Baden, page 18
This is confirmed when Riggs says, “Just remember, Sophie… a hockey player’s team is his family. Baden will always be a member the Vengeance. As his friend, that means you’re extended family. We have your back. You’re safe here in Phoenix.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat and manage a hoarse “Thank you.”
♦
Riggs doesn’t come into Baden’s home, merely pulls our suitcases out of the back and hands them over. “Got to take care of a few things before heading to the arena,” he explains, but it’s an explanation not needed. The Titans and Vengeance play tonight, and he’s got to get ready.
So will Baden before too long, so we wave goodbye with promises to buy each other beers after the game.
Regardless of who wins, Baden wants to hang out with his Vengeance friends tonight as his decision to move to Pittsburgh was done so suddenly, he didn’t feel his goodbyes were given justice. Everyone plans to meet at the team hangout, The Sneaky Saguaro, and I’m excited to be a part of it. While I am sometimes a little starstruck by Baden—famous hockey player and now coach—it’s even more so being in Phoenix and hanging out with multiple famous hockey players. Never in my life did I think I’d have an opportunity like this, and it makes me more grateful that I let Baden harass me into coming along.
Baden’s home is in an eclectic neighborhood in Scottsdale that seems to shun the classic southwestern adobe-style homes that I’ve seen in my travels as a medical training rep. Rather, it’s a hodgepodge of architectural designs, and I immediately fall in love with the grand Tudor-style house done in red brick, gray stone, and black half-timbering. The steeply pitched, gabled slate roof and mixed use of building materials produce a stunning effect, probably more so because it’s situated in the heart of the southwest. Some might say it sticks out like a sore thumb, but I find it incredibly interesting, just like its owner.
“I love it.” I sigh as Baden leads me inside to a large foyer with polished brick floors.
“It felt like home, even though I wasn’t here for very long,” he replies, setting our suitcases down.
And then I spy the plant I brought him when he was in the hospital.
It sits on a stand to the left of the entry door in front of a beveled, decorative glass inlay. When I purchased the trailing pothos, it was in a small container with a few healthy vines starting to cascade over the edge. Now it sits in a ceramic pot at least five times bigger than the original, and the leafy vines pour over the sides and onto the floor where they puddle in a mass.
“That needs to sit higher,” I advise as I move closer to examine it.
Baden sighs. “Yeah… I know. I did a little reading up on it.”
“We can hang it in the corner of your bedroom,” I suggest, and Baden chuckles. I look at him with curiosity. “What’s so funny?”
Baden moves closer to the plant, plucking off a dead leaf. “It’s just that seven months ago, I was in a bed paralyzed. You brought me a plant, and I was mired in misery. Now we’re roommates, and this plant will be hanging in your house. It seems very full circle.”
“It does,” I murmur in agreement.
Most of the time, my relationship with Baden is so easygoing and natural, it almost feels like we’ve been friends for years. But then some moments—like now—we connect over a sentiment or a memory, and the surrounding air seems to go still. It can feel heavy, but never oppressive. As if there’s a weight to the bond that is pressing down on me like a message, as if I should recognize something deeper to what we are, and the universe is trying to clue me in.
It happens now as we stare at each other, caught up in how fate has brought us together, and how over time, has kept us together.
I break the moment because sometimes—like now—I feel like I might succumb to whatever this feeling is and start babbling about things that could become awkward.
So I look around and ask, “Do I get the dime tour?”
“I’ll give you the quarter one,” he says with a laugh, and picks up the suitcases again.
I follow Baden up the stairs, and he puts my carry-on in the first guest bedroom on the left. “This has its own bathroom.”
“Fancy,” I tease as I look at the tastefully decorated room filled with transitional-style furniture and coordinated bedding and drapery done in soothing blues, silvers, and cream. I’m guessing he had a decorator as the pairings are perfect. “I bet it sucks to leave this and live in my much smaller, much older home, huh?”
