Winning

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NESSA

Grayson seemed confused by my outburst, which only served to raise my blood pressure a few more notches. My breaths were coming in quick puffs of air, and I had to work to slow them down. Even them out.

In. Out. In. Out.

I knew this man would be the death of me, but I didn't think this would be how I went out.

Death by worrying about the stubborn ass that is Grayson Wilder Everett.

"I didn't think you would be playing this year," I said when I felt like I could speak without screaming.

The crease between his eyes deepened.

"Why wouldn't I?"

I stared at him. He had to be fucking with me. Right?

"You had a stroke, remember? For crying out loud, you had heart surgery a few months ago."

Grayson swallowed and leaned forward onto the table. "Nessa...I know that was scary, but I promise I'm fine."

Scary? What happened to Grayson this spring wasn't scary. It was downright terrifying. It was heartbreaking. It sucked up a bit of my soul that I wasn't sure I would ever get back.

"You told me yourself that you have to keep a close eye on your blood pressure," I argued. "I don't think that sprinting across a football field and getting tackled is a great way to combat that."

He grinned crookedly. "I think we've more than tested my physical endurance throughout the last few weeks, don't you? I didn't see you worrying then."

When all I did was stare blankly at him, his smile faded. He wasn't going to charm his way out of this one. A few rounds of hot sex didn't compare to the physicality required of a Division 1 athlete.

Grayson sighed. "Listen, Adler. I'm good at listening to my body. I'm really good at it. I've been doing this for years, and—"

"If you're so good at it, then how did you end up in a coma, Grayson?"

"Because—fuck." He raked a hand through his hair, his agitation growing. But hell, so was mine. After a frustrated growl, though, Grayson tried again, his voice low. "Because even though I felt the warning signs, I had more important things on my mind, okay? One thing, in particular. And it had nothing to do with football."

"No, it's not okay," I hissed. "What could possibly be more important than your heart Grayson?"

It was Grayson's turn to stare at me, unmoving. His eyes leaked pain. And that pain slowly seeped into me as I realized.

Music hummed in the background. Madie laughed. Machines whirred. The trickle of slow-drip coffee. Footsteps passed our table.

Grayson was silent.

"What could be more important than your heart, Grayson?" I repeated, softer this time. Just a murmur of words that I knew he heard.

Clearing his throat, he looked down. A quick shake of his head. "Forget about it, Nessa."

Impossible. Never.

"Answer the question."

"I won't." He shook his head faster now. Like he could shake away the question. "I won't answer it."

I gritted my teeth. I needed him to tell me that he wasn't saying what I thought he was saying. Because if he was...

"Answer the goddamn question."

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