Chapter 46 – Waylon
chapter
forty-six
Waylon
Josie was still in my bed when I woke to gray light from the window.
She slept on her side, one hand curled under her jaw and the other flung across my chest. I didn’t move. The cottage was quiet except for the fridge cycling on and off.
The doctor bobblehead she’d given me sat on the nightstand where it had lived for weeks as I watched her.
A little creepy? Maybe. But still, I matched my breathing to hers and let myself stay there a little longer. I could get used to this. Hell, maybe I already had.
Her eyes opened. It took her a second to focus, and when she did, she treated me to a bright sunny smile.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Hey, yourself,” I murmured and brushed a piece of hair off her cheek. She was so damn pretty like this. “How do you feel?”
She scrunched her nose like she was actually thinking about it.
“Take your time thinking about it, why don’t you?”
“Free,” she finally said, giggling. “I feel free.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her hand flattened on my chest. “I keep waiting to feel scared or unsure. Waiting for the part where I’m terrified of what he does next.” She breathed out. “But I’m not. I just feel free and safe with you.”
I kissed her forehead and squeezed her a little tighter.
“I’m worried about what it means for you, though,” she said into my shoulder. “He’s not going to let this go quietly. He has his dad’s name and his dad’s lawyers and his dad’s everything, and you have —”
“A scholarship and a bad attitude,” I said with a grin.
“I’m serious, Waylon.”
“I know you are.” I tipped her chin up so she’d look at me.
“But listen. I know assholes like Marcus. Pieces of shit who get a little power and decide it gives them the right to hurt somebody smaller. My father was one of them.” I kept my voice even.
“I grew up in that house. I watched my mom get us both out, and I survived him. Marcus is the same kind of asshole, just in nicer clothes. He doesn’t scare me, Josie. I promise.”
“I’m so sorry, Waylon.” Her hand came up to my jaw. “That you grew up in that. You were just a kid.”
“I had my mom.” I said with a shrug before turning my face into her palm. “She got us out.”
She went quiet, her palm still warm against my face.
“But I have the recording, Flash. Him in the parking lot, threatening both of us. It’s time-stamped. Aaron has it, and he’s going to handle this the legal way. We don’t have to outpunch Marcus. We just have to outsmart and outlast him.”
She stared at me for a long moment.
“Okay,” she said finally.
“Okay?”
“Okay. I believe you.” She pressed her face back into my shoulder. “God. You know what I’m actually looking forward to?”
“Tell me.”
“Being normal.” She laughed, low. “The sneaking around was hot, I’m not going to lie.
The five a.m. trail runs when we pretended we weren’t doing this.
The texting in code. All of it.” She lifted her head.
“But I kinda want the boring stuff. I want to hold your hand in the dining hall and not check who’s watching.
I want to come to a game and wear your number and not have to explain it to anyone. I want normal.”
“Normal,” I said. “Yeah. We can do normal.”
“You’d better.”
I could’ve stayed there all day. I was trying to figure out how to make that happen when my phone buzzed on the nightstand, rattling against the lamp.
I almost ignored it, then I saw Aaron’s name on the screen.
Aaron didn’t call at eight in the morning to chat. He didn’t really call to chat at all. Josie lifted her head off the pillow.
“Who is it?”
“My agent.” I was already sitting up, already reaching for the jeans I’d dropped by the bed last night. “It’s probably draft stuff.”
It wasn’t nothing, I knew that much, but Josie didn’t need to see it on my face, not this morning, when she’d finally woken up feeling free.
I pulled on my jeans, leaned over the bed, and kissed her slowly.
“Stay here,” I said. “Stay in bed. I’m going to make coffee and take this, and when I come back, we’re going to figure out how normal people spend a free day.”
“Mmm.” She was already burrowing back into the pillow that smelled like me. “Bring the coffee.”
“Bring the coffee, yes, ma’am.”
I left the bedroom door open a few inches and padded into the kitchen barefoot. I started the kettle, more for the noise than anything, then pulled down two mugs. With my back to the bedroom, I answered and kept my voice low.
“Tell me straight,” I said.
Aaron went quiet, and my stomach tightened. “Seattle called,” he said. “They had you on their board. Upper second round, maybe late first if they liked what they saw at the combine. They’re pulling back.”
I gripped the edge of the counter. Upper second. Maybe late first. I’d spent my whole life working toward those words, and now Marcus was fucking with all of it.
“Why?”
“They didn’t say at first until I pushed.” He blew a slow breath out. “Someone’s been calling front offices. Using Dalton Kane’s name. Telling teams you’re a character risk. That the fight video is only the beginning and you come with complications no organization wants in its locker room.”
The kettle clicked behind me as it heated. I didn’t move.
“Seattle told you this directly?”
“Their GM did. Decent man. Thought I should know. He gave me the number.” Aaron went quiet for a second. “I ran it, Waylon. It’s Marcus’s cell.”
My grip tightened on the counter. “He doesn’t have the authority to do that?”
“No, and Dalton doesn’t know he’s doing it.
That’s the part I’m working. Marcus is throwing his father’s name around without permission, and Dalton’s not going to appreciate it.
” He sighed. “I got your recording, by the way. Marcus in the lot, threatening you and Josie. It’s good. Better than I expected.”
“So use it.”
“I’m going to. But I have to handle it carefully.” His voice stayed flat. “This stuff moves through channels, and channels take time. Your job today is to sit tight and let me work.”
That was the hardest shit to do. “How many teams?”
He sighed. “Seattle for certain. Dallas has stopped returning my calls, which means they’ve heard it too. Boston hasn’t moved, but Boston’s slow on everything.” He cleared his throat. “I’m not telling you it’s over. I’m telling you what I know, and I’m telling you I’m handling it.”
“Okay.” What the hell else was I supposed to say?
“Keep your head down and let me work. Eat something. You can’t do anything about this from where you’re sitting, so don’t try.”
“Yeah.”
Then the line went dead. Sit tight? How the hell was I supposed to do that when Marcus was the one calling the shots?