Chapter 16 – Greyson
Stepping onto the plane, I shake out my shoulders. I’m never strung this tight before away games. I know it’s not really the game that’s stressing me out. Going back, it’s like picking at a scab, never letting it fully heal, except I thought I had healed. Plus the emotional turmoil from last night, I can’t stop comparing the similarities in conflict resolution. How do I get her to open up? How do I earn her trust enough to let me in fully? How do I protect myself in the process? The thought of walking away is almost worse than the thought of possible fallout. Damned if you do. Damned if you don’t.
Reed walks down the aisle, sitting in the seat to my left; this is one of his superstitions. He has to sit in the same spot on the plane every time. Before me, he’d have the row to himself. But in my attempt to bond with the team, I made the mistake of sitting in his row, leaving a seat between me at the window and him in the aisle seat. We won that game, so he decided that I wasn’t allowed to sit anywhere else when we had away games.
Normally, that wouldn’t bother me, but today, I just want to be left alone. The flight from Tampa to Washington is six hours; there’s no way he’d sit there silently the whole time. My hand reaches into my black joggers and starts to spin the ring on the anchor Hannah gave me. I’d take it out and stare at the picture, but the last thing I want is to be fielding questions from a bunch of nosy Nellies.
“You’re quiet, Wilder. What’s on your mind?” Breathing out an extra-long inhale, I spin the ring back and forth.
“I’m good, just didn ’t sleep all that well last night.” Rubbing the back of my neck with my other hand, hoping that was believable, he nods, seeming to buy it.
“I’ve played for Tampa my whole career. I won’t pretend I know what it feels like to play against your brothers. But know we’ve got your back, man.” I nod; we’ll go with that.
“Get some sleep. Once we get in the air, I’ll go kick Wilson and Monroe’s butts in poker.” I know there will not be a single soul asleep on this plane if they start playing poker. It sounds like a UFC match in here. I’m surprised punches haven’t been thrown yet.
We got to the hotel, and I half expected to be ambushed the second we got there. I refuse to leave my room, though. Our game is tomorrow night, and I’m doing my best to keep my focus on the task at hand, which is to win and go home.
I ordered my typical pre-game day meal of a 16 oz steak, a baked potato, and broccoli and decided to eat it in the room while the rest of the team went out. I thought they’d hassle me over why I wasn’t going, but Monroe just gave me a pat on the back and left. I’m halfway through my dinner when I get a text from an unknown local number that reads, “I’ll see you tomorrow, G.” The only person who has ever called me that, is Kara.
My breathing picks up; I’ve completely lost my appetite. The loss of control I have over this situation is eating away at me. I need to get away, but there's nowhere to go. She’s freaking everywhere, and there doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason. Maybe this is just another ploy of her manipulation game. Nothing would surprise me about her these days. Pushing my plate away, I stumble into the bathroom, missing the light switch before I hit the floor. There are white spots clouding my vision. I manage to get myself in a sitting position and interlace my fingers before putting them on top of my head.
I count backward from ten, but it does nothing. I try to sing, “God is bigger than the boogie man,” like my mom did when Tatum or I had nightmares when we were little. Instead of having a calming effect, it makes my chest heave harder; I hate that I don’t have this under control. I’ve lost track of time. I can’t take a full breath; my chest feels like there’s a python wrapped around it. I know if I don’t calm down, I’m going to pass out.
“Hey Siri, facetime Kitten.” It’s a gasp; I’m surprised I even got it out.
It rings for what feels like forever, and my throat feels like it's closing more every second. “Hi, Grey.” She sounds so far away like she’s underwater. I can’t get my voice to work. “Hello? Are you there?” The lights are still off in the bathroom, so she can’t see me. It hits me then that she might think I butt-dialed her.
“Greyson?” I take a shuddering breath, willing any sound to come out of my mouth, but it doesn’t. “Oh my gosh, hold on.” The pressure in my chest loosens a tiny bit at the fact that she knows just what I need.
I hear something rustle on the other end of the phone, and suddenly, her face pops up on the screen. She’s make-up-free, her hair is up in a bun, and she’s got my Hawks sweatshirt on. If I could smile, I would. “Okay, so, today I got to work on the final touches for the carnival. All the permits have been approved and I get to go to the pier tomorrow to make sure everything is set up correctly. Then I got on a call with Lilly and Cade; they’re both so excited he gets to play for at least another season.” She goes on recounting her day up until the point that I called her. By the end of it, my chest doesn’t feel as tight.
