Grayson didn’t wait for her to respond. Before she could form a single word, he left her in the bedroom, pulled the door almost closed, and headed back upstairs to reunite with his family.

She lay there in stunned silence for a while, breathing heavily. He’d gotten to her. Chipped away at her resolve, something no other person had ever managed to do. He was right, but he was also wrong. She did have thick walls up to protect herself, but she would never be able to fully let someone inside those walls. She didn’t have the guts. She wasn’t that strong.

She didn’t even know how. She’d never learned either by example or trial and error. From a young age, she’d known to never let a man get close to her. It was ingrained in her like a motto. Sure, they could appear kind and even overly nice, but nearly all men were larger and stronger than her, and they could snap in an instant. She never wanted to be so vulnerable again that she could be hurt, physically or emotionally.

The fact that she’d permitted Grayson to befriend her was monumental, but taking it further would never be possible. It was already more than she’d ever imagined. He’d never given her any indication that he might suddenly turn on her, but was it only a matter of time?

She knew the cycle. She’d lived it for eighteen years. First, the smothering kindness until her guard was down. Then some perceived mistake of hers that caused the switch to flip and rage and abuse to rain down on her. Next, the apologies and pleas for forgiveness until it all started over again.

She reached up with her hand and touched her lips. Grayson had kissed her. On the mouth. It was sweet and gentle. It made butterflies flutter around in her stomach. It made her crave more. She needed to tamp that down before she got hurt. Because if she let things go on like this, he would eventually grow weary of her games and lash out at her.

Even sharing a bed with him was a horrible idea. It had been from the start. She’d known it for days, and yet she not only enjoyed having him nearby, but she was starting to rely on his body heat in order to fall asleep. It soothed her. It also frightened her.

She groaned inwardly at her stupidity and rolled onto her side, forcing her mind to slow down and her body to relax. But sleep didn’t come, and it wouldn’t until he returned.

He needed time with his parents. She’d been an intruder in their reunion. It had been both intriguing and depressing watching their interaction. A normal family functioning as a unit. People who loved each other dearly. Something she’d never witnessed. Perhaps Grayson wasn’t like the men in her family, but would she ever be able to permit herself to believe that?

She knew his sister would be just as family-oriented as the others when she met her. Even though Cynthia had endured several years of abuse at the hands of her husband, Bianca instinctively knew the woman would be far stronger than Bianca would ever be. Cynthia had Maston blood in her. She would be a fighter.

Bianca was indeed broken, even though Grayson dismissed the idea as ludicrous. He wasn’t in her mind. He didn’t know how much damage had been done to her soul.

She had worked her ass off to climb out of the darkness and become the medical professional working for the government that she was. She knew she was smart and capable. She could take on the world if it involved hematology research. She was confident in her field of study.

But relationships? She’d never developed any, not even with classmates, not even with female classmates. She had never gotten too close to anyone because she could never invite them over, living in such a volatile house. Science couldn’t hurt her. People could destroy.

Bianca glanced around, marveling at the ability to know a little more about Grayson from his surroundings.

She loved this room. She could see the appeal it would have held for a teenage boy who wanted to escape the world in this basement haven. The walls were dark paneling. The carpet was a dark brown that had been there for some time. The furniture was dark wood. Masculine. He probably picked it out. Even the bedding was dark. Blues and browns. It embraced her and held her tight, but it didn’t let her sleep.

It was almost two hours before Grayson tiptoed quietly into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so a small ray of hallway light filtered in. He rustled at the other side of the bed for a moment, and she envisioned him removing his jeans and slipping into a pair of shorts without bothering to leave the room.

He would think she was asleep. It didn’t matter because she had her back to him, but the thought of him changing so close to her stirred something inside her again.

He slid so quietly between the sheets and then scooted toward her. When his hand snaked around her body to nestle her back against his front, she let out a long breath.

He breathed into her hair close to her ear and whispered, “You weren’t sleeping.”

“No.” The one word sounded breathy.

