You are a professional fucking football player, and I need you to act like it! Clearly, this woman is no good for you. You’re playing like shit.”
I blanch at his words, they cut more deeply than they should. All my anger seeps out of me, and I’m nodding as I let what he’s said settle into my bones.
You’re playing like shit.
And I know it’s true.
Ever since Skye and I hit a rocky patch, I’ve been off my game. I can feel myself nodding, I’m in my head, ignoring everyone around me. I can see Tom’s lips moving, I can see my teammates looking at me with disappointment, and when Coach Stevens walks into the room, it’s more than I can bear. I thrust my helmet into Tom’s hands, open my locker, slam it shut and stalk out.
When I hit the parking lot, I’m greeted with yells and disparaging comments. I don’t let anyone stop me. I get in my car and head for home. I need time to process what the fuck just happened, and I need to get myself right for the next game.
That’s all that matters.
SKYE
With Colt’s agent’s words ringing in my ears, I ran from the stadium. In my haste to get to my car, I fell and scraped my knee through my jeans and took the skin off both palms, but the pain of that is nothing compared to my shattered heart. The angry look on Colt’s face, and the fact he didn’t say anything to deny the comments, crushed me.
I have no idea how I have gotten home. The whole drive was done on autopilot.
When I pull into my driveway, I wake up as though I was in a trance. Stumbling out of the car and into my home, I close the door and lean against it. Glancing down at my jeans, my left leg feels wet, and the material has a darker patch there.
It’s then the physical pain begins to throb. Limping into the bathroom, I strip off, only leaving my underwear on and take stock of my injuries. The skin on my knee has been pulled back, and blood is running down my leg. With tentative fingers, I push the skin back down, wincing at the pain. I lean heavily on the vanity, waiting for the pain to subside a little. My phone begins to ring. It’s in my jeans pocket, so I bend over and pull it out, the number not being one I recognize, but I answer it anyway.
“Hello?” My voice sounds alien to me, husky and full of pain.
“Skye?”
“Yes,” I reply as more tears run down my face.
“Skye, it’s Grayson Moore.”
“Now is not a good time, Gray.”
“Where are you?”
I look at my hand and see I have something embedded in the heel of my palm. My voice comes out strangled as I think of a way to remove it. “I… I’m at h-home.”
“Okay, I’m nearly there.”
Absently, I wonder how he even knows where I live. I nod into the phone and realize he can’t see me. “It’s okay, Gray, y-you don’t have to c-come over.”
“Skye, I’m here. Come… open your door.”
“I, ahh… I can’t right now. But I don’t think I locked the door.”
I hear the front door open, then Gray yells out, “Skye?”
With my phone still to my ear, I say, “In here.”
I hear footsteps down the hall then into the bathroom. Gray’s eyes widen when he looks at me, and I feel my face flush as I look down and at my near nakedness.
Gray drops to his knees and looks at my knee, and without looking up, he asks, “Towels?”
“In the hall cupboard.”
Gray stands, takes my phone out of my hands, and goes out in the hall. I can hear him opening doors, and when he comes back, he has a facecloth and a towel in his hands. Moving past me, he wets the facecloth then goes back to kneeling. Somehow, he cleans the blood off my leg and dabs gently at my knee.
“Skye, I think we need to take you to a doctor. You have a laceration to your knee, and it looks deep. Did you fall?” I nod my head. “Okay, let’s get you to my car.”
I push off, place weight on my leg, and a loud yelp escapes me.
Gray reaches around me and wraps the towel around my waist. “I’m going to carry you.”
“Oh, n-no, Gray, can’t I just lean on you?”
“It’ll be quicker if I carry you, okay?”
I nod, and in one swift movement,