I must have mowed the lawn three times a week that summer. Fixed our walkway. Cleaned the garage. Any excuse to be outside hoping I'd catch a glimpse of Grey for whatever reason. When school finally started that year, I realized that seeing her every day was the hard part. She ate lunch in her office, and immediately left after school hours. When we'd have our staff meetings, she wouldn't even look at me. Month after month, I'd watch her try and cover up bruises, or walk with some new limp. I couldn't even go to the police outside of our town because there's no telling how many departments were eating out of Blythe's hand.

"You're usually a lot more vocal," Karen comments, buttoning up her blouse.

I sit up from her bed, then start to put my boots on.

"Okay, so… I'll see you next week?"

"Yeah."

"If you ever want to talk I'm always-"

I slam Karen's bedroom door behind me. New year, same fucking shit. Who fucking knows where Lucille is. She said she was taking a plane to Boston to be with her sister while her sister had the baby. I believed it. It turned out to be true, only Lucille's sister called the house Sunday to tell us she had a girl. I covered up for Lucille, said she was sick, but it's been messing with me. Thank Christ baseball season is just a few weeks away.


It's the last goddamn day of winter and one of these little fuckers decide it would be funny to pull the fire alarm. I'm freezing my dick off, and it doesn't look like we're going inside any time soon. My eyes shift to my right. Grey is so close to me, we can practically touch. There are so many things I want to tell her, but the kids are in front of us.

The tips of Grey's ice cold fingers brush against mine briefly until they lock around mine.

I always knew she pushed me away because of Blythe, but now I have my confirmation. Maybe it's fucking stupid to be this wound up over a woman I've only had a few conversations with. I squeeze her small hand a little tighter. We don't make eye contact, or even speak, but these few minutes really help put things into perspective. I'm waiting for the moment we're forced to let go because one of the kids turn around, but they're pretty occupied on their stupid phones. I think they call it wording. No, wait, that ain't fucking right. Texting. Yeah. That's what it is. I find the whole thing asinine. It takes too goddamn long to punch the buttons when you could call the person and tell them what you want. It's the dumbest thing I've ever seen because these kids are texting the person right beside them. Right be-fucking-side them. Lucille's pretty savvy with that shit. I just see it as another bill. We already have a home phone.

Grey releases my hand when one of the kids turn around.

"Can we go home?"

"No," I bark at the kid a little more hostile than I should. Grey and I never do get the chance to hold hands again. It's just too fucking chaotic, and before I know it, we're herding the kids back inside. As much as I want to go see her after school, I just go straight home. It's a good thing, too, because Blythe was in the parking lot when I left. I get another surprise that day. A table full of food. Real food. None of that cardboard shit. Lucille is all over me, too.

"Your food is cold now."

"Worth it." I give her a lazy grin.

"I need to tell you something."

"It can't wait until after dinner?"

"No."

I sigh, and set back down my fork. "Well? Let's have whatever's about to ruin my dinner."

"I didn't really go to my sisters."

I don't ask her where she went, and she's not willing to be any more forthcoming on her whereabouts. "She called on Sunday. Had a little girl."

"Why did you go along with my lie when I got back?"

"Because I really don't want to know what my wife spent her entire weekend doing that was so secretive, she had to make up some bullshit to cover her tracks." I'm not even fucking hungry anymore, and you know that's a bad sign when I don't want food. Instead, I go for a ride on my bike. I don't get back until after midnight. She's nowhere to be found. I end up spending the night with Karen.


"Wanna go to the Orioles game with me tomorrow night? My treat."

I let out a breathed laugh, zipping up my pants. "Karen, you hate baseball. You said the only reason you even go to the away games is to fuck me."

"You just seem down, and not that I'm complaining, but you've been over here almost every night."

"You said it best. Unfaithful this month."

"Whatever, you know what I mean. Is Lucille seeing her ex again?"

"How the fuck do you know that?"

"I, uh," she reddens, "I overheard you on the phone with her one time."

Goddammit, I knew I shouldn't have taken that phone call at work. "Karen, keep your mouth shut. I don't need the whole town knowing my business."

"I won't say anything. I kept you and Grey a secret all this time. Saw her go in your room that night at the away game. That's why you didn't want to mess around, wasn't it?"

