Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Miranda
Sterling slides the first page across the kitchen island. I sign on the line he taps with his pen.
I’m not reading it. There’s a part of me, the practical part that used to triple-check medication doses at three in the morning, banging on the inside of my skull about due diligence.
But my hand is shaking from low blood sugar.
The bruise on my collarbone throbs every time I lean forward.
The man whose shirt I’m wearing stands across the island with his arms folded, not looking at me.
I sign the second page. Then the third.
“This one’s the standard nondisclosure,” Sterling murmurs. “Two-party. Anything you observe inside this household stays inside it.”
“Got it,” I mutter, still marveling over how quickly he had the papers drafted and sent over. The coffee Grayson made has only just started cooling on the counter.
The pen scratches against paper. I can feel Coach Ramirez’s eyes on me from the chair he’s pulled around to the end of the island.
He’s a bit intimidating, so I try not to hold his gaze for too long.
Right now, I don’t even know what I’m doing, or if this is the right decision.
All I know is that I want to protect Ethan and Grayson, and this seems to be the only way possible.
Grayson has only ever mentioned his ex-wife in passing, and even that didn’t really leave a great impression on me.
He’s a good father. If nothing, I believe in that. And children deserve loving parents.
“Miss Carver.” Sterling places the next page in front of me. “This covers media protocols. Any photo opportunities Grayson’s publicist arranges, you commit to attending. Same goes for charity events, team functions, anything that puts the two of you in front of cameras together.”
“How long?” I ask hesitantly.
“Until the case resolves. Best estimate, four to six months. The contracts cover six months.”
“And if it takes longer than that?”
“I will draft up new papers for you to sign.” Sterling’s voice doesn’t shift. Sterling pauses, and I see him glancing at Grayson before he slides another document toward me. “This is a compensation package, to be released after everything is over.”
I blink. “Compensation package?” I lift the papers, confused. “I didn’t ask for anyth—”
My eyes flicker toward Grayson, and I recall how when we all entered the kitchen, he lingered behind with Sterling. My jaw tenses. “No. I didn’t ask for anything in return.”
Sterling clears his throat. “It would not be appropriate for us to take advantage of—”
“This is my choice, and Grayson has already done enough for me. More than I can pay back.”
I ignore the way he stiffens, but before he can say anything, Coach Ramirez speaks. “Miss Carver.”
I look at him.
“You need to understand what the media will do to you.” His tone is firm.
“Once your name is attached to Grayson’s publicly, every part of your life becomes available for someone to write about.
Your mother’s death. Your debt. Every skeleton in your closet will be forced into the light.
You didn’t take Grayson’s words too seriously.
Let me assure you that this will be the least of your problems. If Grayson paid off your debt, that is a separate matter.
But this compensation is your security for the backlash of this which will follow you for years.
You might not be able to work for a long time. ”
My stomach drops, and it takes effort to keep my face still.
“Grayson has a lot of investment properties,” Sterling adds.
“He wants to give you two rental buildings in prime locations so you will always have income coming to you. One condo and a vacation house. And a trust that will provide you with a monthly income. It’s his trade for you helping him keep his son. ”
I stare at Grayson, my head reeling. Does he think I’m an idiot? This is the same thing he was offering me before. He’s just found another way to give it to me.
Why?
I don’t understand why he wants to do all this for me. What am I to him?
Nobody’s ever wanted to look after me the way this man does, and it makes my heart flutter helplessly in my chest. I’ve always fended for myself, and here is this man, this man who can have any woman he wants, whose wealth is probably something I only see in movies.
And all he keeps trying to do is look after me. As if I matter to him.
And the more he wants to do it, the more I don’t want to put money between us. We’re already on such unequal footing. The more money he throws my way, the wider the chasm between us grows.
“No.” I bite the word out as I gaze down blindly at the contract in my hand.
“I’m doing this because I love your son, Grayson.
I know it’s stupid to say no.” I tear the papers in half and look at his tense expression.
“I don’t have money. I can’t help you by throwing money your way like you did.
But I can help you like this. Don’t insult me by putting money on the table, not when Ethan is involved.
” I can see that Grayson is going to protest. “I don’t want to discuss this any further. ”
Grayson takes a step forward, but his coach lifts his hand, stopping him. “Enough. You can’t shove these things down her throat. If this is something that’s a hard no for her, then leave it. Sterling, keep the papers available in case she changes her mind.”
