24 - Haven
HAVEN
I waited until the locker room had cleared out before going in. Not completely, because it never fully did. There were always a few stragglers — guys taping sticks, rehashing plays, and generally dragging their asses before going back to the house.
But yeah, I had access now — technically. Mercer had waved it off weeks ago with a gruff “she’s with us.” There were still lines, though. Unspoken ones.
The shower was one of them.
I knew that, well enough. So of course, that’s where my feet carried me. Just to the corner. Just to the edge. Just enough to see—
Steam curled thick and slow, billowing out of the tiled corridor. The air was warm, damp, heavy. The sound of water splashing against the floor was steady and constant.
My feet told me to turn around; that I’d seen enough. But then a shadow shifted behind the steam.
Broad. Familiar.
Grayson.
Inwardly, I’d known it was Grayson. Not only because I’d seen everyone else leave, but because apparently I had a talent for this now.
I leaned in slightly, just past the corner… and there he was. Broad, V-shaped back. Tight, muscular ass. That ass was bare now, and scrumptiously wet.
My eyes stayed glued to his glutes. I couldn’t stop watching the muscles move, just beneath the glistening skin, with every shift of his powerful legs.
My heart picked up speed as his hands slid back there, soaping and scrubbing everything from his hips down to the tops of his thighs. Then he turned, completely around… and my legs were too slow in getting the message that it was time to go.
Shit!
Grayson caught me staring a split-second before I ducked back around the corner. And in that split second… well…
I saw everything.
And… well…
Holy fuck.
I began pacing back and forth, clutching my tablet as I searched for reasons — any reason, really — I could give for being there. And my generally analytical mind must’ve decided it was a good time to betray me, because I came up completely blank.
Shit… shit… shit…
The water cut off. The sound of movement echoed back, muted by the rolling steam.
“Starting to think this isn’t an accident,” I heard him mutter.
SHIT!
I wanted to run. Running would’ve been worse, though. Instead I just stood there, clutching my tablet, trying to look as professional as possible.
A few seconds later, Grayson stepped into view wearing nothing but a plain white towel.
“Well?” he asked, glibly. “Get everything you came for?”
He grabbed the knot holding the towel up and threatened to pull it.
“Or should I just…”
“Oh, stop it,” I cut him off. “This was a complete accident.”
“Another one?” he chuckled.
I shook my head and sighed. “In my defense, I didn’t expect you to be naked at work.”
“Locker room,” he said, slicking his hair back. “Comes with the territory.”
“Then maybe close the door next time?”
He laughed and pointed. “Baby, there is no door.”
Baby. The way he said the word gave me goosebumps. Never mind my mistake with the door.
No one had called me baby in a painfully long time.
“You should probably stop wandering into places you’re not supposed to be,” added Grayson, as he stepped to his locker.
“I didn’t wander,” I shot back. “I turned a corner.”
“And stayed.”
I folded my arms.
“I was leaving.”
“Didn’t look like it.”
His eyes dropped... then eventually came back up. The look was brief, but full of purpose.
It was also completely unapologetic.
“Listen, if you want to watch me shower, I could give you a schedule. You could put in your little tablet, there.”
“Really?” I balked. “You’re making fun of my tablet?”
He shrugged, guiltily. It didn’t help that I was already staring at his shoulders.
“You’ve seen what my tablet can do. Haven’t you?”
At that, Grayson seemed to relent.
“Yeah. I have.”
He reached into his locker and pulled out a stick of deodorant.
“This tablet’s going to help us win games,” I said, patting it.
“Us,” he repeated, applying the stick under one arm.
And there it was again. Just like with Ares, they’d never see me as one of them.
“Yes, us,” I reiterated. “I’m here for the Reavers, you know. It would help of course, if you trusted me.”
Grayson continued staring at me, as he went through his post-shower routine. In turn, I stared right back at him.
Were his arms always this big? This sculpted? This—
“You made your point out there today,” he said, matter-of-factly. “On the ice.”
I remained silent as he studied me for a moment. Perhaps deciding how much to say.
“Changes things,” he added.
I tilted my head. “How?”
“You’re not just talking anymore,” he shrugged. “You’re in it. You’ve been there. That makes a difference.”
“Umm… thanks?”
“But…”
Crap. There was always a but.
“But you still don’t trust me,” I finished for him.
Grayson’s jaw flexed as he reached for a shirt. Lining it up to poke his head through it, I took one last look at his magnificent chest.
“No,” he finally said. “I don’t trust you.”
Hey, at least he was honest.
“That’s fair,” I said, nonchalantly. “I don’t trust you either.”
Now he blinked — actually blinked.
“You don’t trust me?” he repeated.
There was something incredulous in it. Like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him.
I let out a quiet breath.
“You keep telling me what the team thinks happened,” I said. “With Trees. With Sutherland.”
“That’s because it’s what happened.”
“Is it?” I asked.
He stiffened. Just slightly.
“You think it’s not?” he asked.
“I think,” I said carefully, “you’ve been inside this thing for too long.”
Grayson’s eyes narrowed. They made his angular cheekbones even more attractive.
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”
I stepped a little closer. Not exactly confronting him, but not backing off, either.
“You want to know what people outside your little bubble think?” I asked.
Something in his posture changed. He seemed suddenly… interested.
“Go ahead.”
So I did.
“They think the team turned on Trees,” I said.
His expression didn’t change, overall. There was a new glimmer in his eyes, though.
“They think you guys stopped buying in. Stopped listening. Made it impossible for management to keep him.”
He still hadn’t said anything; hadn’t done anything, except slowly pull his shirt on. But I could feel the tension building.
“And Sutherland?” I continued.
That got something.
It was small. Tight. Almost imperceptible.
“They think he figured it out,” I told him.
“Figured what out?”
I held his gaze.
“That something wasn’t right.”
Silence filled the locker room. It settled between us, as heavy as the rolling steam.
“They think he tried to say something,” I went on. “Tried to expose it.”
Grayson didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He wasn’t doing anything at all.
“They think you pushed him out,” I finished. “To protect yourselves.”
I expected anger, or dismay, or righteous indignation. Instead, Grayson gave me nothing.
And nothing was more shocking than anything else.
The stillness he gave back wasn’t calm, though. It was controlled. Too controlled.
I watched him carefully, waiting for a denial.
But it never came.
“People think a lot of things,” he finally said.
I noticed his words were even; the statement carefully measured. But there was something underneath it, too. A flicker of… something else.
“You asked,” I said with a shrug.
He pulled back a little, nodding his head.
“I did.”
Another beat. Longer this time. Even so, his gaze never left mine.
“You believe that?” Grayson asked me.
I shook my head, once. “No.”
That seemed to surprise him.
“But I don’t believe your version either,” I added.
I stepped back, breaking the space between us.
“You don’t trust me,” I said. “That’s fine. But you might want to start asking why nobody else trusts you either.”
I turned before he could respond. Before I could step away, however, I felt a strong but gentle hand on my arm.
His touch stopped me cold.
“Haven…”
I spun back, and Grayson was all but on me. We were toe to toe, chest to chest. He bent slightly at the waist, so that his face hovered tantalizingly near mine.
“I… I just…”
His shower-fresh body radiated a warmth that was drawing me in. Soap. Deodorant. All things clean. These scents washed over me, as I felt the heat of his breath.
“I want you to trust me,” he said, quieter now.
I reached up without thinking, and lightly brushed the backs of my fingers against his face. It would’ve been so easy to kiss him. So simple to draw him in, and press my lips against that perfect, handsome mouth.
Instead, I patted his stubbled cheek twice.
“Then stop treating me like I’m playing against you,” I sighed, before spinning away.