Over Harrison’s shoulder, I saw Parker walk in. She looked amazing. Her blond hair was down and flowed around her shoulders. She was wearing jeans and a thin blue sweater. A jacket hung over her forearm, and she clutched her purse to her side to prevent it from hitting people. The place was packed and loud. When our eyes met across the restaurant, I felt something stir inside me. We didn’t know each other, but we weren’t strangers. We were friends waiting to happen. Maybe it was because she was the first girl who had literally made me forget about everything, or maybe it was because I wanted us to be something. Either way, I knew it wasn’t just me, because she gave me a small wave and kept eye contact before getting pulled in a different direction.

Chapter Twenty-two—The Troubled Quarterback

Present

“Can you come over?” Parker’s voice sounded shaky.

“Are you okay?” I stood out of panic and excused myself from the meeting. Maybe Grayson got hurt or maybe he hurt her.

She took a deep breath. “We’re fine, but we need your help.” It was almost eight at night. We were flying to San Francisco in two days.

“Sure, give me half an hour and I’ll be there.” I walked back into the team room. “Listen, I have an emergency and I have to leave. Are we good on everything?” Everyone nodded.

“Are you okay? Do you need any help?” Brandon’s face was etched in concern.

“I’m fine. I just need to…” I paused not really knowing what I needed to do. “I need to leave. I’ll see you all in the morning.” I tapped my leg and Crowbar jumped up. It was the fastest he’d moved all day. He probably felt my anxiety. I grabbed my bag and locked my office.

I was at their house in twenty-five minutes. I cracked the windows for Crowbar and told him to be a good boy and to wait in the car for me.

Parker opened the door. She’d been crying and I had to ignore the need to pull her into my arms. I was going to kill Grayson if he was responsible for it.

“Come on in. We’re in the living room.” Her voice lowered. “The girls are upstairs in bed.”

Grayson was sitting with his head in his hands. When he looked at me, I knew he had been crying, too. Ah, fuck. It would be a matter of time before I started. Crying was my weakness. I sat on the couch and watched as he rubbed his hands over his face several times. I was legit worried.