"There's nothing going on between Grey and me."

"You'd like there to be though. I caught you two holding hands the other day."

"I don't want to talk about Grey."

"Most women wouldn't be okay with being the distraction, but I would do just about anything for you." Karen tears up and looks away from me.

"Karen, you don't even know me."

"I know you're a role model to the kids. I guess you don't realize how important you are to this town. That's why I haven't said anything about Lucille. I think people would be pretty upset if they knew your marriage was just for show."

"My marriage isn't for show. We're just having a rough patch." I should have fucking taken her up on that offer to go see the game. At least, she wouldn't be able to talk over all the noise then. "Why are you crying?!"

"I just told you I loved you and you didn't say anything."

"No you didn't!"

"It was implied, asshole!"

"I'm not a goddamn mind reader."

"That's all you have to fucking say?"

"Of course it is! We fuck, I leave. Jesus Christ, pull it together."

"What would Lucille say about Grey?"

"Are you threatening me?"

"N-no," she cowers. "Wait, don't leave, please. I'm sorry!"

I'm not going to be blackmailed and write her off completely. What the fuck is wrong with all of the women in my life?

...

"Are you going to sit here on your bike all night?"

I shrug my shoulders.

Lucille sets her hand on mine.

I take her hand, brushing my finger over her disappointing wedding ring.

"Do you remember the day you gave it to me?"

"I didn't even get the proposal right."

"It was horrible," she laughs.

I'm anything but amused.

She braces my cheek.

"Let's leave. Tonight, Lulu."

"What? Where would we go?"

"Wherever we want. It'd be like the old days. No responsibilities."

"We can't walk away from our responsibilities."

"Why not?"

"What about your job?"

"Forget it," I murmur, moving my foot down on the kickstand. I'm not hungry, but I search the fridge anyway.

She closes the fridge door, then leans against it. "If that's what you really want, I'll go."

The corner of my lip tugs upward. I don't really want to leave. Guess I just wanted to know that she can still have the ability to surprise me.

"I got you something. I know your birthday is tomorrow, but I can't wait," she says, taking a box off the table. "Here."

I don't even get the lid off before she takes it upon herself to remove it. "Wow." I pull the leather jacket from the box. "Is.. is this where you went that weekend?"

"Yep," she beams.

"I can't believe you drove five-hundred miles for a fucking jacket," I laugh.

"I guess it is kind of stupid, but the store wouldn't ship it, and you know how hard it is to find clothes in your size. I know you think I was with him, but I wasn't. Anyways, put it on!"

She can still surprise me.


I had more fun with Lucille last night than any other time I can remember. I'm excited to see what she's made me for my birthday breakfast. I freeze before I step into the kitchen.

"You can't call here! What if he answers?"

My stomach sinks.

"Today? No, it's his birthday."

I start to walk out the front door, but listen back in on the conversation.

"If you're going to make me choose, it's him."

It honestly comes as a shock to me.

"Okay, just for an hour tonight."

I slam the door so fucking hard, the small half circle window cracks. Another shitty birthday. I don't even know why I act surprised by it.

...

Despite this morning, the afternoon makes up for it. My new shortstop has a fucking cannon on him.

He launches the ball across the field to first base.

"Fuck yeah," I clap.

"Kid's got a cannon on him," my assistant coach comments.

"No, shit. Bring it in," I shout. "What's your name?"

"M- Mills."

"Mills is our ticket to another perfect season, boys."

He seems embarrassed by the praises from the others. The kid better fucking get used to it because he's going to make a career out of it. Damn, if one of my students did make it, maybe it would help my chances of coaching for the Red Sox. Lucille would love to move back to Boston. I wouldn't mind living in the city then. Shit, I'm getting way ahead of myself. "Showers," I tell them.

...

I set down my playbook on the desk next to a piece of cheesecake sandwiched between two cookies. Grey. I drop my ring in the desk drawer. When I look over my shoulder, she's leaning against the door holding two spoons.

"Happy Birthday, Coach."

It's so fucking good to hear her voice, and it isn't because of the accent. "I'm not sharing."

"I deserve that."

"Have a seat, jerk." I join her on the couch.

"Late nights?"

