Chapter Twenty-Two, Gray
My pulse is pounding in my ears as I stand there replaying what I just watched with my own two eyes. I’ve made a huge mistake. I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t getting attached to America. That I didn’t want something real when my heart is still broken.
But that’s not true. Watching America kiss him feels like hell, and a little like heartbreak. Every breath I drag into my lungs hurts with the need to tell her that I was wrong to ask her to pretend to keep seeing him. That I should have kept her close and not given her yet another reason to hate me.
“Hey, Grayson.” Everett drags my attention away from America. “It’s a bit wet to be standing around outside, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” I try to temper my jealousy with friendliness. He’s not a bad guy. He might not even be the player I told myself he was to justify my own actions.
And I still need to sign him.
“Just winning my girl back,” Everett says nonchalantly as I join them under the portico. “Can’t have anyone swooping in and trying to steal her away.”
Did she tell him? Am I fucked? No. She must not have because he’s not acting like someone who knows their enemy. A glance in her direction earns the smallest of headshakes.
I still have a job. It only cost me her. My friend. The girl I was fast becoming addicted to. She would have slipped through my fingers anyway. She would have given me up for Indy eventually. So I gave her up first for the things that still matter to me.
I gave her up, and try as I might to blame Indy—I could definitely find multiple ways to lay blame on her for screwing me up—it doesn’t feel right to put this one on her. “No, you can’t. Not this girl. You don’t know how lucky you are to have her.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He grins as he lifts their joined hands and kisses her knuckles. “I know she’s out of my league.”
“As long as you know.” I didn’t. I had no clue. All these years I had no inkling that the girl I thought was important to me would break my heart, and the girl that I thought was my friend would be the one who would breathe new life into me.
“What are you doing here, Gray?” America asks as the rain slows to a stop.
I wanted to apologize. I wanted to check in when she wouldn’t answer her phone. Now, I don’t know. “I was in the area.”
Her eyebrows lift.
She probably doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me. I’m not sure I know who I am anymore.
“Since you’re here, why don’t you and I go grab a pint and talk about our possibly working together,” Everett says.
“Well, actually…” I glance to America. She’s the reason I’m here. Not Mann. Not my job.
“That’s a great idea.” She stares at the door to the flat, her cheeks pinched. “I need to be with Dove.”
“What happened to Dove?” I take a step to comfort her, then check myself. “Is she okay?”
“She will be,” America says. “But after last night I don’t want to leave her on her own.”
“So you and I will go to the pub.” Everett slings an arm around my shoulders and ushers me down the steps. “How about it?”
“I’ve got an extra shirt in the car,” I say as he closes the garden gate. “Let me dry off, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Sure, mate. I’ll text you the place.” He lifts a hand in a wave as he trots to his car. “You’re paying, by the way.”
As expected. I pluck at the buttons on my shirt and then strip out of the clingy material. Grabbing a towel from the backseat of my vehicle, I scrub it over my hair and shoulders.
“You can’t show up here like this,” America says from right behind me.
I lower the towel and turn around. “You were serious about being his WAG then?”
“Were you serious?” Her hands are on her hips, one finger tapping. Her mouth has a peeved slant to it.
“I was.”
“Then—”
“What if I came to apologize for being completely fucking stupid in asking you to do that?”
Her eyes grow round and sad. “I’d say it doesn’t matter. I’m with Everett. That’s what I should have said from the start. I’m with him. I’m committed to him. What happened between us should never have happened.”
I don’t want her to think that. I don’t want it to be over. But she’s made her decision, and I will respect that. “He knows—”
“Enough for him to walk away from me. But he didn’t.” She glances away before locking gazes with me again. “He doesn’t know it’s you. He won’t ever know it was you. I’ll pretend that we’re friends whenever we end up in the same places. But we’re not. And we won’t be.”
“Rica.” I grasp for her.
She steps out of my reach. Shakes her head. “Never call me that again.”
Turning on her heel, she marches back into the garden and disappears into her flat.
Bowing my head, I scrub a hand over my face and through my hair. Fight the impulse to chase after her. Instead I grab the new shirt from the backseat and put it on.
The curtain in the front window moves, and I know it’s her watching. Waiting to see whether I’ll go like she told me to.
Every instinct in me tells me I shouldn’t.
But she’s his girl now. His girlfriend. That’s what she wants.
And as much as I convinced myself that what I was doing was okay when they were only casually seeing each other… as much as I told myself Mann was too much of a player for anything real with her… for my sake as well as hers that has to stop.
If I ever want to be America’s friend again, I need to let this go.
Climbing into the car, I check for Everett’s text and set the GPS. The song on the radio is one that Indy loves. Used to love. I don’t know any more. But it doesn’t carry the same pain. An ache, yes, but one that’s more nostalgic than hostile.