His lips landed on her neck, and he spoke softly against her skin as his hand stroked her forearm under her breasts. “Sleep, honey. I’m right here.”

Did he know she couldn’t sleep until he got there? She worried she’d become reliant on him to rest easily. It was a horrible precedent on a slippery slope. She really should put a stop to this unhealthy friendship that looked like a relationship but had none of the benefits.

Gradually, she calmed in his arms until she let her mind shut down and her body fall under the spell of slumber.

Bianca awoke slowly, aware of two things—she’d slept hard, and she was alone. She had no idea what time it was, but she suspected it was late in the morning. With no natural light available and no clock anywhere, she had nothing but instinct. Besides, since the bed was empty behind her, she assumed Grayson had woken up and not wanted to disturb her.

It was a near miracle he’d managed to slip from the room without her knowing. It also spoke volumes to how tired she’d been.

After sliding from the bed, she turned on the lamp on the nightstand and headed toward her meager possessions in the corner of the room. Next she made her way to the bathroom, glancing around at the rest of the finished basement—a large living room complete with a sectional and a large-screen television.

The bathroom was small, but it had everything she needed, a shower, a toilet, and a sink. The basics. She flipped on the water, which heated quickly, peeled off her clothes, and stepped under the stream. For a few moments, she stood there letting the warm water sluice down her front and then turning to let it hit her back.

The scars no longer hurt. The pain had disappeared years ago. But she was always aware of them when she bathed because they were impossible to ignore as she ran her hands over them. They remained as a constant reminder of the terror she’d lived through. No, they didn’t hurt physically, but the emotional scars were deep.

Bianca had buried herself in books as a young child, always hoping if she read quietly in a corner he would leave her alone. Invisibility didn’t work, but she developed an early love for science, reading every book in the school library.

Someone had put feminine shampoo and body soap in the shower, and Bianca enjoyed a longer shower than normal, making use of the products. She would have to thank Grayson’s mother.

Twenty minutes later, with her hair still hanging in damp waves down her back, she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a fresh pink T-shirt. She headed upstairs, the sound of voices growing as she climbed.

It was indeed late morning, she surmised as soon as she stepped onto the main floor. The sun was streaming into the kitchen through the back windows.

Grayson was sitting at the kitchen table with his mother, but when he saw her, he stood and came toward her. “I hope we didn’t wake you. You were dead to the world. I wanted to let you sleep.”

She smiled as he slid his hand down her arm and then released her.

“Hungry?” he asked. Then he laughed. “I’ll warn you, this is a farm. My mother only knows how to cook three giant meals a day, all of which consist of mostly comfort foods, so in about a week you won’t be able to button your jeans.”

She followed him into the kitchen area. By the time they arrived, his mother was bustling around with a plate, filling it with more food than Bianca had ever eaten for breakfast in her life.

Her eyes must have been wide as she took a seat because Jane laughed as she set the plate down. “Don’t you worry. Eat whatever you want and leave the rest. I’m well-known for overfeeding people. You won’t hurt my feelings a bit. I prefer to ensure my guests have more than enough than leave my table hungry.”

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate your kindness.”

Grayson was grinning wide as he resumed his seat next to her and handed her a napkin and the salt and pepper from the center of the table. “I’m going to join my dad in the barn for a bit after breakfast. If you want to come along, I can show you around. If you’d prefer to stay here in the house, that’s fine also.”

Jane frowned at her son, waving him off. “Leave the poor woman alone. She’s still recovering. She doesn’t need to go stomping around in the barn. Plus, I’m sure you’ll end up in the field. Let her get her strength back for a few more days before you torture her with exercise.”

Bianca smiled as she took her first bite. She moaned around the flavor. “This is delicious,” she stated as she reached for a glass of juice. “I’m going to get spoiled here.” Sausage. Bacon. Scrambled eggs. Biscuits. Gravy. Hash browns. Every bit of that was piled on her plate.