She has no idea how many teachers I've fucked on this leather couch. I brush off her question. "Blythe is probably expecting you home soon."

"He's out of town."

"Police business?"

"Vegas bachelor party."

Negan, don't fuck this up with your trap. "I miss you." Or you could be a complete fucking pussy! What's wrong with you, man? "I didn't mean-" My eyes lower to her hand on my knee.

"I'm sorry for shutting you out."

"I understand why you put a distance between us."

"No you don't. I can't stay long. Blythe has one of the other officers watching me."

I reach for the plate on my desk.

Her worry somewhat dissolves and she laughs.

We fight over the last bite. I win.

"I bought you this. I'm sorry I can't stay." She sets the gift in place of her hand on my knee.

"Isn't there any way you could sneak out without them knowing?" I feel like a teenager again.

"He'll check with the alarm company to see if the door has been open."

I reach for her small hand. "I have thought about you every fucking day."

She tries to tug her hand from me.

"Don't I get a birthday wish?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"He's two-thousand miles away."

She gives the door a nervous glance. "The window above the back porch doesn't have a sensor. Wait until the shift change at 6." Her slate eyes lock with mine. A rarity. She gives me a weak smile before hurrying out.

I open the gift she's given me. It's the Legend movie we watched. Goddammit.
...

My leg frantically bounces up and down as I watch the minutes tick by. I do exactly like she instructed, and by some divine miracle, keep from falling to my death. The window opens up, and I'm almost too big to fit through it but manage.

She's in disbelief that I've pulled it off.

I'm in disbelief.

"Five minutes."

"All this for five minutes?" I would have done it for one.

"I'm scared Blythe will find out."

"You let me fucking deal with him."

"You can't fight your way out of this. There is no stopping him, and if you get caught up in this, I'll never forgive myself."

I feel so fucking lost. This is fucking crazy the lengths I'm willing to go through. "Did you ask me to come tonight because you wanted to fuck me?"

The alarm chimes on the front door. "Grey, it's Frank. Blythe is on the phone for you."

"Hide," she mouths, shoving me in the closet.

I can't make out what he says to her, and then it gets quiet. When the knob moves on the closet, I ready myself for a fight, but it's her. "Are you safe around them?"

"Blythe made an example out of a deputy that tried to grope me one time. They fear him, and you should to."

"He doesn't fucking intimidate me."

"Don't be stubborn. It will cost you your life."

"Did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you ask me here to fuck you?"

"You're right to the point."

"I am when you give me five minutes. Well, three now."

"You must be a terrible lay if you only last three minutes."

"I'm fucking serious."

Just an owl eyed stare.

Fuck it. I yank her forward by the wrist, sinking my teeth into her neck.

Grey lets out a hot breath in my ear as her fingers press against my chest. "Negan, stop. This isn't right."

"Fuck him, Grey." I step back to the couch, moving her on my lap. "I know you want this."

She purses her lips before nodding.

I run my hands up her slim waist, but she stops them before I touch anything good.

"Let me turn the lights off."

"Well, goddamn, I ain't that hideous."

"It's not that. The light from the window."

That ain't her fucking reasoning at all. She's hiding bruises. I move her off me and start for the window.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't want to fucking hear that shit. Hear how it's not his goddamn fault that he beats you."

"He has never put his hand to me. Why do you keep assuming that?"

"Really?" I take a menacing step forward, grabbing her by the arm. The fabric on her shirt rips when I scoot it over to reveal the newest one on her shoulder. "Walk into a wall with hands, Grey?" I'm sure she has a million excuses, but right now she can't come up with one or even a response for that matter. "Or whatever stupid fucking clumsy bullshit you give caused it." I slide the window up, and stick my foot out it.

"Negan, wait."

"Save it." I should have fucking known things were going too well.


This is the dumbest thing I have ever done in my life. I let out a few quick breaths, then brace myself. "Fuck," I yell, when the baseball is launched from the pitching machine and hits me right in the eye. I cup my face, leaning against the chain link fence. Goddammit, I think I broke a bone. You fucking idiot. I stumble to the infirmary, swaying in the doorway.

"Oh, Christ," Grey gasps. She points to the table. "What happened?" Her cool fingers touch my cheek.

