CHAPTER 14
MAPLE
Note to self: getting sideswiped by a police car hurts.
I already sent a text to Phil letting him know I was in a car accident and that I wouldn’t be able to make it to work today. Thankfully, he was kind about it.
But the three people right in front of me seem like they couldn’t care less about the pounding in my head, the heated bruises on my face, and the aching fracture in my wrist.
Gretchen, Coach Keenan, and…Graydon’s father all carefully study me as I shift uncomfortably in my chair, Graydon directly behind me.
And even though all of them have their eyes on me, it’s hard not to let my gaze float over to Troy St. John.
Just like Graydon, he’s a powerhouse of a man, even in his older age.
Maybe an inch shorter than Graydon, his chest and shoulders are wider than the average human’s, with muscles wrapped all around them.
His hair is thick and buzzed, dotted with salt and pepper, along with his short beard.
Besides the eyes, he looks exactly like Graydon.
Troy’s eyes are blue, and even though they are a light version compared with Graydon’s dark and stormy eyes, Troy’s seem to be full of so much more sin.
“We wanted to bring you in here quickly because it seems as though Graydon made an announcement in the training room that was quite impactful,” Coach Keenan says.
I know exactly what he’s talking about because the moment Graydon told everyone I was his girlfriend, I felt the direct impact of that statement all the way to my fractured and bruised bones.
“Really playing up the role of a PR relationship, are we?” Troy asks, looking at his son.
“Again, why the hell are you here? This doesn’t pertain to you.”
An evil smirk passes over Troy’s features. “Was visiting with my good friend when news broke out, and it just seemed like too much of a fun opportunity to pass up.”
Not that I can see Graydon, but boy, oh boy, can I feel the tension and anger rolling off him from behind me.
Without even having to do a deep dive into Graydon’s personal life, I can tell you right now that there’s no chance in hell these two celebrate holidays or birthdays together. From the sound of it, they only see each other in forced circumstances like this.
Nothing’s planned.
And not an ounce of love is passed between them despite the hug Troy offered his son when we first entered the office.
“Why don’t we stay on track?” Gretchen asks as she looks at her watch. “I have some NDAs to check on with the training staff to make sure none of this has leaked just yet.”
“Then why were you taking pictures of us in the training room?” Graydon asks.
She was?
I didn’t even notice.
“Because you’re going to an event tomorrow together. There will be questions about her wrist, so why not use this as an opportunity for the public to see how generous the Foghorns are with their medical attention?”
“Don’t you think that’s a little…invasive? Opportunistic?” I ask. “It is my medical information, after all.”
Coach Keenan and Troy both chuckle while Gretchen crosses her arms. “Miss Baker, need I remind you what you signed up for? There is no more privacy where your life is concerned.”
Oh, right.
“And if Graydon didn’t just announce that you’re his girlfriend after I told you to edge the public, maybe we would have given you the choice to back out of this agreement one last time, but it seems as though he stole that chance from you.
I’m working on a post about your injury and will send you a caption along with the picture to post. Something that not only makes the Foghorns shine but doesn’t involve you getting in a car accident. ”
“Don’t you think people will figure it out?” I ask.
Gretchen waves her hand dismissively. “Already contacted my friend down at the precinct. It’s all taken care of.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“Nothing will be charged. You’re good to go. No record of it will be shown.”
“But she wasn’t the one who fucked up,” Graydon says. “A police car ran into her.”
“But she pulled out on the street without looking,” Gretchen says.
“This is bullshit, and you know it,” Graydon says, stepping in closer behind me. My eyes catch on Troy’s as he regards his son with humor. And not the kind of humor that screams pride, more like, look at this fool…
“It’s fine,” I say, trying to put a blanket over the sizzling rage brewing behind me.
“It’s not fine. Gretchen just erased any chance of you getting money from your insurance company to get your car fixed.”
Coach Keenan smiles sardonically. “Good thing she has a capable boyfriend who can drive.”
“Oh no, that’s not necessary,” I say. “I can, um…I can figure things out. No need to bother Graydon.”
“He got you into this mess, sweetheart,” Troy says, those blue eyes piercing right through me, filling me with darkness. “He can be bothered.”
“Don’t fucking call her that,” Graydon snaps, making Troy laugh and causing the tension to become suffocating.
