Page 27 of Waiting for Her

I’m in wayover my head.

Over the years, being away from Grady, I’ve been able to fool myself into thinking I wasn’t still in love with him.

One look at him the other night and I was proven wrong. He’s magnificent. The years only making him even more handsome. I watch as he moves across the field, stopping the players in the middle of a play to adjust something.

His hair has darkened a few shades from the dirty blond it was in high school. His chest thicker, shoulders broader. Biceps bulging, straining against the confines of the fabric of his fitted gray t-shirt with the Warrior logo over his heart.

The black shorts do nothing to hide his bulky thigh muscles, and when I’ve been blessed enough to have his back turned to me, my eyes have had the joy of focusing in on his ass, that even under the dark material looks tight and strong. You know, if ass muscles can be strong.

My eyes drift lower, noticing the two large scars on his left leg. They’re not as angry looking as I’m sure they once were, having had a few years to heal. But they’re noticeable, especially for someone who used to spend hours memorizing every inch of his body.

But it’s not just the fact that he’s substantially more attractive than he was six years ago, something I wasn’t even sure was possible. Within the first ten minutes of watching him coach, to push his players to what he knows they’re capable of, remaining calm and cool, never raising his voice or shouting unnecessarily, I knew all the work I put in to training myself to not think of him as my future went out the window.

He doesn’t walk around the field, barking orders.

He’s in the middle of the action, probably wishing he was still playing.

When he wraps up for the day, I watch as his players come to him, asking him questions about a specific play, him asking a few of them if they have a certain situation sorted out, reminding them to come to him for more than just football.

He takes time with each person who demands his attention. Never seemingly put out by the extra time. His body language doesn’t scream anything but openness and willingness to be there for whatever everyone needs.

Not once has he focused on his phone or glanced as his watch.

Grady is nothing but present when he’s on the field, not simply calling plays but getting right in there with them, showing the boys how to play, not telling them.

He goes above and beyond, exactly how I expected him to coach and, quite honestly, live his life.

Grady’s always been a giver. Someone who would bend over backwards to make sure people are content.

He looks my direction and jerks his chin up, a sign to follow him.

I don’t tell him that despite my actions over the last six years, I’d still follow him anywhere.

The familiar pain hits my gut when I remember not being able to be there for him during one of his darkest moments. At least not in the way I wanted to.

I follow him, and his nice ass, into his office. I glance around—frames of pictures of his family all around him. It’s homier than I expected. But then again, Grady wouldn’t be Grady if he didn’t surround himself with the ones he loves.

I unapologetically examine each photo. Maggie beaming up at a smiling Grady on her college graduation day. Harper hanging on his back in another one, he’s looking to the side, up at her and she’s grinning at the camera like she knows she has him wrapped around her finger and is completely unapologetic about it. Cole with his arm around Grady’s neck, pulling him close, both of them wearing tuxedos. Their smiles are wide, you can almost feel the happiness emulating from the photo. Grady between his parents, his arms wrapped around both their shoulders, their smiles are wide. Nothing in the picture indicates what’s happening but it’s clear they’re happy.

Then…

I see it.

When I was a senior in high school, my mom started dating a newly divorced dad of twin boys. Andy and Mom fell hard and fast for each other, their love bringing my little sister Hazel into the world.

Shortly after she was born, Grady’s parents held a big welcome to the family party for her.

After about twenty tries using the self-timer on Tess’s phone, we finally managed to get a decent picture of everyone looking in the general direction where she had the phone propped up. Of course, a few of us are laughing, and it kind of looks like Josh is constipated because he was trying so hard not to laugh, but it added to the character of the photo.

Reece and Aidan, my step brothers who were fourteen at the time, are looking particularly protective over Hazel, flanking either side of her with their hands folded in front of them. They look like security rather than big brothers. Which, I suppose, is fairly accurate for how they treat our little sister.

As for me in this picture? I look happier than I’ve been in the six plus years since it was taken. I’m looking up at Grady, a laughing smile on my face. His knowing smirk reminds me he had just grazed a little bit of side boob before allowing his hand to wander down to cup my butt and squeeze. We had spent so many years fighting our attraction to one another, that when we finally gave in, we had a hard time keeping our hands to ourselves, even in the presence of family.

My heart hammers in my chest as I lift the picture frame, getting a closer look at a time so long ago, it feels like it should be forgotten. But really, the memory of the day is so fresh in my mind, if I close my eyes, I’m taken right back in time. I can hear the laughter of our families. Smell the manly scent of Grady’s body wash that always lured me in, made me weak in the knees.

I wonder if he still uses the same brand.

I wonder if I’ll ever be close enough to him again to find out.

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