Page 27 of Play Me

“I know, and I apologize. But unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it. If two thirty still works, I can slot you in that day. Otherwise, I have a four o’clock that afternoon, and an eight fifteen that morning. We have a few slots the week after that, too.”

I rub my forehead as my head begins to pound.

Fuck . “I, um, I guess two thirty will have to work. You’re sure there’s no availability before then?

Because the letter said I have to respond within two weeks from the postmark or they’ll just file against me in civil court.

” I think. Maybe it was in criminal court.

Shit. Am I going to be a felon over this?

“I’m sure. But I have you in for June first with Mr. Dixon at two thirty. You’ll get an automated reminder via text the morning before your appointment. Can I do anything else for you?”

Yeah, just have him look at the damn letter and tell me what to do. “No, that’s it.”

“Great. We’ll see you then. Have a great rest of your day.”

“You, too.” I sigh, squeezing my temples with my free hand.

Gray’s eyes bore holes into the side of my face, but I don’t acknowledge it. I know he overheard half of the conversation, but I don’t know if I should explain what it was about. It’s really none of his business, and maybe he won’t bother to ask. It would be like him not to care.

I peek at him out of the corner of my eye.

“Are you all right over there?” he asks.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

He grins. “Just an everyday call about getting taken to court, right?”

I sigh, dropping my hands to my sides in frustration. “Do you know what? I still hate you.”

He only laughs in response.

I pace a small circle and try not to rip my hair out. I can’t take this. I can’t have this lording over my head like the ghost from hellationship’s past. How hard is it to look at a letter and figure out how to legally shut it down?

“Can I point something out to you?” he asks.

“No.”

He chuckles again. “I forgot how feisty you can be.”

“That was your first mistake.”

“I’m going to point it out anyway,” he says. “I told you that I have a therapist. That’s very personal to me, but I told you.”

My feet stop moving and I look at him. He’s right. He did tell me that. But I didn’t ask him to, and I didn’t expect him to. And I didn’t ask him about the picture aside from where he wanted it placed. So no bones.

“I didn’t ask,” I say.

“No, you didn’t, and I doubt that you would’ve.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you …” He shakes his head and shoves off my car. “You know what? Never mind.”

He adjusts his bag on his shoulder and starts to walk away, but the idea of leaving it like this between us again—irritated and awkward—only makes me feel worse. It’s another problem that I’d almost resolved unwinding.

“Wait,” I say, glancing around to ensure no one is within earshot of us. “I’m sorry.”

He turns slowly. I don’t have to see his smirk to know he’s smirking. I can tell by the cockiness with which he moves.

“It’s only fair that I apologize.” I throw my pride and cares to the wind. “You were the bigger man last time. I can suck it up this round.”

His eyes darken, and he stops himself from speaking by biting his bottom lip.

I move right along. “I received a letter telling me that I’ll be sued for twenty thousand dollars over rent and damage to an apartment that I haven’t lived in for years.

Why haven’t I lived there, you ask? Because my boyfriend, whose name was on the lease, kicked me out so he could move another woman in.

” A quick breath fills my lungs. “Audrey knew an attorney who was going to give me a free consult, but he just canceled. So it looks like I’m selling feet pictures or a kidney because I’m not farting in jars. ”

He chokes back a laugh.

“I’m at my wits’ end,” I say, frazzled.

Gray clears his throat and runs a hand across his mouth, dragging a finger along his bottom lip. “First of all, that doesn’t make sense. How can you be on the hook?”

“They say because I paid the landlord a couple of times and the trash service was in my name while I lived there. Apparently, that makes me somehow responsible for back rent and damages that Trace and his very young, very beautiful personal trainer girlfriend left when they moved out.”

Gray sets his bag on my trunk.

I groan, pushing on my eyeballs to keep them from tearing up.

The pressure of this scenario is hitting a boiling point, and I don’t know how much more I can take.

I can’t think too much about it or I’ll break down.

I don’t have the infrastructure for support like Gianna or Audrey have with their families.

It’s just me over here. At times like this, that reality hits me hard … like an ice pick to the heart.

“I apologize,” I say, dropping my hands in frustration. “I shouldn’t have dumped all that on your lap. Ignore me.”

He gives me a pointed look. “You need an attorney. That’s what you’re saying?”

