Page 23 of Waiting for Her

“Your sandwich,” the barista says, placing a paper bag on the table in front of me.

I sit up straight, phone still in hand. “Thanks, appreciate it.”

“Have a good day,” she calls out to me before I push through the glass door.

I slide into the driver’s seat and take a drink of the hot coffee. I rub my leg, feeling the familiar ache that always occurs when I’ve been busier than normal, and sometimes, out of habit or when the weather is about to change. I reach for the gear shift just as my phone buzzes again, I release it and sit back against the seat.

Bri:I know I don’t have the right to say this either but… I’m sorry.

My immediate reaction is to text WTF for but I’m not a dick so…

Me:For what, exactly?

Bri:More than I could list in a text.

I suck in a breath, put my pickup in drive, and head home.

Grady

It’s Monday morningand I’ve been up since four. Today is Bri’s first day following me around, and my stomach has been in knots since I woke up.

Cole already sent me a selfie this morning of him and Anderson with the words “We got your back” on the picture. Anderson’s head is lulled off to the side, his mouth hanging open in his sleep, and Cole looks tired as all get out, but happier than I’ve ever seen him, aside from the day he and Mia got married.

It made me smile and forget everything that was happening for a few minutes. Well, until the reality of the day hit me like a sledge hammer to the chest.

“You ready for another week, Uncle Grady?” Drew asks, teasingly, clapping me on the back as he comes to stand next to me on the field.

I texted him an update the next morning after Mia’s dramatic exit on Friday night. He stayed and listened to the band finish up, sans Brandon, obviously.

I chuckle and grin, glad he’s keeping my mind on other things than the brunette goddess making her way across the field right now.

With her hair pulled up in a high pony tail, a short-sleeved gray dress that stops just above her knee with a green sweater wrapped around her waist and wearing bright green chucks on her feet, she looks like she should be attending school here.

Beautiful.

“You still have a lot of explaining to do there,” Drew murmurs, drawing my attention to him before he blows his whistle and stomps to the middle of the field where the team begins to gather.

They place their helmets on the ground and take a knee in a huddle as Drew begins to bark orders and informs the team of what they’re going to be working on today. When I watch his arm wave in Bri’s direction, I know he’s reminding them of the featureSIis doing on the team.

The closer Bri gets, the slower her strides become, nervousness clear in her movements as she fidgets with the strap of the bag hanging off her shoulder.

“Good morning,” she says shyly.

“Morning,” I say, voice gruffer than I intend.

We stare at each other for a few moments without saying anything more.

So awkward I want to groan.

“I’m sorry. I know this is horrible. I told Simon it was a conflict of interest, but he swore it would be okay. I’ll tell…”

“Simon?” I can’t help myself, even though I have no right to question who she’s talking about.

“My editor? And, friend, I guess, since I introduced him to his wife. Which made me question if that’s why I got the job. And then I assumed it was because of our… you know. Past,” she adds on a whisper. “But he swore it wasn’t. He only knew we went to high school together and I didn’t have the courage to correct him. It was because of how much I know about,” her hands do a weird circle thing gesturing toward the field. “You know, because I’m kind of obsessed. In fact, this is the first time I’ve really been on the field since… well,thatnight and it’s a little overwhelming because it’s,” she bounces on her toes and lets out a nervous giggle I’ve never heard from her before, but she won’t stop moving or talking. I’m kind of getting a kick out of her right now. It feels good to know I’m not the only one who wants to puke in this moment. Though, I could have done without her reminding me of the night we snuck onto the practice field. That night I had brought her there only because I wanted time alone with her. She had other plans and soon we were naked with only a blanket laid out under us.

She lifts her left hand to her forehead and rubs right above her eyebrow. Her mouth is still moving, but I’ve blocked out the word vomit that continues to come out of her mouth because my eyes have zoned in on the tattoo on her wrist.

Without thinking, my arm darts out and I take hold of her hand. She gasps at the contact, but I ignore it.

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