Grayson wasn’t kidding. This was the stereotypical middle America country breakfast. Growing up, she usually grabbed a tortilla and folded it around cold beans in the morning. Her mother rarely made an appearance to even see Bianca off to school, but she did leave a pot of beans on the stove, and there were always tortillas.

“You find everything you need in the bathroom, dear?” Jane asked.

“Yes. Thank you.” It was surreal sitting in this house with these strangers who were Grayson’s family. It shouldn’t have felt any different from the safe house they’d been at.

Jerry and Eliza had been a similar couple of a similar age. But they hadn’t been related to Grayson. Something about that difference made Bianca look around as if she were having an out-of-body experience that took her back a few decades, providing her with a picture in her mind of a young Grayson and his older sister running through this same kitchen. She knew instinctively very little had changed in all the years.

As if Jane read her mind, she tapped her lips with her fingers and giggled. “Grayson was a hellion growing up.”

“Mom…” he groaned.

Bianca shot him a glance, fighting the urge to laugh. If his mother produced pictures of him in his underwear running around the house, the day would be complete.

Jane just laughed some more. “He drove his sister crazy. She was five years older than him. When he was little, she thought he was cute, but as he grew and got into her stuff, she changed her mind. One day he got into her lipstick and smeared it all over his cheeks. I have a picture.”

“I swear, Mom, if you start pulling out embarrassing photos, I’ll take Bianca someplace else to hide out.” His words held warning, but his tone was filled with mirth. Watching Grayson interact with his mother made Bianca question her overgeneralization of men. With each passing day he gave her an increased sense of safety. It didn’t seem like he had a switch that got flipped.

Bianca imagined he’d rarely lifted his voice to his mother in his life. The woman commanded respect. Far more respect than Bianca’s mother ever had. They were polar opposites.

Bianca’s mother had been meek and timid and weak.

“Where are you from, dear?” Jane asked.

“Don’t regale her with questions, Mom. Let her eat.”

Bianca reached out a hand and set her fingers on Grayson’s wrist. “It’s fine. Don’t be so hard on your mother.” She’s amazing and wonderful and all the things a mother should be.

Bianca turned her attention to Jane. “I’m from Arizona, and I can tell you for certain my mother never cooked anything like this for breakfast.”

“Where were your parents from?” She glanced at Grayson and then back. “Is that too personal?”

“Not at all,” Bianca interjected. “My mother was from Mexico. Second generation, born in Arizona.” She had no knowledge of her father, and she didn’t mention him.

Jane smiled. “Do you have a big family?”

Bianca could feel Grayson stiffening beside her, nervous for her. But she’d fielded questions like this throughout life. It happened. She could handle it better than he thought.

“Not really. My grandparents only had two children, and they passed away young. I think they lived a hard life in Mexico and aged faster than they should before coming to the States.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Bianca shrugged lightly. “I don’t really remember them, so I don’t feel the loss.”

After a few moments of silence, Grayson changed the subject. “Do you want coffee, honey? Or tea?”

That was the third time he’d called her by that nickname. Twice yesterday and now this morning. It rolled off his tongue so easily that she doubted he noticed he’d used it and the implications his mother would have taken from it.

He was chipping away at her walls little by little. She needed to shore them back up and put some distance between them before she fell under his spell. It would be so easy. She could easily fall for him, believe he was a good man. He was nothing like her uncle. But even if that were true, it changed nothing. Bianca would never be able to get over her fears. She would never be able to keep from flinching when he touched her. It was ingrained in her. The fear. The panic.

She shook the unwelcome reminder from her mind. “Tea would be nice.”

Grayson stood, letting his hand slide along her shoulder as he took several long strides to the stove and turned on a kettle. While he waited for it to heat, he prepared a cup, saucer, and tea bag.

Jane probably had no idea her head was tipped to the side as she watched her son so lovingly cater to the woman he was sleeping with. How else was she supposed to interpret things?

The only consolation Bianca had concerning the issue was that she told herself Jane and Charles probably assumed Bianca and Grayson had been a couple before vitrification. It couldn’t be further from the truth, but at least the fairy tale presented better than reality.