65. Grady
GRADY
Blake’s been home for a few days now. Thankfully, she only had to spend one night in the hospital, and then we were able to bring her home and take over her care.
She’s sporting a walking boot, which she has to wear for one more week, then will start going to PT to strengthen her ankle back up again.
I’m carrying her around whenever I can and being the best nurse I know how. Everyone else is doing their best to hassle the crap out of the Wilson siblings as they limp around Football Frat. They’re taking it like champs and dishing it right back out, finding flaws to tease.
The banter’s been intense, but it’s also lightened the mood around the place, and I’ll take it.
Blake’s parents showed up at the hospital on Wednesday, before she was released, and it was awkward as hell. They were full of sympathy and fuss, yet the quiet demand that she recover quickly so she can get her life back together was loud and clear.
It took everything in me not to shout them out of the room. They were surprised she was dating me, but thankfully, they didn’t make me feel as unwelcome as they’d first made Satch feel. Wily stepped in and stood up for me, which I was not expecting.
Needless to say, the visit wasn’t exactly calming for anyone, and even though they tried to stick around, Wily convinced them to head back to Denver and come visit again when Blake was back on her feet.
“There are so many people to watch over her at Football Frat, she’ll be feeling totally henpecked, so you don’t have to worry.”
And he’s so freaking right. He’s the worst of the lot, hovering around and making sure she’s okay. Satch has had to force him to class, but she couldn’t move my stubborn ass. I played watchdog for two days straight, because Blake needed her sleep, dammit, and I didn’t want anyone disturbing her.
She slept like the dead for an entire day, and I finally headed back to class on Thursday morning, happy that she was looking like herself again.
Well, her new self. There’s a peacefulness to her that wasn’t there before, and I swear I want to spend my life memorizing every one of her smiles.
Despite Wily’s assurances, his parents have been calling every day to make sure Blake hasn’t bolted again or done anything stupid.
It’s pissing me off, but I’m trying not to complain about it. I’ve got other things to worry about… like making Blake take her pain meds.
She’s stubbornly refusing unless she has to. She’s really taking the whole “turn my life around” thing seriously and hates the idea of needing any kind of substances to get through.
But she needs her meds, so I’m forcing her to pop pills when I can tell her ankle is throbbing so badly she can’t even think straight.
When I got back from practice on Friday and found her on my bed, white as a ghost and about ready to puke from discomfort, I coaxed a couple of stronger meds into her, then told her to stop being so damn brave.
She stared up at me, her eyes etched with agony. “I can’t fuck up again.”
“You won’t,” I promised her. “I won’t let you… and neither will you.”
I comforted her with soft kisses, and she eventually fell asleep.
I spent the evening in bed with her. When she woke up, we whispered in the darkness, mapping out our next hiking trip.
Despite what she went through, she’s pumped to get back into the woods, and I’ve got a bunch of different spots I want to take her.
She’s promised me she’ll never go out on her own again, and I’m confident she’ll keep her word.
When the weekend rolls around, I get my studying out of the way first thing Saturday morning before heading off to a light training session.
The team is shaping up nicely for next year, although Zander, Wily, and Tyrell are gonna be leaving a really big hole.
I’ll have my work cut out for me, but I’m pumped to do it.
When I started this year, I was dreading getting through to the summer, but I’m feeling pretty damn good about things now. I’ve really managed to let my pain over Teah go, and Blake has had a huge part in making that happen .
She laughed again for the first time on Sunday morning, and it made my heart freaking sing.
Watching her face, I revel in her sweet expression.
She’s coming back, her cheeks getting that rosy tint again, her blue eyes dancing with amusement as she winks at me, then stares across the room at her brother.
We’re hanging out in the living room downstairs.
It’s been converted back to its former glory now that Wily can handle the stairs.
He still has to be careful and is down to using one crutch.
He hates it, but he’s not willing to do anything to jeopardize his chances with football.
I’ve never seen the guy work so hard in my life.
But right now, he’s taking a minute to relax. We all are, and I’m loving this chill vibe. His leg is propped in Satch’s lap while Blake’s is propped in mine.
We’ve all been sitting around teasing each other. Satch and I are accusing the siblings of being injury-prone, and they’re saying they were totally fine until we came along.
