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I have no idea what he means by that, but I am sure about two things. For one, history has shown he’ll back down. And for two…I’m not a prize to be won. Whatever he thinks he can do, it’s not going to work.
Not when I can’t stop thinking about Grayson.
Chapter 14: Grayson Nash
Call, Don’t Text
We always have exit interviews the day after our season ends, and mine was months ago. But I wasn’t sure if this trade was going to go through or not, so I didn’t say goodbye to anybody.
When Monday rolls around, I talk to the GM and my coach, and then I clean out my locker. I say goodbye to the place that has been home for the last eight years.
It isn’t as hard as I thought it would be, and I think it’s because there’s so much hope on the horizon.
Not just with Cookie, though she hasn’t strayed far from my thoughts. I keep actively trying to push her out, but she’s ever present, and if someone could keep popping into my thoughts unexpectedly the way she has been over the last twenty-four hours, well, she must’ve really gotten my attention.
Over the next couple days, I work on packing up my house. I call a moving company once I have the closing date on the new place set, which is nearly a full month from now since they have a few things to finish and the paperwork will take time to go through.
The movers agree to come Thursday morning to pack up my place. I make plans with some teammates for Thursday night to say goodbye, and that’s my week. I plan to get a hotel room Thursday night and hit the road toward Vegas Friday morning. The moving company will store all my shit to deliver to my new house once I close on it, and I’ll stay at the Palms until then.
I haven’t reached out to her yet. I should…but I don’t know what to say.
I don’t really have a resource I go to in situations like these. I could call up Beck and talk to him, but we haven’t talked about our conquests in years—since he met his wife and they got married—and this girl feels like more than just some conquest.
Lincoln is probably the closest to a person I’d confide this sort of thing in, but now that he’s my coach, I don’t know where the line is between coach and brother. Will his advice skew one way or the other because he has an agenda for me now? I don’t think it would because he’s a pretty level-headed guy, but I also don’t know for sure.
I settle on Spencer. I dial his number, sure I’m about to make a fool out of myself since we don’t really do this, and he picks up right away.
“Gray. Is everything okay?” he answers.
“Bruh. Yeah. It’s good.”
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“I…uh…” I don’t know what to say. I blow out a breath. “I met a girl, and I can’t stop thinking about her, and I’m not sure what the hell I’m supposed to do next.”
He chuckles softly. “That’s great news. I’m surprised you called me.”
“You’re the most logical, and I didn’t know where else to turn,” I admit. “But she’s sort of got me all flipped upside down. I picked her up at a bar, and it was going to just be a hookup, but then…I don’t know. I got to know her, and I liked her. A lot.”
“Have you spoken to her since that night?” he asks.
“No.”
“How long has it been?”
“It was last Friday in Vegas, and I had to get back to Los Angeles to wrap shit up with the Chargers. I’ve been packing up my place and closing things out here, and I just haven’t—”
“Five days?” he interrupts with a loud, frustrated sigh. “You should’ve gotten in touch with her the next day, man. You might’ve lost your window.”
Jesus. Way to cut to the chase.
“But Amelia says it’s never too late to tell someone how you really feel. If you haven’t stopped thinking about her, maybe start by telling her that,” he suggests.
“Really?” I wrinkle my nose as I think how lame that sounds.
“Really. Be honest. You can’t go wrong with honesty. And call, don’t text.”
“I guess you’re right.” I pace in front of the fireplace I’ve never used. “Okay, thanks. You doing good?”