“I won’t.”
Coach Ramirez studies me, and a small smile plays on lips that looks almost wistful for some weird reason. “I don’t think you will.” He nods once and looks back at Sterling.
Sterling clears his throat. “One more matter. Household logistics.”
I tense.
“The cover story has to hold inside this house as well as outside. The staff cannot know it’s an arrangement.” Sterling sets his pen down. “A fiancée doesn’t sleep in a guest room, Miss Carver. Your belongings move into Grayson’s bedroom by tonight. Bathroom, closet, all of it.”
The kitchen tilts a fraction.
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
I have to sleep in the same room as him?!
I glance at Grayson. His eyes are still on the floor. His jaw is locked.
The fact that he doesn’t seem to like the idea makes me feel small. This man is confusion personified. His actions say one thing, his words another. But right now, the idea of me being in his room permanently seems to upset him.
“Is that really necessary?” I ask slowly. “I mean, it’s just Linda here, right? Or is there other staff?”
“It’s just Linda,” Grayson says finally.
“And it takes just one person to reveal unwittingly that you two are sleeping in separate bedrooms. Even Ethan could accidentally make this revelation,” Sterling says firmly. “It needs to look real because if it doesn’t, the story collapses inside a week.”
They’re right, I realize.
Hoo boy. This is going to be harder than I anticipated.
“I understand.”
Sterling slides the last page over. I sign it. He gathers everything and caps his pen. “Well, that should be all—”
The sound of small footsteps on the stairs makes him look up.
Ethan rounds the corner in his rocket-ship pajamas. ChuChu’s worn ear is clutched in one fist. His hair sticks up at the back, and he stops in the doorway when he sees three adults at the kitchen island. His eyes scan over Sterling and Coach, then find me.
His whole face transforms.
“Miranda!”
He’s across the floor before I can brace. He hits my legs at full speed, his arms wrapping around my thighs. When his face presses into the hem of Grayson’s shirt, a sound escapes me that I try to cover with a cough.
My ribs are screaming.
For a four-year-old, his grip is really strong. Grayson immediately grabs him by his shirt and pulls him back. “I told you she’s hurt. You have to be gentle.”
“Stop it.” I frown at him, slapping his hand away. “He’s just a baby. Come here, Ethan.”
Ethan hurries over to me, and I carefully lift him onto the counter.
The room has gone quiet, and when I lift my gaze, Coach Ramirez is watching me with a complicated expression on his face.
“What?”
“Nothing.” He looks away, but his expression is troubled. Completely uncaring of the grim atmosphere, Ethan looks up at me. “What’s for breakfast?”
“What do you want to have?”
“Pancakes?” Ethan announces hopefully.
Sterling fixes his tie. “And that’s my cue to leave. I’ll see myself out.”
Coach pushes back from his chair but doesn’t move toward the door. He lifts his chin toward the porch. Grayson follows him out without a word.
The screen door clicks shut. I exhale.
Ethan tugs my hand toward the stove. “With chocolate chips?”
“If we can find any.”
“There are some in the fridge. Linda keeps them there.”
As Ethan and I get busy making pancakes, I try not to let the events of this morning derail me.
I’d just heard voices and come downstairs.
I didn’t catch the entire conversation, but I heard words like ‘pack’ and ‘humans.’ It makes me uneasy.
The whole reason I was recruited to work for the hockey team was because I was willing to turn a blind eye to the unnatural strength, the fast healing, and the other odd things.
But the more I hear, the more curious I’m getting.
I know I shouldn’t pry.
It’s dangerous to look for answers when I know that Grayson and his team are definitely not humans. Humans don’t refer to other humans as such. But then, what is Ethan?
I find myself looking at the little boy who is aggressively mixing the pancake batter. He looks and acts like a child.
Don’t think about it, I tell myself. You love the boy. Just focus on that.
By the time the screen door opens behind me, I’m already pouring the pancakes on the skillet. I don’t turn around.
The silence between us has always been comfortable. But not today. Today it’s awkward and tense, and somebody needs to break it. I look over my shoulder at him. “How many pancakes do you want?”
His mouth parts, and then he says roughly, “Three.”
“I want ten!” Ethan opens his hands to show me all fingers. “And I want lots and lots of syrup!”