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Turning around, I walked back into the resort and across the lobby in a fog. I didn’t see the people around me. Wasn’t even sure how I got to my floor when I stepped out of the elevator.

I just knew that I needed to get into my room, needed to be alone.

My hands were shaky and it took a couple of tries to slide the keycard into the reader, but when the light turned green and the door unlocked, I stumbled inside with a rough exhale. Only, I stalled out as the door closed behind me, standing just inside and looking around at the space without knowing what to do with myself.

How was I supposed to handle the pain bleeding into me? I’d been driven to get away, to retreat here so I could be alone, but now what was I to do?

My thoughts were hazy, my mind replaying Greyson’s words like a cruel soundtrack over and over again. And I felt lost, like I’d just had something vital ripped away from me, and I couldn’t cope with the loss.

Then, my gaze landed on the telescope still sitting on the balcony. That’s when everything became clear again, and I burst into tears.

Chapter Sixteen: Greyson

Icouldn’t sleep.

Staring up at the fan on the ceiling, I let out a long breath and tried to quiet my mind, but it was impossible. I kept thinking about what I said to Christine, my stomach in a knot over the way I talked about Heather.

I tried to tell myself that it didn’t matter because she’d never know, but it didn’t help. Because I knew. It tore me up because I respected the hell out of Heather. But that bullshit I spewed about her not mattering was the opposite of respect. I’d been dismissive and insulting.

I had a reputation for being an asshole in the NFL, but it was because I expected the best from my players. Demanded it, even. And if I had to get tough to make it happen, then I did.

But I obviously didn’t hold myself to the same standard today.

Heather deserved better. Not just a man who wouldn’t say horrid shit behind her back. She deserved a man that valued her. I hadn’t been doing that because I was too busy fighting myself every step of the way, too afraid of repeating past relationship mistakes to realize that what I had with Heather was too special to let go.

I wanted more than one week on this island, more than a vacation fling. And she needed to know that.

I wanted to go to her room right now and tell her, but Christine was asleep on the pullout couch in the next room, and I wasn’t going to leave her alone in my bungalow tonight. The conversation with Heather should happen in person, so it would have to wait until tomorrow.

Grabbing my phone, I pulled up her number—which she gave me last night after we looked at the stars together—and sent her a text.

Greyson: Party over? You back in your room?

It was late now, after midnight, she told me the party would probably end early, but I wanted to check on her. To make sure she was okay.

I waited for a while, still staring at the fan and feeling guilty as hell, but my phone never chimed with a text. She didn’t respond.

I sent another.

Greyson: Hope you’re already asleep. Text me as soon as you wake up.

Feeling only slightly better now that I’d reached out to her some small way, I turned onto my side and closed my eyes. Just before I finally dozed off, I placed a hand on the empty space next to me and wished that Heather was there.

I awoke to the smell of coffee and Audrey’s husky voice in the next room.

Maybe taking this vacation together was a bad idea. I didn’t hate the woman, but we didn’t spend time together since the divorce, and it was strange to have her around so much. Even with separate bungalows, we’d been around each other more than I’d like this week.

Once I was dressed, I found her and Christine in the kitchen. They were eating pastries at the island, and I couldn’t help thinking about standing there with Heather just yesterday. She had a beautiful, post-sex glow about her, and the memory made me ache for her.

Fuck, I had it bad. It was as if finally embracing my feelings for her opened the floodgates. Every possessive instinct I tried to suppress was pushing to the surface and making me crazy for her.

“Good morning,” Audrey said in a sing-song voice that she used all the time when we were married. It annoyed the hell out of me, and she knew it but thought it was funny.

I just grunted in response and headed for the coffee pot.

“So grumpy in the mornings,” Audrey said, and I didn’t have to turn back to her to know that she was sharing an exasperated look with Christine.

“Why are you here?” I asked once I’d had my first sip of coffee.