Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
ABBY
H arper slides the pile of poker chips in the center of the table toward her, the winner again in our weekly poker night she insists on doing. Big surprise that she’s the best at the game when it’s always her idea to play. At least it’s at her house this week, so I don’t have to worry about cleaning up.
Kristen and I let her have her fun, though. Neither of us cares about losing at poker. For Kristen, it’s one night a week she gets to herself, away from the twins. And for me, it’s one night a week I’m guaranteed to hang out with friends, rather than lounging on the couch with a book and Leo curled up on my lap. Not that that’s a bad alternative, but variety is the spice of life.
I have to admit, the past two weeks have been more difficult than usual, though. I’ve had to employ all my best distraction techniques to avoid thinking about—
Nope, not thinking about him.
Damn it, I just did.
I’ve started five new books recently, abandoning four of them when they didn’t absorb me enough. There was also the kitchen cabinet reorganization, the paper crafting project for the library’s summer reading display, the binge rewatch of The Office…
The list goes on but there’s only so much I can do to keep my mind off Grayson. Memories of him surface in every part of my house, every corner of my brain. And though I’ve never considered myself a prideful person, I don’t seem to have it within me to be the first one to reach out to him. He made it clear in the beginning that what we were doing was only while he was in town. And his radio silence since then is confirmation he meant what he said.
Trying to keep this going when he clearly doesn’t want to will only make me more miserable.
“Do you have any plans this weekend?” I ask Kristen and Harper, again attempting to distract myself from my thoughts.
The two exchange a look and Harper says, “Just a lunch at Cheryl’s on Sunday for Mother’s Day.” Her voice is overbright, like she’s trying to sell me something.
Kristen picks at her nails, avoiding my eye.
Wow, could they be any more obvious?
“It’s okay if Grayson is coming,” I say. “You don’t have to hide it from me.”
I filled Harper in on what happened between me and him, along with a few of the more salacious details I didn’t share with Kristen.
“We weren’t sure if it would upset you,” Kristen admits, looking guilty.
“It’s your brother,” I tell her matter-of-factly. “And I know he’ll be back in town occasionally. It’s not a big deal.”
Did I expect him to return so soon when sometimes he goes a year between visits? No, I didn’t. Did I expect him to call me to say he’ll be here on Sunday? Again, no.
Even so, there’s a tightness in my chest that wasn’t there before. I knew this would happen. I was prepared for it.
And I still wouldn’t change anything we did. I’m glad I got the chance to be with him, even if it was short-lived.
Despite the Grayson-shaped hole in my heart that isn’t going away any time soon.
“I hope you have fun at the lunch. I’m visiting my mom that day, too.”
Harper smiles, glancing between us. “See, we’re all adults about this.”
Kristen purses her lips. “I still think I’m going to kick his ass.”
A laugh escapes me, mostly at the thought of her doing anything to Grayson, who’s half a foot taller and has at least forty pounds of muscle on her.
“Anyone want a drink?” Harper asks, standing. “Shots for you, right, Abby?”
I grimace. “Count me out.”
They both grin and Kristen follows Harper into the kitchen to see what she has when my phone rings. I pull it out of my purse, expecting it to be my mom, but it’s not.
It’s Grayson.
My hand is shaking as I accept the call. Why is he calling me? Did he somehow know we were talking about him? “Hello?”
“Hey,” he says, his voice warm and soothing and everything I’ve been striving to put behind me since he left. “Are you busy?”
In the kitchen, Kristen says something and Harper laughs, overloud in the otherwise quiet space.
My thoughts are scrambling, still trying to figure out why he’s calling, when he adds, “Are you out of the house?”
I pause, thrown off by the sharp change in his voice. “Yeah.”
He starts to say something then stops, clearing his throat. “Are you out with Brandon?”
Brandon? Who’s Brandon? Oh, wait. “The P.E. teacher?”
“Yeah.”
How does Grayson know him? I’ve only met the guy once, and only because the library did a partnership program with the elementary school a couple of months ago. “Why would I be out with him?”
If Grayson calling me after two weeks of no contact wasn’t confusing enough, now he’s adding this?
“So you’re not out with him?” he asks, instead of answering my question.
“No, I’m at Harper’s.”
“Oh.” The relief in his voice is palpable. “Mom said she might set you up with him, but I assumed she was bluffing.”
It’s only then that the dots connect. That sharpness in his tone was… jealousy. He’s jealous? At the thought of me going out with someone?
“And if I did go out with him?” I find myself asking, standing and moving to the front door. I slip outside before anyone notices.
I’m playing with fire, putting this question to him when I should immediately deny it. But if I’m being honest, I want him to be a little worried about me. I want to know I still mean something to him.
