Page 10 of The Other Side of Wild
Greyson: I’ll pick up lunch, and we can talk about the
Carnival if it makes you less nervous.
Hannah: I’m not nervous. I just don’t remember you asking.
Greyson: You were too busy checking me out in my suit. ??
Hannah: In your dreams, Dozer.
Greyson: Maybe. See you tomorrow, Han.
I should shut this down right here. I should tell him no, how awful of an idea this is. Here’s my line in the sand; don’t you dare cross it. I’m too close to my goal to get distracted now, even if said distraction is a handsome as hell hockey player. But I don’t because I need his help planning the carnival. I can do this; I can keep things professional. I’ve done it for years.
Since Kyle, I’ve kept all men at arm’s length, and up until this point, it’s been relatively easy. I work in sports, for crying out loud; most of the people I interact with are men, and none of them have had the effect on me that Greyson seems to have. Abby would ask me, “What do you have to lose, Hannah?” and the answer to that is complex.
One, I have a history of taking dynamite to good things that come my way, and two, I’m still responsible for reporting on him and the rest of the team this season. When you put those two together, it’s the perfect recipe for an atomic bomb to take out my entire life. A risk I’m unwilling to take at this point: laser focus, Han, laser focus.
Harley sits on the floor, watching me pace the length of my room. Her head follows me back and forth as if she’s following a ping-pong match; the movement makes me pause mid-stride. With a sigh, I sit on the floor, put my legs out in front of me, and cross them at my ankles; she saunters over in all her cuteness, puts her paws on top of one of my legs, and rests her head between them.
Her brown eyes meet mine, full of unconditional love, and my chest tightens. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this girl.
Rubbing my hand down her back, I recount the day to her as if she had any idea what I was saying. Sometimes, it helps me to decompress and process things. It mainly helps when the days are hard, but other times, like today, it helps me talk through my inner conflict. The never-ending cycle ofwantingto have friends and a family of my own one day, but the action that is required to have both of those things, I can’t do it.
I can’t let myself be vulnerable; I can’t let anyone in. Abby was the exception because I didn’t have a choice, we were thrown together at the height of it. Time and time again, I let myself shed a layer, and as soon as that layer hit the ground, people realized I wasn’t as put together as they thought, so they left.
And me, I was left reeling. Almost two decades of being told you’re not enough, only for it to be solidified every time glimpses of the real you come out. If that’s not enough to keep the mask firmly in place, I don’t know what is.
Chapter 6 – Greyson
Greyson: Abby, what’s Hannah’s favorite food?
Doc Knight: Steak and potatoes, but pizza or tacos work too. ??
Greyson: Noted for when I get her to agree to a date. Street tacos it is. Thanks. ??
Greyson: I need your address, too, please.
Doc Knight:
Right at 12:00 I knock on Hannah and Abby’s door. I’m greeted with the sweet sound of barking. I want a dog so badly, but with our insane travel schedule, it wouldn’t be fair. I always tell myself I could get my parents or Tate to watch them while I’m gone, but I get attached so easily I’d want to take him with me everywhere I went. I wonder if the girls will let me borrow theirs.
Hannah opens the door looking like a dream; the leggings and oversized shirt with her hair thrown up in a bun is something else. I don’t realize I’m staring until she breaks the trance I’m in. “Are you broken, Wilder?” Oh, shoot, busted. Again.
“Sorry, I brought tacos from my favorite taco truck. Are you hungry?” Before she can answer, a furry black and white blur runs past her, straight for the bag I’m holding. Its front paws hit my stomach as its cute little booper sniffs the bag.
“Harley, get down, young lady. That behavior is unbecoming.” I’m sure she meant to sound stern, but the smile on her face tells an entirely different story. The way love shines so bright in her eye when she looks at the cutest fur baby I’ve ever seen, suddenly I wish I was the dog.Wait. No.
“Hey, Harley girl, if Iknew you were here, I would have brought you something. But don’t worry, I’ll remember for next time.” I rub between her ears and then look up to see Hannah watching the whole interaction. Her bottom lip is pulled between her teeth, one hand on the back of her hip, and the other white-knuckling the door.
I smile and step inside the apartment, making my new bestie hop off me and run to the kitchen, where she knows the food is going. “Sorry about that, she usually doesn’t jump. She’ll just sit under your feet until you drop something.” She’s running her left hand up and down her right arm; her nervousness is endearing.
“It’s fine. I love dogs, so I don’t mind. Let’s eat, yeah?” She pulls out one of the bar stools for me, then walks around the island to grab a couple of paper plates and napkins.
“Do you want something to drink? We’ve got water, soda, or those electrolyte drinks.” Peeking around the edge of the fridge door, she smiles and hides half her face like she’s playing peek-a-boo.
“Water would be great. Thanks.” She blushes. I internally high-fived myself. I’m twenty-eight, and I feel like a middle school kid with his first crush. We eat in record time, she starts to take my trash, but I stop her. “Nope, just tell me where the trash is.” My mom would slap me in the back of the head if I let a woman clean after we ate. A rule of hers is, “Whoever cooks doesn’t clean.” And even though technically neither of us cooked, I’m going to stand by my decision because I’m a gentleman, obviously.
When we’re done cleaning up, we move to the living room, where they have a sweet setup. A light gray U-shaped couch sits in the middle of the room, with a coffee table in front of it and a decent-sized flat-screen TV up on the wall. She grabs her iPad, crosses her legs under her, and grabs the softest-looking blanket I’ve ever seen. She gets settled and then looks up at me.