by Elley Arden
“I don’t want you to go.” Her voice broke, and a tear slipped down her cheek.
He squashed the stream with his thumb and ground his teeth together, not knowing what to say. Before he could think of something, she lifted her chin and the corner of her mouth, and spread his tuxedo jacket open with her hands flattened against his abdomen.
“But you’re not gone yet,” she said, sliding her hands to the clasp on his pants.
And when she dropped to her knees amid waves of emerald satin, he was pretty fucking sure being here — now — trumped being anywhere else in the world.
Even centerfield.
• • •
Nel watched him sleeping in the early morning moonlight. Seeing him like this was so different than seeing him post-sex in the afternoon. He looked softer somehow, more vulnerable, and she wanted to promise to fight any battle for him. She supposed that was what it meant to love someone.
With emotion clogging her throat, she slipped from beneath the sheets and padded naked to the bathroom. If she could keep him here she would, like some deranged fan. She’d lock him in this hotel room, chain him to that bed, and never, never let him go. But this wasn’t some Steven King novel, and she wasn’t a complete kook. So she’d let him go, and when the time came to watch him walk away, she wouldn’t shed a single tear, because she went into this eyes wide open.
She showered and brushed her teeth with items provided by the concierge, and then she sat on the toilet, wrapped in a soft, thick towel, wishing for the strength to get through whatever came next.
A soft knock startled her. “Hey, babe, I hate to rush this, but we need to get rolling. I have to get back to the dogs.”
Babe. It was the only thing Nel took away from the sentence.
Thirty minutes later, outfitted in last night’s gown, Nel riding shotgun in Grey’s pickup truck, they pulled into the driveway of her condo. “Thank you,” she said, smiling brightly, despite the dread in her heart. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was dreading more, the next goodbye or a full workday on a few hours’ sleep.
“Thank you,” he said, leaning across the seat and sliding a palm to her cheek. There was something sappy and oddly unwelcomed in the way he looked at her. All she could think was he loved her too, and they were both about to be destroyed by the wayward emotion.
Nel swatted his hand away. “Save it for lunch.” She grinned as she pushed free from the truck. Light. Flippant. It was better this way. His departure date would be here soon.
She managed to keep that rational thinking while she dressed for work, but once she reached the office and came under the gun of Rena’s questions, she weakened.
“You should tell him you love him,” Rena said, tapping a pen against a memo pad.
“That’ll only make it worse. You didn’t see his face when I told him I didn’t want him to go.” Nel winced at the memory. “No way. I don’t want him looking back at me with pity, like I’m some poor lovesick fool who fell under his spell.”
“What if it’s not a spell? What if he loves you, too?”
Nel dragged air into her mouth to put out the spark of excitement that lit beneath her breast. “It changes nothing. He’s still going to Florida, and then to Nashville, and then wherever baseball takes him. I’m still staying here with my business and my family. I don’t see how a relationship can work under those circumstances.”
“That sucks.”
“Tell me about it.”
By lunch, Nel was hopped up on enough caffeine to stave off exhaustion, but the stimulant also put her mind in overdrive. Every other second she questioned the wisdom of spending her lunch hour with Grey. No matter how they spent the time, they’d only be deepening their doomed connection.
But like a freaking moth, she flew straight for the flame; only to find Tawny Kellogg’s car in the driveway.
Nel almost drove past and returned to the office. She was too tired and wired to deal with it. Instead, she decided to end this stupid game. A little voice inside her head told her Grey could handle it, but this wasn’t just about Grey anymore.
After last night, Will had to know Nel was involved with this house. Now Will needed to know she couldn’t be chased off.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I told you before, the house is not for sale.” Grey stared down at Tawny, who forced her way into the foyer with a fake-ass trip.
“Listen, I’m sure you feel some obligation to Nel, but The Fortune Agency has a buyer. He’s a hockey player, and he’s willing to pay … ”
“Leave.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.” He didn’t touch her, but he reached past her and forced the open door wider, banging the wall behind it.
She jumped.
She jumped again when she heard what came next.
“Will Fortune still doesn’t do his own dirty work, does he?” A raging Nel threw open the screen door.
Cat fight came to mind, but it didn’t hold an ounce of the appeal like it did when a guy tossed the word around the clubhouse. “She was just leaving,” Grey said, hoping to smooth Nel’s obviously ruffled feathers.
“Fine,” Tawny huffed, flipping her hair. “Just know whatever’s going on here is going to keep you from making a ridiculous amount of money on this house.”
“What are you talking about?” Nel snapped.
Grey wished she hadn’t taken Tawny’s bait.
“We have a cash buyer.”
Nel’s eyes narrowed. “You’re a liar.”
“And you’re a third-rate realtor who likes to play broker.”
Grey jumped between the women, catching a lunging Nel in his arms, keeping the screen door from slapping her ass with the palm of his hand.
Tawny took her painted-on smile and waltzed out of his house.
Damn. Not exactly the afternoon he expected.
