Page 49 of Play Me

CHAPTER

THIRTY

Gray

“Sir, you can go back to Ms. Winter’s room,” the lady perched behind the reception desk says.

I stand, wiping my hands down my jeans, and nod. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Have a good day.”

I put one foot in front of the other and follow the signs to Room 656. Each step gets harder, and every breath is more difficult. I may as well have been tackled on the pitch because every muscle in my body aches. I might die here, and no one will know where to look for me.

Until I walked inside the building, I was certain that I had to do this. Moving on with Astrid meant finding closure for the sins of my past. If not, I’d carry this weight into our relationship and that would be the epitome of ruining her. I won’t ruin anyone else except maybe myself.

I take a deep breath and blow it out. Shoving all thoughts of Astrid out of my mind, I knock on the door to Room 656.

“Come in,” Liza’s voice calls out.

God, please be with me. I tap the handle and let myself in.

Liza looks up from a book and smiles as if she expects me to be a staff person. But when her eyes land on mine, everything changes. “Oh, Gray.”

“Hey.”

She drops the book, tears streaming down her face, and sobs into her hands.

My heart breaks, knowing I did this—that I’m responsible for this woman’s agony all this time later.

I sit on the edge of the bed and wrap my arm around her, pulling her into my shoulder.

Her dark hair bounces as she cries. It’s the same color as Caroline’s.

I freeze, staring at the black strands, and feel my heart go from breaking to shattering.

I shouldn’t be here. Why did I do this?

You’re a fucking fool, Adler.

Liza pulls back, her cheeks streaked with mascara. She wipes her face with the backs of her hands and looks at me like I’m an apparition. I wish that were true. I’d happily disappear from this room and never come back.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says, reaching for a tissue.

“That makes two of us.”

She chuckles sadly, drying her face. She looks older than I remember. There are scars down her arms and one on the top of her forehead. I can only imagine the others on her back and stomach … and on her soul.

The worst scars are always hidden.

“How are you?” she asks softly. “Are you okay? You look great.”

I lick my lips and look at the ceiling as shame and guilt threaten to knock me off the damn bed.

It’s not fair that I’m here and looking great , when Liza is sitting in a rehab bed after her God knows how many surgeries and Caroline is in a wooden box six feet below the ground.

I’d love for someone to explain that bullshit.

“If it makes a difference, I want you to be great,” she whispers.

Hot liquid pools in the corners of my eyes and I blink as furiously as I can. I don’t risk looking at her. I don’t even try to speak. I stare at the wall like a fucking pussy and try not to cry.

“The accident wasn’t your fault, and I hope you know that, Gray. We had no business coming to Denver and you told us as much. But Caroline was too hardheaded to listen and …” Her shoulders rise and fall. “And God had another plan for my big sister.”

“Do you believe that?” I ask, pulling my gaze to hers.

“Do you believe she died because God had other plans for Caroline? Or do you think that the whole thing could’ve been avoided if I had driven my ass to the airport and picked the two of you up during a fucking snowstorm?

Because one of those things seems more plausible than the other. ”

She shifts in her bed, wincing at the movement. “So you’ve decided that you’re smarter than God now? That wasn’t on my Bingo card for this year.”

“Liza …” I sigh, standing up. I need some space—some air. The windows never open in these places, but I stand by it and stare across the courtyard. “I’m sorry.”

“For what, Gray?”

When I don’t answer her, she releases a breath that sounds like it’s been held in her chest since the accident. It’s long and cold, frustrated and angry—and ready to move on. I get that. That’s why I’m here, too.

If it weren’t for Astrid, I wouldn’t have had this conversation with Liza. I would’ve lived with the unknown and guilt for the rest of my life and been satisfied with the punishment. But Astrid makes me want more for myself so I can give it to her.

When I look into her beautiful green eyes and see the pain buried in them, I know I can help. I want to . Sometimes it feels like it’s my reason for being on this earth. But I can’t do that if this part of my life still feels like it’s seeping puss out of an infected wound.

“Will you clear up something for me?” she asks. “Not that it matters now, but it’s something that I’ve always wondered.”

I look over my shoulder at her.

“Were you and Caroline dating when we flew in that night?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

She plants both hands on the white blanket and stares at me. “It matters to me.”

“No,” I say, wandering around the room. “We’d broken up.

I’d broken up with her, to be exact. But you know Caroline—she’d fight tooth and nail to get what she wanted, and she claimed to want me.

” But that wasn’t true. Maybe at one point it was, but it wasn’t at the end.

“I told her not to come, and when she called from the airport, I sent her to voicemail. I had no idea you two flew in or that you were going to drive through a snowstorm to get to my house.”

Liza nods, as if she’s waiting for me to drop a bomb that she suspects is lurking behind the scenes. I look up at her, and our gazes connect. I don’t have to say anything.

Her face falls. “I knew it.”

“She was stealing money from me to buy her drugs,” I say, my voice hollow.

“And if I didn’t keep cash around and kept my cards on me, she’d pawn my shit.

She stole my teammate’s cash once when he came over to work out.

