Chapter 13
EVERLY
Since the moment I started washing Grey’s hair and then trimmed his beard, I’ve been hyper-aware of his proximity. I wasn’t entirely joking when I asked whether he’d bite, but with him, I feel safe. Like he trusts me and I can trust him.
Though when I was working so close to him, I didn’t entirely trust myself not to see what would happen if I pressed my lips to his skin.
My work complete, I step back to admire the finished product. A breathy little whoosh leaves my chest. The Viking cleans up good. His gaze jumps to mine.
“Not too shabby, if I do say so, and no longer shaggy at all.” Pleased with the way his newly trimmed hair looks and the shape I gave to the beard, I beam a smile.
Grey’s eyebrow crests as if concerned that I’m about to launch into singing a show tune. He looks steadily into the mirror. His eyes go from sparkling, crystalline gems in his face to dark, hard stones.
He pushes up from the chair with a roar. The muscles of his neck cord and his nostrils flare as he throws Shonda’s football at the mirror. Thankfully, it doesn’t break, but I’m afraid something broke inside of him or he’s going to break something in the salon as he storms across the room.
I catch our reflections. Even though the glass is still intact, all I see are fragments, slivers of him and countless questions in my eyes.
He Hulks out, whipping off the hair-cutting cape. The momentum causes the styling products on the shelf to topple like a house of cards.
My gasp of shock turns into a tremble in my voice. “Grey, I’m sorry. What did I do? I’m sorry,” I repeat.
He avoids looking at the wreckage, but his eyes land on me, lighting up for a moment before going black. Grey’s body vibrates with rage as he barrels out of the room. I don’t let a tear fall until his footsteps go silent in the hall.
I quickly wipe my eyes, still not sure what went wrong, and set to work cleaning up the mess as I analyze the last few minutes.
Deep in thought, I don’t hear anyone enter until they speak. “What happened?” Cateline’s hand is on her hip.
Another one of the bearded football players appears at her back and surveys the damage. “Grey.” He disappears down the hall, presumably after his teammate.
However, I’d rather Cateline see this than Shonda. Seeing her workspace in ruins would crush her.
“What happened here?” Cateline repeats and her eyes flicker with alarm and accusation. “Did Grey do this? We were warned he has a bit of an anger management problem.”
My ring glints on my finger. “No, it was me. I didn’t tell you that I’m a bit of a klutz.”
“That makes you and Pippa,” Cateline mutters. “Where’s Shonda?”
“She wasn’t feeling well. I, um, did Grey’s makeover.”
Cateline’s right eyebrow rises so steeply it could pierce the sky.
I didn’t want to lie, but I have to protect my secret and if Grey gets in trouble, my job could be at risk.
“I was putting everything away, tripped over the hairdryer cord, and bumped into the vase. Everything went flying or spilled. I’m so sorry.
I’ll clean up and you can deduct any damages or replacement costs from my salary,” I say in one long breath.
Cateline strides toward the football, picks it up, and studies it like a private investigator. “Where did Mr. Adams go? Why isn’t he helping you?”
“Oh, he sliced his finger on the scissors. His, um, football-throwing finger.” Lies! All lies!
Cateline narrows her eyes. “Do you know what position Greyson Adams plays?”
I should know this vital piece of information, being married to him and all, especially if there is an insurance fraud investigation. Which I wouldn’t doubt because Cateline all but flashes her detective’s badge.
I regret lying about the whole Hulk smash thing, but what other choice do I have? My father won’t speak to me, let alone help me. Heidi did what she could, but I wasn’t even managing to live paycheck to paycheck. I don’t have a backup plan. I can’t lose this job.
After Todd and I got engaged and I relocated to Virginia, I lost most of my other friends—not on purpose, but by default. He slowly and slyly closed my circle until it was just the two of us. By the time I realized what had happened at the hands of my narcissistic ex-fiancé, it was too late.
“Linebacker?” I guess Grey’s position. Ask me about hockey and I can give the entire history and rules for play. Football is completely foreign.
Cateline huffs, but all I hear is Ding, ding, ding. Correct answer. Phew!
She says, “I’m going to let this slide, but I advise you to get to know your player and get to know him well so that you’re able to optimize your time together and prevent situations like this.”
She trains her gaze on me. “You were assigned to be Greyson’s personal coach.
Your job is to guide him and help overhaul his life.
You’re in charge of him and yourself. I expect you to keep him reined in.
The school is already on shaky ground financially since fewer and fewer people seek our services, but if we can prove we’ve reformed these men, we’re sure to get a surge of business, keeping us both with jobs.
I’ll inform the maintenance staff about the mess. ”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Also, please consult the dress code section of the Blancbourg manual.”
After the headmistress leaves the room, I hang my head. I’m already screwing things up—just like my ex always said I did. As usual, I have no idea what I did wrong.
But Cateline is right. I took the fall because I want to give Grey a chance, but also because I need to keep my job. Nonetheless, I feel terrible and will add this to the list of things that have gone wrong.
After cleaning up as best I can, I step into the hall, heading toward the garden. The fresh air is welcome as it fills my lungs, pushing out the tension. Ever since Grey Hulked out, my heart hasn’t stopped thudding against my chest.
As I stroll past roses and other flowers in bloom, my phone rings with an unfamiliar number. Perhaps it’s Grey, ready with an explanation and an apology.
I answer at the same time as I take another deep inhalation of fresh air.
“Everly,” a caustic and unwelcome voice hisses.
Dread creeps across my skin and my stomach instantly knots with anxiety. Blood drains from my limbs, and if I didn’t have a special grippy doodad on the back of my phone, I’d drop it.
