Chapter 10
Ten
Faye
“I’m tired,” I lie.
Well, it’s not exactly a lie since I’m exhausted, especially after crying like that.
I feel like I can close my eyes and sleep for a thousand years.
“I’m sure you are,” he says, leaning in and lightly brushing his thumb over my cheek.
This being with his free thumb, since he’s using his other one to trace light patterns on my palm, the rest of our fingers still intertwined.
“But,” he goes on. “You said you lost it and cried in my arms because…”
My throat goes tight. “Because why?” I squeak.
One big shoulder lifts and falls. “I don’t know, Red. You didn’t say. So, why don’t you tell me?”
Shit.
I walked right into that one.
“I don’t know if you remember,” I say, going for light and failing miserably, mostly because my voice is still mostly a squeak, “but it’s kind of been a really long day.”
“I would have given you that out, baby, had you taken it the first time I offered it up.” He flattens his hand against my cheek, slides it down to gently cup my jaw. “Or if those tears didn’t sound like they were ripping you in half.”
I suck in a breath and tense.
And because he’s cupping my jaw and holding my hand and leaning close…I know he doesn’t miss that.
Doesn’t miss any of that.
“You can talk to me.”
I close my eyes.
“I told you about my ex, who’s a nightmare, and not just because she’s a nightmare, but also because I hate the person I am when I’m in the same room as her.”
That has my lids peeling open. “Why?” I whisper.
“Because I regress into a dumbass twenty-two-year-old who married his college sweetheart when neither of us were ready for something that serious, let alone all the difficulties that come with dating a professional athlete.” He sighs.
“And that was after I was already a dumbass high schooler dating the prettiest but most toxic girl in high school. Though, it was before Court and I separated and I thought that Tara or Alicia or Hannah or Devon were the right women. Of course, Tara was just like Courtney and the rest of them I didn’t have a chance with because I both couldn’t get rid of and couldn’t let go of Court and—” He shakes his head, a lock of hair falling over his forehead, his eyes sliding closed.
“I…” I say when he doesn’t go on. “I feel like I need to tell you I’ve seen a few of the news stories about you two.”
He exhales, lids peeling back, the depths of his eyes heavy with old pain.
“Unfortunately, you’re not the only one.
The reporters got so bad after the story about us went viral last year, Coach told them to stop asking about her or they wouldn’t get another interview.
” A muscle in his jaw flickers. “They used to love me—until they didn’t.
Now everything they write is like they’re goading me to fuck up, to give them something tweetable. ”
My heart twists. “Gray—”
“Some captain, huh? Bringing all the drama,” he says. Another shake of his head. “Courtney fed them the stories but I provided the ammunition. The fight, the suspension, my post-game meltdown—”
I bite back the urge to interject, wait for him to go on.
“I gave her—them—an easy target,” he finishes quietly. “Now I’ve learned that silence is safer than trying to get them on my side.”
“I can understand that.”
His eyes come to mine, hold, as though searching them for any sign I might be lying.
When I just stare back, something in him relaxes—the line of his jaw or maybe the set of his shoulders.
“Anyway,” he says, “we’re fucked up. We’re toxic.
I’ve realized that and been working to be in a place where I can let it go for a while now.
And finally, it’s done. The papers are signed.
I dropped them off with my attorney this morning.
I can finally close the door on that toxicity and move on. ”
“That’s really great.”
“Yeah.” He nods brusquely. “Now, it’s your turn.”
It’s only fair.
He shared…a lot. So much my heart hurts for him. So much I know I should give something back.
It’s just…the lid I slammed down to keep my feelings in check is nowhere in sight now, even though I scramble to find it, to clamp it onto the pot of emotions inside me.
I would have thought I cried them all out.
But, nope. The fire’s going, and they’re threatening to boil over again.
“I lost my house,” I whisper, and God, how is it I have any tears left?
It’s probably the fucking tube in my arm, its cannula pumping saline into my body.
