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“I don’t know if the guys here told you, but they’ve been looking for a property for the past three years. You must be someone special for them to bring you onto this project. They’re pretty tight-lipped about their plans for the future,” he says, still not letting my hand go.
As gracefully as I can, I pull my hand from his as I reply, “I don’t know about special, but I’m glad I’m here to see their dreams come to fruition.”
My hand falls to my side only to be taken by Grant’s. The gesture is strange and unexpected. As much as I want to look over to see what this is about, I force myself to act like this is normal. Mr. Kim takes a step back and waves us forward.
“Then let’s make dreams come true, shall we?”
* * *
“Fuck,Coach is going to kill me,” Grant mutters as he quickly unbuttons his shirt beside me in the back of the truck.
“We’re not going to be late. Not with Trip driving,” Jason assures him from the passenger seat.
As if to prove a point, Trip jerks the wheel hard as we turn. The shrieking of tires is loud as we round a corner. I grip the oh-shit handle and yelp.
“I should have had you drive, Jay,” Grant grumbles, taking off his shirt. “At least we’d make it there alive.”
I look away quickly. There’s no need for Grant to catch me staring so openly at him.
“I can’t believe you three just bought a million dollar piece of property and now you’re just going to go try to make a hole in one like nothing even happened. Can’t the second string take your place so you can celebrate?” I ask.
“A whole in one…” Trip shakes his head. “Don’t watch a lot of football, do you?”
“Did I say it wrong?”
Trip laughs as Grant sighs, exasperated.
“My father always makes an appearance at my games,” Grant says, grabbing the bag at his feet and pulling out a compression shirt and his jersey. “If I don’t show up, not only would Coach kick my ass for missing a game, but my dad will wonder what’s up and start poking around into my business.”
I frown. “He’d think you were hiding something because you didn’t show up to a game?”
“Grant is the prodigal son. If he messes up, Garry thinks it’s a slight against him and makes his displeasure known in uncomfortable ways,” Jason answers for Grant this time.
“Until I’m completely out from under him, I play by his rules and pretend to be what Garry wants me to be,” Grant confirms as he starts to shimmy off his pants. I tell myself that I’m definitely not getting hot and bothered by the guy changing beside me, even as I stare at his reflection in the glass.
The past few hours have felt like blur. I sat in relative silence as the guys and their lawyer and agent discussed the paperwork and signed things. From what little I know of them, I know this moment was monumental for them. Yet, here they are, unable to appreciate that they’ve just taken another step forward in their plot for revenge against Garry Gipson.
When Grant is done changing into his pants, I turn and smile. “When your game is over tonight, we’ll celebrate then.”
Grant flashes me an unexpected grin. “Yeah?”
My heart flutters at the excitement on his face. I nod. “Yeah.”
Trip pulls up in front of the athletic center and slams on the brakes. We all fling forward, making various noises of distress.
“Sorry, guys.” The apology that falls from Trip’s lips doesn’t feel all that sincere.
“Good luck!” I call after Grant who opens the back door. He pauses to look back at me. A lopsided grin stretches across his face.
“I don’t need it.”
With that, the door slams shut, and he trots toward the entrance of the field with his duffle bag over his shoulder.
“Alright, Dad texted. He needs me to run by the shop to check something for him while he’s resting up. Mind if I stop there before we head back to the house?”
“Not at all. I haven’t seen Carlos in a while. I want to say hi,” Jason says. “How’re the chemo treatments?”
I blink in surprise. “He’s already being treated? That was quick.”
