Chapter Fourteen
Gray
Those first few months after Indy left me, I went a little off the deep end. I quit my job, sold my condo, and found a corner of the world where I could hide and lick my wounds. But all that did was give me far too much time to let the rot set in.
Indy left me. She fell for someone who wasn’t me. And she cut me out like I was the cancer in her life. She moved on with him.
Anger and hate settled in during that time I spent in a hut on the beach. And so did the booze. Until I woke up with a mouthful of sand and my head under water as the tide came in one morning.
Crawling my near-drowned, hungover ass out of the waves was only the first step. I had to get my head on right enough to beg for my job back when my bosses no longer had confidence in me, and my client portfolio had been divided up between the other agents I worked with.
In any sport, too much time on the bench with an injury—even a broken heart—can cost a career. I’m lucky I had a great track record for years prior. My bosses were willing to take that into consideration when they agreed to give me another shot.
I’m working as hard to rebuild my roster as I had to when I first started. And it’s as tedious and slow as it was back then. No one wants a rep they can’t be sure will be there when they’re needed. Contracting Mann is the necessary step in the right direction. I need him.
As the soccer player struts toward us I grin and wave as I mutter under my breath barely loud enough for America to hear, “Not your boyfriend, huh?”
“I can see whoever I want to see, Gray,” America whispers back. “And I didn’t know he was coming over.”
He’s a brilliant soccer player. He has magic feet. But he also has an Instagram account that might as well be a champagne ad for the party lifestyle. Every image has a different beauty clinging to him.
And then there’s the things I’ve heard in the bleachers. He goes in hard and cools off quick. That might be okay for groupies, but not for a girl like America. She gets obsessive about things. He’ll end up hurting her, intentionally or not.
I wouldn’t want any of my friends dating him. This is why I don’t want her to date him. Right?
Well, maybe my opinion is skewed. I don’t have any other friends I can’t keep my hands off.
She jogs over and hugs him with her whole body. There’s so much affection in it. Like he really is the boyfriend she wants. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He lifts her off her feet to hug her tighter.
I glance down at my whitening knuckles, wrapped around my keys. At the bruising from punching that creep professor earlier. I feel like taking a shot at Mann too.
I’m not a fighter. There were a few times in college, during games where I’d lose my temper. But most of those fights were settled with a shove and a few hotheaded insults.
And there was that night when I picked up Indy and America from a nightclub when they were freshly twenty-one. America had been trembling so hard as they’d raced to my car with some drunk asshole on her tail. Indy had been flipping out and snapping at him to back off.
I’d fallen a little harder for Indy that night as I’d put myself between the girls and that idiot. The girl with the plan and the big heart and the bravery to face up to things that could hurt her. I was prepared to throw punches, but ultimately didn’t need to.
The last time that I almost hit someone, desperately wanted to, was the night my replacement brought Indy back to our apartment covered in Jell-O.
Recalling that slimy, disgusting, chunky, vomit-like shit all over her… It’s enough to make me want to gag, but that’s not the only thing that makes me queasy as Mann brushes his lips against America’s.
I’m possessive of America. I’m jealous. I want to spend time with her. When I’m with her I can’t stop myself from touching her. I’m not thinking about Indy. I’m not drowning in misery the way I have been since Indy left me. For the first time in a long time I’m thinking about someone else.
But I didn’t wake up this morning thinking about America. I woke up bitter, with my chest aching so hard that I would have suspected a heart attack if I hadn’t recognized it as the same sensation I’ve felt regularly since Indy left me. Finding America was the distraction I needed. The fact that I didn’t think about Indy again until just now… it doesn’t matter. Not when I can’t let her go. That’s not fair to America.
“What are you doing here?” she asks as he swings an arm around her shoulders.
“Got back into town a little early,” he says as they walk toward me. “I couldn’t wait to see you. So what are you two up to? Catching up?”
“Actually, I have to go back to the hotel and contact the office,” I say, making my excuses. I don’t want to leave America alone with him, but I also don’t have an excuse for sticking around. Staying now will just make things uncomfortable.
Besides, I really do need to get back to the hotel and make calls to every team manager on my contact list who might have a spot for Mikey.
“Anything I should be worried about?” Mann straightens and focuses on me. His brows lower.
“Not at all.” It’s not his contract on the line. Or his reputation that just took a hit. I was already under the microscope. Screwing up Mikey’s contract is only going to make it worse. And yet, I’m not beating a path out of here as quick as I should be.
“Good to hear.” He smiles cheerfully.
“I was thinking we should go out tonight.” Schmoozing him is still a priority. Taking him out, showing him a good time, and talking up what our partnership can do for him is the only way I’ll get this contract signed. And I need him to sign. “There’s this new club…”
“Oh yeah?” Mann’s interest is piqued like I knew it would be. He likes to drink and dance. More than that he likes to be seen in the trendiest places. “What’s it called?”
“Electric Pony.” I grin back, because I am damn good at my job, which included scouring his socials and creating a profile on him that should help close the deal.
“Damn.” He whistles. “You’ve done your homework. I’ve been wanting to check it out.”
“Drinks are on me,” I say, knowing it will seal the deal.
“What do you think?” he asks America. “Want to go out tonight? Drink expensive champagne on the company’s dime?”
America turns to me hesitantly. We still need to talk, but that doesn’t seem like it will be possible any time soon. “If you’re sure.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says.
Perhaps this thing between them is more serious than I hoped. Surely he wouldn’t have invited her along if he was expecting to play the field.
She’s still looking at me for an answer. What am I going to say? No, I don’t want her there with us. I hate watching them together. It makes me uncomfortable. Jealous. I want her there with me. Everett nowhere in sight.
I nod.
She smiles at him. It’s genuine. The kind of smile we’ve shared thousands of times over the years. Affectionate. “I’d love to.”