There’s a long pause. “You’re free to do whatever you want.”
Disbelief and hurt and resignation all jumble up in his voice, and a pinch of guilt winds through me.
“But…?” I ask, wanting him to admit to something. He had to have called for a reason.
The pause this time is even longer. “But I’d hate it,” he finally says, tone low and growly in a way that instantly lights me up.
I brace myself against the porch railing, looking out at the shadowy lawn, the moon overhead casting everything in grays and silvers. My ego is sufficiently stroked knowing he feels some kind of way about me, but we’re still at an impasse.
“Why did you call?”
He lets out a soft sigh. “Can I come over tonight?”
I frown, holding my phone away from my ear to look at the time. It’s nine o’clock. “When?”
“I’m half an hour from Crescent Pass.”
My brows pop up. What? I thought Harper and Kristen said he’d be here Sunday.
“What do you want to come over for?”
I’m frozen in place, intensely listening for his answer.
There’s rustling over the line, then he says, “I can’t stop thinking about you.”
My breath catches in my throat. There it is. What I wanted to hear. What I’ve wanted to hear for years. But now that I have his notice… Do I want to put myself through the last two weeks again? Trying to forget about him once he leaves?
“Have you thought about me at all?” he asks, and my eyes squeeze shut at the desperation that leaks into his voice. My heart twists knowing he must have been in pain, too, but that doesn’t stop the relief that splashes hot in the pit of my stomach. I wasn’t the only one feeling this way. He feels it, too.
“Of course I have.” My fingers are trembling, gripping the phone tighter to my ear. And even knowing what’s in store for me afterward, I can’t help giving in. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. “Please come over.”
He makes a small sound of satisfaction, almost as if it’s involuntary. “Thank you.” He says it like it’s a benediction.
The gratitude ties my tongue for a moment. This means something to him. “I’ll see you soon,” I say, unsure what else to say. How much to prod. To ask him how much it means to him. Why it means so much. If I do, I might have to admit how much it means to me, too.
But he said he can’t stop thinking about me. Could this be the start of something… more?
I slip back inside but say nothing to Harper or Kristen about my plans. There’s still a hesitancy in me, like I don’t believe Grayson’s really going to show up. That maybe I imagined that whole conversation.
I make my excuses ten minutes later when things are winding down anyway and race home. I’m in a whirlwind of activity as I change into sexier lingerie and frantically shave my legs while I brush my teeth. I replace the sheets on my bed and light a candle, then blow it out. It’s too obvious.
Then again, that’s what he’s coming over for, right? For sex? We didn’t say that outright, but it was implied.
Is it a good idea to fall into this addiction again? I can’t answer that right now, my body swimming with anticipation. And the only relief is Grayson.
The knock at the front door is a live wire through me, and when I let him in, the door’s barely closed behind him before he’s kissing me hungrily, like I’m the air he breathes, his fingers entwined in my hair, palms cradling the sides of my face. It’s all-consuming, drugging, but I can’t get enough of it, the kiss going on and on.
We’ve picked up right where we left off, no hesitancy, no awkwardness. Only need. The hurt of the last two weeks fades away, until it’s so small it’s silly to think it ever happened. That there was anything in my life but this man kissing me, my heart full to bursting with having him here.
“I want you,” he murmurs against my lips, his big body backing me up against the front door. “All I’ve thought about is you the last two weeks.” His lower half makes contact with mine, a groan releasing from him. “Tell me I’m not crazy. That you feel it, too.”
“I feel it.” This pull between us. It’s only gotten stronger.
His hands travel south until they rest on my ass, squeezing. He lifts me then, encouraging me to wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me into my bedroom.
My breasts press against the hard muscles of his chest, and I’m suddenly overheated, wanting these clothes off. Wanting there to be nothing between us. To return to that state we were in two weeks ago, connected in a way I’d only dreamed about.
When he sets me on the bed, I drag him down with me, until that hard body is covering me, a delicious weight I can’t get enough of. He angles his hips, rubbing himself against me, and I sigh happily, the warmth spreading through me like a balm to my soul. The contact is electric, even through our clothes, and pretty soon we’re making out like a couple of sex-starved teenagers. That’s what it feels like, though. As if I’ve been starving all this time and didn’t realize it. Not until he showed me what it could be like. How good it could be between us.
I dip my hands under the hem of his t-shirt, up over the ridges of his abs, drawing it up and over his head. My gaze touches every inch of his uncovered torso, the heavy cuts and vast expanses of muscle I want to spend days exploring. I’ll make do with tonight, though, my fingers trailing up his obliques, his skin warm, his hips still rocking against mine, desire building.
When I bring my hands between us and undo the button to his jeans, he draws back.
“Wait.”