I’m loving the banter flying between us, and the laughter popping out of Blake is all things beautiful. I smile at her, brushing my fingers up and down her leg, until there’s a knock at the door.
I gently maneuver myself off the couch, setting Blake’s ankle back down on a pillow before heading for the door. When I open it, my smile instantly fades, replaced with a frown that reflects this horrible twisting sensation in my gut.
Wily and Blake’s parents are on our doorstep, and there is going to be nothing fun about this visit. They’re both looking pale, their expressions grave .
I don’t even have a chance to greet them before Mr. Wilson is gruffly saying, “We need to talk to Blake.”
Part of me wants to stay put and say she’s not available, but I can’t get away with that, so I step aside and let them walk into the house.
They pause in the archway to the living room, and the second Blake sees them, that pink color drains from her cheeks and all that tension rushes back into her eyes. “What is it?”
“Your mother found an email in her spam folder today with some… photos attached.”
Mrs. Wilson looks at her husband, and Blake looks about ready to throw up.
I dart around her parents and rush to her side, knowing exactly what this is about. She told me about her last text exchange with Cleo, lying against me, whispering into the darkness while I stroked her shoulder and tried not to show how badly I wanted to go to Chicago and pay Cleo a visit.
“Photos?” Wily face goes rock hard.
“You don’t want to see them.” Mr. Wilson shakes his head, giving his daughter a pained frown.
She watches him from across the room, her shoulders slumping. “I did warn you they might be coming. I told you not to look.”
“Couldn’t help myself.” Mr. Wilson sniffs, rubbing a hand across his mouth.
Blake’s expression buckles, her eyes glassing with tears. I reach for her hand, curling my fingers around hers as she sniffs and murmurs, “I’m sorry. I really lost my way there for a minute.”
Her mother lets out a light scoff, bulging her eyes, and I can only imagine what the images gave away. Blake told me about a few, and even I cringed as she described beer-covered nipples at a rock concert.
“But you’re finding your way back.” Satch’s soft voice is so kind and sweet, her smile a perfect match. “And you’re doing great.”
Blake’s lips curl with gratitude while Mr. Wilson darts a look at Wily’s girlfriend. It’s clear he doesn’t want her having a say in this, but I’m fucking stoked.
Giving my girl’s hand a squeeze, I add to Satch’s assurances. “You are, Bee. Those photos are part of your past. It’s done now. Cleo can’t hurt you anymore.”
“She’ll still have more photos. What if she posts them online?”
“Then we’ll take action. She can’t go posting that kind of shit anywhere.”
Blake sniffs and nods. “I guess she has access to the people I want to see it the least, so she’s still winning.”
“No, she’s not,” Wily growls. “We won’t let her.”
“And you’re not letting her blackmail you anymore.” I give her a proud smile. “She can send any photo she wants now, because?—”
“They will be deleted every time they hit their inbox.” Wily points at his parents. “Right?”
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson suck in their breaths, then nod.
“Of course.” Mrs. Wilson gives her daughter a stiff smile.
“Can’t believe you looked at them, Mom.” Wily winces. “Seriously, what were you thinking?”
“They were right there, and I just…” She blinks and shakes her head.
“They have been deleted.” Mr. Wilson slides his hand down his wife’s back and tucks her against him. “And I’ve sent a very strongly worded email to this Cleo person and told her to cease and desist or she’ll be hearing from our lawyers.”
“Good,” Wily mutters, darting a quick glance at Blake before biting his lips together.
Oh yeah, there’s plenty more to say, but I’m grateful he’s not launching into some kind of rant about how this should have been dealt with weeks ago.
Blake’s already stressed enough and doesn’t need more shit piled on top of her.
She’s working through it; they just need to let her do it at her own pace.
“We just… ah…” Mr. Wilson looks at his daughter.
“We want to make sure you don’t get ‘lost’ again, so we thought we’d come up and talk about what you want to do with your future.
” Walking into the dining room, he brings back two spare chairs and sets them down across from her.
I hold my breath as her parents sit down and look at her expectantly.
Blake’s fingers clench mine, and I can feel her body coiling with tension.
