Page 10 of Play Me

CHAPTER

SIX

Gray

“I gotta get some blinds,” I mutter, shielding my eyes from the sunlight piercing the thin curtains in the bedroom.

My body protests the movement, screaming and aching in places that shouldn’t hurt from driving and sleeping. Fog clouds my head. A sound emanates from my stomach with a reminder that I haven’t eaten much since I left Denver on Thursday, and it’s now … Sunday ?

I swipe at the bedside table until my hand lands on my phone. Sunday at noon. Shit.

“How the hell is it noon already?” I grab the edge of the only blanket I could find without really looking too hard and rip it off the one leg it covers. “I gotta get my ass up.”

Groaning, I roll out of bed and slip on a pair of shorts.

The apartment’s warm and stuffy as I stumble into the living room, still in a haze.

Everything I own is shoved in boxes that are stacked in a fucked-up game of Jenga in the corner.

I’ve avoided dealing with it. Unpacking and putting it all away feels like a bad omen.

If my contract doesn’t get extended past this year, I’ll just be loading it all up in a couple of months.

I don’t want to jinx it. Because even if Renn thinks I’m a fuckup, there are too many upsides to playing for the Royals. I can’t screw this up.

“I gotta get some food,” I say, yawning. But before I can make it to the kitchen, my phone buzzes in my hand.

Hartley: Are you alive?

The corners of my lips curl toward the ceiling at my younger brother’s name displayed at the top of the screen.

Me: I think so.

Hartley: Then call me.

He doesn’t wait for that to happen, probably because he doesn’t trust that I’ll do it. Instead, my device lights up with an incoming call.

“You didn’t give me time,” I joke, entering the kitchen. I tap the speakerphone button and carry the phone in front of me.

“I could have given you a year, and I’d still be waiting on the phone to ring.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

He snorts. “So how was the trip?”

“Long,” I say, opening the refrigerator. Empty shelves stare back at me, so I close it. “Rained so hard in Kansas City that I stopped for an hour. Then I sat behind an overturned semi for far too fucking long. Otherwise, it was uneventful.”

“Better to have an uneventful trip than a trip full of problems.”

A door slams in the background, followed by the crunching of gravel, probably in the shape of my brother’s favorite worn- out cowboy boots.

The sound evokes the scent of dirt and the sensation of sunshine on my face.

I can almost hear the flag in front of his house, the one we grew up in, whipping in the wind.

My chest pulls tight at the thought of a place that holds so many great memories for me.

Sitting down with family for Sunday dinners after church.

Running through the fields with my brother on warm summer days.

Splashing in the creek that Mom forbid us to play in, building forts in the woods, and pestering Dad’s workers for a taste of their tobacco.

The one time we managed to get some from a ranch hand named Earl, we hurled our guts out behind the barn.

I still can’t smell mint without wanting to puke.

The trade from Denver to Nashville, within an hour of Sugar Creek, felt like an opportunity to try to find that again.

The irony is not lost on me that I’m running toward the very thing from which I bolted.

Simplicity. Peace. Being surrounded by people who know who you are and not what the media says you’ve become.

“What’s going on with you?” I ask, rubbing my sternum.

“Same old stuff. Just got home from church. I had to duck out of there during the last hymn, so I didn’t get roped into the monthly birthday potluck after the service.”

“Since when do you turn down home-cooked food?” I laugh as my stomach growls. “Or do you have a woman helping you take care of that these days?”

“I usually stay for it, but I have two ewes in labor. I left Bobby in the barn to keep an eye on them this morning, but he has somewhere to be by four o’clock. I told him I’d be back in plenty of time for him to get cleaned up and get out of there.”

I lean against the side of the couch and smile knowingly. The chances of Hartley having a woman at the ranch are about one in however many women are in Sugar County. And that one hasn’t been around in years, but he won’t move on. Just in case.

That’s the thing about Hartley—he’s a good man. He inherited Mom’s patience and Dad’s aptitude, and he does nothing without going all in. He’s loved Mira St. James since he was five years old. By the looks of it, I doubt that’ll ever change.

“Things back there okay?” I ask.

“Well, you could answer that question yourself if you’d stop by. If you need directions, let me know.”

I grin, but his point is not lost on me. “Very funny.”

He chuckles. “It’s been a while since you graced us with your presence. A lot of people back here would love to see ya.”

“Of course, they would.”

“I mean, they’d probably be ready for you to leave within five minutes, but they’d like to see you nonetheless.”

