CHAPTER 13
GRAYDON
OC: You know, I’ve been doing some thinking, and this might be a bit early, but I think we have a good vibe going and thought we should consider a name for our group chat.
I stare dowN AT the dipshit’s text, wondering what kind of glitter bomb crawled up his ass. Does he have to be so…upbeat all the time?
Graydon: No.
OC: I knew you were going to say that, but just hang on a second. When I was with the Agitators, we had a group chat, and we called ourselves the Frozen Fellas. And whenever we called in on the Frozen Fellas, we all appeared and helped each other out, kind of like Ted Lasso and the Diamond Dogs.
Graydon: The difference is they probably liked you.
OC: Are you saying you don’t like me?
Graydon: Surprised you’re just figuring that out.
Bennett: I don’t know, seems like it might be good to have a place we can chat.
I groan and drag my hand over my face as I lean against the training facility wall, waiting for Maple.
She’s late.
And her tardiness is irritating me.
Graydon: Bennett, you’re not supposed to give in to his ridiculous ideas.
Bennett: Seems like he needs friends.
Graydon: Because he drives them away with asinine text messages.
OC: You know that I’m still here in the group chat, right?
Graydon: Yes, and I’m hoping you’ll get the hint.
OC: I’m getting the vibe that you’re not in the mood to talk about this at the moment.
Graydon: Try never.
Bennett: Just out of curiosity, what was your name suggestion going to be?
OC: I’m glad you asked. *Clears throat* I was going to suggest we call ourselves the Gladdy Daddies.
Bennett: Dude…that’s not great. We’re not dads—not that I know of.
OC: But we’re “daddies,” as in hot pieces of dick, and we’re glad to be linked together. What do you think, big guy? You in?
Graydon: First of all, don’t ever use the term “hot pieces of dick.” Jesus fuck. And once again, lose this number.
I pocket my phone and shake my head.
Gladdy Daddies.
What the actual fuck is wrong with that guy?
The door to the facilities opens, and Maple walks in, head slumped, bag hefted over her shoulder, avoiding eye contact.
“Glad you finally decided to show up,” I say as I push off the wall. “Thirty-five minutes late is inexcusable. And with no response to my texts. I’m fucking behind now.”
I make my way down the hall toward the dome and she trails me.
“Are you going to explain why you’re late, or are you just going to shuffle behind me?”
When she doesn’t answer, irritation claws at me.
When we reach the dome, I pause in front of the door and snap, “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
Slowly, she lifts her head, and when her face comes into view, my entire body stills.
“What the fuck happened?” I ask, taking in the bruising and swelling on the left side of her face. Concern rips through my chest and a need to protect her overcomes me.
A tear trickles down her cheek, and she wipes it away with a swollen wrist.
Holy fuck.
“Maple.” I squat down and lightly press my hand to her jaw, examining her and using a gentler tone. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”
She shakes her head, another tear cascading down her face. “I…I was in a car accident.”
“What?” I nearly roar. “Jesus, are you okay? Have you had anyone check you out?” My thumb glides over her soft skin, her tears creating a ball of anger mixed with anxiety inside me.
She shakes her head. “No. I just grabbed an Uber and came here.”
“You left the car accident scene?” I ask.
“When I was pulling out from my street, a cop ran into me. Dented my entire driver’s-side door. I had to climb out the other side. He took down all the info and reported it, and I grabbed an Uber here. I’m sorry I’m late.”
Jesus fuck. She’s sorry she’s late? Why is she even apologizing? She needs help.
I shut the door to the training dome and then carefully take her uninjured hand in mine and walk her back down the hallway.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Getting you medical attention.”
“I don’t need any. It’s just bruising.”
“Your wrist is swollen, Maple. Your face is bruised. You need someone to look at you. Don’t fucking argue with me.”
“I can’t afford any medical bills right now since clearly I need to save for a new car.”
I don’t say anything as I walk her back toward our training staff and our excellent medical facilities.
