“This place is sick.” Blake Ryan took in the matte hardwood floors, high ceilings, and wall of windows offering spectacular views of the Hudson River and city skyline. “Thanks for hooking me up.”
“Any time. Glad to have you in the city for good.” His oldest and best friend Landon Zinterhofer clapped him on the back. “Besides, I’m not the one who paid for it.”
Blake laughed. His new two-bedroom, waterfront West Village condo cost an arm and a leg, but it was worth it. He’d been flitting around the world for too long, never staying in a city for more than a few months at a time. It’d been fun at first, but now he craved stability, and there was no better place he’d rather settle down than in one of his favorite cities in the world: New York.
“How’d the hotel turn out?” he asked.
Landon had fought his mother tooth and nail on the revamping of her precious New York flagship hotel, but he’d worn her down and spent the past year running around like a crazy person. Between his project and Blake’s constant travels, this was the first time they’d seen each other face-to-face in half a year.
“Great.” Landon raked a hand through his black hair. “We got fantastic press and the new interiors are amazing. Even better than I’d imagined. I could refer you. The design firm did a top-notch job.”
“The bar design is set,” Blake reminded his friend. Besides buying his apartment and ending his nomadic lifestyle, he had another reason for coming to New York: Manhattan was getting its very own Legends.
Since Blake’s original Legends sports bar took off in Austin four years ago, he’d expanded the brand into a renowned international chain at a breakneck pace. From London to L.A., Legends was the place to go on game days. Even on non-game days, it buzzed with activity thanks to its bar Olympics, theme and trivia nights, and celebrity guest bartenders. It was a rite of passage for NFL, NBA, and MLB players to do at least one stint behind the bar of their local Legends. Blake had even bought back Landon’s share of the company last year.
They’d been equal partners, and the Zinterhofer name and connections in the hospitality industry had played a role in Legends’ rapid ascent to the top, but Landon had given Blake the startup capital as a friend helping a friend. The more Landon became enmeshed in his mother’s business, the less time he had for Legends, so splitting as business partners had been a mutually beneficial decision.
Yes, the Legends empire was alive and well, but Blake’s vision for the New York branch wasn’t just a regular ol’ sports bar. It was going to be different. Elevated. And he couldn’t wait to unveil it to the world this October.
T-minus six months.
Blake was successful enough now to have a team that dealt with the details and grunt work he’d shouldered in the early years, but he liked to be present and oversee things before any grand opening.
New York was going to the biggest opening in Legends history, and he sure as hell was going to be here every step of the way.
“I’m not talking about the bar.” Landon opened the fridge and handed Blake a beer like he was in his own apartment. He’d connected Blake with the seller—a famous fashion designer who’d moved to the south of France after tiring of city life—so Blake couldn’t complain too much. “I’m talking about this apartment.”
“What’s wrong with the apartment?”
“Nothing. The apartment is great. The decor sucks.”
Blake cracked open his beer with a frown. “Give me a break. I bought this place a week ago.”
Landon raised a skeptical brow. “So you’re planning to decorate it all by yourself?”
Blake grimaced. While he appreciated a nice home, he had no desire, patience, or time to tackle a design project. Besides, you don’t need anything other than a couch, coffee table, and TV in your living room. Right?
“Bro, let me set you up with the interior designers I used for the hotel. They do residential work, too. There was one who was particularly good, and she’s much nicer than the other two.”
An ache spread through Blake’s chest at the words “interior designers.” It was sad, how the slightest thing could still remind him of her after half a decade.
Blake wondered how she was doing. They weren’t friends on social media, and her accounts were private, but he managed to squeeze an update out of Sammy every now and then. Last he heard, she was living in New York.
His stomach did a dumb little flip when he realized they were within fifteen miles of each other. He hadn’t reached out to Farrah after he ended things with Cleo—partly because he’d been in such a dark place the first few years, and partly because he didn’t think he deserved her forgiveness or sympathy.
But now that they were in the same city…
Blake’s mouth dried. He shouldn’t. He didn’t want to barge in and upend her life after five years, but he missed her so damn much. It was selfish, but he wanted to see her again. Maybe, after all the time that had passed, she didn’t hate him as much.
“Blake?” Landon prompted. “What do you think about hiring a designer?”
“Fine.” Blake was too flustered by memories of warm chocolate eyes and golden skin to argue with Landon. “I’ll hire a damn designer.”
Note to self: Text Sammy and get Farrah’s number.
“Excellent.” Landon grinned. “I’ll set up a meeting. They’ll have this place feeling like home in no time.”
Home.
It’d been so long since Blake had a home, he’d forgotten what it felt like. He didn’t visit Austin enough for it to count.
After they finished their beers, he and Landon moseyed over to the balcony to watch the sunset with fresh drinks in hand. The proud lines and towering heights of New York City beckoned in the distance—the grays and browns of hundreds of buildings softened by the soft glow of sunset, the lights in the windows twinkling like tiny beacons of hope, and the sharp, iconic spire of the Empire State Building piercing the sky with an arrogance that was unapologetically New York.
Blake soaked in the sight while another pang wrung his heart. Manhattan’s forest of skyscrapers, pulsing energy, and glittering lights reminded him of another city he loved, long ago and far away.
He’d been a boy back then, unsure and terrified of what the future held.
Now, he was the owner of a multimillion-dollar business empire. His dreams had become reality, and most of the time, that was enough. When Blake was at an opening, or on the floor greeting customers, or coming up with ideas to make Legends bigger and better than it already was, adrenaline rushed through him, and he felt like he was on top of the world.
But sometimes, when he returned to his soulless hotel room at night or woke up next to a woman he’d never see again in the morning, a hole opened up in his stomach and sucked all his emotions out until he was nothing but an empty shell.
Still, anything was better than being back in Austin.
Screeching tires. Twisted metal. Blood. So much blood.
A familiar wave of darkness crested within Blake’s chest, threatening to drown him. He gritted his teeth and forced the darkness back into the box where he kept all his demons, safe from prying eyes—including his own.
There, the demons lurked—plotting, scheming, scratching at the inside of the box with their gnarled, poison-tipped nails. Sooner or later, they’d break free, and Blake could only hope he’d be alone when it happened. He didn’t need to drag anyone else into the abyss with him.
“We’ve come a long way.” Landon raised his beer. “From Texas to New York. What a ride.”
“True.” Blake pushed his turbulent thoughts aside and slapped a smile on his face. “But it ain’t over yet.”
“Not even close.”
They clinked bottles.
Blake kicked the box of demons deeper into the recesses of his mind. One day, they’d break free. But not today.
Today, he was going to stop dwelling on the past. That chapter of his life was over.
It was time for a new one to begin.