She was out of control.” And nearly ruined my career after rumors started swirling that I was an addict, too.

“Dear God.”

“I got her to go to a rehab. Remember that trip she took to Florida?”

“Yeah. I knew it.”

“I did everything I fucking could, Liza … except I didn’t tell you.

” Which just might be my greatest failure of all.

“When I finally broke up with her for good, I told her that I was going to call you. She promised me she was breaking the news to you because she was moving into your house. Was that a lie? Half the shit she said was a lie at the end. Was it easier to believe her?” I shrug. “Probably.”

She lifts her chin, tears clouding her eyes again. “And should I have trusted my intuition and prodded her about it? Absolutely. But I didn’t. Caroline was so good at making you believe things, and I fell for it.”

Yeah, I know. That’s how I fell for her.

“I should’ve handled things better,” I say, swallowing past a lump in my throat. “I could’ve helped her more. I could’ve answered that fucking call. But I was being selfish like I always am and?—”

“Don’t.” She glares at me. “Don’t act like you’re selfish, Gray Adler. How much money have you paid for my bed in this rehab center?”

I look away, the band wrapped around my chest threatening to snap.

“You say you’re selfish,” she says. “But you somehow found out that my insurance denied rehab after my first surgery, and you set up a blind trust, and paid for it anonymously. For two years .” She shakes her head in disbelief.

“I never could have afforded the care if it hadn’t been for you.

I might not have walked again, or fed myself, or brushed my teeth.

But you, Mr. Selfish, made that happen for me without wanting any credit for it. ”

She weeps again, tears forming streams down her cheeks. I cough, sniffling back emotions that I don’t want to handle right now.

I had no idea this would be her response. I was sure Liza hated me because of the accident. I came to see her in the hospital a week after the wreck, and she screamed at me to leave and never come back. So I didn’t. But maybe I should have.

“Why did you decide to come here and see me?” Liza asks.

I shove my hands in my pockets. “You asked me to, and I thought it was the least that I could do for you.” I pause, nibbling my bottom lip. “And I was hoping I could find some closure. I’m … I’m tired, Liza.”

I’m tired of fighting for myself. I’m tired of feeling so hollow, feeling so bound … yet so utterly alone.

She holds her arms wide, and I hesitate before sitting on her bed again and letting her hug me. The contact breaks me. I cover my face with my hand and cry quietly, relieved to have found some relief from the guilt that’s crushed me for so long.

I may never be able to get closure from my parents’ death, but it is easier to internalize.

If my father couldn’t make it, I sure as hell wouldn’t have done him any good.

I just would’ve died beside him. That might’ve saved Mom, but she would’ve never been okay again without Dad.

I know, in the deepest part of my heart, that Mom would’ve chosen to go out just like she did—in the middle of the night in Dad’s arms.

“I’m sorry,” I say, sniffling as I sit upright. Liza offers me a tissue, and I take it from her. “I feel like I let you and Caroline both down, and I’m sorry.”

She pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry for not talking to you about this before now. It wasn’t fair of me to let this pain fester in your soul for this long.”

“You were kind of busy getting your body screwed back together,” I say, grinning sheepishly.

“Hey, it should be fun going through a metal detector if I ever fly again. Can you imagine how that thing will light up?”

Her smile makes me chuckle—and it might be the first real, true, free laugh since the wreck.

“So tell me, what’s your life like?” she asks. “Do you have a wife? Children? I see you’re still quite the rugby star.”

I roll my eyes, making her laugh. “No kids, no wife. But there is a woman who I’m serious about, and that’s one of the reasons I came here, if I’m being honest with you.”

“Why?”

“I needed to be able to make peace with this. This woman, her name is Astrid, she deserves the best of me. And I think I stopped being the best of me the night Caroline died.”

It wasn’t just that Caroline died, but also because it created a Caroline-sized hole in Liza’s life … who also lost her dreams. And I haven’t been able to let go of that guilt. But I need to.

It’s time.

She leans back against her pillows, wincing. “From here on out, let’s make an agreement that we won’t assign blame for the accident. I’ll say it was God, and you can say it was snow or whatever makes you happy. But it wasn’t my fault, your fault, or her fault. Okay?”

“Okay,” I say, wobbling forward. It’s as if a weight has been pulled from my back suddenly, and I’m struggling to find my balance. A world without blaming myself for Caroline’s death— what kind of world will that be?

I grin softly. It’ll be a world with Astrid.

“You’ve given me my life back,” I say earnestly, searching Liza’s eyes. “I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“And you saved mine quite literally.”

I stand, a hundred pounds lighter, and smile down at Liza. “If you need anything, call me.”

“You are officially banned from helping me ever again,” she says, laughing. “Go take care of your woman. Send me a Christmas card, if you must, but that’s it.”

I turn toward the door with my chin tucked to my chest.

“Gray?”

My hand on the knob, I turn to Liza. She’s smiling at me.

“Thank you for coming,” she says. “I needed this as much as you.”

I nod, giving her a final look, and then slip out the door.