“I love this song.” One leg crossed over the other, she taps her tan booted toes to the beat. “Do you remember the first time it came on the radio? You and me and America were going to watch that kid in Rockford play. What was his name?”
“Alan Travers.” I’d signed him that year and he’d gone on to do big things in hockey. He’d gone on to make us both a great deal of money.
“He was so good.” She places her palms on the ceiling and stretches. “America kept making eye contact with you in the rearview mirror all the way home. Do you remember that too?”
“We were just passing the time.” I frown. Indy had been fast asleep in the front seat. America and I had shared quiet conversation and an almost awkward amount of eye contact, considering I was driving. She was into me then too if what she said about wanting me since she was fourteen is true. “I didn’t have a fucking clue.”
“But you do now.”
“It doesn’t matter.” There’s not a damn thing I’m willing to do about it. “She’s with someone. Really with them.”
“So you’ll fight it.” She nods. “And you’ll drown in how much you want her every time you see her. Every time you have to watch him touch her. Or kiss her. Until it becomes impossible to control. Until it’s unbearable.”
“No.”
“No?”
“NO.” I punch the steering wheel. My lungs are so tight. Every breath hurts. “I’m not you. I’m not that prick you married.”
“You’re human, Gray. And you’re miserable. Or you were before you started spending time with America. I honestly don’t even know if you were happy with me. But you deserve to be. As much as he does. As much as she does. As much as any of us.”
“No, I don’t.” I shake my head as I pull into the parking lot. I probably look like I’m talking to myself. I am talking to myself. But it doesn’t change anything. “I don’t have the right to be happy at someone else’s expense. You didn’t have the right to do that to me either.”
“So we should all just be miserable then? Like your mom and dad? Stuck with each other and hurting one another when they could have walked away.”
“It’s not the same thing and you know it. My parents are miserable people. They could leave each other and they would still be unhappy. You and I would have found a way to be happy together.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Gray. I did the best that I could given the situation. I never meant to hurt you. But we would have made each other miserable eventually. You’re starting to accept that.”
A kid on a bike slaps his hand against the hood of my car, breaking me out of my trance-like state. Shoulders heaving, I wipe the wetness from my chin.
Indy had said something similar in the hospital the day she broke up with me. Not the part about us making each other miserable. But that love and loyalty weren’t enough for her. She wanted more.
For months I have hated her so much for my not being enough to make her stay. I don’t hate her for that as much as I used to.
But that’s not true. Watching America kiss him feels like hell, and a little like heartbreak. Every breath I drag into my lungs hurts with the need to tell her that I was wrong to ask her to pretend to keep seeing him. That I should have kept her close and not given her yet another reason to hate me.
“Hey, Grayson.” Everett drags my attention away from America. “It’s a bit wet to be standing around outside, isn’t it?”
“I didn’t want to interrupt.” I try to temper my jealousy with friendliness. He’s not a bad guy. He might not even be the player I told myself he was to justify my own actions.
And I still need to sign him.
“Just winning my girl back,” Everett says nonchalantly as I join them under the portico. “Can’t have anyone swooping in and trying to steal her away.”
Did she tell him? Am I fucked? No. She must not have because he’s not acting like someone who knows their enemy. A glance in her direction earns the smallest of headshakes.
I still have a job. It only cost me her. My friend. The girl I was fast becoming addicted to. She would have slipped through my fingers anyway. She would have given me up for Indy eventually. So I gave her up first for the things that still matter to me.
I gave her up, and try as I might to blame Indy—I could definitely find multiple ways to lay blame on her for screwing me up—it doesn’t feel right to put this one on her. “No, you can’t. Not this girl. You don’t know how lucky you are to have her.”
“Don’t worry about that.” He grins as he lifts their joined hands and kisses her knuckles. “I know she’s out of my league.”
“As long as you know.” I didn’t. I had no clue. All these years I had no inkling that the girl I thought was important to me would break my heart, and the girl that I thought was my friend would be the one who would breathe new life into me.
“What are you doing here, Gray?” America asks as the rain slows to a stop.
I wanted to apologize. I wanted to check in when she wouldn’t answer her phone. Now, I don’t know. “I was in the area.”
Her eyebrows lift.
She probably doesn’t believe me. I don’t believe me. I’m not sure I know who I am anymore.
“Since you’re here, why don’t you and I go grab a pint and talk about our possibly working together,” Everett says.
“Well, actually…” I glance to America. She’s the reason I’m here. Not Mann. Not my job.
“That’s a great idea.” She stares at the door to the flat, her cheeks pinched. “I need to be with Dove.”
“What happened to Dove?” I take a step to comfort her, then check myself. “Is she okay?”
“She will be,” America says. “But after last night I don’t want to leave her on her own.”
