Chapter 6 #2
We wait outside the locker room, and I try to distract myself from the hockey player inside by thinking of the offer Coach Ramirez put on the table.
The money is good, very good. And I need it.
Admittedly, it won’t even scratch the surface of my debt, but it will be something.
But that offer is not without its concerns.
We want discretion, Miss Carver. Above everything else.
The coach’s words ring in my ears.
Grayson’s healing capabilities, his strength, these are not normal things, not human.
I’m not so na?ve as to just close my eyes in the face of reality.
They didn’t hire me to do this because they believe in my abilities.
I saw the way the coach was watching me when I patched Grayson up.
He looked satisfied. Was it because I didn’t ask questions or demand to know why Grayson’s wound was healing so fast?
That’s one possibility.
But if I’m surrounded by these bulky, muscled players who heal at such an abnormal rate, how long can I pretend to see nothing? I lean against the wall as Ethan swings my arm back and forth.
“Gentle, kid,” I remind him when he pulls a little too hard.
He immediately looks guilty. “Sorry.”
The door of the locker room opens, and Grayson walks out fully dressed, his hair still slightly damp from the shower. His eyes meet mine, and he smirks. I press my lips together into a thin line. He’s lucky his son is here or I would have said some very unkind things.
“Sorry I’m late. What do you want to eat, Ethan?”
“Pizza!” Ethan announces, abandoning my hand to throw his arms around Grayson’s legs.
“Sure, buddy.” Grayson ruffles his hair. His eyes find mine over Ethan’s head, and then he provocatively runs them over my body before returning to my eyes.
My stomach tightens, and I look away.
I keep Ethan between us for the entire walk to the car. It requires some creative maneuvering, but I manage it. When he opens the door for me, I try to get in without touching him, but he goes the extra mile to put my seat belt on himself.
“I know how to put on a seatbelt, Grayson,” I say through gritted teeth.
His face is far too close to me as he grins. “Just being extra cautious.” He waggles his brows.
He’s leaning closer, and I put my hand on his face, shoving him back. “I don’t think so.”
“What?” His hand wraps around my wrist, and he lowers it, eyes laughing at me. “I wasn’t doing anything. You’re the one who likes to rip off people’s clothes in locker rooms, not me.”
I can feel my face burn and I hiss, “I told you it wasn’t on purpose.”
“Really?” Grayson drawls.
My brows snap together. “Really, and if you try anything funny, I’ll kick you in the family jewels. I’m a nurse. I know exactly where to hit for maximum damage.”
His eyes crinkle at the corner with what looks like delight, but he backs off. By the time he gets into the driver’s seat, I’m starting to wonder if this job is even worth it. I’ll have to spend a lot of time around Grayson, and the more I’m around him, the more my defenses fall.
“What are you thinking?” he asks as he drives, glancing at me.
“How to jump out of this car and not die on impact,” I mutter, turning my head to stare out the window.
He reaches out and engages the automatic locks, making my eyes widen at the clicking sound of the mechanism.
I turn my head to gape at him. “You did not just…”
He shrugs. “In case you get any ideas.”
He flashes his teeth at me in a boyish smile, and I hate the way my heart skips a beat. Till a few days ago, he was annoying. Attractive but mostly annoying. But that moment in the car when he took me home changed something. It bothers me. This whole thing bothers me.
He keeps doing this. Asking questions like he’s entitled to the answers. Like knowing what I’m thinking is something I owe him.
After Mom got sick, I stepped away from everything. The people I thought were in my corner weren’t. And now a part of me has shriveled up and died, the part that trusted people, that wanted connections. I prefer being alone now. At least I won’t let myself down.
“Miranda?”
Ethan’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts. I look over my shoulder at him, and he blinks. “You smell sad.”
I stare at him. “I’m sorry, what?”
“He means you look sad,” Grayson corrects his son quickly, giving him a sharp look.
“I—” I look between Grayson and him, shaking my head. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” the child insists stubbornly. “Your scent—”
“Where do you want to eat pizza, Ethan?” Grayson interrupts loudly. I nearly jump, rubbing my ear and scowling at him.
“Can you not shout in my ear please?”
He gives me an unrepentant smile. “Was I shouting?”
I want to wipe that look off his face, as if he enjoys it when I get annoyed at him. “Forget it. Where do you want to go, Ethan? There’s a new place called the Cheese Hole. Do you want to try that? They have a play area.”