Our laughter blends together, reminding me of days gone by. Back when life was simple and good. Before everything got so damn complicated.

“Saw Brooks the other day,” Hartley says. “He came by to say hi.”

My brows tug together as my stomach growls again. “Brooks Dempsey?”

“How many Brooks do you know?” Hartley laughs. “And how many Brooks do you know who would be in Sugar County?”

“Isn’t he training in Vegas?”

“Yeah, but he’s injured. Tore his rotator cuff. He’s hoping to be back in the gym in six months, but he’s probably looking at a year from the sound of it. It’ll be longer than that before he can fight again.”

Heat colors my cheeks as I realize just how out of touch I am.

Brooks was my best friend when I was a kid, and well into my twenties.

Between his fighting career and my rugby schedule, we’d meet up for weekends a few times a year to catch up.

But at some point, my phone stopped ringing.

Or maybe his did. Either way, I haven’t talked to him in … months? I don’t even know.

I haven’t really talked to anyone lately except Hartley.

“I should give him a call,” I say, my voice gruff.

“He’d probably like that.” Hartley blows out a breath. “So are you getting settled in? Got everything ya need?”

My gaze drifts around the empty kitchen and into the living room. There’s a table, a sofa, and a decent-sized television. The place is bigger than the one I had in Denver, too.

“I can’t complain. They hooked me up with a furnished apartment, so that helps. I just need to go through my stuff and find a grocery store. I think I had a protein bar and a banana on Friday morning, a couple of shitty sandwiches yesterday afternoon … and that’s it. I’m dying.”

“Doesn’t the team have a cafeteria or something?”

“Something like that,” I say, running a hand over my head. My stomach tightens as I let my brain drift to the Royals … and her.

I’ve managed to avoid the thought of Astrid for most of the weekend, despite the leading role she played in a nightmare last night.

She was chasing me around a gas station with her fucking clipboard.

Other than that, she’s been a persona non grata in my life.

Knowing that’s about to change makes me want to go back to bed.

“Then why are you complaining?” Hartley asks. “Just go there and grab some food.”

“Tomorrow is my first day at the facility.”

He laughs. “Don’t sound so excited.”

I run a hand down my face. “ Make sure you get some protein and stay hydrated. It’s going to be a big week.”

That’s one way to put it. A hell week is probably more like it.

“Listen to this shit,” I say, leaning against the kitchen counter. “The Royals insisted on giving me a personal assistant.”

“Fancy.”

“Yeah, I wish.” My body tenses as I acquiesce to my new reality. I might as well think about it now and try to get used to it. After all, there doesn’t seem to be a way out of it. Not easily, anyway. “She’s essentially a fucking babysitter.”

The line grows quiet, and I’m sure Hartley’s trying to figure out what to say. I save him the trouble.

“She’s fucking miserable,” I say, my jaw pulsing as Astrid’s little smirk shoves its way through my mind. “She’s a know-it-all with delusions of grandeur. I don’t know if everyone in her life rolls over for her or what, but she’s obviously not used to not getting her way.”

Hartley hums. “I bet that goes over really well with you, doesn’t it?”

“If you’re imagining us squared up, you’re spot on.”

“What’s her problem?”

“Fuck if I know.” I shrug helplessly. “She has a superiority complex that I can’t get around.

Her mind is made up about me—and her conclusions aren’t great.

” No thanks to Renn, it seems . “She’s determined to lord over me for the next couple of months, so she doesn’t lose her Employee of the Month title or whatever the hell is going on.

And I’m not about to back down and lose the bonus I got for agreeing to this mess. ”

My mouth hardens as her admission rattles through my head. “I was tasked with keeping you in line.”

That’s the line I can’t forget—the one I can’t let go.

“Got any advice for me?” I ask, reading an alert that pops across the screen.

Reminder: Payment due in 3 days

I clear my throat and dismiss the message. By the time I tune back in to Hartley’s voice, his tone has changed.

“Hey, Gray, I’m sorry but I gotta go. I need to check this ewe. Bobby already took off, so it’s just me here.”

“Yeah, go. Don’t let me keep you.”

“Let me know if you can grab some free time. I’d love to see you.”

I run a hand down my face. “Yeah. For sure. Let me get my feet on the ground and I’ll be there.”

“Good deal. Talk to you later.”

“See ya.”

“Bye, Gray.”

The call ends abruptly as he rushes off to tend to his animals, and I’m left standing in my empty apartment.