“So you and I will go to the pub.” Everett slings an arm around my shoulders and ushers me down the steps. “How about it?”
“I’ve got an extra shirt in the car,” I say as he closes the garden gate. “Let me dry off, and I’ll meet you there.”
“Sure, mate. I’ll text you the place.” He lifts a hand in a wave as he trots to his car. “You’re paying, by the way.”
As expected. I pluck at the buttons on my shirt and then strip out of the clingy material. Grabbing a towel from the backseat of my vehicle, I scrub it over my hair and shoulders.
“You can’t show up here like this,” America says from right behind me.
I lower the towel and turn around. “You were serious about being his WAG then?”
“Were you serious?” Her hands are on her hips, one finger tapping. Her mouth has a peeved slant to it.
“I was.”
“Then—”
“What if I came to apologize for being completely fucking stupid in asking you to do that?”
Her eyes grow round and sad. “I’d say it doesn’t matter. I’m with Everett. That’s what I should have said from the start. I’m with him. I’m committed to him. What happened between us should never have happened.”
I don’t want her to think that. I don’t want it to be over. But she’s made her decision, and I will respect that. “He knows—”
“Enough for him to walk away from me. But he didn’t.” She glances away before locking gazes with me again. “He doesn’t know it’s you. He won’t ever know it was you. I’ll pretend that we’re friends whenever we end up in the same places. But we’re not. And we won’t be.”
“Rica.” I grasp for her.
She steps out of my reach. Shakes her head. “Never call me that again.”
Turning on her heel, she marches back into the garden and disappears into her flat.
Bowing my head, I scrub a hand over my face and through my hair. Fight the impulse to chase after her. Instead I grab the new shirt from the backseat and put it on.
The curtain in the front window moves, and I know it’s her watching. Waiting to see whether I’ll go like she told me to.
Every instinct in me tells me I shouldn’t.
But she’s his girl now. His girlfriend. That’s what she wants.
And as much as I convinced myself that what I was doing was okay when they were only casually seeing each other… as much as I told myself Mann was too much of a player for anything real with her… for my sake as well as hers that has to stop.
If I ever want to be America’s friend again, I need to let this go.
Climbing into the car, I check for Everett’s text and set the GPS. The song on the radio is one that Indy loves. Used to love. I don’t know any more. But it doesn’t carry the same pain. An ache, yes, but one that’s more nostalgic than hostile.
“I love this song.” One leg crossed over the other, she taps her tan booted toes to the beat. “Do you remember the first time it came on the radio? You and me and America were going to watch that kid in Rockford play. What was his name?”
“Alan Travers.” I’d signed him that year and he’d gone on to do big things in hockey. He’d gone on to make us both a great deal of money.
“He was so good.” She places her palms on the ceiling and stretches. “America kept making eye contact with you in the rearview mirror all the way home. Do you remember that too?”
“We were just passing the time.” I frown. Indy had been fast asleep in the front seat. America and I had shared quiet conversation and an almost awkward amount of eye contact, considering I was driving. She was into me then too if what she said about wanting me since she was fourteen is true. “I didn’t have a fucking clue.”
“But you do now.”
“It doesn’t matter.” There’s not a damn thing I’m willing to do about it. “She’s with someone. Really with them.”
“So you’ll fight it.” She nods. “And you’ll drown in how much you want her every time you see her. Every time you have to watch him touch her. Or kiss her. Until it becomes impossible to control. Until it’s unbearable.”
“No.”
“No?”
“NO.” I punch the steering wheel. My lungs are so tight. Every breath hurts. “I’m not you. I’m not that prick you married.”
“You’re human, Gray. And you’re miserable. Or you were before you started spending time with America. I honestly don’t even know if you were happy with me. But you deserve to be. As much as he does. As much as she does. As much as any of us.”
“No, I don’t.” I shake my head as I pull into the parking lot. I probably look like I’m talking to myself. I am talking to myself. But it doesn’t change anything. “I don’t have the right to be happy at someone else’s expense. You didn’t have the right to do that to me either.”
“So we should all just be miserable then? Like your mom and dad? Stuck with each other and hurting one another when they could have walked away.”
“It’s not the same thing and you know it. My parents are miserable people. They could leave each other and they would still be unhappy. You and I would have found a way to be happy together.”
She shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Gray. I did the best that I could given the situation. I never meant to hurt you. But we would have made each other miserable eventually. You’re starting to accept that.”
A kid on a bike slaps his hand against the hood of my car, breaking me out of my trance-like state. Shoulders heaving, I wipe the wetness from my chin.
Indy had said something similar in the hospital the day she broke up with me. Not the part about us making each other miserable. But that love and loyalty weren’t enough for her. She wanted more.
For months I have hated her so much for my not being enough to make her stay. I don’t hate her for that as much as I used to.