When I push open the door, I catch Hutton on one of the tables, getting his ankle wrapped. “What’s up, man,” he calls out with a head nod, only for his eyes to land on Maple. “Oh shit, what happened? Did you do that to her?”
“Are you fucking insane?” I snap at him and bring her in closer to my side. “Of course I didn’t. She was in a car accident, and I need someone to look at her because she’s too stubborn to seek medical attention.”
“I got it,” one of the trainers says as she walks up to us. “I can see her on this table.”
I take Maple’s bag, sling it over my shoulder, and then carefully help her up on the table.
“You good?” I ask.
Her eyes cautiously glance up at mine, and for a pulse, I get the chance to study the depths of her blue irises and how they’re not too dark, but not too light either. The purest blue, just like her soul.
She wets her lips, confusion forming in her expression. “Um, yeah.”
I nod, not wanting to pull away, but knowing I have to. “I’ll be over there if you need me. Don’t lie to them about the pain. I know you’re not okay.”
Then, I step to the side to give Maple some privacy, but I keep my eyes on her the entire time, the instinct to protect and guard her overtaking any other thoughts right now.
Hutton places his hand on my shoulder, startling me as he says, “I thought she dropped a weight on her face or something. Car accident. Jesus.”
Maple swipes at her cheeks again, probably really fucking embarrassed and shaken at the moment. It’s taking everything in me not to walk back over there and stand by her side.
And it’s a weird fucking feeling because no one has ever made me feel that way. Absolutely no one. And I can’t really figure out how to process these sensations.
“You good?” Hutton asks. I can feel him studying me. I just hope he can’t see into my thoughts.
“Why the fuck would I not be?” I grumble, my eyes latched on Maple the entire time the trainer carefully moves her hand around while another brings some ice over for her face.
Whispering, he says, “Because it looks like you’re about to crack a tooth from how goddamn tight your jaw is set.”
Because they better not hurt her.
“Just fucking stupid. She should have gone to a hospital, but she thought she was going to train with me instead. Carelessness.”
“Uh-huh, and why do you care so much?”
Great question.
Keeping my voice to a whisper, I say, “Because now she’s attached to me publicly, and I can’t have her looking like she’s all beaten up.”
I let the words fall past my lips, but deep down, I know that’s not really the reason.
No, when she looked up at me and I saw her bruised face, nausea rolled through me, followed by an immediate flood of desire to murder whoever did this to her.
She’s not really my girlfriend, I know this, but ever since I laid eyes on her this morning I’ve felt like…
hell, I don’t know what I’ve felt. Just different.
And seeing her hurt, it doesn’t settle well.
“Why don’t I believe you?” he whispers back.
Because I don’t even believe myself.
“I think she needs an X-ray,” the trainer says. “I’d suggest taking her to an urgent care.”
“You have an X-ray machine here,” I argue. “Just take it here and don’t waste the time.”
“That machine is for the team,” the trainer says, looking uncomfortable.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Maple starts to slide off the table, but I stop her before she can get very far.
Staring down the trainer, I slip my arm around Maple’s waist and say, “She’s with me.”
The trainer looks between the two of us and then nods. “I understand that, but team rules.”
Yeah, I’m not going to accept that. Running my tongue over my teeth, I pull my phone out and send a text to Darby Welcott.
Graydon: Sorry to bother you, Mr. Welcott, but I’m in the training room right now with Maple, my “girlfriend,” and she got banged up in a car accident.
Nothing too serious, but she needs an X-ray.
I’m nervous if I take her to an urgent care it will cause a scene.
Trainers won’t give her an X-ray because they said it’s against team rules. Can I get some support here?
Hutton looks over my shoulder. “Oh shit, you went there?”
“Of course I fucking went there.”
My phone dings with a response.
Darby Welcott: Anything she needs. The trainers are required to treat her, so make sure they follow up with care.
Graydon: Thank you.
I look up at the trainer and show her the text from Welcott. She nods and then says, “Right this way…uh…”
“Her name is Maple,” I say. “And she’s my girlfriend.”
Maple’s eyes shoot to mine, confused and embarrassed.
