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His reply doesn’t come until after dinner.
Grayson: Hey, sorry, I’ve been at workouts all day and I’m beat. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?
Grayson has a month and a half left of his offseason before training camp begins, and to him apparently that means it’s time to start putting in the work.
But it feels like it means he’s putting our relationship on the backburner, and I’m scared we’re at the point where he’s ready to run.
I don’t know how to save things before he bolts.
I’m scared he’s already bolted.
He always made me feel like I was worthy—like I was loveable. But in just two days, I’m back to feeling the same way I’ve felt my whole life: nothing more than leave-able.
I refuse to take this lying down.
Instead of responding with a text, I dial his number.
When he answers, it’s loud in the background. “Hey.”
“Where are you?” I ask, and I know my voice comes out more demanding than I mean for it to, but I can’t help myself here.
“The Gridiron.”
“Oh,” I say flatly.
“I’m with the guys. It’ll probably be a late night,” he says.
“Okay. Well…bye.” I hang up.
I can’t be mad he’s bonding with his teammates. That’s where he should be since the season will get underway soon.
Still, it feels like there’s more at play here, and I don’t like the feeling pulling at me.
I’m in bed when I hear the doorbell.
At first, it scares the shit out of me.
I’m home alone, after all, and I’m not used to guests coming over at this late hour. I glance at the clock.
Okay, fine. It’s nine thirty-seven. Still. It’s dark outside, and I’m not expecting anyone.
I creep quietly toward the door when I hear the doorbell again, followed by banging on the door.
“Ava? Answer the door!”
I rush over when I hear his voice, and I toss the door open. “Grayson?”
It’s dark, and I flick the outside lights on. He squints at the brightness, and that’s when I see the blood trickling down from a cut just under his eye and what looks like the start of a black eye.
“Holy shit! What happened? Are you okay?” I’m throwing out the questions as I yank him inside. The car that dropped him here takes off as I slam the door.
“You should see the other guy,” he jokes, but this is not a laughing matter.
And…is he slurring?
Is he drunk?
Did he get into a drunken bar fight with a teammate?
