Page 132 of The Play

“Me too. You should be very proud of the team, Mr. Green,” she said, smiling.

“Oh, I am,” Grant said, exchanging an intimate glance with Deacon.

“I’ll show you to your table, now,” she said, walking them to a small table tucked away in a dark-ish corner. But it wasn’t that big of a restaurant. And as they walked there, Deacon could feel every eye in the place on them.

Maybe Grant hadn’t been as recognizable before this latest round of rumors, but he had been playing in Charleston since he was drafted, and he was. And then of course, there was the very minor fact that they were here, together, holding hands, after all the gossip about their relationship . . .

“Your waiter will be with you in a second,” the hostess said brightly as they sat. “Enjoy your meal.”

“You’re still sure this is okay?” Grant asked after she left and Deacon had picked up his menu.

Deacon chuckled and shook his head. “If you’d leaned over the table in the library, way back in college, and kissed me, I’d have dragged you into my lap. I don’t care who sees us. Or what they say.”

Grant flushed again. “Really? Way back then?”

“Oh come on, you knew I had a huge crush on you.”

“No, no, I did not,” Grant said, laughing. “Besides, I’m not sure that Grant would’ve had an idea what to do with the great Deacon Harris.”

“Whatever you’re doing now.” Deacon pulled out his wallet. Why hadn’t he shown Grant this ages ago? He didn’t know. But he should see it now.

He opened it and slid it across the table. Carefully tucked in the plastic-covered slot usually reserved for IDs was the Post-it note Grant had stuck to his check, all those years ago.

Grant looked down, glanced up, and then did it twice more.

“You really kept it? That stupid Post-it I couldn’t . . .” Grant cleared his throat. “I didn’t know what to say. Only that I should say something. I should have said more, but I was afraid that if I did, I’d say everything.”

At first, of course, he’d been so fucking pissed at that short, impersonal email that Grant had sent him. Then, the check, with its Post-it note. It hadn’t been much, but as the years had gone by, Deacon had realized—and hoped—that maybe the sheer coldness of the message had been covering up for something else.

It wasn’t until they’d met again that Deacon had truly begun to know just how much Grant hadn’t said.

“I think you did just fine,” Deacon pointed out. “If you’d said more back then, who knows what would’ve happened. Maybe I’d have kidnapped you and tied you to my bed.”

“Really?” Grant took that somehow creepy suggestion and grinned. Because of course he did. If Deacon hadn’t been so completely sure this was the man for him, that smile would’ve done it. “I was so sure you were gonna guess you were the reason I didn’t want to leave school.”

“I didn’t.” In fact, he was kind of glad he hadn’t. Because if he had, maybe he might have gone to extremes to keep Grant around, and that, ultimately, would have set them both on the wrong path.

Grant toyed with the corner of his menu. “So . . .are we going to talk about this, during . . .well, whatever we end up doing? An interview would be the easiest, least painful way to go . . .”

“We can do an interview.” Deacon didn’t really enjoy talking to the media, but this was different—and he couldn’t imagine Darcy, Nicole, and Grant not controlling every aspect of whatever they ended up doing.

“And do you want to . . .talk about this, our past?” Grant asked, gesturing to the wallet as he pushed it back towards Deacon.

“Some of it, yeah.” Deacon didn’t know where the line was. He had a feeling he wouldn’t know the line until someone crossed it.

Grant pulled his phone out of his pocket. “An interview, then. We’ll pre-approve questions and subjects. But two things I know I want to address . . .” He took a deep breath. “Rex’s accusations, obviously. And the other is the rumor that I bought the Condors for you.”

“What?” Deacon asked in faux outrage. “You didn’t?”

Grant made a face. An adorably cute scrunched-up nose kind of face. Deacon was charmed. “I was going to say yes, partly, I did buy it for you. Because I knew you. I knew what kind of man you were.”

“I might’ve changed. Been a long time since we’d seen each other.”

“Unlikely, since you’re not exactly the flighty type,” Grant said, shooting him a hot look.

“Nope.” Deacon grinned.

“And you know why else I bought the team—and I have talked about it, a bit, right after the sale went final, but I want to address it personally. In context to the other rumors.”

---