“I should’ve seen this coming.” Nel scrambled from his arms and bolted into the great room with a throaty roar. “Of course he has a buyer. He’s the official … “ she formed air quotations with her fingers “ … real estate agency for the professional teams in the area.” She roared again. “Mother f — ”
“Calm down,” Grey said, crossing the room to her. “It doesn’t matter, because I’m not selling to him.”
She blinked double-time, shaking her head until the curls looked chaotic. “Why wouldn’t you sell? He has a buyer — a cash buyer! Do you know what that means?”
Grey stared blankly.
“It means you could have money in hand faster than you can say sold, like by the time you leave. No sign in the yard. No open houses. Nada.”
Wow. Under any other circumstances …
“Sounds good doesn’t it?”
He reached for her, but she stepped back.
“You have to take it, Grey.”
He stuffed a finger into his ear, because he certainly wasn’t hearing her right. “What did you say?”
“Take the money and run.” Her face crinkled when she said the words, but her eyes blazed with something that made him very uncomfortable.
What happened to the woman who fell asleep in his arms last night? The woman whose body all but begged him to stay before she drifted off amid contented sighs? The woman who made him lay awake, staring at the ceiling, wanting to stay beyond all reason.
Grey shook his head. “I won’t. I can’t do that to you.”
“Why not? You’re going to blow out of town and rarely think about me. Why let sex screw you out of the best possible deal?”
Strong words — words that pierced his heart — but then her eyes closed, and he saw them — her — for what they were, an attempt to do the right thing, the thing she thought was best for him. It was a sacrifice. She was willing to give up what she wanted so he co
uld get what he wanted.
Had anyone ever done something so selfless for him? And she thought he could forget her …
He stepped to her again, and this time when she backed up, he caught her wrist and dragged her to him. “I’m going to think about you all the time.” His right hand smoothed over the small of her back, pressing her to him. His left hand rode the curve of her shoulder to her neck.
“Liar,” she whispered.
“I wish to God I was.” Leaving her might kill him, because if it felt like this every damn time he thought of her, he wasn’t going to survive the splitting pain in his chest.
She dropped her forehead to his chest and her shoulders heaved. “This is too hard.”
He couldn’t disagree, but he didn’t release her. He held her tighter, until her muscles relaxed and she wrapped her arms around his waist.
“And I’m too tired to worry about it now. Maybe we could just nap for an hour.” She looked up at him and yawned.
Sounded good to him, only he couldn’t fall asleep. He stared at the ceiling for about twenty minutes and then pushed out of bed, leaving Nel to her dreams, hoping they were pleasant. If he managed to fall asleep, he was sure he’d have nightmares. He’d never been so conflicted. But regardless of his conflictions, there was still work left to do.
He made his way to the far side of the house where an unfinished bathroom tucked behind another bedroom. Hopefully he’d be far enough away so she couldn’t hear him work.
Grey set the alarm on his phone in time to wake Nel, and then he settled into smoothing tile adhesive on the shower wall. He pressed marble subway tiles onto the adhesive in between yawns and wrist-rubs of his eyes. It really was surprising he couldn’t fall asleep, considering how damn exhausted he felt.
On autopilot, he worked from the inside out, leaving space for pieces he needed to cut, filling the center in record time. Not wanting to stop if finishing was in sight, he moved to the tile saw, cutting precision pieces to fill the empty space on the wall. It was noisy, monotonous work, and in his current state, it wasn’t easy. Rushing wasn’t smart, but he wanted it done, so he pushed through the resistance, harder than he should’ve, and before the message to pull back traveled from his brain to his hands, he slipped, driving his hand into the blade until he heard it hit bone.
“Fuck!” It didn’t sound like his voice, strangled in tears. He held his gushing right hand to his belly and raced from the room.
“Nel!” Jesus, his head spun. His stomach lurched, and the heat radiating from his throwing hand was enough to melt him. “Nel!”
Through fuzzy vision he saw her racing down the hall. “What? What … ” She clasped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Call Jordon.” It was all he could manage before he dropped to his knees.
• • •
Nel’s instinct was to call nine-one-one before she called Jordon, but Grey insisted on the other way around. So after stumbling through an awkward minute-long conversation with Grey’s brother, she dialed 911, even managing to stay coherent despite horror compromising her mental capacity.
While they waited for help, she held Grey, him strangling his towel-wrapped hand. Her ‘it’s going to be okays’ were met with gut-wrenching moans. By the time paramedics arrived, he was scarily still and silent.
Nel couldn’t stop shaking. People rushed around him, blocking her view, but she didn’t try to maneuver around them. She needed the reprieve from seeing him pale and scrunched with pain. That vision wasn’t helping her stay calm, and she needed her wits about her to follow the ambulance to the ER.
That three-mile drive seemed to take hours. Pulling into visitor parking at the entrance of the emergency room, Nel thought about calling Rena to explain her absence from work, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t manage to tap the right contact on her phone.
She brushed tears from her eyes and scrambled from the car, dropping her phone, picking it up and nearly tripping over her feet. Somehow, she made it into the lobby and stood at the reception desk.
