33 - Grayson
Grayson
The smell of coffee and bacon fills Avery’s apartment long before either of us says more than three words to each other.
Sunlight spills through the kitchen windows, catching on the steam rising from the coffee pot and turning the entire room golden. Outside, the city is just starting to wake up. Cars are hurrying by, horns blaring in the distance.
But inside, everything feels slow. It’s the kind of morning I had no idea I’d been craving until I found it.
Avery is wrapped in one of the blankets from her couch, sitting on a stool at the kitchen island with her hair piled messily on top of her head. She’s nursing a mug of coffee with both hands, still half asleep, while she watches me cook.
Or rather, watches my ass.
I catch her staring when I turn from the stove. “You’re not subtle.”
“Wasn’t trying to be.” Her lips tilt up as she takes another sip.
I laugh and shake my head before turning back toward the skillet. The eggs are almost done, and the bacon is crispy. Now, I’m just waiting on the toaster.
Behind me, Avery stands up off the stool, circling into the kitchen. When her arms wrap around me, I lean into the lazy hug. I glance down at her, taking in the way my t-shirt slips off one shoulder and hangs almost to her knees. It does dangerous things to my brain.
She purses her lips and lays her head back, squeezing me harder.
“Still pouting?” I ask.
“You woke me up.”
“It’s ten.”
“But we didn’t go to sleep until three.”
“That’s still seven hours, Chaos.”
She huffs out a breath, stealing a piece of bacon from the plate and groaning when she takes a bite.
Her weight leans heavily into me, and I’m not even sure she realizes how easily the affection is coming to her. But I do.
“Go sit on the couch,” I say, kissing her forehead as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’ll bring it to you.”
She grins, then slides away, and when I look back, she’s already buried beneath a pile of blankets.
I try to tell my head to slow down, that I’m supposed to be patient while she comes to terms with just how good we could be together, but it’s nearly impossible when I can see it so plainly.
Mornings like this, nights like last night, fighting with her and loving her all the same. It really could be that easy if she’d let it be.
Wyatt’s words play through my head, and I bury the nagging thought that maybe she’ll never be ready.
The sound of her phone vibrating on the kitchen island pulls me back to the present.
Avery immediately groans. “Can you see who it is?”
I glance over my shoulder at it. “Your dad.”
Her face falls, the easy smile of the morning disappearing entirely.
“I’m ignoring it.”
“You sure?”
“Yes, he’s calling because he wants to one-up my mom and come visit. I don’t feel like dealing with it.”
My mind can’t wrap around the fact that he would only call for that, but considering it’s not my family, I leave it alone.
But then, the phone starts vibrating again.
“Still him?” She asks, glancing over at me.
I check it.
“Yes, it’s still him.”
She sighs. “He’s getting more persistent.”
“Or maybe there’s something important he needs to talk to you about.”
I don’t miss the way she chuckles under her breath while waiting for the phone to stop buzzing again. Turning off the burners, I fix our plates and load them onto the tray.
The phone starts ringing for a third time, and this time Avery doesn’t even budge. Something twists uncomfortably in my stomach when I notice how defeated she looks. I talked to my parents yesterday, answering on the first ring and chatting with them for over an hour about the most random things.
“You should answer.” I grab her phone on my way into the living room with our food.
Avery lifts her head. “No.”
“Chaos, he’s going to keep calling.”
“I don’t want to.”
I hand her the phone and set the food down on the coffee table.
Avery mutters under her breath. “I hate that you’re right.”
“I know.”
“I hate that you know you’re right.”
“I know that too.”
She rolls her eyes before reluctantly answering.
I settle onto the couch, wrapping us both up in the blanket together. Without thinking about it, I reach for her hand. Her fingers lace through mine, squeezing as she puts the phone on speaker.
Maybe it’s because she wants me to hear the conversation, but I have my suspicions that it’s really just so she can balance the phone on her knee while curling both arms back up under the blanket.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Well, look who finally answered her phone.”
The warmth from the morning dims as Avery’s shoulders tighten beside me.
“I’ve been busy.”
“Not too busy to talk to your mother.”
I watch her jaw flex. “I’ve talked to her like once, Dad.”
“I know all about it. She called me to tell me that she visited.”
My thumb brushes the back of her hand, and she relaxes into it.
“Okay, and?”
“I need to come out and see you.”
If I didn’t have a front row seat to the way Avery’s body tenses, I’d think he was just a father wanting to see his daughter.
“Okay.”
Then any hope of his good intentions shatters at his next words.
“Your mother only saw you for dinner. So, I figured I’d stay for a couple of days. Actually spend some time with you instead of breezing in and back out the way she did.”
Avery closes her eyes. The expression on her face guts me. She doesn’t even look mad, just exhausted, as if this exact situation has been going on for years. Hell, it probably has.
It’s no wonder why she’s hesitant to let people in. Her parents are so busy fighting each other that neither of them seems to realize how much they’re hurting her.
“She didn’t breeze. We’re in season, so you can’t really stay…”
“I’ll make it work, take the time off. You can let her know that I’m checking in on you.”
