Page 29 of Scoring Grey

“I gotta go. Talk tonight.”

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye,” he says, his voice somewhat distressed as he clicks off the phone. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since he’s been gone, but I’ll admit knowing I won’t see him tonight sucks.

I turn around and hand Jenkins his phone. “Thanks, Jenkins. Sorry to be a bother.”

“Oh, it’s no bother, miss. Mr. Balfour is one of the kindest people I know. His ask, while unconventional, is the least I can do. He does a lot for the community.”

I cross my arms. “Yes, he loves working with the Big Brother, Big Sister community outreach.” Playing hockey isn’t cheap. Most sports aren’t cheap if you play competitively. Club fees alone are practically a month’s mortgage.

His eyebrows rise, and he opens his mouth as though he were about to correct me. He thinks better of it. “Yes, yes. Okay, well, if you don’t need anything, I need to get back down to the lobby.”

His response is strange, but I’m also not firing on all cylinders given this morning’s events, so I let it go. “Thanks, Jenkins. That’s all. Have a good day.”

“Bye, miss,” he says as he walks down the hall toward the elevator.

“What was that all about?” Dash questions as soon as I enter the condo.

“Oh, nothing, just Cal calling the doorman’s phone to get ahold of me because mine died.”

Dash laughs as he helps himself to a bag of chips. “I’m not surprised. That man has it bad. I mean, who pays another man to propose to his girl just on the off chance she’ll come back to him.”

I clench my jaw and pull in a long breath through my nose. I’m still a little peeved about that. While he may have played dirty and set me up, I was naïve and walked straight into his trap. Alec and I had only been dating a short time before he proposed, and hell, we never even got to second base before I said yes. It was like a hallmark movie where the two love interests are courting, they live in separate houses, they don’t do sleepovers, and they kiss sweetly, not intensely, but in my mind, it felt safe. I want the damn movie. I want the white picket fence, a dog, and maybe a cat. I want family movie nights, a hot guy mowing my lawn who comes inside the house to me when he’s done, and damn it, if I’m tired of sleeping alone. Cal thought Alec dropping down on one knee would point me to him. That I’d see the dream I have in my heart includes him. I said yes to the dream when I should have said no to the man.

“Can we not talk about his crazy when I’m trying to… you know… make things work with my baby daddy?” I say as I walk toward the couch and throw myself beside him.

“Hey, some women love that possessive shit.” He shoves another chip in his mouth, and I steal the bag, taking one for myself.

“I never said I didn’t appreciate that side of him.” Truth be told, I always liked that side of him. I loved knowing I could so easily get him riled up. It’s how I knew without words he desired me.

“Okay…” He shoves his hand in the bag and grabs a handful. “So you like him. He likes you. Fill me in on why you’ve kept him at arm’s length. I know the small shit, but what’s his skeleton? What’s keeping you in this apartment and not his?”

“God, Dash, it’s sordid, and so much time has passed. I wish it were as easy as just talking, but it’s not. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and I’ve always felt like, with my truth, someone gets hurt. Someone I care about loses. If anyone deserves that truth, it’s him. What hurts the most is it’s not even his skeleton. He’s just a pawn.” I cover my mouth as soon as the words leave. “Damn it. Forget you heard that. I don’t feel right telling you or anyone else things he should hear first.”

Dash has this way about him, and you can’t help but feel relaxed and comfortable around him. He’s laid-back, funny, and wears his heart on his sleeve. It’s hard not to get caught in his orbit.

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I can respect that, but if anything being your friend has taught me, you Greys have muddied pasts, and while I’m here, you have someone in your corner no matter what. You may as well use me. I happen to know how to use a shovel.”

I reposition myself on the couch and face him. “Use you?”

“Get your head out of the gutter.” He slaps my knee. “Your past has been keeping the two of you apart for far too long, so the way I see it, you have two options: bury it or dig it up. You call the shots. All you have to do is tell me what pile to throw the dirt into.” He throws his hand up in mock defense. “I’m not prying, really, I’m not, but you said you haven’t told Cal what’s been eating you up inside all these years, and you inadvertently admitted it’s not all him. So answer me this: why are we in this condo and not his?”

“I already told you?—”

“That’s not what I mean.” He holds up his hand. “I mean, he’s not here. Shouldn’t you be doing reconnaissance?”

“I’ve been in his place all week. It’s where he stays during the season, so there’re not too many personal things there.” I’ve walked around every room, opened every closet, and pulled a few drawers open, not so much to snoop but out of sheer curiosity. That’s when it hits me, before he left, he showed me something I’d never seen before. His playbook. “There is something,” I say with a renewed spirit to meddle. Those words he let me read are ones he wrote years ago. If that journal holds his innermost thoughts, maybe it holds more than just thoughts about me. I toss the bag of chips on the table. “Get your shovel.”

“I’ve opened every drawer in the bedroom and the bathroom. I didn’t see a book or journal anywhere,” Dash says, leaning on the doorframe to the master closet with both hands raised above his head, his fingertips on the frame as his T-shirt rides up, putting his cut hip bones on display.

I close the bottom drawer of the accessories island that sits in the middle of Cal’s closet and run the ring he put around my neck along the chain. “Yeah, I didn’t find anything either.”

“What was here that’s not here now?” he asks as he walks into the closet and checks out Cal’s sports coats.

“The other day, he showed me a journal. He let me read a passage he had written six years ago.” My gaze finds the nothingness on the floor. “It was the day I walked away.”

“Hey.” He drops down into a seated position before me. “We can’t go back in time. There’s no rewind, so don’t beat yourself up about the choices you made then. You did what you thought was best. Chances are you were right then and are still right now. But even if you’re wrong, that’s okay too. We’re only human.” He leans back on his forearms. “Hell, it’s the only sure way we know we learned anything.”

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