“Can’t wait,” Everett tells me. He takes off his hat and rubs a hand through his hair before putting it back on. He pulls a rectangle wrapped in ivory paper and ribbon from somewhere. “I brought you something, Lucky Charm.”
Well, isn’t that cute? Did he forget her name so he gave her a nickname? Or does he refer to every girl that he dates in a similar way? It’s possible that kind of detail wouldn’t be public knowledge.
She stares at the pretty package like it might bite. “What is it?”
“Open it.” He smiles.
She sucks in her bottom lip while she tears at the paper, revealing an ancient and delicate bound book. Awestruck, she caresses the front cover. “Oh wow. Gray, look at this.”
He bought her a gift that puts the neglected book in my car to shame. One she would adore. He knows her well enough to know what would really speak to her. It takes me a moment to find my voice. He actually put some thought into it. “Is that the one you’ve been searching for?”
“No. But…” She looks up at him as my phone chirps with a new notification. “This must have cost you a fortune.”
He shrugs. “As long as you love it.”
“I do.” She holds it out to him. “But I can’t take it.”
I lift my phone and scan the screen. Mikey again.
“Don’t be silly.” He pushes it back at her. “It’s yours. I know nothing about languages.”
“I have to go.” I’ve dawdled long enough. I can’t put America’s relationship with Everett before my clients’ needs. “I really do need to go put out this fire.”
“Right, mate. Text us the details for tonight.” Everett dismisses me. America is too focused on her new book to pay me any mind.
I’m making my first call as I drive back to the hotel. It goes to voicemail, so I leave a message and move on. Three calls later, I’ve achieved nothing but to wonder what the hell is going on back at America’s. Has she told Everett about us? Should I expect a call any minute with all the reasons I shouldn’t be his agent? Or has she stripped the sheets and headed for a second shower as though whatever is happening between us isn’t happening at all? Are they cuddled up on that comfy-looking sofa while she pours over her precious new book?
It’s ugly. This emotion I’m feeling. This desire to go back and tell Mann to fuck off.
She’s not my girl. I don’t want her to be my girl any more than I want her to be his.
I’m so twisted up by Indy fucking me over for that dancing asshole. And now I’m sleeping with her best friend…
The affair, the breakup, it’s coloring every part of my life an ugly shade. It’s possible it’s making me biased against Everett too. He actually seems to care about her.
That makes me the asshole in this scenario. And relating to that prick who wrecked my family is something I’ll never want.
“You did this to me,” I snap at the empty passenger seat, allowing myself to visualize Indy there in her favorite cream dress and those tan boots she loved, while I speed along the main road. Her long copper hair hangs over both shoulders.
Does she even wear it like that anymore? Or those boots? Or that dress?
We haven’t spoken since I walked out of the hospital, so I have no idea who she has become. At least not since I was sober. I vaguely recall talking to him after her surgery. I needed to know that she was still with us. But since then it has only been me and the ghost of the woman I thought I’d pledge my life to. The woman I hoped would care for my heart the way I cared for hers. I would have done anything for her.
But apparently that made me too controlling. A bad guy.
My fiancée was dying. There was not a damn study or trial I wouldn’t have pushed her to try in order to keep her with me. There was no way I was going to willingly let her risk her life with that stupid bucket list. If I had to be the bad guy to keep her safe, then fine, I’m the bad guy.
I would be the bad guy a million times over if even one thing I did in those months had an impact on her still being here. Even if that means I end up here, with her leaving me for him. Every single time.
Fuck, here really sucks. It’s excruciating.
“I don't know how to move on from you. I don’t know how to cut you out.” I make a jagged motion across my chest. “God, I want to hate you so fucking much. Sometimes I want to call you up and tell you that.”
But I only seem to want to make those calls when I miss her the most. And I miss her now because she was my sounding board. When there were problems with clients or my parents, she was the one who I turned to.
“Does it help?” I imagine her asking, because after ten years it feels like I know what she would say. Or at least I did before him .
“I’m sleeping with your best friend,” I say flatly. Do I care about what she would think of me if I called her and told her that? I don’t know, but it would hurt America and that I don’t want. “So what do you think?”
“You like her.” She twists her hands together in her lap. “You’ve always cared about America.”
“She’s your cousin. She was always going to be part of my life. So I tried—”
“No.” She stares at me with that stubborn look she’d get sometimes when we disagreed. “You already had a soft spot for her when we got together.”
“We’re friends.”
She raises an eyebrow. “EJ’s your friend too. You don’t fuck him. You’re not considering whether or not you—”
“I’d fuck him if I thought it would hurt you,” I snarl.
A horn honks behind me, snapping me back to reality. I press the gas to proceed through the intersection. My chest hurts like hell. How can I possibly be considering anything with America when Indy is still so deep inside me?
It’s not like it can be anything but sex.
Everett is hell-bent on finding a team in the States. Securing that for him is a major draw card in this deal he and I are working on.
If he goes then maybe America will too. Even if things end between them, she’s going to want to go home and see her family at some point. For a vacation or for Christmas or to stay.
Being near all those people back home that I can’t bear to be around is where she belongs. Those people who were like family, until they accepted Theo with open fucking arms.
I slam my fist against the steering wheel. Once. Twice.
The idea of losing Indy to her illness was devastating and heartbreaking. It never occurred to me that she would destroy my heart by falling in love with someone else and leave me this twisted up, angry, lonely mess.
I should be relieved and thankful that she’s still alive. And I am. I’m thankful that I don’t have to grieve because she’s no longer here.
But loving Indy ruined me and every good thing in my life. I don’t know how to let her go. I don’t know how to put her behind me and find peace in what happened.
There is nothing I regret more than falling in love with her.