Making it possible for my body to keep producing the salty fuckers.
Making it impossible for me to ignore the way his face gentles as more tears to slip free when he says, “I know you did, baby.”
“No,” I whisper. “I lost my house. Which means I lost everything.”
“I know,” he whispers back.
But how can he know?
Because—
“No, I mean…I lost N-Nana’s banana bread recipe and my baby pictures and the photo of my mom and dad on their honeymoon.
” My lungs hitch. “And I lost the necklace my mom had bought to give me on my wedding day and Fluffy’s collar and N-Nana’s perfume and my mom’s sc-scarf and…
they’re not here!” More tears sliding down my cheeks.
“They’re not here and they’re not coming back and I can’t just go buy another scarf because it won’t smell like my mom and they don’t make Nana’s perfume anymore and I can’t remember if her banana bread calls for one egg or two a-and I’ll never be able to properly remember what my dad’s handwriting looked like or be able to use my mom’s special deviled eggs platter again. ”
“Red,” he murmurs.
I use my free hand to angrily brush aside my tears, the Velcro on the splint catching in my hair.
“I don’t have them anymore. I don’t have anyone.
And I don’t have any way of getting all that I had left of them back.
So, that’s why I lost it. Because I remembered I didn’t just lose my laptop and my collection of signed special edition hardbacks.
I didn’t just lost my purse and credit cards and passport and who knows what else. I lost them, all over again and…”
“It hurts.” Kind green eyes on mine.
“Yes,” I say, looking down at the thin weave of the blanket.
“It really hurts. Because I don’t have a family to swoop in and take care of me when I’m in the hospital.
I’ve had to learn to live without them and that sucks and”—I gently extract my hand from his—“I’m really tired of being alone, of having to do it all by myself. ”
That’s the truth.
But I also realize how that sounds.
How pathetic it sounds.
I slam the brakes on the emotions churning in my belly, clamp down that lid tightly again.
“But that’s the way it’s been since Nana died,” I tell him.
“Which means I’m used to it. So, thanks for being kind and understanding while I got my good cry out.
But I’m good.” My lips curve into what I hope is some semblance of a smile, but I know I’ve failed when I gather the courage to flick my eyes toward his for a heartbeat.
Still, I press on.
Because that’s what I do.
“Luckily,” I say, running my fingers over the edge of the blanket as I dare to take another look at him.
“I’ve written a book about this same thing happening to a character.
The house burning down part,” I add when his brows drag together, confusion in his green eyes.
(I don’t add that the love of her life, the other half of her soul, the man who saw her as the most precious object in the universe saved her, thus starting them on their path to happily-ever-after because…
fiction versus real life and I don’t need to feel any more sad in this moment).
“Anyway,” I go on into the silence that’s fallen, “I’m just saying I know what my next steps have to be, so as soon as the doctor springs me from hospital jail, I’ll get on with them.”
I smile, pretend this is fine.
Everyone says healing takes time—but no one mentions how lonely it is to start over.
It’s quiet. No fireworks. Just slow, stubborn grind to the new normal.
“In the meantime,” I say, pushing the forlorn down deep as he remains silent. “I’m going to eat as much green Jell-O as they give me and yell at the TV about the failings of people to properly guess the categories of Family Feud and pretend that this is some sort of really shitty hotel.”
Finally, I stop talking.
My chest is heaving, my pulse pounding through my veins.
My muscles taut with the intensity of trying to keep it together.
But he’s still not speaking.
And…off I go again.
“So yeah, you’re off the hook, Gray. Thanks again for saving me.”
I nod to the door.
“You can go.”
He’s silent, staring at me, and this time I can’t look away.
Not because his face is completely blank but because—spoiler alert—he doesn’t listen to me and walk his ass out the door.
Instead…he stands up and crawls into bed beside me again.
Takes me into his arms.
And—
Fuck.
Because then I’m…crying again.