I can do is stare at Mia. Her eyes are locked on the one spot, and even though she's nodding politely along with the guys as the grill me to the core, I know exactly what she's looking at.
Our tree.
You only get one chance to make up for lost time.
Mom's words echo in my head as Blake continues his devastating assessment of my domestic skills.
"I'm not saying you need to have everything perfect," Blake continues. "But Christ, man. Buy a bed frame. Hang some pictures for goodness sake."
The worst part is, he's right. They're both right.
I've been so focused on winning Mia back, on proving I'm not the same selfish kid who left her, that I've neglected the basic adult responsibility of actually creating a home worth sharing.
"Okay," Mia says quietly, standing and collecting our empty plates. "That's my cue to escape before this turns into a full-scale intervention."
She kisses my cheek, completely ignoring Blake and Connor's pointed stares. "Call me when you land. And don't let these two idiots get in your head too much. I love you. No matter what."
"Easy for you to say," Connor mutters as she disappears upstairs to get dressed. "You don't have to share a hotel room with him when he's brooding."
After Mia leaves for the shelter, Blake and Connor help me finish packing away the dishes, though "help" mostly consists of continued commentary on my life choices and domestic inadequacies.
"I'm serious about the bedroom situation," Connor says as we load my bags into Blake's truck. "It's not just about impressing her. It's about showing her you're ready for the next step."