My eyes squint when a light is shined in my face. "I'm sorry about last night. I had no right to yell at you like that." I grit my teeth in pain.

"You broke a couple of blood vessels."

I move her wrist down some. "Grey, I'm serious. I didn't get smacked in the face for you to blow me off."

"You had one of your players strike you in the face?"

"No. I, uh. Walked in front of the pitching machine," I redden.

It makes her tear up some. "Why didn't you just come see me?"

"I didn't want to get you in trouble. I figured with an injury, it wouldn't be so suspicious."

"I can't believe you did that, you dumb cunt."

"Fuck, don't make me laugh, it hurts."

She giggles, sniffing up her nose. Grey presses her lips to my cheek not once, but twice. "The ball left indentions."

"I think that's the least of my problems."

"You'll be fine," she smiles.

"Well," Blythe starts, "ain't that a fucking relief?"

Grey's face becomes stricken with fear. "Five already?"

"Isn't it funny how time just sneaks up on you?"

I have never met anyone that gives me such an unsettling feeling.

"I'm almost through," Grey stammers.

"How about you put a band aid on that shit, tough guy? Leave me the fuck alone with my wife."

I go without a combative word because I don't want to get her in any trouble, but I stand outside the door because I don't trust him.

"Get your shit, come on."

"W- what's the rush?"

I can tell she's backing up away from him. I clench my fists tight.

"I got something for you."

"Did you bring it with you?"

"And spoil the surprise? It's at home. You're going to like it. I've been saving it for a long time."

I don't understand why women like Grey stay with men like Blythe. I never have, and I guess I never will.


I didn't sleep at all last night. I stand at the foot of my bed as I watch Lucille. I love this woman, but the more time I spend with Grey, the more guilt I start to feel. The plan was to fuck Grey, not fucking spend every waking second thinking about her. Lucille and I might have this open relationship, but now I have these feelings for someone that isn't my wife. I think about how fucking crushed Lucille would be if I told her how captivated I've become with Grey. I know this because Lucille still loves her ex, and it fucking devastates me that I'm not enough for her. That she'd rather be with this piece of shit that uses her, than someone that loves and provides for her.

"What's wrong?"

I drop my head, shaking it side to side.

She scoots to the edge of the bed. "Tell me."

"I thought that this open relationship would be a good thing, but I fucking hate it. Do you even fuck anyone else? Or is this arrangement just for him?"

"We agreed not to talk about this."

"Fine." I stuff my boots into my bag and head for the door.

"Just him," she cries.

I slam my eyes shut. I knew it, but what does knowing get me?

"He just needs a little help-"

"He uses you! Jesus fucking Christ, at least if he gave a shit about you I could feel a little better, but no! How much money have you given him?" I slam the door shut. "I said, how much?!"

"Four thousand dollars," she whines.

"For what? Drugs?"

"Y- yes."

I cover my face with my hand. "I can't fucking believe this shit," I sigh.

"I'm sorry, I'll get a job-"

"You think this is about money?" I put my fist through the wall. "I don't give a fuck about money! Lucille, you do what you fucking have to, but I swear to Christ, if I so much as find a scratch on you this time, I'm going to fucking kill him. He touches you, he dies. Do you understand me?"

"Baby, it's not his faul-"

"Answer me!"

"Okay," she sobs. "I understand."

I get my wallet from my pocket and fling two hundred dollars on the floor. "I'm gonna be fucking late for work," I mutter, slamming our bedroom door behind me. I might not be able to do something about Grey, but I sure as shit can do something about Lucille's ex, and it will be a welcome release. That motherfucker.

...

Grey needs to know how I feel, and she needs to know about Lucille. I fear that when Grey finds out I'm married, she's never going to speak to me again, then I really will be alone. I narrow my eyes at the woman sitting at Grey's desk. "Where's Nurse Grey?"

"Oh, didn't you hear? She's going to be out for a while."

"What? Why?"

"She fell down her steps. Broke her ribs, arm, and they think her neck is fractured."

I just stand there with my mouth gaping trying to process everything.

"They're concerned she's paralyzed, but won't know much until the scans come back. She's in a coma right now."

"Oh my fucking god," I panic, grabbing the sides of my head before bolting out the door.