“Doesn’t suck at all,” he assures me, then looks at his watch. “Want something to eat or drink?”
I shake my head. “No time. We have work to do.”
“We have time to eat,” he counters. “Certainly time for coffee or water.”
“You have to get going soon,” I remind him. “How about you show me where to start?”
I am, after all, here to help Baden pack. It’s one of the things I insisted upon when I agreed to come to Phoenix. He wanted me to have a relaxing getaway, have fun at the game tonight, and return home refreshed with the knowledge that the trip was as stress-free as he’d promised it would be.
But I want to help him wrap up his life here and get settled in Pittsburgh. It’s tough leaving your things behind and living out of a suitcase.
Baden takes me through the rest of the house, which is as beautifully decorated as the guest bedroom. His master bedroom is on the first floor, done in deeper blues and grays, concurrently masculine and calming.
“Your house is stunning,” I say as he opens the large walk-in closet that holds most of his clothing. It’s primarily what he’s interested in packing up to ship.
“The people I bought it from decorated it, but I liked it well enough,” he replies, rifling through hangers of shirts. He moves to the opposite side and peruses a row of hanging dress pants and suit jackets. “Think I should pack everything?”
“Do you wear everything?” I ask.
“No,” he admits with a guilty smile. “I have a lot of clothes I don’t wear. I should donate most of it.”
“But you don’t have time to sort through it all,” I remind him, tapping my own watch as a reminder. “I say we pack it all, and you can sort through it at your leisure in Pittsburgh.”
Baden smirks, spreading his arms out to indicate the breadth of the closet. “No offense, but I don’t exactly have the same room in my closet at your house for all this.”
“We can put the boxes in the dining room and work from there.” We never eat in the formal dining room, preferring to sit at the cozy table in the kitchen. “If you take a few minutes each day and tackle a box, you can have it knocked out in no time. I can handle getting donated items to the proper place.”
Baden looks around, considers my proposal, and nods. “That makes sense. I had boxes and packing tape delivered. Should all be in the garage.”
I give Baden a playful punch on the arm and throw my head toward the door. “Then I think you better get going. You have a goalie to psych up before the game.”
He smiles, those warm, amber eyes lingering long enough to make me feel a little flustered. But then he nods and starts to brush past.
I follow Baden, intent on seeing him to the door and then finding the packing boxes, but he stops and I run smack into him.
Shuffling back, I tip my head to find him staring down at me thoughtfully. “How are you doing?”
God, why does he have to be so considerate and caring? I’ve had a relatively stress-free day, as traveling with Baden has been a comfort. I was even excited about this trip, and I’m honest-to-goodness glad to be able to help him with the packing.
And yet… he’s still checking in because he wants to stay in tune.
Because he’s just one of those people who truly has a kind, genuine soul. Warmth rushes through me, and I wonder if this is the beginning of me truly falling for this man. The exquisite care he has taken to make this a good experience for me…
“I’m good,” I assure him.
“You’d tell me if you weren’t?” he presses.
“I would.”
I really would. I feel like I could tell him anything and not be at all ashamed.
“How are you doing?” I counter. It has to be sad returning to a life he left in such a hurry.
“I’m good,” he replies. He reaches out and tucks a curly lock behind my ear. His eyes focus there a moment, as if he’s considering saying something else. The gesture is so intimate, my belly flutters—reminiscent of that old high school crush feeling when a guy you like first notices you.
I hold my breath, but the moment passes, and Baden steps back. “Okay… I’m going to head out. Emory and Jenna will be here around six.”
Baden planned everything.
He didn’t want me to feel stressed about getting to the arena, so he arranged for his friends to pick me up. Emory is dating his former line mate, Jett, and Jenna is Emory’s sister who is moving to Pittsburgh soon. He thought this would be a great way for us to meet since he and I are going to work together to help Jenna feel welcome and comfortable in her soon-to-be new city.