I reach up and turn on the light, blinking rapidly to adjust my eyes.
“Hi, Dozer.” She says, her voice softer than it was moments before. Her entire face seems to glow when she sees me. The tension in her forehead dissipates, replaced by the soft smile I’ve come to crave.
Happiness swims in her eyes; it’s genuine and unfiltered. The fact that there is not an ounce of pity or annoyance at the fact that she’s dropped everything to make sure I’m okay twice in the past twenty-four hours does something to me that I’m terrified to admit out loud.
The moments pass, and we just stare at each other in comfortable silence. The tightness in my throat finally subsides enough for me to talk.
“Hi, Kitten.” I manage, my voice gruff as I rest my head against the bathroom wall. “Thank you.” The words feel like they weigh a metric ton.
Her blush travels down her neck, and I swear I can see the rise and fall of her chest quicken under a sweatshirt I know has my name on the back of it. She tucks a nonexistent piece of hair behind her ear as her eyes flit around her room like she’s trying to get a hold of herself.
“Hey, Wilder?”
“Yeah ?
“You don’t have to thank me.” She whispers it, and the sultriness of her voice makes my stomach do a somersault. She moves closer to the screen, and I wish more than anything I could reach through it and pull her in for a hug. Her eyes hold mine as she says, “You’d do the same for me.”
Of course, I would. There’s no doubt about it.
We look at each other through the screen, not daring to break the bubble we’ve created. On one hand, my heart is drawn to this woman. It’s ready to jump and yell “Catch me” as it free falls. At the same time, my brain is telling me to slow down, that I could be wrong about her. Red flags wave in the recess of my mind, but I so badly want to believe in her. In us. My hands tremble as I run them through my hair.
“Do you think I’m a good person?” The question clearly catches her off guard as she turns her head and blinks rapidly at me. The self-doubt that's snaked its way into me is crippling at the moment. Three steps forward, two steps back.
“What?” Her head tilts to the side as she studies me. I wonder what she sees when she looks at me. Does she like it? Would she change anything if she could? “Greyson, where is this coming from? Is this about the other night?” Her breath hitches as her eyes dart around the room. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to push you away, I'm just.. I don’t even know. I like you, but should we be doing this? I’m covering your team this season. Is that even ethical? That’s where I was coming from with the professional comment. I don’t know what to do.”
She goes to speak again, but I cut her off, “Hannah, we aren’t employed by the same organization. Go look at your HR handbook. If it’s an issue, we can just work on building a solid friendship until the end of the season. I ’m okay with that. I just need to know if you’re in or not. Because if you are, I need you to be fully in. I don’t date, just to date, Kitten.” I hold her gaze, hoping my next words don’t make her run.
“I want to get married; I want kids and a family. I want the dogs, the smelly diapers, the puke. I want to braid my wife’s hair when she’s too tired to do it herself. I want to make her dinner when she can’t even keep her eyes open.” My heart squeezes as I take in the look on her face.
Her eyes are wide, lips parted in a way that makes me want to run my tongue between them. The prettiest blush coats her cheeks as she stares at me without blinking. “If that’s not what you want out of this, I need you to tell me now. I’ll go at your pace, but know that’s my end game.”
“You... You?” It comes out as a question, and the confusion that is now evident from her unfocused eyes to the tight pinch between her brows making that lightning bolt shape wrinkle appear between them. She clears her throat and squeezes the bun on the top of her head. “You want that with me?” She croaks out. I give her a quick nod and the first genuine smile I’ve had all day.
“Why? We hardly know each other.” Her head shakes as she looks up at the ceiling, swallowing hard enough for me to notice over the phone.
“Because since I’ve met you, you’ve chased your goals with everything you have. You’ve tried to friend-zone me multiple times. You didn’t judge me when I told you about my depression; you helped me through two panic attacks in the past twenty-four hours. You don’t care about what’s in my bank account or what I can do for you. You genuinely just like to hang out with me. And the way you care about others, you’re going to make a great mom one day. I don’t know why I wouldn’t w ant that with someone like you.”
The color drains from her face, and her hand covers her mouth. I can see it shaking. She truly believes she isn’t good enough for anyone to settle down with. I’ll change that.