Page 137 of Just for the Cameras
“Graydon,” she says softly as we reach the door to the training facility.
My eyes squeeze shut, my anxiety ramping up once more. I can’t tell her.
I won’t.
I just need to get out on the field. Get out my aggression. Get lost.
She walks under my outstretched arm that’s holding the door open, but instead of moving forward, she pauses at the door.
“Graydon.” She tugs on my shirt as I try to move by her.
No, Maple. Please.
“Don’t, Maple.” I walk down the hall with one thing on my mind.Get the hell away from her.Not because I don’t want to be around her, but because I fear what I might do if I’m near her.
I’m a ticking time bomb, wrapped up in an explosive ball of anger and anxiety, and with one wrong move, I’m bound to explode.
“Wait, Graydon.” She tugs on my arm and moves in front of me. “What is going on? Why…why aren’t you talking to me?”
“Maple…” I growl, running my hand over my face. “Just…leave me alone.”
“If this is about this past weekend—”
My eyes snap to hers, my heart stuttering in my chest. This past weekend?
What the fuck did she hear?
The care facility has a strict NDA, but that doesn’t mean some opportunist looking to earn some extra money didn’t take the opening to bring the news about my mom to the media.
My skin prickles with fear as I stare down at her, waiting for her to continue.
“I didn’t…I, um…I didn’t want to make you upset. I was just, I don’t know, you seemed open to it, and if I crossed a boundary, I’m sorry.”
My jaw clenches, my fists opening and closing at my sides, my stomach so fucking nauseous from the onslaught of emotion that I actually feel like I might throw up.
“Sorry?”
“Yes, sorry. Just…let me in and accept my apology so—”
“I told you to stay out of my fucking business,” I snarl, and her eyes widen.
“What?” Her head shakes as she takes a step back. “I didn’t, I mean, I did. I…I just wanted to see if you’re okay. I thought you were mad at me from our texts.”
Our texts?
Fuck, does she not know about yesterday? She doesn’t know about my mom?
What about our texts? I can’t even fucking remember what we texted each other.
Concern laces her expression as her hand presses against my chest, but I push her away because this is all too overstimulating and overwhelming.
And too damn much for my mental state.
“Don’t touch me.”
My mind keeps flashing back to my mom.
The look.
