Brick Walls by L.A. Witt

Author:L.A. Witt [Witt, L.A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781642301472
Published: 2023-04-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Josh

Ugh. Finally.

I pulled into the parking garage below my apartment complex. I’d gone to the neurologist after practice, and I’d spent part of the afternoon talking to a Realtor. Both had gone well enough, but it had been a long day, and I’d capped it off by spending a solid hour in Seattle’s legendary traffic. To say the least, I was glad to be home.

I shut off the engine and rubbed my eyes. The neurologist appointment had just been an introduction to the new doc who’d be keeping up on my concussion symptoms going forward. She’d reviewed my records from my previous doctor, and she was pleased with my progress. She’d also suggested a different medication to help with the migraines. Not a bad visit.

The Realtor had been a little more depressing. I’d wanted to get a general idea of the market in this famously expensive area. I wasn’t going to be buying any time soon—not until I had more than a one-year contract and felt like my position was a bit less precarious—but it didn’t hurt to get an idea of what I’d be getting into if and when that time came.

Million-dollar postage stamp condos and shoebox apartments, that was what I’d be getting into. Ugh. I already didn’t get paid nearly as much as some of the superstars in the league, and I’d taken a pay cut when I’d come to Seattle. The sprawling place I’d had with Damon in Calgary—I couldn’t touch anything like that here. A one- or two-bedroom condo outside the city was probably the best I could hope for, at least until Damon and I sold our place.

Ah, well. I had an apartment, and it was a nice one. I had a contract, even if it was a short one. For now, that would have to do.

With a sigh, I collected my phone out of the cupholder and got out of the car.

And wouldn’t you know it? I wasn’t the only one in this garage right now.

As I started toward the elevators, Sol was coming the opposite direction, staring at something on his phone as he walked, and he…

Oh, hell. He looked good. The black pants were so snug, they might as well have been leather, and something about the way that belt sat on his narrow hips made my breath stutter. His white T-shirt wasn’t much looser than his pants. When he was dancing or sitting, he knew exactly how to position himself so clothes like that would show off the abs I’d once left a bite mark on. Fuck, he was hot.

The way he was dressed also left zero doubt about where he was going, and a mix of fear and fury turned my blood to ice.

Before I could stop myself, I growled, “Seriously?”

His head snapped up and he stopped dead. Then his expression darkened. “What?”

“You’re going clubbing.”

His eyes widened for a second, as if he were startled, but then he must’ve remembered that we used to go clubbing together. I knew exactly how he dressed when he wanted to look good on the dancefloor.

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