Jenna has been through a lot. Baden told me the basic story of Jenna’s brush with death in an apartment fire, the scarring that has shattered much of her confidence, and how important this move is to help her rebuild her independence. I was so moved by her struggles, I asked Baden if she should move in with us. It was a legitimate offer, and Baden passed it on to Jenna.
I admire the hell out of her because while she’s appreciative of the gesture, she wants to be independent right off the bat. I know she will be a woman I’ll learn from, and I intend to figure out the source of her strength.
“I’ll be ready to go. I’ll probably be the lone Titan there cheering you on.”
“You mean cheering the team on,” he teases.
“No, I mean you,” I reply with an impish grin. “But I guess I’ll cheer the team too.”
Whatever my words mean to Baden, he makes a move that shocks me to my core. Leaning forward, he presses a fast kiss to my cheek. “You’re the best,” he murmurs.
While there’s been some spontaneous friend-based hugging, the kiss is different. Still in the friend zone, I have to wonder why the feel of his lips on my skin seems to burn and my knees feel a little weak.
I can’t ponder it long, because Baden is handing me last-minute instructions as he walks to the door.
Call me if you need anything.
Call Emory or Jenna if plans change, meaning if I get too nervous to go out, he’ll understand, although I have no intention of not going.
Lastly, profuse gratitude for my assistance in getting him packed up.
And then Baden is gone, and I’m left alone in his house. I head to the garage, and sure enough, I find boxes, packing tape, and Sharpies.
For the next three hours, I diligently work through not only Baden’s extremely large closet filled with expensive clothes and shoes, but all of his dresser drawers as well. It is with no embarrassment I fold up his underwear—boxer briefs, which in my opinion are the only type of underwear a man should wear—along with T-shirts, shorts, workout clothing, and socks. I label the boxes so that the contents are easily identifiable and move them all to the garage. I’m a sweaty, sore mess by the time I finish, but I still have just under two hours until Emory and Jenna pick me up.
I have plenty of time after my shower to blow my hair straight and then flat iron it to even further smoothness. It’s not a style I normally do, but I never mind doing something different, and it’s a good way to kill time. I put on makeup, something I don’t often wear these days with no job and no desire to go club-hopping, because I want to look pretty tonight.
I try to fool myself it’s because I’ll be meeting new people, but I can’t lie… it’s for Baden.
I want him to think I’m pretty, and part of me hates myself for even going there. It feels like a betrayal to Baden for his kindnesses as he has certainly not given me any indication he’s interested in anything but friendship. I shouldn’t confuse matters by calling attention to myself in this way.
And yet, I leave the makeup on.
Dressing in a pair of lightweight jeans and my very best Titans jersey with former captain Braden Rutherford’s name and number on the back, I’m ready to cheer on my team when Emory’s car pulls into the driveway.
CHAPTER 19
Sophie
It took roughly half an hour to get from Baden’s to the arena, but by the time we pulled in, Emory, Jenna, and I had become fast friends. Most of our conversation focused on Jenna’s upcoming move to Pittsburgh, and I regaled her with all the amazing things we could do to make her feel at home.
Of course, that will mean effort on my part to venture out, but I’m riding high on the achievement of coming to Phoenix, so I’m sure I can do it.
At the arena, I was surprised that Emory pulled into the players’ parking lot, displaying a special pass hooked to her rearview mirror.
“Family members get to park in the players’ lot?” I ask.
“Nope,” Emory replied, glancing back at me with a twinkle in her eye. “Baden pulled strings with Dominik to let us park here tonight so you didn’t have to walk through the general parking lot.”
I glance out the window as Emory navigates to a parking space, blinking back against the prick of tears. I can’t believe he did that for me.
“He cares for you a lot,” Jenna says from the front passenger seat. She’s a tremendous beauty with a soft voice. Baden told me about her scars, and I caught a glimpse of them when we first met. They’re bad, no doubt, but in no way do they diminish her loveliness. I know that’s easy for me to say.
