Chapter 52 Spencer Nash

She Brings Out the Worst, but You Bring Out the Best

Four Months After the Wedding

The blood drains from my face and I feel lightheaded as I stare at the photograph.

It's the two of us at that Italian restaurant we ate dinner at after our wedding in Vegas. We're very obviously drunk, and it's the first time I've seen this particular photo.

I read the headline again just to be sure I read it right the first time, and yep…it hasn't changed.

San Diego Storm's Spencer Nash Exposed

The article doesn't just paint me as a liar. It paints me as someone easily manipulated. It's damaging to both my reputation and Grace's.

Normally I don't let shit like this bother me, but some of it errs too close to the truth, which is a little terrifying. And it's not just that.

Amelia is quoted in the article, which means this was her doing.

She's out to get her sister—and me, apparently.

I read it from the top again .

The Nash family was once known for their abilities on the field, but it's what's been happening off the field over the last few years that's garnering interest from fans everywhere. The latest scandal involves thirty-year-old brother, Spencer Nash. Previously known for his ability to run routes that would lead the Vikings into the red zone, Nash's latest venture is in wedded bliss.

Or is it?

Nash was quietly engaged to Amelia Newman of Newlywed Vineyard in Cedar Creek, Minnesota, but he recently tied the knot with her little sister, Grace Newman. He's been playing off the marriage as real when, in truth, it's as fake as it gets.

According to the elder Newman daughter, "Grace found out about a clause in my grandmother's will that gives the vineyard to whichever of her granddaughters is married for a year first. She flew to Vegas, got my ex drunk, proposed, and forced him to marry her. They're not in love, and I intend to prove that my sister doesn't deserve the land she's faking an entire marriage for."

Our investigative team is digging further into this developing story.

Fuck.

Fuck!

They're digging further, which means it won't be long before the photos from the chapel are all over the internet. People will make assumptions and speculations about our true intentions when it's none of their goddamn business.

We may have expressed our commitment with those three heavy words over the weekend, but I can't help but feel the hope drain out of me that love will be enough. How long can I put up with being married to someone whose sister's main goal in life is to tear us apart?

How many more shots can I take to my own reputation when this started as a lie anyway?

When I was on the same team for eight years, I couldn't have cared less what the media was saying about me or what my reputation was. I was respected in the locker room because I'd proven myself on the field, and my teammates knew that about me. They knew about my work ethic and my dedication. They knew me .

But my new teammates are still getting to know me, and this is the impression they'll have of me. The guy who was coerced into a drunken marriage. The guy who was proposed to by the woman who flew out to see him. The guy taken advantage of by a pair of sisters. Locker rooms have enough misogynistic chatter in them. I don't need articles like this fueling the flames.

I wonder if she's seen the article. I wonder how her day is going.

I wonder what mine will look like now that this is a part of it. I'm glad I have today off from the locker room, but I can't imagine going in there tomorrow will feel comfortable when the headline of the article brings up the fact that I'm on this team and the content of the article calls my very manhood into question.

I can't believe Amelia would stoop so low.

I text Grace.

Me: Are you awake?

She calls me in return.

"Hey," I answer.

"Hi."

We're both quiet, and I physically feel the distance spanning between us.

I wonder if I'd be able to handle this differently if she was here with me. I wonder if I'd be so fucking angry about it if we could talk it out.

But we can't.

"Did you see the article?" I ask, the emotion gone from my voice.

"Article? What article?"

I'll take that as a no. "There's a photo of us from the restaurant where we ate after we got married. The article quotes your sister and paints me to look like I let you walk all over me and forced me to marry you so you could get your vineyard."

"I'll fucking kill her," she hisses.

"Probably not the best option, but I'm not taking it off the table." I sigh.

"She moved up a meeting with an important distributor while I was out of town. I confronted her about an hour ago, and we got into a physical fight. She keeps doing this to me, changing things on my calendar and running important meetings, and I can't take it anymore."

"Jesus Christ, Grace," I mutter. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. She's not, though. She left right after with Drew, presumably to get her wrist checked out since I twisted the hell out of it. Oh! And get this. Pete was there at her place."

"Pete?" I echo, the night of the charity event plowing back into me.

"Yeah. The guy who makes the best flatbread in all of Minnesota is apparently sleeping with my sister," she says dryly. "Oh, and this is fresh. I think he might be the one who poisoned me at Corks for a Cause."

"Do you have proof?"

"Proof he poisoned me?" she asks.

"Proof of any of it," I say, not sure whether I should mention the conversation I overheard. "That he's the one who sprinkled the mustard, that he's sleeping with your sister…"

"No. But you can bet I'll be on the lookout for some now."

"They'll be careful now that they know you know. Can we circle back to this physical altercation? Grace, this isn't you." My voice is calm, but my chest is anything but.

"She brings out the worst in me."

"Then get away from her." I'm not sure why my tone sounds like I'm begging, but I have the sudden fear that between this goddamn article and her fighting with Amelia, being apart right now is the worst thing for both of us.

"I can't leave the vineyard. It would be handing it over to her."

"Then maybe it's time to let it go." The words are out before I can stop them, but they're the first words that come to my logical mind. I blow out a long, frustrated breath as I wait for an answer, but she's silent on the other end.

To her, it must feel like I'm telling her to choose between me and her dream.

I can't do that to her. I love her, and maybe that means I'm going to have to let her go. It's too much all at once—the article, starting over in a new city, pure exhaustion, missing her, falling for her, wanting to be with her…and we can't.

Falling for her has been something out of this world. But maybe love just isn't enough.

A physical altercation? I can't picture my sweet Grace getting into a physical fight with Amelia, and yet…she just admitted that she did.

I finally break that silence. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I just…I don't know how to deal with any of this."

"I don't either," she admits. "But for as much as she brings out the worst in me, you bring out the best."

It's my turn to be silent for a beat, and when the words come, they might be even worse than telling her to let go of her fight for the vineyard. "I'm not sure I can be that balancing act for you."

I hear Maggie calling her name in the background.

"I have to go." She hangs up before I can tell her I'm sorry, before I can tell her that maybe I can't be that balance, but I want to try anyway.

Before I can tell her I love her. Before I can tell her I want to fight for her.

Maybe it's for the best. I need to focus on football, anyway. My workouts. This season.

Fighting for my reputation.

And so I place my focus where it should be, and sure enough, those thoughts about what I should have said start to fade the moment the phone disconnects.