Chapter 36
Grayson
“Are you icing it?” I ask Benz while I stare out the window of my parents’ house into the blanket of snow. I forgot how much more snow we get in Canada compared to New York City.
“Leo’s love bite? No. Are you listening to me or blocking me out until your man gets out of the shower?”
“Sorry, I zoned out.” Benzy is a great guy, but when he talks, he changes subjects abruptly. I swear he was talking about his knee. Finn also sent me a video file that’s burning a hole in my mind and phone. He never sends me things.
“I’m doing all the talking so you’re not sad, but it’s not working,” he says.
“Thanks for helping Ace. He needs you guys.” The phone rests on the arm of the leather recliner.
“I’m not doing this for Ace, I’m doing it for my friend.” He huffs, and after a beat, he says, “You, ya idiot, you’re my friend.”
“Oh, yeah.” I cringe at my response.
“Gray doesn’t know how much we love him,” Benz yells to the rest of the team. “But we can’t do hug therapy because he’s in a blizzard.”
“Listen, Finn sent me something urgent, so I’ll call back.” I hang up before Benz can argue and take a deep breath. Three days here feels like a lifetime. Austin warned me that staying with my parents wouldn’t be fun.
He didn’t have to worry because they left the day after I got here.
That day was enough of them to last me for the next couple of years.
My mom acting like I’m a convicted criminal on the run and my dad trying to get me alone to tell him the real story was exhausting.
But then my dear older brother needed help with his kids, and they got in the car and drove the hour to him without a backward glance.
My brother is a lazy fuck-up and their favorite child.
His wife is divorcing him, and he’s incapable of taking care of his kids on his own.
There’s bitterness under my relief that they left. They see him and the grandkids once a week, but they don’t visit me or even show support. It’s childishly ridiculous because I’d lose my shit if they were up my ass like they are with my brother.
Finn attaches a puzzling note to the email. “Don’t say I never gave you anything, my little muffin. FYI, the meatballs were told to say ‘no comment.’”
From the looks of the file, he’s strung together a bunch of media clips. The first is Liska, who responds to a question about my lawsuit. “Grayson vas instrumental in getting me back on the ice after my concussion.”
Lucky responds with his trademark cheeky smile. “I could’ve avoided a lot of pain and suffering if I had listened to Grayson. He’s our owl and bear wrapped up in one.”
My snort turns into a laughing fit. I’m sure that made sense in Lucky’s mind. I guess he means I’m wise and fierce or protective. His bear reference isn’t clear.
Benzy’s baby face appears, and I brace myself for whatever will come out of his mouth. “Grayson’s the man. He keeps us all in top shape. He’s the best part of our team.”
My eyes sting, and his words sink in.
King’s aqua eyes go wide when he’s asked about me. “Grayson’s the real deal. We won’t tolerate any trash talk about him.”
There’s video of most of the team giving me credit for helping them or hyping me up. It’s too much to take in all at once.
Maybe it’s the therapy session I had that kicks my insecurities in the teeth, but I’m overcome with gratitude and cursing myself for taking these men for granted.
I scroll through all the messages the team has sent me over the last month. Not addressing me in the group chat but sending me individual messages of support and encouragement.
My blood brother hasn’t texted, and my parents express all their worry and concern but no empathy. The team and Austin care more about me than my family.
I’m foolish for thinking they only spoke with me as Austin’s friend. They always include me, and my isolation is all in my head.
As if on cue, my phone rings.
“Hey, Sunshine,” Austin says.
“Hey. You did much better in the presser,” I say.
“I’ve mastered the ‘no comment’ response.” There’s a commotion, and he sounds muffled. “Hang on. I dropped the phone trying to put my shirt on.” I hear more movement, and he says, “I’m back. The phone’s on the bench where it should be stable, but you’re on speaker.”
“No kissy-face,” Benzy teases.
“Meanwhile, he was telling me about the marks Leo left on him,” I shout to ensure Benz hears me.
“Don’t we have doctor-patient confidentiality?” Benz pouts.
“Dude’s not a doctor,” King responds, and I can hear the exasperation in his voice.
“Gray, we need you to cheer our captain up and give him some loving,” Lucky chimes in.
“I’m fine,” Austin growls. “I’m going somewhere else to video call you.” His face appears on my phone, and I accept the call.
“Sunshine,” he murmurs, and pets my cheek on the phone.
“You aren’t fine,” I blurt.
“If you let me tell the truth, I can make it better for both of us.” His face twists in frustration.
“It’s too late. Dumas is petty and won’t let it go.
At the very least, they’ll prosecute me for lying to the police and charge you to make it worth their while.
And they’ll dissect our relationship. We can’t let the team lie for us.
” We’ve been over this, but the guilt is killing him, and it shows in his playing.
He got the nickname Ace for being a sharpshooter. He hasn’t had a goal or an assist in three games.
“We should come out now with a statement about us,” he says defiantly.
“I love you.” His face lights up at my words. “I love how much you love me…but…don’t do anything without running it by Finn, who will probably talk to Mr. Dimon.”
“You’re always so logical,” he grumbles with a grin. “You don’t want the world to assume my playing sucks because I miss my boyfriend,” he says sarcastically.
My face goes all soft and mushy in the camera. “I like it when you call me that. But don’t make me the most hated man in New York City. Enforcer fans will blame me for everything that goes wrong. Sports gossip sites already say the team—aka me—is withholding you have a serious ankle injury.”
“Fine. It’s completely fabricated, and we aren’t living in fear of Dumas or the fans forever. I’ll retire before I let that happen. This year if I have to.”
There’s a gasp behind Austin, and he turns, but I can’t see around him.
“Benzy,” Austin calls. “Shit.” He’s jogging, and all I see is the ceiling bouncing up and down.
“Ace said the R word,” Benz moans. From the little I can see, they’re in the locker room.
Austin remembers I’m on video and holds the phone so I can see Benz collapse on the bench as the team turns sullen with understanding.
Liska strides to the rarely used whiteboard. “This vord?” He writes “retire” in black marker and Benz nods. “Because of the lawsuit?” He stares at me and Ace like he’s looking into our souls. “I vill take care of it,” he announces, and leaves the locker room.
Lucky makes a call with his phone to his ear. “Hey, Trevor, quick question. Is your fiancé in the mob?” We hear a roar of laughter on the line. Lucky shrugs and hangs up. “Had to ask.”
We talk as he goes to dinner with the team until his phone dies mid-sentence. I get up and wander into the kitchen to find something for myself to eat.
My phone lights up with a text from Finn.
Finn: I heard a rumor Ace said retire
Finn: Is he serious?
I’m unsurprised Finn already knows. He hears ev-er-y-thing.
Me: We can’t let him retire
Finn: Don’t tell me the obvious, sugar britches. Give me solutions
Me: I got nothing
Finn: *middle finger emoji*
This is not the time to view myself as an anchor around his neck. Neither of us will be happy apart, and I promised not to cut him loose. It’s exhausting fighting the lawsuit and my mental chaos. I owe it to him to get my shit together.
My phone rings and it’s him. Austin is the best medicine I have.
The team is fighting for me the only way they can, with positive statements in the press. My lawyer is doing everything she can to protect me. I have to steel my backbone and stand up for myself.
I muster a smile and answer. “Hey.”