“Now that Chicago’s out, we’ve been looking at other options for you,” Mr. Wilson begins, glancing at his wife, who nods and smiles. “We were thinking?—”
“Stop.” Blake raises her hand. “You don’t need to think for me anymore. I’m working this out on my own.”
Their mouths drop open while my insides hitch with pride.
Yes! That’s my girl.
“But, sweetheart,” Mrs. Wilson sputters. “We’re trying to support you.”
“You can do that by trusting me. ”
Her mother blinks, her eyebrow arching. “You’re asking us to do that after what we just saw on my computer?”
“That’s her past,” I softly growl. “Don’t you dare hold that over her.”
They look at me like I have no place in this conversation, but fuck that. I’m protecting my girl no matter what.
Blake squeezes my hand again, giving me a small smile before turning back to her parents. “As soon as my ankle’s better, I’m going to get a job. The doctor said I’ll be able to walk around normally within the next week. I’ll still need to be careful, but I can at least start looking for work.”
“Why do you need a job?” Mrs. Wilson looks mystified.
I turn away so she can’t see my eye roll.
“To teach me some discipline, get me back into healthy habits. I want to work until the end of the summer, and then I’m hoping to enroll here at Nolan.”
Her parents frown in unison, but her father does at least ask, “What are you planning on studying?”
Blake sucks in a breath, and I look at her with an encouraging smile. “I’m going to start over. Enroll as a freshman again. And I’m hoping to focus on photography and conservation.”
Her mother’s eyebrows rise. “And what do you plan on doing with that?”
Her smile tightens, her grip on my fingers increasing, as she can sense her mother’s growing disapproval. “I’d quite like to become a wildlife photographer, Mom.”
“A… what?”
She might as well have said “unemployed gypsy,” and I can’t help a soft snicker. Seriously, her parents are too much.
“How will you ever make money doing that?” Her father shakes his head. “Blake, you’re worth so much more. You’re too smart to do… photography. ” He spits it out like it’s some dirty word, and Wily huffs, tipping his head back with a cringing wince.
Blake clears her throat. “Actually, Dad, I’m smart enough to pursue something that makes me happy.
It’s not about the money. It’s about taking classes that are interesting.
Just because I’m good at something doesn’t mean I love it.
I want to love school. For the first time in my life, I want to enjoy going. ”
“But you do love school,” Mrs. Wilson argues. “You’ve always loved school.”
Blake shakes her head. “Not really. I just pretended to, because I knew you wanted me to be the study geek, and I was afraid if I wasn’t that, then you…
” Her expression flickers with doubt. “Then you wouldn’t be proud of me anymore.
All your love and attention would go to Wily, and there’d be none for me.
If I wasn’t performing up to your standards, I didn’t think…
you’d want me anymore.” Her voice starts to wobble, the last few words coming out as a soft rasp that makes my chest hurt.
“Baby,” I softly whisper, trying to catch her eye.
She’s looking down at our hands, and I rub my thumb across her silky skin, desperate to assure her.
Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are gaping at their daughter but not saying anything. And the weight in the room is so freaking heavy it’s almost hard to breathe. I’m two seconds away from asking them to leave. Unless they can say something reassuring, I don’t want them here .
Her mother sucks in a breath, resting a hand over her chest, and then Mr. Wilson starts to blink like he’s fighting tears. His expression crumples as he gets out of his chair and walks across the room.
“Aw, bean.” Dropping to his knees beside the couch, he pulls Blake into a hug so tight that she lets out a little squeak. “Of course we love you. Always. You’re our girl.”
“You are,” her mother blubbers, then looks at Wily and Satch. “She is.”
Wily gives her a reassuring smile as she rises from her seat and walks over to join her husband. Running her hand down the back of Blake’s hair, she smiles at her daughter with tears in her eyes, and I think this is the closest I will ever get to a Hallmark experience.
Darting my eyes across the room, I spot Satch’s glassy smile, then share a look with Wily. He snickers, shaking his head as he plays with his football, giving it a squeeze, then catching his sister’s eye.
“What do I do?” she mouths when her father still hasn’t let her go.
Wily starts to silently laugh, then murmurs, “You wanted their love. You got it, sis.”
She snorts and lets out a weepy laugh, which her parents seem oblivious to as they hug her and continue to reassure her of their unwavering devotion.