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“And make him rich,” Case noted. “That’s key info.”
It was true, but sometimes I wondered how he would enjoy the money. Other than Simeon and Marcus, he didn’t have any close friends. Gavin didn’t speak to anyone on a regular basis except for his agent and his business manager. I wondered what he would do after he retired, when he was a multimillionaire with a worn-out body and a cavernously empty house that he seemed to despise. Who would he share his life with?
“Man, you really do have it bad.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m just thinking.”
Case shot me a knowing glance. “Listen, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. If you think about it, most Americans spend about thirty-five percent of their lives with their coworkers. Those are the people you brainstorm with about common interests, commiserate with about stresses—half the time your coworkers understand you better than your family does. It’s not a shocker that workplace romances happen, man. Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“I know, but . . . it’s not just a coworker. It’s my boss.”
Case turned into the parking lot of a nearby deli. “Unless the trend you’re worried about is you trying to fuck your way to a raise, I don’t understand the guilty conscience. If it was me? I’d be worried about putting myself in a vulnerable position like that. People have a habit of using feelings against you once they know you have ’em. Trust me, buddy. I know.”
And of course . . . that was the risk. That’s what had happened to me at SafeZone. After I’d outed the director for sleeping with the very people he’d vowed to help, I’d been looked at as a jealous opportunist who’d been scorned before lashing out.
But Gavin wasn’t like Jamie Gallagher. He couldn’t be. After all the time we’d spent together in the past couple of months, there was no way Gavin could hide from me. I knew everything from the results of his last physical to the way he liked his coffee, and he was starting to know as much about me. He read me almost as well as Jasmine, and he seemed to genuinely give a damn about me. About my father. About anonymous kids wearing decades-old pads while getting slammed into the field.
He wasn’t like Jamie. He didn’t use people.
Case patted my knee. “You ready to eat? My ma thinks food is a cure for just about anything, so I’m gonna follow in her footsteps and stuff you full of Italian bread, cheese, and delicious meats.”
I forced a laugh. “Okay. Let’s eat.”
He hadn’t been lying about the food being delicious, but I didn’t really taste any of it. I picked at a chicken parm hero while wondering whether Gavin had holed up in a fucking hidden panic room just to stay away from me, and only half-assedly discussed the novel me and Case had been buddy reading.
After driving back, he gave me a big hug before letting me out of the car. He sped away just in time to miss the football that went careening at his back window.
I looked to the other side of the yard to see Gavin standing there sneering at the taillights. He didn’t give me a second look before turning and stalking towards the back of the house.
“Hey!”
Gavin didn’t pause. His long legs allowed him to disappear from view even as I jogged across the driveway and followed. He strode faster, walking through the line of trees to approach the deck and pool. I had to outright run in order to catch up, and even then, he only stopped because I grabbed his shoulder.
“Gavin, what the hell?”
He swung around, eyes blazing. I expected him to snarl at me, or to shout, but he just exhaled through his nose and, through gritted teeth, spat out, “What?”
“What is wrong with you?”
“No clue what you’re talking about.”
My jaw dropped. “No clue?” I jerked a thumb over my shoulder. “You threw a football at my friend’s car.”
“So?”
“So, what the fuck is your problem? You just go around throwing shit at people’s vehicles?”
“I was practicing,” he said flatly.
“Well, you better practice more because that throw sucked.”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed and flicked away, but he bit the inside of his cheek as if trying to hide a smile. He squinted over the deck and towards the beach with his arms crossed over his chest.
“What do you want, Noah?”
“I want to know what’s wrong with you.”
“I can’t leave this property until February, and I have anger problems.”
I threw up my hands. “Great. Now you’re just going to be a smartass.”
“I wasn’t going to be anything, but you brought your ass sprinting over here like the driveway was on fire.”
“Because you avoided me all morning and then tried to break Case’s rear windshield with your goddamn football.”
