For Emery (For You Book 4) Read online

I grabbed a hat off my dresser and pulled it down low. I closed the door softly and crept downstairs. “Don’t leave her alone,” I ordered Abbott as I snuck out the back door and hopped the neighbor’s fence. Coach lived nearby, and the walk would probably serve me well.

  Within a few minutes, I stood on the sidewalk outside his house. A single light shined in his first-floor window. I knew he had a wife and son and didn’t want to wake them if I rang the doorbell. But if I wanted to play, I needed to talk to the man with the power to make that happen.

  I walked up the brick walkway and stopped on his front step. I listened for noise inside—a television maybe—but I heard nothing.

  I tapped on the door and waited.

  I glanced around at the quiet neighborhood. If I made it to the pros, would I live in a neighborhood like Coach’s or a quiet town like the one where I’d grown up?

  The door cracked open and Coach stood there in sweats. “Grady?”

  “I know it’s late, Coach, but I was hoping to speak to you.”

  He peeked over his shoulder, probably checking to see if I woke up his family. Then he turned back to me and motioned me inside.

  I stepped into his entry way as he closed the door behind us.

  “Have a seat,” he said, walking into a formal living room that looked like it’d never been used.

  I followed him and waited to see where he sat. When he sat in a winged-back chair, I sat on the sofa. The firm cushion beneath my ass did little to curb my nerves, but I knew being there was the right thing to do.

  “First, let me ask,” Coach began. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Then, let me ask, are you supposed to be talking to me?”

  “No. But I thought it was best you heard the truth from me.”

  He nodded and didn’t say anything else, which was my cue to begin.

  “You asked me why I missed those practices a couple weeks ago, and I told you someone close to me was in trouble. You took me at my word and I really appreciated that.”

  He nodded.

  “It was my girlfriend’s mother. She was attacked and left for dead.”

  “What?”

  “The man who did it was my girlfriend’s estranged stepfather. And he wasn’t caught. There’s a history of domestic violence with him, and I had a terrible feeling he’d be coming for my girlfriend next. And he did. He followed her to Alabama and broke into her dorm room. He was about to attack her when I showed up.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Coach said, leaning back in his chair and letting my story sink in.

  “The guy had the nerve to press charges against me.”

  Coach rang his hands in front of him, clearly thinking about the repercussions for my actions. “So, where do things stand now legally?”

  “My uncle’s working on a deal. I’ll know more this week. He’s also meeting with the director of athletics in the morning.”

  He nodded, seemingly knowing and understanding what that meant for my future on the football team. His ruling could be anything from community service to dismissal from the team.

  “Since the self-disclosure piece was taken away from me with everything being leaked to the media, I wanted you to at least understand what really went down and why.”

  Coach nodded. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course.”

  “If you knew it would ruin your chances at the pros, would you still have done it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Coach sat silently debating my response.

  I stood from the sofa, not wanting to take any more of his time. “Thanks for hearing me out, Coach.” I walked toward the front door.

  “Grady,” he called to me.

  I stopped and looked over my shoulder at him still seated in his chair.

  “For whatever it’s worth, I’ll talk to the director myself in the morning.”

  “Thank you.”

  “And Grady? You’ve come a long way this year as a player and human being. I don’t want you to think it’s gone unnoticed.”

  My lips twisted in deliberation. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”

  Coach chuckled as I turned and made my way outside his house.

  * * *

  Thoroughly exhausted after talking to Coach—scratch that—after every fucking thing that had gone down, I pulled off my shirt and shorts and stepped into the shower. Any remnant of blood still on me washed off, and pink water pooled at my feet. Once it had all been washed off, I dried off and walked to my room. I slipped inside quietly, so not to wake Em as I pulled on some boxers. I climbed into bed behind her, wrapping my arms around her small body and trying to lose myself in the familiar scent of her.

  “Jordan?” she whispered.

  “I’m here.”

  She twisted in my arms. “Are you okay?”

  I dropped my forehead to hers. “Are you seriously asking if I’m okay after what you’ve been through?”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I pulled her closer so I didn’t have to lie to her face. “I’m fine. My uncle’s working on it.”

  “I went to the police station. They said you’d been released.”

  “I’m sorry. We must’ve just missed you. And Cal confiscated my phone so I couldn’t call.”

  “Doesn’t matter. What’s gonna happen with football?”

  I said nothing partly because I had no clue what would happen behind closed doors.

  “Jordan? What’s gonna happen?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I won’t be able to live with myself if this is what ends your career.”

  “Em, up until this month, I had no idea a future in football even existed for me. If I lose that opportunity, it was never meant to be anyway.”

  “Jordan.” She pulled back so her eyes met mine. “This is me. Tell me it sucks. Tell me how angry you are. Tell me you blame me for coming back into your life.”

  “Em.” I leveled her with serious eyes. “I would do what I did again in a heartbeat if it meant protecting you.”

  “Well, I blame me.”

