Page 185 of On the Breakaway

“Avery,” Wesley starts, moving beside Harper. “You’ve said he’s an asshole for months. Why do you care if he gets knocked around?”

Horror crosses Harper’s face. “Please don’t tell us you got back together with him.”

My stomach turns over at just the thought. “Fuck no.” But when I search for more to say, I come up empty.

My hands twitch at my side, my entire body thrumming with energy that I’m desperate to expel.

To run. To scream. To do anything to get everything to fucking quiet down.

“If you’re not back together with him, then why are you acting like this?” Harper’s voice takes on the soft, soothing tone she always manages to bring out when I’m losing it.

“I, um, I–” My eyes dart to Katie, and I freeze again.

I’m not ready to explain to them. I’m not ready to tell them about Grayson.

I had been. Sitting with Katie in the stands while she called me out for being scared, I found myself feeling ready, but now, I can’t see past this.

My hand combs through my hair. “It’s not a big deal.”

Lie.

Because it feels like a huge deal.

Because somewhere along the way, I’d started believing that if Grayson Shaw promised me something, I could trust it.

And now I don’t know what to do with the fact that maybe I can’t.

I barely survived Damon; there’s no way I could survive things not working out with Grayson if we commit to it.

“God, Avery, just talk to us. Please.” Wesley’s eyes are searching my face for answers I don’t have.

The locker room door slams open before I can respond, the sound echoing through the hallway.

Every head turns, including mine.

Grayson storms out, still wearing half his uniform.

Every single thought in my head disappears.

He sees me, and his eyes shift from panic to relief. His feet shift direction, bringing him straight for me.

“Avery.” His voice is laced with an apology he doesn’t even have to speak for me to hear.

Sloane cuts in. “Gray, it’s not really a good time.”

She may as well not have even spoken because Grayson ignores her entirely, and my eyes stay focused on him.

“Avery, baby, are you okay?”

My heart pounds harder as I take him in.

Grayson Shaw, the man who makes me breakfast and falls asleep holding me, looks completely wrecked. It makes me want to run to him and wrap my arms around his neck, pretending none of this happened.

But then I really look at him. There’s a bruise already blooming across his jaw and an angry red scrape across his cheek. And my head twists it until he doesn’t look like my Grayson at all.

He looks like a version of himself that I hadn’t realized existed.

It’s in the half-second that I step back, right as he tries reaching for me. The movement happens on autopilot, my body making the decision for me. My heart cracks wide open as his face crumbles.