“I see you’ve got your hands full.”
Frozen, I don’t answer. A voice in my head tells me to hang up and run, but to be careful because I’ve walked into more than one spider web without seeing it.
“I see you’re dressing like a child instead of like a real woman.” I take this as a reference to my chest. Todd, the Spider, is a vile man. Also, I borrowed one item from Maggie and one from Pippa to complete today’s outrageous look.
My face heats and the blood in my veins goes from icy with fear to boiling. Words fight their way out of my throat. “Then why are you calling me?”
“To let you know that I know all about your little ploy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, you do, Mrs. Adams.”
Again, my stomach knots and sweat marbles my skin. “Leave me alone and don’t call me again.”
I hang up and as I race back into the building, a worrisome thought halts me in my tracks. How would Todd know what I’m wearing? Is he following me? Once more, my pace hastens.
Upstairs, I lock the door to my suite. My heart sinks as I slouch onto an antique sofa. I thought I’d be safe in Concordia.
Holding my head in my hands, salty tears drop from my eyes.
I’ve lost so much and don’t know what else to do except to hang on and pray for a miracle, for something to happen that’ll take away the pain and stress, make Todd leave me alone once and for all, and bring that wholesome feeling of sunshine back into my life.
Heavy knocking on the door startles me from my prayer.
I cross the room and peer through the peephole.
If it’s Todd, I’ll have him escorted off the grounds for trespassing.
He holds no claim in my life, except that the guy doesn’t have boundaries and I wouldn’t put it beyond him to try to physically bring me back to the US and force me into marriage by gunpoint.
After I discovered him having an affair, and when I didn’t follow through on our wedding day, he fired back with the support of his family name—just as I expected him to do.
With the promise that he’d leave me alone, I let him have everything.
Yet, he still tried to drag me to court for the house and through the mud, leaving me with debt I can never hope to repay.
I thought that was my punishment for leaving him at the altar. Apparently, he wants more.
A blurry image of a man twice the size of Todd fills the hallway. Despite Grey’s outburst in the salon, relief washes through me. I open the door.
Grey looks like he lives in a black-and-white photo, a perpetually cloudy image on a winter day. And I’m in a storm...of emotions. Doubt. Fear. Worry.
He tows a large, rolling suitcase and carries a shoulder bag. “This was brought to my room.” He pinches the tag printed with my married name, Everly Adams. His last name.
My cheeks are already pink and the flush spreads to my ears.
I’d already started changing my name to Todd’s and didn’t want to go back to my maiden name.
I don’t want to associate with either one if I can help it.
Instead, I chose the fantasy life of Mrs. Adams, wife to a Viking who’d rescue me on his valiant steed.
A small furrow forms between Grey’s brows. “Does your boss know, given we share the same last name?”
I shrug. “It’s a common last name, but she hasn’t said anything yet.”
“If she asks, what will you say?”
“What should I say?”
“Tell her the truth.” Grey shifts from foot to foot as if he’s not entirely comfortable with it, but wouldn’t risk lying.
I nod, afraid that if I open my mouth again to speak, I’ll fall apart in a fit of sobs. All the emotion, the regret, and pain build up like water behind a dam. It seems like no matter how hard I try, nothing goes right.
He eyes me carefully. Can he tell that I was upset or is he measuring my receptivity for an apology after what happened in the salon?
“May I bring it in?” he asks.
I step aside and his foresty, fresh split wood scent fills my nose, the same as it did when I was cutting his hair.
Grey wheels my suitcase to the corner and puts the bag on the table.
The suite is spacious with a sitting room, a kitchenette—not that I’d ever use it since I don’t even know how to scramble an egg—a washroom, and a bedroom.
He sits down on the sofa without asking, but I’ll review manners later. Who am I to judge? I haven’t even offered him a beverage.
I lean against the table and fiddle with the file, recalling Cateline’s comments. I’m in charge of my student, but how can I be if I’m barely holding myself together?
Sensing Grey’s gaze on me, I slowly look up.
Gone is the gruff football player. His eyes are soft, honest, and trustworthy. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
If I open my mouth, I’ll stumble and reveal more than is wise.
“Do you want to—?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“If you change your mind—”
It’s like neither one of us wants to commit to the consequence of finishing those sentences or answering the questions. When I don’t reply, he grunts and walks to the door.
His muscles ripple and shift under his T-shirt, but I hate the sight of his back, of him leaving. An inner tug yearns for him to stay.
“You don’t seem much like the talking type.”
He grunts. “I’m not.”
In the quiet between us, I realize that Greyson Adams is the strong and silent type, but maybe what isn’t tacked onto the end of that expression is the part about him being a great listener. Perhaps we both need one of those.
It’s obvious that he, too carries around a bag of broken bones.
Skeletons in his closet. Something damaged inside him.
I can’t be the one to fix it, but I know what it’s like to tip too far into the vacuous pit of despair.
I spent three days there when I found out about Todd, got the diagnosis, and had to make two tough decisions.
I vow never to return. Seeing Grey on this track, I know that I’m strong enough to extend a helping hand.
Yes, even though he’s twice my size. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and as his wife, I’d probably feel the aftershocks if I don’t do something.
“What position do you play?” I ask.
He looks over his shoulder and the corners of his lips twitch. “Linebacker. Why?”
“I’m supposed to get to know you...and,” I twist the ring on my finger, “I’m sorry about cutting your hair.”
“Is that what this is about?” Grey’s eyes fill with thunder. He crosses the room in a few short strides.
I freeze, determined to hold my ground. Not because I’m afraid he’s going to do something dumb or dangerous, but because he needs an anchor in the storm that rages inside him.