  I pulled her back into me, pressing my lips to the top of her head. “It will all work out,” I assured her, though I wondered if it was me I was really trying to convince.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Grady

  I sat on my parents’ sofa beside Emery, holding her hand tightly for support while my head hung low. Emery’s mom stayed in her room, giving us privacy as we waited for the news from my uncle. My parents sat on the love seat across the room making small talk with Emery, knowing nothing they could say to me would ease my nerves.

  “Jordan?” Cal called from the kitchen, having just walked in the side door.

  My head whipped up. “In here.”

  My uncle walked in, greeting all of us before sitting in the corner chair. He folded his hands in front of him and looked me in the eyes. “You’re not playing this weekend.”

  A cold shiver rolled up my spine.

  Emery’s squeezed me hand, trying to calm what she knew had to be escalating rage inside me.

  “When can I play?” I asked.

  “I’m still working on that,” he said.

  “Can I stand on the sideline?”

  He shook his head. “They don’t think it’s sending the right message to have you there so soon after being taken into custody.”

  “What does he need to do?” my father asked.

  “Stay out of trouble while I try to work things out on my side,” Cal said.

  I scoffed. “My record’s been clean to this point. I’m not gonna get in any trouble.”

  “Cal,” Emery said softly.

  We all looked to her.

  “Wayne is a suspected felon who broke into my room. Isn’t that breaking and entering? Has that even been discussed? Can’t you work that angle?”

  “Oddly, your dorm doesn’t have cameras on the floors. Only the front and back entrances.”

&
nbsp; “And?” she persisted.

  “And all they saw was someone holding the front door open for him when he presumably asked them to hold it.”

  “So, right there you have him trespassing,” Emery said. “He’s not a student. He doesn’t have an ID card to get in.”

  “People visit all the time,” my uncle countered.

  “He got inside my room,” she said, her voice rising. “Jordan didn’t go looking for a fight.”

  She was getting angry so I squeezed her hand gently.

  “I wish it were that easy,” my uncle said. “I’ve threatened them with every lawsuit under the sun. It’s about image. And they want to keep theirs clean. And send a message they don’t condone violence.”

  Emery’s body tensed.

  “It’s okay, Em.” I assured her, though I was mere seconds away from putting my fist through the nearest wall.

  “No, it’s not,” she said.

  I loved her for trying, but it wasn’t gonna get me back on the field.

  I had a feeling nothing was.

  * * *

  “You sure you don’t wanna come upstairs?” Emery asked once we arrived at her dorm after a silent ride from my parents’ house.

  “Yeah,” I said, my eyes averting hers. “My head’s pounding.”

  She reached over and rested her hand against my cheek. “You know you can talk to me.”

  I met her gaze. “There’s nothing to say.”

  The sadness in her eyes was impossible to miss, and I hated that I was adding to it. But I was fucking hurting. And trying to wear a brave face for her and everyone else was getting more difficult. I needed to get the hell out of there.

  “Tell me you’re gonna be okay,” she said.

  I cocked my head, unable to lie to her.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop apologizing,” I snapped.

  She winced and my stomach clenched.

  I needed to get out of there before I said anything else I regretted. “I gotta get home.”

  The pain in her eyes nearly leveled me as she grabbed hold of the door handle. “I’m here if you need me.” She pushed open the door and stepped out. From the sidewalk, she stared in at me. She wanted to say something. I could see it in her eyes.

  “Good night, Em,” I said, wanting her to stop talking and just go inside.

  She closed the door and walked to the entrance of her dorm. I knew I didn’t have to sit and wait for her to get safely inside since Wayne was in custody, but I did. And once she stepped inside, I pulled away from the curb and sped across campus. I tried to stay strong for her. I really fucking did. But I needed to breathe. And I needed to be alone while I did it.

  As soon as I got home, I headed to the basement. I tore off my shirt and spent the next two hours wailing on the punching bag hanging from the ceiling beam. The hardest, head-banging, rock music I could find reverberated off the cement walls around me, pulsing through my veins. Sweat dripped down my face. Red blotches covered my bare chest.

  I saw Wayne as I pounded away at the punching bag. I saw everyone I hated in this world. The athletic committee. The police who thought I was guilty. The media who made me look like a crazed lunatic.

  I saw fucking red.

  Emery

  I stood outside Jordan’s front door, my knuckles tentatively raised to it. He hadn’t called me the previous night. I hadn’t expected him to. But since he had no phone, and he hadn’t shown up to his morning classes, he left me no choice. He’d stalked me when I arrived on campus. I was returning the favor.

  I knocked on the door and rang the doorbell in case music played inside and he couldn’t hear me. I turned around, watching students hurrying to their afternoon classes as I waited. I understood why he wouldn’t want to attend his classes. I could only imagine the looks and whispers that would surround him. But what would he do at home? I worried the time alone would only hurt him more.

  The door swung open.

  I twisted around, disappointed to find Jordan’s roommate Abbott standing there and not Jordan. “Is he here?”