He bulldozes right over her. She squeezes my hand harder.
“I’m not telling her anything. I tell you guys all the time that you can talk to each other if you have something to say.”
I watch her choose her words carefully.
“I don’t need anyone checking in on me. Not you and not Mom.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I don’t want you to come, so you can one-up Mom. I don’t want you to come so you can use it as your ammunition the next time you guys talk.”
“I’m your father, and I want to come see you. Why is that a problem? You don’t give your mother trouble when she comes to visit.”
She deflates, physically shrinking into herself as he misses the point entirely.
“You’re right. Let me know when you want to come.”
My fingers rub circles across the back of her hand while she finishes the conversation. Her eyes flick toward mine every few sentences.
And by the time the call finally ends, she looks worn down.
“Is it always like that?” I ask.
“Pretty much.”
The apartment falls silent, and I know that letting me listen was as much opening up as she wants to get into today.
Instead of talking, I reach forward and slide her plate across the coffee table until it bumps gently against her knee.
Avery takes a bite of toast and stares out the window.
Someone is walking their dog along the sidewalk while a cyclist weaves between traffic. It’s just a typical morning. But the tension from the phone call hangs heavy in the room.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She huffs a laugh. “Par for the course with them.”
The answer makes it worse because she says it so casually, as if every conversation with her parents goes exactly that way. As if spending your entire life getting pulled in opposite directions by two people who should be protecting you is normal.
I glance down at our joined hands, her fingers holding me tight.
Everything makes so much more sense. Why would she want a relationship when her example of one growing up was toxic as hell?
My thumb drifts across her knuckles. “You shouldn’t have to deal with that.”
Avery shrugs. “You try telling them that.”
We sit there quietly watching sunlight crawl across the hardwood floors. Then something that’s been bouncing around in my head since last night finally comes out.
“Will you come to my game in a couple of days?”
Avery turns her head. "What?"
Not the fucking time, idiot.
“Nothing. Actually, forget I asked. That was stupid.”
Immediately, her eyebrows pull together. “Grayson.”
“I’m serious.” I shift farther into the couch.
“You really want me there?”
"Yes,” I try to sound indifferent. “But you fly out tonight to Philadelphia for your game tomorrow. You’ll just be getting back to town. My sister will be there. It was a bad idea.”
Even without me saying it, I know she can tell I’m trying to give her an out. After seeing some of the toxicity she’s been surrounded with her whole life, I don’t want to push her into this.
She nods. “Your sister will be there?”
“Yeah. Katie.”
“It’s not like you told her about us, right?”
It’s a grey area. While I didn’t explicitly tell her, I didn’t exactly hide it either. Knowing the way my family gossips, I’m sure Katie’s already looked up Avery’s full digital footprint by now.
“No, I didn’t tell Katie, but um, Wyatt hinted at it pretty heavily.”
As in he explicitly said it.
“Then no worries. I’ll go.”
I pause, searching her face for any uncertainty. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’ll tag along with Wesley, Harper, and Sloane.”
I can’t help but wish everyone knew she was supporting me, her boyfriend. But I guess I’m not really her boyfriend.
Yet.
“So, you’re sure you want to come?”
“Yes, I want to watch you play.”
Relief hits in an instant, overtaking the disappointment, because while I wish we were out in the open, I’m really fucking happy she’s coming to the game.
Then her face darkens. “Um, has Damon said anything to you about me in your first couple of games?”
“Not a thing. Hasn’t really looked twice at me, honestly."
The words hang between us, and instead of seeing relief, her brows furrow.
She’d be more concerned if she knew how hard it’s been for me not to ram him into the boards every time he crosses my path for the damage he caused, but I’ve controlled myself. Winning this series will be enough of a hit to his ego.
“That doesn’t mean he won’t.” She finally says, brushing her hands against her thighs.
“Nothing he can say will change how I feel about you.”
Her eyes catch mine. “Just if he does say something–”
“He won’t.”
There’s no reason for him to keep his mouth shut for multiple games just to say something now. If he wanted to have it out with me, it would’ve happened already.
“But if he does, just please ignore him. He has a way of knowing exactly what buttons to push.”
I chuckle. “I’ve faced down a lot of assholes on the ice, Chaos. I’m not worried about it.”
“Just promise me that you won’t let him mess with this. With us.”
The stubborn look settling onto her face is familiar by now. I stare at her, and she stares right back.
“I promise.”
Damon’s the last thing on my mind anyway.
Avery is coming to my game. She wants to come to my game, and it feels like another step in the right direction.
“What time’s puck drop tonight?” She finishes the last bite of her breakfast before setting her plate on the coffee table.
“Seven.”
She nods. “I’ll watch.”
I smile. “From Philadelphia?”
“From Philadelphia.”
Tonight I’ll play game three without her in the building. In two days, she’ll be back. She’ll be in the stands. The thought alone sends a rush of energy through me, warmth spreading through my chest.
It can’t come soon enough.