Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)
Chapter 57

Bring it On

I stay at the bakery until it closes, and then I stay a little longer.

If I head home now, I’m just going home to the empty house I used to share with Kelly. And it’s not just that.

I’m not okay.

I know telling him no was the right thing to do. I know walking away is what’s best for my heart. These are the things my brain keeps telling me.

My heart, however, is on a different page entirely. My heart thinks it’s all wrong, and today I’m sitting in that weird place of conflicting thoughts and feelings.

I hate it. I hate all of this, and I wish I’d never met him.

Sure, if I’d never met him, I would’ve missed out on the good stuff, but it was so short-lived that it feels like a blip in time that I’ll never get back again. Dwelling on it isn’t helping, so I throw myself into baking.

Only…it’s not helping the way it traditionally has.

I’m not just sad. I’m heartbroken. But I had to walk away. I had to do it on my own terms. I had to let him know that I won’t go back to how things were. I will wait to get everything I deserve, just like I told him I would.

When I get home, the kitchen light is on.

I didn’t leave the kitchen light on when I left this morning. In fact, I made sure I turned it off when I left, and since it was dark outside at the time, I nearly tripped over a chair on my way to the garage, and I had to turn on the flashlight on my phone to see where I was going.

Someone was in here, and when I spot a rather large sum of cash on the counter along with a note…well, I know who it was.

I read the note.

Ava-

I used the key you once gave me. Hope that’s okay. I want to be what you deserve, and you deserve not to be stressed out by mistakes of the past any longer.

-G

Stressed out by the mistakes of my past? What the hell is he even talking about?

I count the hundred-dollar bills on the counter.

There are one hundred of them.

That’s ten thousand dollars in cash just sitting out on my kitchen counter.

What mistake from my past is worth ten grand?

As soon as the thought registers in my brain, I run to my closet.

“Holy shit,” I whisper as I take in the now-empty shelves. I run my hand along the middle shelf. It’s all gone, and in its place is the cash I wish I would’ve held onto in the first place.

I never used the products. I didn’t like the way they smelled, and having to sell them made me realize how very much I am not cut out for direct sales.

Yet I was dumb enough to purchase ten grand worth of products with the promise of bonuses and vacations and even a car.

I didn’t get any of them. Not a single one. They made it seem so easy when I sold out of my welcome pack right away, but once people realized how cheap the products actually were, I had little chance at success.

I have no idea how he offloaded all that stuff, but I feel very grateful.

I think about sending a text of gratitude, but a phone call feels more personal and genuine.

“Hey, Cookie,” he answers. His voice is warm and rich in my ear.

“Thank you for what you did,” I say softly.

“You’re welcome.”

“How’d you do it?” I can’t help but ask the question.

“I looked up local independent consultants, picked one who seemed like she had a lot of interaction on her Instagram page, and sold it to her.”

My brows rise.

That’s actually…a lot of work. Plus, he hauled it all out of here, and there were nearly seven hundred products in there.

Today was his one day off. He spent it making sure I knew that he was trying to prove he had changed.

And he did.

“That was really sweet, Grayson. I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank you.”

“You don’t need to do anything. But I wouldn’t be opposed to, you know, having you come over so we can make up and put all this to rest.”

I blow out a breath. “As tempting as that is…I told you. I can’t run back and risk being hurt again. This time was hard enough, and I can’t put myself through that again. Not when you so strongly believe we’re doomed from the start, and not when my feelings for you run so deep.”

He clears his throat, and I’m ready for the protest.

I don’t get it.

“Okay. I understand.”

“You do?” I ask, clear awe in my tone.

He chuckles. “Yes. If you’re not ready to take me back, then that means I still have work to do.”

“So, what…you’re just going to badger me until I relent?” My own tone sounds frustrated.

“No, babe. I’m going to keep showing you how sorry I am that I ran out on you. I’m going to show you that I don’t believe we’re going to fail. I believe in you, and us, and even myself. And I’m going to figure out how to prove that to you.”

I’m quiet a beat as I try to process that. This is him fighting for me, but I’ve already made up my mind.

I can’t do this. I can’t tiptoe through life as I wait for him to decide he’s done.