  Abbott didn’t make eye contact with me. “No.”

  I peeked around him inside the house. “Do you know where he is?”

  He shifted his hip, as if to block my view. “Nope.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?” I asked, peeking around his other side.

  He shifted his other hip. “Nope.”

  “Can I wait?”

  His eyes widened. “That’s not a good idea.”

  I crossed my arms and pegged him with my eyes. “Why not?”

  “Because…” His eyes lifted, as if searching for the next lie he intended to pull out of thin air. “I’ve got practice.”

  I cocked my head. “Do you think I’m gonna steal something?”

  “What? No, I just…”

  “Listen, I get that he doesn’t want to see me. But tell him I’ll be back. And when I return, he better be ready to talk to me.”

  Abbott tucked his guilty lips and said nothing.

  I spun away from him and headed back to my dorm knowing what I feared was true. Jordan did blame me.

  Grady

  My fists were numb, but I couldn’t stop. I needed this outlet. I needed to get the rage out, just as much as I needed the rock music pounding through my body. It helped the previous night. It needed to keep working or I had no idea what I’d do.

  The music switched off.

  The only thing I could hear was my panting and the thuds of my fists pounding against the dull leather.

  “Enough!”

  I stopped punching and turned to see Abbott coming down the basement steps. “What?”

  “Go take a shower. You’ve been down here long enough.”

  “You my mother now?”

  “This isn’t helping anything.”

  I grabbed a towel from a nearby stool and wiped my face. “Says who?”

  “Says the guy who doesn’t wanna see you break your fingers or wrist.”

  I swung the towel over my shoulder. “I’m fine. I just needed to get rid of some rage.”

  “Did you?”

  I dragged in a deep breath before shaking my head.

  “Why won’t you talk to Emery?”

  “I don’t want her seeing me like this.”

  “Dude. I’ve seen you a hundred times worse and I’m still here.”

  “Yeah, well. I got shit goin’ on in my head that I don’t want touching her.”

  “So, you’re pushing her away?”

  I glared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you don’t keep everyone at arm’s length by being a dick most of the time.”

  I scoffed. “Only most of the time?”

  He chuckled. “Less since she’s been around.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You need her, Grady. Hell, you need me. Don’t push us away when you need us the most.”

  Emery

  “Emery.”

  I lifted my hand to shield my eyes from the early morning sun. I was sitting on a bench outside a small café when Sabrina strode toward me. Her face wore the same concern as mine.

  “How is he?” she asked as she sat down beside me. “My calls keep going straight to voicemail.”

  “His uncle took his phone.”

  She nodded, now understanding why he hadn’t answered his phone.

  “If it helps, he’s not talking to me either.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  I lifted my shoulders.

  “Do you know what happened? Is he all right?”

  I found it difficult to hold her gaze. “He was protecting me from my stepfather.”

  “Oh my God. He found you?” Her eyes assessed me, as if looking for visible scars. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “So, Jordan told you about my past?”

  She cringed. “I haven’t told a soul. I promise. He just needed someone to talk to when you showed up o
n campus.”

  “It’s fine. I’m glad he had you to talk to.”

  “Yeah, but who does he have now if he’s shutting us out?” she asked.

  A silence passed between us.

  “The press is making it out to look like he’s a loose cannon who went looking for a fight,” she said.

  I closed my eyes for a long moment, unable to hide my regret. “I know.”

  “What about football?” she asked.

  I shook my head, wondering if this was the moment it would occur to her that I was the reason Jordan’s life had been turned upside down.

  “He must be devastated.”

  I nodded. “But I think I know how you can help.”

  * * *

  I awoke to a dark room. My phone vibrated on the nightstand beside my head. My heart raced as I reached over and grabbed it. The time read two o’clock and an unfamiliar number lit up the screen. I tapped on the screen and lifted the phone to my ear, whispering so not to wake Raquel. “Hello?”

  It was silent on the other end.

  A shiver rushed through me. “Hello?” I repeated.

  “Em?” Jordan said.

  I pulled in a sharp breath. “Jordan. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  Knowing better than to apologize to him yet again, I said the only thing I could in that moment. “I miss you.”

  Silence.

  Shit. “Did you need something?” I asked, treading carefully.

  There was a long pause before he spoke. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

  Pained by his words, I closed my eyes tightly. “You can call me any time.”

  Silence.

  I didn’t want to push him, but I needed him to know I was there for him. “Will I see you soon?”

  There was another long pause before he spoke. “Good night, Em.”

  Dammit.

  It took everything in me, but I willed back the tears that were ready to fall as I sat with the phone to my ear, knowing he’d hung up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Grady

  I told myself not to watch. I tried to stay distracted. But right at kick-off time, I switched on the game.

  I needed to see if we kicked the shit out of Louisville.

  With each passing minute, I moved closer toward the television as if I could actually reach through the screen and block for Flip who’d been sacked twice in the first half. I wanted to clear a path for our running back who found no way through Louisville’s defense.