Page 16 of Not that Impressed (Houston Pumas #3)

ELLIE

I don’t want to imagine what Victoria is going to say when she finds out I can’t film for at least a few days. And all I can do is imagine, since I’m not supposed to use my phone for at least forty-eight hours.

My concussion is a grade one, relatively mild, and since I have some great pain relievers, I feel fine. Mostly just embarrassed. Especially since last night is starting to come back to me more.

Way to show Will how fierce I am by giving myself a concussion. At least I was witty turning him down. Not that he’ll remember that part. He’s probably at home laughing over the way I told him he was pretty but a meanie.

I very gently give myself a face-palm.

I can’t believe he asked me out. Part of me wonders if none of it really happened. If I got a concussion some other way and that was some kind of fever dream.

The audacity.

He ruined someone’s life, and I remember enough to know that he didn’t deny it and he didn’t feel bad.

Like I would ever date someone like that .

“Hey,” Janelle says softly as she opens the door of our apartment.

I feel bad. She was just barely feeling like herself again after getting sick and then had to turn around to take care of me.

Even though the doctor at urgent care told her it wasn’t necessary to wake me up as long as my symptoms didn’t worsen, she slept in a chair next to my bed all night just in case.

“I brought you some tea. Chamomile. Mom said it would help you relax.” She sets down a cup from the coffee shop down the street and a bag that smells like my favorite blueberry muffins.

I smile. “Thanks, Nell. You should go take a nap. I’ll be fine for a while.”

She shakes her head. “I’m here to entertain you since you can’t binge TV or anything like I could.”

“I have a fabulous audiobook to listen to. I’m going to lay back and enjoy it.” I reach my arms out, and she squeezes me gently. “You’re the best sister.”

“Oh, come on. Like you didn’t play nurse to me for days and convince Victoria that she didn’t need footage of me gross and in bed and did overtime to make up for it.” She eyes me as she pulls back.

“Mom put her foot down too or I never would have succeeded in keeping the cameras away,” I point out.

She can go mama bear when she has a mind to.

“Do you mind reading a few text messages for me and maybe answering? My phone has been buzzing.” I point to where I put it far away from me on our kitchen table so I wouldn’t be tempted.

I still get a tiny bit nauseous when I stand up. Walking across the room isn’t worth it.

“Of course.” Janelle retrieves my phone and then takes her seat back on the ottoman, facing me so I won’t try to read over her shoulder. “One from Mom asking how you’re feeling. Want me to reply?”

“Nah. I’ll call her later.”

“One from Libby saying she’s on her way over to entertain you. ”

“You should have coordinated with her,” I tease.

Janelle laughs. “One from Grayson Hollis.” She looks up at me with a raised eyebrow.

Janelle and I haven’t talked since I saw Grayson at the game on Sunday.

She was hanging out with Charlie Monday night while Libby and I went shopping for Libby’s homecoming dress with the cameras.

Then last night I spent half the evening in urgent care and wasn’t in a fit state for conversation when we got home.

“We talked a little at the game on Sunday. He came with Isla and Colin.” I make a face at her hanging out with that try-hard. Janelle scolds me with a frown and I bite back a smile. “What does the text say?”

“‘I heard about your concussion. Hope you get better quick! Let me know if I can bring by food and hang out sometime while you rest,’” she reads. “He added a bowl of soup emoji and a smirk emoji.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

My cheeks heat up. “Let him know I’m off screens for forty-eight hours and you’re reading my texts for me, and I’ll call him when I can.”

She chuckles as she taps it out. There are a few more texts from my assistant and from one of the show’s production assistants, wanting an update on my health, that Janelle takes care of, and then she puts my phone on a shelf near the couch. She grabs her bag and pulls an envelope from it.

“Will asked me to give this to you and to please tell you not to throw it away before you read it, and that he promises he’s not trying to ask you out again.” She hands the envelope to me.

“He wrote me a letter?” I arch an eyebrow as I study my name written on the front of the envelope. The letters are tall and skinny and masculine.

What is going on? Am I permanently brain-damaged and this is an alternate reality I’ve created for myself where Will is some kind of misunderstood, brooding hero from a Jane Austen novel ?

