“Tomorrow,” Hayden said with a firm but tired look. “Sleep for real, okay? And then come back tomorrow so we can talk over some stuff.”
Anderson frowned. “What kind of stuff?”
The doctor replied for him, “Mr. Pierce is going to need to work out a treatment plan for the next few months. It’s best to have a loved one present to understand the details.”
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Treatment plan. Months. Loved one. Wow. The words swirled in my brain, like wicked sense of déjà vu from my own stays in the hospital. Recovery took time. Physical or mental.
I plastered on a smile and walked over to squeeze Hayden’s hand. “We’ll be back in the morning.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Take it easy today and call if you need anything.”
“I will.” He looked between me and Anderson. “And you two play nice.”
“What does that mean?”
He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. Don’t think I can’t smell the tension. Be nice to each other. Rest and we’ll figure out the rest later.”
Anderson reached out and they bumped fists, a ripple of communication rolling between them. I grabbed my bag and Anderson picked up my suitcase and we walked out the door.
“Do you have a car?” I asked, suddenly feeling lost in a new city with no destination other than this hospital. “I need to find a hotel.”
He shook his head. “You’ll stay with me.”
It wasn’t a question. I raised an eyebrow. “You think that’s a good idea?”
“I think we both need sleep and a shower. I can provide both.”
I followed him out the door, wondering how in one week I’d fallen back into the world of the Allendale Four. My biggest concern wasn’t how hard it was to be around my guys again—it was how easy—and how much it’d hurt when it was over.
Anderson’s apartment was located near the aquatic center. The facility was built during the Olympics in 1996 and now was used for collegiate-level teams and beyond. Anderson’s coach moved from our university down here and he followed, continuing his training. It was a weird but awesome coincidence that he and Hayden ended up in the same town.
I didn’t pay much attention to my surroundings as we drove from the hospital back to his apartment. It was late. The streets were empty. Exhaustion set in quickly and he carried my suitcase into the house.
“Make yourself at home,” he said as we entered the small space. The kitchen and living room butted up against one another. One bedroom sat off the main room. He pointed inside. “The bathroom’s in there.”
“You go first,” I told him, setting my suitcase in the corner. My senses were overwhelmed by…everything. The place felt like Anderson. Smelled like him. I ran my hand over a throw pillow that must have come with the leather couch.
“I’m not going to fight you,” he said, heading to his room. We looked awkwardly at one another as he shut the door, giving himself privacy. The click of the lock echoed in my ears.
I sat on the couch and took a deep, Anderson-scent-filling breath. I shouldn’t be here. Not if I wanted to keep my sanity. Anderson of all the guys…our history was so tightly woven…more so than any other. Even if there was no Allendale Five, there probably still would have been an Anderson and Heaven.
Which was another reason all of this was so confusing and difficult.
I gathered my pajamas and wandered the small living room while the water ran in the other room. The décor was sparse—fitting for Anderson’s all-work-no-fun attitude. A shelf of trophies sat over the television. These were all new. Awards and medals. The trophy he received at Nationals. I ran a finger over the engraving, feeling pride for his accomplishments. He worked so hard. They all had. We all had. There was nothing to regret.
A stack of news clippings sat on the shelf. Sports articles about Hayden. The press release about A5 opening in Allendale. I flipped through them and stopped short when I saw a small grouping at the bottom. It was a list of every TV show and movie I’d worked on over the last two years.
The bathroom door opened and I dropped the papers, stepping away from the shelf. Anderson walked out of the steamy bathroom, in a gray t-shirt and shorts, drying his wet hair with a towel.
“All done,” he said, moving out of my way. “Listen, you take the bed. I’ll crash on the couch.”
“I’m not taking the bed.”
He frowned. “Heaven, just take the bed. It’s not a big deal.”