I’m not sure what would be enough to prove that he won’t run scared again.

But if he wants to keep trying…well, then bring it on.

And he does bring it on. When I get home from the bakery the next evening, there’s a box on the kitchen counter in the same spot where the cash—which I deposited into my account today—was sitting yesterday.

Inside is an envelope sitting on top of a Vegas Aces jersey.

I pull it out of the box and turn it around. Nash 24.

I open the envelope and replace two tickets to the preseason game this weekend, along with another note.

Ava-

Looking for plans this Sunday? Come hang at the stadium and cheer on your local pro football team. Seeing you in the stands wearing my number would mean everything to me.

-G

Oh, I’ll go to the game, all right. But wearing his jersey?

I don’t think so.

I’m tempted to wear Austin’s just to grate on Grayson’s nerves and see what he does.

I’d never actually do that.

Instead, I invite Cora to attend the game with me, and I wear a black Vegas Aces T-shirt paired with jeans.

I didn’t bother looking at where our seats were located until I got to the stadium.

As it turns out, section one-thirty-five is immediately behind the Aces’ bench, and row one is, well, the first row.

The team is out on the field doing warm-ups when we arrive, and Grayson spots us and jogs over as we take our seats.

“You showed up,” he says.

“Free tickets to a game,” I say a little flippantly.

He grins. “I knew you wouldn’t wear the jersey.” He runs over to the bench and grabs something before he runs back to me. “It’s why I have this spare one waiting on the bench—just in case you forgot it.”

I roll my eyes despite a small giggle, and he winks at me before he races off to finish his warm-ups.

I slip the jersey on, and it’s a perfect fit. He replaces me from where he is on the field, and he glances down at my shirt. He nods approvingly, and I just smile and shake my head.

“What’s going on with you two?” Cora asks me. “And can I get in on some of that…but maybe from a different player since Nash twenty-four is obviously into you?”

I have to admit, there is something special about being here. And Grayson really is trying. He called me every day this week when he got home from practice, and he’s really putting in the effort.

Seeing him on that field…well. It does things to me.

He’s a man in uniform, though not in the traditional sense, and those tight white pants are really something else.

He looks so…tough. I’ve never really paid much attention to the game before, but I replace that when he’s on the field, I can’t take my eyes off him. And when he’s on the sidelines…well, I can’t take my eyes off him.

Except when we get nachos. Then I can’t take my eyes off my nachos.

I miss a play when I’m digging in for more cheese, and when I look up, Grayson seems angry as he stalks toward the bench.

“What happened?” I ask, my mouth full of chip.

“Nash missed a block,” the guy to my left tells me.

Oh. Sounds bad—whatever that means.

I have a beer, which isn’t my favorite drink but seems to go down well here at the game. The atmosphere is positively electric. The Aces are winning by the end of the first quarter, and most of the starters are benched when the second quarter begins. I need to remember to ask him why that is.

He runs right by me before the players run into the locker room at halftime, and he stops. “Are you having a good time?”

He’s so sweet, so sincere, as he wants to make sure I’m enjoying myself.

I give him the honest truth. “I’m having a blast.” And watching him do his thing is nothing short of absolutely incredible.

He grins before he follows his teammates to the locker room, and Cora and I head up to grab another beer.

I like Cora—she’s fun to work with, and she was game to come here with me today—but I miss Kelly. Cora is definitely not a Kelly replacement, and I’m sad that I’m not here at this game with my best friend as we cheer on our men.

I mean…as I cheer for Grayson and she cheers for Austin.

Neither of which is either of our men.

Still, the mistake was made in my own brain, and I’m starting to wonder what I’m missing out on by pushing him away.

It’s been just under a week, but so far, he hasn’t shown any signs of slowing down. At what point is taking the front-row tickets and the cash overstepping some imaginary line?

I can’t quite be sure…but I’m tossed into a weird state of confusion as I fight against my feelings.

Has he changed?

And if he has…am I willing to take him back?

I’ve told him no.

But I’m not really quite so sure anymore because when things were good, things were good.

And I’m starting to think I want to get back to that place again.