“Baden is a caring person all around,” I reply, catching Jenna’s eyes as she shifts in the seat to face me. “Just like helping you come to Pittsburgh.”
“For sure,” Jenna agrees. “But the care he has for you is extra. Surely you can feel it.”
I nod. “Yeah… I feel it.”
Emory and Jenna exchange knowing looks, and I don’t bother to correct them that there could be something between Baden and me. I know it’s possible. I just don’t know what it is and if it’s the same type of caring.
When we exit the car and show our pass to security at the players’ entrance, more surprises abound as an arena staff person is waiting there for us. “Ladies, Mr. Carlson has asked you to join him this evening in the owner’s box.”
“Awesome,” Emory drawls as we follow the man wearing a blue jacket with the Vengeance logo on the pocket.
Jenna leans in and whispers to me, “Quite sure this is Baden’s doing too.”
Yeah… I could absolutely be falling for him.
I’m jittery when we’re ushered into the owner’s box because I’m actually now shaking hands with Dominik Carlson, owner of the championship Vengeance team.
“It’s great to meet you,” he says warmly. “Baden speaks very highly of you.”
Baden has talked to him about me?
I’m so awed, I can barely speak. Luckily, Dominik’s wife Willow steps forward and introduces herself, and then extricates me with an arm looped through mine.
Teasing, she says, “We made a special exception to allow you in this box.”
I stare at her blankly, because I knew Baden was going overboard trying to make this special for me.
Willow laughs and nods at my jersey. “Because you’re wearing a Titans jersey.”
“Oh,” I reply, then laugh. “Well, in that case… thank you very, very much. I promise not to be too obnoxious when I root for my guys.”
“She should take the jersey off,” Dominik yells back at us, and his teasing puts me more at ease.
It ends up being a good game, but unfortunately, my Titans lose badly. Regardless, Willow, Emory, and Jenna sat with me in the front row of the owner’s box and let me yell and scream to my heart’s content. In between plays, during TV timeouts and intermissions, we grazed on a catered buffet, and I was introduced to some of Dominik’s business associates also in the box.
After the game, the plan was for me to ride with Emory and Jenna to The Sneaky Saguaro where the Vengeance usually congregate. The Titans were heading out on an evening flight to Houston, so Baden had no moral dilemma on who to hang with tonight.
But as we were saying our goodbyes to Dominik and Willow, he said, “This isn’t goodbye. I’m coming with you. In fact, we’ll take my car.”
The five of us left the arena together, settling into a spacious limousine. We chatted about the game and about the problems the Titans will have to overcome. Baden has his work cut out for him as Patrik was a hot mess tonight. The more frustrated he got, the worse he played.
“Speaking of Baden,” Dominik says, sitting across from me, Willow by his side. He holds on to her hand the entire time. “How is he doing?”
This isn’t merely a polite question asked because it’s expected but rather one of deep concern. Baden has told me how much Dominik does for his players, but in particular for Baden since his injury and through his recovery. Baden shared that Dominik was going to keep him on the roster another year to let him continue recovery in an attempt to rejoin the team.
This man cares about Baden.
“He’s doing really well,” I say, not willing to give any specifics but feeling like I can summarize the important things. “He loves the challenge of this new job. It’s stressful because it’s all so new, but Baden wants to be part of this rebuilding effort. As you know, he’s a goal-oriented man, so this feeds that part of his soul.”
Dominik nods thoughtfully but before he can ask any more questions, we’re pulling up to The Sneaky Saguaro.
The chauffeur opens the door, and Dominik nudges Willow to exit first. He then motions for Emory and Jenna to proceed. As I move to slide out, Dominik stops me.
“Just a minute, Sophie,” Dominik says, and I halt. He swivels his head, nods at the driver, and the door is shut. Through the tinted glass, I see Willow, Emory, and Jenna walking in. Jenna glances over her shoulder curiously at us remaining in the limo.