“May I help you?”
Words stuttered in her head, and a few unintelligible sounds escaped her lips before she managed a nod, and said, “Yes, I followed an ambulance here.”
“Patient’s name?”
“Greyson Kemmons.”
“Have a seat in the waiting room and we’ll let you know when you can go back.”
Nel wandered to an empty seat in the corner, doing her best to swallow down the excess saliva filling her mouth. She needed to see him. What if things got worse in the ambulance? There’d been so much blood. Surely his life wasn’t threatened, but she didn’t know. She knew houses and real estate contracts — she didn’t know veins and arteries. Tears burned the back of her eyes as she stared straight ahead.
Minutes passed; then hours. She was leaning against the wall when a short man in burgundy scrubs approached.
“You’re with Mr. Kemmons?” he asked.
Nel jumped to stand erect. “Yes.”
“Follow me.”
They wound through the cool, barren, medicinal-smelling hallways until they reached a large room sectioned off with privacy curtains. Grey was behind the farthest curtain, sitting up in bed, clad in a hospital gown. Wires dripped from his arms and chest to monitors at his bedside. And his hand was wrapped.
He opened his eyes and held Nel’s concerned gaze. His was a miserable, vacant look, and her heart shattered.
“Hey,” she managed, walking to his side, smoothing a hand down his left arm, careful not to disrupt the IV protruding from the crook of his elbow.
He closed his eyes again and swallowed. She had the unwelcome feeling she had no business being here.
“I’m waiting for the hand surgeon,” he said, sounding raw.
So many questions flooded her mind, but none felt appropriate to ask. She didn’t want to upset him any more than he already was. They were both too old and too jaded not to understand the gravity of the situation. She didn’t have to know baseball to know this injury would impact his ability to play.
“Are you in a lot of pain?” she asked.
He shook his head against the pillow. “They’ve got me pretty drugged up.”
For some reason, it made her smile. With his eyes closed and his still relatively smooth face, he looked younger, almost child-like and heartbreakingly vulnerable. She leaned down and brushed a kiss across his clammy forehead.
“Jordon will be here soon.”
She hoped it was the right thing to say. Having his brother and agent here to advocate for him should be a positive, but she expected Jordon to have questions — for Grey and for her. He seemed to hold back on the phone, only asking what was necessary.
“He’s going to shit,” Grey whispered.
“All that matters is you getting better.”
“That’s not all that’s going to matter to him.”
A man in a white coat pushed through a split in the curtain. “So, Mr. Kemmons, let’s take a look at that hand.”
Nel stepped back, giving the doctor space. Once again, her view was blocked, and she felt fortunate. As it was, the rustling of the bandages being removed tossed her stomach.
“Squeeze my fingers. Can you feel this here? How about here? Here?” The doctor’s rapid-fire commands unsettled her more.
Only when Grey answered with a no did Nel crane her neck to see around the doctor. Grey’s head was against the pillow and his face was lifted to the ceiling. She wondered if he was praying, and then she decided to say a few of her own.
“You’ve got a significant injury here, and we need more imaging to see the full extent. I’ll be honest — I’m worried about a major bone issue. I’m wondering if the blood vessels are still functioning. Do we worry about blood supply loss to the thumb? But nerve injury
is my biggest concern, so we’re going to get an MRI to see exactly what we’re dealing with. We’ll probably take you to the OR first thing in the morning.” The doctor patted Grey’s leg. “Tell somebody if you’re still in pain.”
Grey simply nodded, and the doctor was gone, leaving Nel bewildered as to how she should help this broken man. She stepped to the bedside, and gripped his good hand. “What do you need me to do?”
He opened his eyes and a heavy sigh sagged his usually straight and strong shoulders. “I don’t think there’s anything anyone can do.”
If there was one thing Nel hated it was feeling helpless. Someway, somehow, she was going to make things better.
• • •
It doesn’t look good. Every time Grey closed his eyes and tried to sleep, he heard the hand surgeon’s words. So despite being emotionally and physically exhausted, he stayed awake, staring at the building outside his window, listening to the monitors beeping, wishing Nel was here. But after six hours, someone had to check on the dogs.
She’ll be back, he told himself, and then settled his head on the pillow for another attempt at sleep. He didn’t know why he bothered. Even if thoughts about his career being over didn’t keep him awake, the nurses checking on him every five minutes would.
“What the hell happened?”
Jordon. Grey opened an eye, hoping the chastisement would sting less if he wasn’t completely engaged. “I had an accident.”
“Accident, my ass.” Jordon crossed the room, filling the all-white space with his wide body dressed in a black suit and overcoat. “I knew you were headed for trouble when you wouldn’t tell me where you were.”
Grey opened both eyes and frowned. “You think you could cut me some slack, considering I’m completely screwed here.” He tried to lift his hand. Even though it wasn’t painful, it felt too heavy to move.
Jordon sighed and dragged a chair to the bedside. “Dinardi has already talked to the hand surgeon here, so everyone will be on the same page when you get back to Nashville.”