He knows.
That’s my first thought when Grayson turns around. It’s as if every emotion a human being can feel has been thrown in a blender, turned on high, and then blended again. His eyes swim with the words his lips can’t seem to form.
He already knows I’m leaving. He found out.
I panic with what to say since he’s not saying anything. I fumble for words, with how to explain, then chicken out and choose avoidance. I let him take the lead. “Congratulations, again, on making the top five. You should be ecstatic.”
He grunts. “Hmm. I don’t feel very ecstatic.”
He doesn’t know?
“Grayson?” Nerves take over every single part of me as the realization hits that I have to tell him that I’m going to be leaving. I can’t . . . I shouldn’t put it off anymore.
He’s already mad. I’m already miserable. Wouldn’t it be better to just tell him right now and cut ties while I’m already a step back? “I need to tell you—”
He takes a step closer and holds his hands up to stop me. “Look, I fucked up. Again. I owe you an apology but . . . but those are just words, and for a man who takes a lot of pride in standing behind his every word, I sure seem to keep fucking them up when it comes to you.” He takes a step closer to me. “I’ve picked up the phone a million times, and each time I knew I was going to fuck this up further because, honestly, you have no reason to trust that I’m not going to be an ass again.”
“I need to—”
“It’s been a shitty couple of days knowing I hurt you, and the only time it hasn’t been was when you walked in here tonight. It seems the only way I’m good at expressing myself to you is by showing you.”
And without preamble or pretext, Grayson pulls me against him and kisses me. I’m completely shocked by it at first. From the caged look he had to the restlessness he exuded, I for sure thought we were in for a huge fight but this . . . the kind of kiss that is so tender and soft that I feel like I just crawled inside him and melted . . . this is not what I expected.
I tell myself to fight it. To push him away because he doesn’t just get to kiss me and make all the hurt from what he said go away. After the misery I’ve felt over the past few days from fighting with him—the loneliness, the sadness, the everything—it feels so damn good to have his lips on mine. It also doesn’t hurt to know that he has been just as miserable as I have.
When the kiss ends. When the laughter from the backyard seeps in through the open windows. When my thoughts are so scrambled I can’t remember what I was supposed to be telling him. When his hands framing my cheeks direct my face so I can look up at him . . . I know without a doubt my heart has been lost to this man.
I also know I still have to stand my ground.
“That doesn’t fix everything,” I murmur, still floating on air from that kiss. My body a mix of contradictions. My mind telling me to take my hands off him but my heart saying not yet. Just give me one more second of this feeling.
“I know it doesn’t.”
“You tested me.”
“I was an ass.”
“You said things.”
“I was an even bigger ass.”
“Grayson.” I chuckle in protest, and his lips meet mine again and then he rests his forehead against mine.
“I said a lot of things,” he says, “most of which I’m not proud of. They’re my hang-ups, Sid. They’re things I need to fix if we’re going to make this work. They’re things I need to fix so that I can be a better man.”
It takes me a moment to swallow over the lump in my throat his words have formed. To realize what he is telling me without coming out and saying it.
“Make this work?”
He looks like a scolded little boy having to explain himself, and I hate that I want to step into him and take it all away.
“Yeah. Make this work.”
That panic I felt moments before intensifies for so many reasons . . . all of them good except for one.
“There are things I need to say, too, that haven’t been said.”
“Not right now.” A brush of lips. A soft touch of tongues. “This is my turn to apologize. This is my turn to tell you that we’re good together, Sidney. That it’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel whatever this feeling is. I know we still have to be quiet about seeing each other . . . but can we just figure out how to enjoy this right now? Can we just accept this step and take it day by day without sticking parameters on it while we feel our way through?”
My heart swells and soars, and yet I meet every word he says with a cautious trepidation. The ball is in my court when it comes to us, and I don’t know how to respond.
“Gray . . . I . . .”
“I know.” He chuckles. “It’s a lot . . . especially coming on the heels of the other day, of the shit I accused you of. But Christ, Sid, I’ve been so damn miserable.”
He reaches for the nape of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss that reflects the despair it seems we both felt being at odds with each other. While he might not think he can express himself with words, the ones he is speaking are saying a lot.
The kiss he’s giving me is saying even more.
A throat clears, and I try to jump back, but Grayson just holds me in place.
“Gray?”
“Dad.” His name is a warning. “Can’t you see I’m trying to kiss a girl here?”
Chief chuckles. “As long as I’m paying for the roof over your head, there will be no kissing any girls in this house,” he says in the most fatherly of tones, I can assume he’s perfected over the years.
We both laugh, and the groan that Grayson emits when he steps back and gives his dad the look of death has my cheeks heating.
“Good to see that you two are getting along,” Chief says with a knowing smile. “Gray, the station keeps calling your cell.” He holds it out.
“Christ,” Grayson mutters as he dials, but I can already see the transformation from the Grayson I know to Grayson in command.
“This is Malone,” he says when whoever answers picks up. “He’s what? How long will he be out for? Okay. Okay. I can cover, but I need to check about Luke.”