I shrug helplessly. I don’t want to talk to him about this, but it’s kind of too late now.

“I think so,” I say. “At the least, I need someone to tell me what my options are. I obviously don’t have twenty thousand dollars.

” I groan, the sound of that number making my stomach threaten to reject my lunch all over the asphalt.

“And a part of me is petty, too, because why should I have to bail him out of his problems when he caused me so many problems? You know?”

Gray pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps around on the screen, then he brings the device to his ear.

His jaw flexes as he waits for someone to answer.

I don’t know whether to get in the car, to shrivel in embarrassment, or wait for him to finish before exiting stage right from this overly dramatic and humbling scene.

“Hey, Joe. It’s Gray.” He nods, listening. “Yeah. I had it transferred to you around lunchtime. Did you get it?” He paces a crack in the concrete. “Let me know if not because I received confirmation. We should be good.”

I open my driver’s side door and toss my phone into the passenger’s seat.

I try to remember where I put the list of attorneys that I didn’t call last week.

There were three or four left. Maybe I can get an appointment with one of them.

I could put it all on a credit card or try to make payments. The thought makes me want to weep.

Tears gather in the corners of my eyes, and I refuse to blink so they don’t spill down my cheeks.

“One more thing. You don’t happen to have any consulting slots open in the next few days, do you?” Gray asks.

What? I twirl around, seeing him through my unshed tears. “What are you doing?” The words are thick through the emotion lodged in my throat.

“It’s for a friend of mine,” he says, winking at me. “She’s getting fucked by an ex and needs legal advice so she doesn’t get extorted.”

I stand frozen in place, unable to believe what I’m hearing.

“Friday at three?” Gray asks, looking at me with lifted brows.

“Hang on, Joe.” He drops the phone to his side.

His features are sober. “Listen, I’ve known Joe for my whole life.

He can look at your papers on Friday at three, if that works for you.

He won’t charge you, either. No pressure either way. ”

“Gray, you didn’t have to do this.”

He grins. “The correct response is thank you.”

My cheeks heat as I remember saying those words to him. “Thank you. Three o’clock on Friday is wonderful.”

I stand, stupefied, as he winds up his call. I’m not sure what to say or what to think about it. I can only hope he’s not joking around about this because I might break down if so. After I get Gianna’s taser.

He puts his phone away. “You got yourself an appointment.”

“I don’t know what to say.” I laugh in shock. “Where is Joe? How do I get to his office?”

“Joe is in Sugar Creek.”

“Your hometown?”

“Yeah.” Gray clears his throat. “I was going back there to visit my brother this weekend, anyway. So if you want to hitch a ride, that’d be fine with me. We can make a pact not to talk, or you can wear earbuds, if you want.”

No words appear on my tongue. It’s like my brain stopped working, and I can’t comprehend basic English. Because there is no way Gray just offered me help like this. It’s not possible.

“I mean, you can drive yourself, too?—”

“You just blindsided me. I’m sorry. Just give me a second.” I take a long, deep breath and exhale slowly. “You didn’t have to do this, Gray.”

“You’ve already said that.” He smirks. “And as far as you riding with me, I’m going anyway. It’s not like I’m making a special trip for you. Don’t think you’re special or anything.”

“Well, when you put it like that, fine,” I say, struggling not to smile at him.

“Great.”

“Great.”

He tosses his bag over his shoulder and walks toward his truck. “I’d say I’ll text you with details, but God knows you’ll be texting me orders every day until then. I’ll just hit reply.”

I watch him until he reaches his truck. How is this possible?

My mind can barely break down what just happened as I climb into my car. I close the door and then rest my head against the seat, closing my eyes. And breathe . Gray’s truck starts up in the distance, loud and obnoxious as always.

This makes no sense. Does Gray pity me? Is he thankful for my help? Are we going to arrive in Sugar Creek and find out that Joe is a drunkard with a magic eight ball?

The thought makes me laugh, and my stress eases. Finally.

I start the car and buckle up, then I reach for the gear shifter. But I make a last-minute change of plans and grab my phone instead. Gray’s name is at the top of my text chain with a cowboy by his name.

Me: I hate you a smidgen less.

Gray : Don’t. You’re buying my lunch while we’re there, and I eat. A lot.

Me: Never mind. I hate you the same.

Gray : Thank God.

“Asshole,” I say, grinning as I leave the facility.