Page 61 of The Game Plan
Oh god.
My stomach drops as I shift nervously on the cushion. “You’re starting to freak me out, Grant.”
He finally stops pacing, but stays on the other side of the coffee table, in the space between the table and the TV stand. With a deep inhale, he blurts the one thing I never saw coming.
“I told the coaching staff we’re married.”
I stare at him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.
Then I blink.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“What did you say?” I ask on a breath.
“I told them you’re my wife.” Yeah, that’s what I thought he said.
“I’m sorry, you—” I shake my head, a bitter laugh slipping before I can stop it. “Is this a joke?”
He shakes his head as I try to stand. My belly gets in the way, slowing my motion to the point of defeat. Instead, I leanback deeper into the cushion, tossing the throw pillow aside. One hand rubs my belly in the soothing motion I’ve adapted whenever I feel overwhelmed, while the other covers my mouth.
My heartbeat thrums in my ears, drowning out the world. Not that there’s much else to hear—Grant is frozen in place, letting me process.
Process. I chuckle to myself. It seems like that’s all I ever do. The world tilts on its axis, throwing me a new curveball, and I’m stuck processing the turn of events.
Savannah Holycross: Queen of Processing.
“Are you out of your damn mind, Grant? I’m serious. Have you lost it?” Panic rises, hitting me harder with each wave.
He raises his hands in defense. “Let me explain.”
I give him ago aheadgesture, and he exhales deeply.
“The entire offensive staff was in a meeting to discuss our first game,” he begins. “Coach Martinez asked if there were any players he should be keeping a close eye on. No one mentioned a player, but someone brought up a rumor about a coach living with a student.”
“Fucking Tierney,” I mumble under my breath.
Grant’s eyebrow raises. I shake my head, answering the silent question. “I ran into Tierney Turner on campus the other day when I had to pick up my books. It might have slipped out that I was living with you. I knew she’d run with the news.”
I rub a hand down my face as Grant threads one through his hair. “That explains how Danners knew.” He pauses with a deep breath. “When he dropped the bomb in the meeting, he never mentioned my name, but the entire time he was telling the coaches the rumor, his eyes never left mine. He was confessing it was me without uttering my name. So, when some of the coaches started grumbling about misconduct, putting the program at risk, and how a student was being taken advantage of…I panicked.”
I scoff. “You didn’t think lying about marrying me would do exactly that?”
“I didn’t think at all!” he explodes, throwing his arms around. My eyes widen at the outburst, not in fear, but because I’ve never heard this side of Grant. In a fraction of a second, he drops his voice. “I didn’t think, Savannah, because I was scared.”
I open my mouth but immediately close it. Every breath sticks in my throat as if it’s glued shut. While I’m angry,pissed, a part of me understands the panic when you feel like your back is against the wall. It’s exactly how I’ve been living my life.
Fear can make you do questionable things just to feel safe.
Grant closes the space between us and kneels in front of me. It’s a tight fit with his large body squeezing in the small space between the couch and the coffee table. I’d laugh if I weren’t so frustrated.
“Please, let me explain.”
I cross my arms tightly over my chest, the underwire of my bra digging into my skin, desperate to be torn from my body. “You lied, Grant. About somethinghuge!”