“It’s fine,” Chief interjects, and Grayson nods, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“I’ll be there in about fifteen, twenty at the most. Is that good?” There is another stretch of silence before he says, “Okay. Yes. Ten-four.” His laugh rings out. “I know you do.”
Grayson’s already in motion when he ends the call. “Luke?” he calls out the open door before turning back to us. “Charlie came down with the stomach flu mid-shift. They need someone to cover.”
“It’s fine,” Grayson’s dad says. “We’ll get Luke home so he sleeps in his own bed and is ready for school tomorrow.” He winks at me. “It isn’t the first time we’ve had a child.”
I smile at him and then follow after Grayson.
“Grayson.” He stops when I say his name, and turns to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I seem to be saying that an awful damn lot around you.” But his smile is there with his words, and for a split second, I feel like all is right with this world.
“You don’t need to apologize. Just be safe.”
“Always.”
I watch the chaos unfold. The frenzied hugs and kisses between Luke and Grayson that represent an obvious routine. Selfishly and ridiculously, a part of me is jealous of the attention that I’d have a share in, too, if I were part of the equation.
But I’m not.
That thought makes me just that much more insecure, since it comes on the heels of the revelation that I’ve fallen in love with Grayson Malone.
“Sidney . . . you’ll get home okay?”
“Go,” I say as he grabs his wallet and keys and shoves them into his pockets. “I’ll be fine.”
“Only if you’re sure.”
“Yes.”
“Walk me out?”
I wasn’t expecting that, but since I’m still craving that connection with him, I nod. We go out the front door, and the minute it shuts behind us, his lips meet mine in the softest of kisses. It’s slow and tender and makes every part of my body vibrate with the bittersweet knowledge that this is what I’ll be walking away from when the contest is over. A man whom I never expected but now I don’t want to figure out how to get over.
When he pulls back, it takes me a second to get my footing because he just kissed me like he already knows when I know he doesn’t.
“Sorry that I’m leaving you here with my family.” He runs a hand down my arm and links his pinky with mine.
“It’s okay. I kind of like them.”
“I’m also sorry we didn’t get to finish our conversation.” He squeezes that pinky around mine.
“We said what we needed to say,” I murmur.
“You’re amazing.” His words startle me as he presses a chaste kiss to my cheek and then heads down the pathway.
You’re amazing, too.
And it’s the first time he’s ever walked away from me that I’ve felt uncertainty. He just took a huge step in opening up to me . . . and I didn’t do so in return. I’m still hiding something from him because I’m scared to death of ruining this feeling.
He said we’re just going to go along with whatever this is. Day by day. I’m not naïve enough to think that day by day means I don’t have to tell him what’s going to happen after the winner is announced.
I know I need to. I know I should have. But this all happened so fast that now I’m the one stuck being the asshole.
When I walk back into the house, Grayson’s dad is standing there waiting for me.
“You okay?” he asks, eyes searching mine in a way that tells me he sees way more than I want him to.
“I’m fine.”
He laughs softly. “My Grayson can be a tough one to figure out,” he says without prompting. “Strong but sensitive. Stubborn but fair. He’s our peacekeeper around here.”
“I can see that.”
“He likes you, you know? He wouldn’t be pushing you away so hard if he didn’t.”
“Oh.” It’s silly that my heart swells hearing this.
Chief settles onto the arm of the couch. “Shh, don’t tell Betsy I’m sitting here.” He winks, and I shake my head. What is it with these Malone men and their charm? “She has a strict rule for the boys about butts anywhere but the cushions, but I earned it.”
“I won’t tell her. I promise.”
He looks at his thumbs, fiddling together as if he’s trying to figure out whether he should say something or not. “I know you two are pretending there’s nothing between you.” He holds up his hand when I start to talk, and out of respect, I bite my tongue. “Let me say my piece, and then, just like my sitting on this armrest here, you can pretend it never happened.”
“Okay.” I smile because I can’t help it with him.
“I get why you have to keep things on the down low for the sake of propriety when it comes to the contest. I’m no stranger to how Grayson has conducted his affairs in the past because he wants to protect Luke. Or that’s what he says, when it’s clearly the only way he knows how to protect himself.
“Gray has always been the most loyal of my boys. He’s always trusted fiercely. And when Claire shattered that, I swore it broke something inside him. He didn’t let anyone get close to him. But since you’ve been around, I’ve seen a lot of that fight come back. That means he cares, Sidney. That means he’s scared to death. And, so help me God, that means he’s going to push you away to prove you aren’t going to stay . . . so if you aren’t going to stay, let him push you. Do him the courtesy so that he doesn’t get more attached and then become equally as crushed when you walk out of Sunnyville and never look back. If you’re going to stay, I hope like hell you’ll fight for him, because he’s worth every misspoken word and uttered curse and ounce of confusion.”
I stare at him with tears in my eyes and so much conflict in my heart that I don’t know what to say or do. How does he see that one of my feet is already out of the door when Grayson hasn’t?
Understanding my silence, he gives me a soft smile and stands. “C’mon. Enough fatherly lectures. Let’s go have a beer and some food. Poor Gray is gonna miss out.”