A private jet, courtesy of the Denver Rush, complete with dinner and a beer, followed by a limo, had brought his tired and totally overwhelmed ass here.
He didn’t have the energy to process exactly what the move meant. Only that Denver needed a center to continue their playoff run. Even the concept of making the playoffs was beyond his current mental faculty. He’d resigned himself to another playoff season cheering for his brother, and now he would be a part of that action for the first time in his major league career if the Rush kept up their current streak. He loved that he was in playoff contention but was nervous about playing for the same team as his brother. When they’d played on the same junior league team, Karl had never quite separated being an older sibling from being a teammate. Blurred roles weren’t healthy for either of them.
Tomorrow he’d think it all through properly. For now, he’d settle for eating some food before landing face down on whatever bed was in his new home.
Fuck, the steps to the front door looked such a long way off to his tired legs.
“Need a hand with those?” Karl stepped out of the house, wearing joggers and a Rush hoodie.
“Does it make me a pussy if I say yes?”
Karl slapped him on the shoulder. “Quite a night, huh? When I left you after the All-Star break last month, I thought I wouldn’t get to see you until the postseason.”
He huffed out a laugh and walked with Karl to his luggage. There were four huge cases and an equipment bag perched on the curb where the limo driver had left them.
Between them, they dragged everything up the driveway.
“You didn’t need to stay awake.”
Karl shrugged. “I’m not usually in bed until three. What’s an extra hour or two? And there’s no game tomorrow. Just practice to get you integrated into the team.”
“What time are we headed in?”
Anders dragged the cases into the entrance hall, and Karl did the same. “Eleven. I’ll save the celebration for tomorrow. Sarah insisted I give you a—and I quote—full tour of this beautiful, neoclassical home to make sure you know where everything is. But, pysen, the key is on the table in the hall, I stocked the fridge with a bunch of shit, and the bedding in the last bedroom down the hallway upstairs is ours, to tide you over until you can get your own. I’ll be over at ten to head in.”
Anders laughed at the affectionate nickname Karl had always used, uncertain what the equivalent would be in English. Runt, maybe.
Anders threw his arm around his brother. Hugging him briefly was just about the only thing that felt stable and familiar right now. “Tack, brorsan,” he said, forgetting to thank him in English.
He watched Karl jog down the drive, then he shut the door. The house was neutral and calm, just like he’d wanted. An art deco style cabinet sat on a pale white marble tiled floor. The mirror above it told him what he’d suspected. He looked like shit. Anders pulled the beanie off his head and ruffled his hair.
Lights were on throughout the house, and he found his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and sighed with pleasure to find it full as Karl had promised.
After a quick but hearty meal of precooked chicken and quinoa salad, he dragged his cases up the stairs. They were filled with personal items he didn’t want to wait for, like books he was in the middle of reading, and clothes that fit the league’s mandated dress code of suits, shirts, and ties. Two cases held other clothing, shoes, sneakers, and coats.
He found the large bedroom painted in shades of the palest gray with a large window and white doors that led out onto a balcony. The gray linen curtains swished as he closed them. The bed was just a few feet away and thankfully large enough to fit his frame. Anders pulled his hoodie and T-shirt over his head in one smooth move, ignoring the whiff from his armpits. He kicked off his boots, shucked his jeans, underwear, and socks, and threw back the covers.
The feel of fresh, cool linen made him groan as he reached for the light switch.
Darkness flooded the room as he closed his eyes.
Denver.
It hadn’t been on his list of places to return to anytime soon. When he’d boarded the plane back to Phoenix after Karl’s wedding, he’d had no idea the trade offer would happen.
Sometimes the universe showed you the path so clearly, you’d be a fool to not follow it. And other times, like now, the future seemed as clear as mud.
At least he had Karl, and a new job to show up to, a new coach to impress, a new manager to please. A new crowd to win over, although the hype of having both Berg brothers playing was already travelling through the Denver fans like wildfire.
And there was Olivia.
Just the very thought of her had his thoroughly exhausted body find a last bit of energy to send to his dick. He reached down and adjusted himself. He didn’t have the energy to get off right now, although the memories of the way she’d writhed against him, crying out his name, had fueled many of his ejaculations over the last month and a half. So much so that there hadn’t been any other women. She’d been his invisible support. He’d thought of her as he’d trained. There was something about the way she’d trusted him, been open with him. It was something he wished he could do more easily.
He closed his eyes and thought of the many ways she’d come apart in his arms in the seven hours they’d spent together. In the early morning, they’d dozed with their arms entwined around each other before waking and starting again. He’d coaxed another orgasm from her. A total of three.
He remembered the laughter in her voice when she’d confessed it was likely more orgasms than she had with a man in the last two years.
It had made him feel like a fucking king.
She had made him feel like a king.
The second time he’d woken up—by a call from his parents that they were waiting for him to head to Karl’s house to continue their Christmas celebrations—he’d been alone. She’d been true to her word that it was a one-night thing and had left no note of goodbye, no details of how to contact her, although had he truly wanted to, he knew he could have called the distillery.
It would have been easy to believe it had all been a wild dream if his sheets hadn’t smelled so thoroughly of her. Of her scent, of her desire.
And he hadn’t mentioned her to anyone. He hadn’t told Karl of his secret tryst. He’d told his parents a mix of game fatigue and travel had left him so exhausted he’d slept straight through his alarm. And he hadn’t told any of his teammates in their usual locker room banter.
She was his secret.
And she would remain that way because there was no way he was going to be tied to Denver.
Nothing had changed. The rules he had for himself were even more important now. He had a big opportunity to prove himself with a higher performing team, who he needed to gel with quickly. He couldn’t make a single false step. He had the opportunity to show interested teams how easily he could slide into another organization and make a difference.
And he hopefully wouldn’t be here for long. The East Coast beckoned. Teams with a better profile, with more chance of winning, in rebuilding years. A place where he could lead from the front, instead of Denver, where the roster was full.
In another universe, at another time, he might have reappeared in her life with a large bunch of flowers and a hello. An offer of dinner. A grand gesture if she required winning over. He’d do everything in his power to persuade her.