Wanting to get out of here before Graydon blows a gasket, I say, “Um, okay, if that’s all, I guess I’ll just wait for the picture and caption.”
“No, you’re not posting that bullshit,” Graydon says.
“She is,” Gretchen says with a nod. “Sorry, but if she doesn’t post it, then I will. Don’t forget, she gave me the password information. So she can either do it herself, or I will.”
“It’s fine. I can do it,” I say.
“Great.” Gretchen smiles. “Now, tomorrow, I have a team going to your house to do your hair and makeup for the event.”
“Oh, I can do it myself,” I say. Although, that will be trickier with my left hand out of action.
“I’m sure you can, but like I said, we have control over things now, so we will have the team there by four.” Gretchen checks her watch again. “Unless there are any other things that need to be discussed, I have some other fires to put out.”
When no one says anything, she smiles and takes off.
I turn my attention back to Coach Keenan and Troy, waiting for them to add something, but when they don’t, I stand and offer them a curt wave. “Nice, uh, nice meeting you.”
I turn away from them and head out of the office, Graydon following as he places his hand on my lower back. Shocked, I glance back at him only to find his jaw in a tight set and an incredibly unhappy expression on his face.
He doesn’t say a thing as he guides me through the halls, waits for the elevator, rides the elevator to the first floor, and then moves me toward the exit where the players’ parking lot is located.
Once we’re outside, I pause and turn toward him, reaching for my bag. “I can take that now.”
“Leave it the fuck alone,” he snaps, his rage looking like it’s about to tip over any second.
Oh boy. How far can I push him? And when I say, “push him,” I mean get my way, because it’s looking like he’s about to take control.
“I can just call an Uber from here and—”
“You’re not calling a goddamn Uber.” Gently, he takes my unharmed wrist and tugs me toward a large black truck with a double cab and shortened bed.
The windows are tinted, and when he pulls the passenger-side door open, I take in the crisp, clean black interior, despite the truck clearly being an older model. “Get in,” he says.
“You don’t have to—”
“Get. In.”
Not wanting him to actually pop a vein, I step up on the footer of the truck and then hoist myself in. He sets my bag next to me, and to my surprise, he takes the seat belt and leans over me, buckling me in before shutting the door.
Okay, well, looks like he’s driving me home.
He moves stiffly around the truck and then effortlessly climbs in. For how old his truck is—I know this is not the latest model—I’m really shocked by how clean the interior is and how well it is taken care of.
The truck roars to life, and he pulls out of the parking lot.
“Where do you live?”
“Um, is your phone hooked up for GPS?”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and hands it to me. I quickly type in my address and hand it back to him. The GPS directs him where to go as silence falls between us.
I don’t know what to say, and I don’t know how to calm the raging inferno of a man next to me. Although, I can’t say I’m surprised by Graydon’s reaction. His dad…he seemed like pure evil. Like his duty in life is to find ways to piss his son off. Well, mission accomplished today.
Graydon’s grip on the steering wheel is so tense, it almost seems like he’s about to bend the circle in half.
The tightness in his pecs is making it seem like the fabric of his shirt is about to bust open.
And the sturdy set in his jaw is giving his facial features a dangerous, menacing expression that I don’t want to mess with.
So I don’t.
I keep my mouth shut.
I’m sure he’s dealing with a myriad of thoughts right now. One being why I signed up for this PR stunt in the first place. Another probably involving regret over announcing that I was his girlfriend. And then there’s his father.
There’s something seriously complicated going on between them, and I dare not even whisper a thought about it because I know he’ll put me right in my place and tell me it’s none of my business.
It makes me wonder if that is the reason he slammed my phone down that one night when we were attempting to share a meal together. Is there something about his relationship with his father that he doesn’t want me to know…or the public, for that matter?
From the anger steaming off him and the way he spoke to his father, I’m going to guess yes.
We pull onto my road, and just to be helpful, I say, “It’s the white building on the left, with the damaged car out front.”
His eyes narrow, his forehead so creased with irritation that I think I could stick a quarter in his brow and it wouldn’t budge.
He finds a parking spot and puts the truck in park. I’m about to tell him I can hop out from here, but he snags my bag and gets out of the truck.
Looks like he’ll be helping me.