The excited smile on the boy’s face is all the answer I need. I lean forward to program the destination into the GPS navigator. It turns out to be a few blocks away from us. Since it’s around four in the afternoon, there’s no lunch rush, and we find a nice spot with a full view of the play area.
“Go.” I nudge Ethan, who’s quivering in excitement. He looks up at his father as if to get permission, and when Grayson nods, he’s off like a bullet.
We place the order, and I watch Ethan climb up the rope ladder that leads to the ball pit. “Why doesn’t he have friends his age?”
Grayson doesn’t answer, and I find myself looking his way. His expression is unexpectedly serious.
“He will, eventually. Right now, I’m more focused on keeping him away from the spotlight.”
“For how long?” I wonder out loud. “Kids his age need friends to learn how to socialize. He’s already far too mature for his age. His speech patterns give it away.”
Grayson’s jaw tightens. “He’ll be fine.”
It’s clear he doesn’t want to talk about it. And it’s not like Ethan is my child. I have no right to comment on his upbringing. So I decide to change the subject. “What about my car?”
“My mechanic took a look at it,” Grayson says now, turning his attention toward me. “It was on its last leg anyway.”
I stare at him. “What do you mean, last leg?”
“You’ll have it back tomorrow, but I’m not sure you want it.
The engine is held together by prayers and stubbornness.
” He leans back in his chair, casual, like he didn’t just tell me my only means of transportation is dead.
“The transmission is almost shot. The brakes are worn down to practically nothing. My mechanic said it’s a miracle you made it this far without it exploding on you. ”
“It’s been perfectly fine so far,” I scoff. “And cars don’t explode like that.”
“That car is a safety hazard.” His brows knit together.
“That car is paid off,” I snap irritably. “Which is more than I can say for a new one.”
“So buy a new one.” He shrugs like it’s the simplest thing in the world, like I just need to reach into a drawer somewhere and pull out a car.
I give him a long, flat look. “Do you even know what it means to be broke? Actually broke? Not I-forgot-my-wallet broke. Not I-only-have-fifty-dollars-in-my-account broke. I mean drowning-in-debt, counting-every-cent, eating-cereal-for-dinner broke?”
He has the grace to look slightly uncomfortable.
“Because I cannot buy a new car, Grayson. I cannot buy a new anything. Every dollar I make goes straight toward interest payments that barely move the needle on what I actually owe.” I keep my voice down.
“So when you tell me to just buy another car, what I hear is that you have absolutely no concept of my actual life.”
“Which is exactly why I already told you I’ll front you the money,” he says tensely. “I don’t mind. You know I don’t.”
“And I already told you no.”
“Miranda—”
“No.” I hold up a hand. “I’m not going to be in debt to you. I’ve said this to you before.”
His jaw shifts. “It’s not debt if I’m not asking for it back.”
“Then it’s charity, which is worse.” I cross my arms. “And after your little stunt in the locker room, that is absolutely never going to happen.”
Guilt flickers in his expression. “You can’t be serious. I was just teasing you.”
“You had me pinned against a locker.”
“You walked in on me naked. I was just messing around.”
“I don’t mess around like that.” My tone is harsh. “I don’t know what type of woman you think I am, but I’m not going to be an easy lay.”
“I never said you would be.” He raises a brow.
I press my lips together. “You are getting much too involved in my life, and I don’t like it.”
If I thought he would get offended, I’m proven wrong. His lips curve. “I get the feeling you don’t like a lot of things.”
I point a finger at him. “Don’t. Don’t you dare smile right now.”
He schools his expression into what should be seriousness but still somehow manages to look insufferably smug. “What’s your plan then? Since you’ve rejected every option I’ve put on the table.”
“I have a plan.”
“Do you?” He tilts his head. “What is it?”
I open my mouth.
He waits.
I close it again.
“That’s what I thought.” His voice isn’t unkind, which somehow makes it worse. “It’s one thing to have a plan and move forward. You don’t even have that. You’re just surviving day to day.”
The words land harder than they should because they’re not wrong and I know they’re not wrong, which makes me want to argue with them more.
“You’re letting your pride get in the way of actually solving the problem,” he continues calmly now. “And I understand pride. I respect it. But pride doesn’t pay off loan sharks.”
“I know that,” I say tightly.