She grins. “Because you’re not supposed to be on screens, thanks to the concussion, and he said this would be a long text and he preferred to write this down rather than say it and risk it coming out all wrong, as he says is his curse.”

I furrow my brows at the letter. That’s really … considerate. Which I know Will can be when he wants to be, but what about Grayson? I can’t ignore what Will did because he didn’t like someone.

“It’s kind of romantic … right?” Janelle shrugs, her expression soft.

I study the envelope, still uncertain. “If you knew what I know about Will, you wouldn’t think so.”

She scowls. “What does that mean?”

I relay to her what Grayson told me about what happened between the two of them. Janelle’s eyes widen with every sentence, and she keeps giving little shakes of her head.

“I know Will’s not exactly easy to like,” she says when I’m done. “But that’s really hard to believe.”

“Is it?” I bite my lip. “The first thing Will did before even saying a word to me was judge me based on the show and trash me to Kara.”

“I don’t know, El, you’re right. But Will is also Charlie’s best friend, and there’s no way he’d be okay with Will doing that to someone.”

“Maybe he doesn’t know.”

“Maybe,” Janelle says, but she sounds skeptical.

The flap on the envelope isn’t sealed. I lift it and take out the letter.

It’s plain notebook paper, ripped from a top-bound spiral notebook and even has the uneven edges still at the top.

Will’s handwriting fills the front and back of the page.

It’s careful and neat. The spacing on everything is so even, it looks like it could have been typed in his handwriting, and that feels so like Will even though I don’t even know him that well.

“I’m sure there’s an explanation. Maybe it’s in there.” Janelle gestures to the letter. She pats me softly on the leg. “I’m going to go lay down for a bit, but please don’t hesitate to call for me if you need anything. Or if you find out the real story.”

“Maybe.” I stare at the letter some more, taking a sip of my tea as she gets up to leave. Finally I dive in.

Ellie,

Hopefully Janelle has explained that this is not me asking you out again.

Just in case, I’ll promise again: This is not me asking you out again.

You were super clear what you thought about that.

And I know it’s weird to write a letter, but with your concussion, I thought this was the best way to get the information across.

I know you don’t have any reason to trust what I’m about to say about my side of the story that Hollis told you.

I called my cousin Anna to make sure she was okay with me telling you this, and she said you’re also welcome to call her to confirm what I’m saying.

Anna is the woman Grayson is talking about in whatever story he told you.

I can almost hear the tight way Will would say “story” here if he were talking to me, and it puts me on edge.

Except … if the woman Grayson was referring to is Will’s cousin and she’ll confirm anything Will says?

That means they both deserve the benefit of the doubt.

Especially Anna. But maybe Anna is just like Will—entitled, thoughtless, and covering up for something that was her fault too.

I continue reading, anxious to find out what went down.

Hollis met Anna at one of the Pumas service projects last year.

She liked him, but Anna’s shy and reserved around guys.

Hollis was … aggressive. Anytime Anna said no, it was a challenge to him.

He gaslit her, accusing her of playing hard to get and saying that if she wasn’t interested, she would ghost him like all the other snobby girls.

(Ellie, believe me. I wouldn’t make this up.

I have the re ceipts, screenshots of the texts in case Anna needs them.

You can see them if you want.) Then, at a party for the team when we won the east division, he went too far, cornering Anna in an empty room.

I won’t go into all the details. That’s not what this letter is about.

Know that it could’ve been worse and it wasn’t, but it was bad enough.

I clench my jaw and then release it as a spike of pain shoots through the back of my head.

I don’t know how to feel, knowing that Will called her to check in before he told me this, or the idea that if she’d been uncomfortable with him telling me, he would have gone on letting me believe whatever Grayson told me is the truth about the situation.

It also proves there’s no way Will would make this up.

Why would Grayson feed me a story that’s easily disproved? I misjudged both men. It was so easy to dislike Will and so easy to like Grayson.

I don’t exactly want to keep reading. Anna’s story is the kind that infuriates me. That happens too often and nobody will do anything about it. It’s also one of those things I can’t look away from now.

Anna refused to report him. These kinds of situations with football players always make big headlines, and we’ve both seen how the women are talked about when they do report. How they’re ruining some poor guy’s life. I don’t blame her.