“Of course, right this way, Maple.”
The trainer takes her back to the X-ray machine and then Hutton turns toward me with concern and amusement. “Graydon, do I even need to ask?”
“Don’t,” I answer. “Please, just fucking don’t.”
I stare down at Maple’s pink-wrapped left wrist as she receives instructions from the trainer.
The X-ray identified a minor fracture of her ulna where the car door was pushed into her wrist. Since it was a nondisplaced fracture, she didn’t have to cast it, but it needed to be splinted. I asked if they had pink wrap, and when they said no, I told them to get some.
It took about thirty minutes, but they rushed back with some pink wrap and took care of business. Gretchen, of course, made her way into the training facilities, probably hearing about the accident from Welcott. I also saw her taking pictures of me hovering over Maple while they wrapped her arm.
It made me fucking irate, to expose something like this, but then again, that’s what she signed up for, right?
“Any questions?” the trainer asks.
Maple shakes her head. Thankfully, the swelling on her face has gone down, and she just has some bruising.
“Great, and you said you have ibuprofen at home?”
“I do.”
“Good.” The trainer looks up at me. “I’m sure you have this handled and will take care of her?”
I swallow. “Of course.”
“Great. Then just rest and immobilization of your arm—keep it in the sling as much as you can—and then check back with us on Monday.”
Maple nods. “Thank you, I really appreciate it.”
“Feel better.”
Maple starts to scoot off the high training table, but I quickly grab her by the waist, her eyes snapping up to mine as I gently lift her off the table and help her to the ground.
I can feel all eyes on us, Gretchen’s specifically, as I let go of Maple’s waist and let her straighten out her shirt. “You good?” I ask quietly.
“Yes,” she answers, glancing up at me, those blue eyes of hers swimming with questions.
Questions I know I don’t have answers to.
Or that I’m even close to willing to give.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Gretchen says, breaking apart our gaze. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a moment with both of you.”
I pick up Maple’s bag for her and sling it over my shoulder. She tries to grab it from me, but I snarl at her to leave it. Thankfully, she listens.
Gretchen leads us down the hallway and to the second floor, where my coach’s office is.
Fucking great.
I remain silent, my eyes falling on Maple in front of me while we walk along the hallways. Her bandaged hand pulls at my chest, the thought of her bruised face making me irate all over again.
What was that cop even fucking doing?
Did he apologize? Is he taking the blame?
It’s his front that rammed into her driver’s-side door, so it’s likely he’s going to be at fault. And what the hell is she going to do now for a car? She said she’ll have to save up, and from what she said earlier, I know she doesn’t have a lot in savings.
Worry ticks away for someone who I don’t even fucking know, yet it feels like a wave of responsibility has enveloped me, like this is my problem to solve. I would lend her my truck if it wasn’t so goddamn big.
And if I knew she’d actually take it.
Gretchen knocks at the door of my coach’s office, and he calls out, “Come in.”
Gretchen opens the door, and Maple shuffles in. When I lift my gaze, I stop in my tracks, because sitting down in a chair, looking far too pleased with himself, is my father.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Aw, is that any way to greet your dad?” He stands and moves in front of me, pulling me into a hug that I try to resist, but he’s just strong enough to hide the fact that I want nothing to do with him.
He gives me a few pats on the back and then turns to Maple. “And you must be his little friend.”
“Her name is Maple,” I say, my voice terse, my entire body on edge.
Dad holds his hand out to her, and Maple takes it. “Um, it’s nice to meet you, Mr. St. John.”
“Call me Troy,” he says as he lets his eyes rake over her. I nearly black out with rage. “Aren’t you a cute little thing?”
I press my hand to my dad’s chest, backing him away from her and offering him a warning glare that makes him chuckle.
“Miss Baker, why don’t you take a seat?” Coach Keenan says. “Looks like we need to talk.”
Unsure, she takes a seat in front of Keenan’s desk. I stand behind her protectively as my least favorite people in the world smirk at her with wide grins, like she’s their prey.
And she’s about to be devoured.
What the fuck are they up to?