Chapter Eight
Tandy
Being here is oddly comforting. Grayson’s always been a unique person to me.
Someone I never expected or even anticipated.
And now, he’s doing even more for me than I knew was possible.
Having him around feels like a guardrail, keeping me safe and steady.
I’m not used to this kind of stability, but I like it.
My eyes roam over the neatly-made bed, tidy shelves, and clutter-free dark wood desk. It’s so unlike my own chaotic and colorful world. But it’s uniquely Grayson. It’s comforting in his room, even though it’s unfamiliar; it holds the essence of someone who’s become so vital to my life.
My eyes land on a picture of Grayson with his grandpa on a fishing trip. A pang of longing fills my chest. A little envy.
Moving around as a kid, I didn’t get close to anyone.
I never had a best friend growing up, like you see in the movies.
We were never close with any of our family, either; it was just my mom and me, the two of us.
She’s a great mom, and I think she did her best with the circumstances. And it’s made me who I am today.
But I’ve never had a sense of belonging, and in a way, I guess it’s something I’ve been searching for as I travel. A place to belong. People who want me.
I’ve found that.
Here, I’ve found a place that feels like home. A place where people look out for each other and offer to help without second thought, like Grayson. His friendship has become my anchor in this chaotic world.
It fills me with a comforting kind of warmth, like being wrapped in a soft blanket on a cold winter night. Yet, there’s an underlying fear. A fear that it might vanish in a blink, leaving me stranded in a storm. Alone. Again.
As I sit on the edge of his bed, I feel my eyes well up. I started to let him see me vulnerable, let him see my insecurities. Though I’m not sure why it matters, because he already knows me better than anyone else, possibly better than I know myself.
My mind wanders back to our conversation earlier.
“I want to.”
“You’re worth it.”
Hearing those words stirred something in me. A feeling that I can only imagine has something to do with letting someone in. He’s so genuine and his intentions pure.
Letting him in.
A terrifying thought, to let down the walls I’ve unintentionally built around myself.
My barrier against the world. But if there’s anyone I’d even consider giving that power to, it’s Grayson.
He’s proven himself to me over and over.
He’s steady. A quiet strength. His unwavering loyalty.
Look at where I am right now—he’s given up his space for me.
I close my eyes and let out a breath. When I open them, I see my suitcase in the corner. The clothes strewn from all sides, a stark contrast with the neatness of Gray’s room. I chuckle to myself. “A Tandy-nado indeed.”
I slip into my pajamas and tuck myself under Gray’s navy comforter. It’s different from my usual vibrant bedding but it’s cozy, warm, and smells like him. Woodsy and comforting.
I slowly open the door and tiptoe to the living room.
Grayson is still asleep on the couch, a soft snore escaping his lips.
I continue to the kitchen, careful not to make any noise.
The coffee machine is already set to start brewing, so I rummage through the fridge and pantry for something I could make for breakfast.
I’m no cook and can barely make boxed brownies without ruining them. But I feel like the least I could do is make Grayson and Gramps breakfast. They’re letting me uproot their life after all, especially Gray.
I find a pack of protein pancake mix in the pantry and settle on those. All I have to do is add milk and cook in a pan, easy peasy!
I mix the batter and turn on the griddle. I watch as the pancakes bubble and flip them to show perfectly golden-brown pancakes. As I scoop the second batch, I add some mini chocolate chips on top. What good is breakfast without a little chocolate?
“Tandy?” A voice sounds behind me, scaring me.
I jump, sending chocolate chips everywhere. “Grayson!” I whisper-yell at him, clutching my chest as I turn around.
There he stands, in plaid pajama bottoms and a worn Oakridge Hollow PD T-shirt, a sleepy, teasing smile on his face.
“You startled me.” I huff, smacking his arm.
He chuckles. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m making breakfast,” I answer, bending down to clean up the mess.
“It’s my day off. I can make breakfast.”
I shake my head. “No. You’ve done enough for me already, Gray.”
“Okay, let me clean up the mess. It’s my fault anyway.”
“You’re right. It is your fault.” I cross my arms.
He stretches his arms and lets out a yawn. His hair is still a little messy from sleep. It’s the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. He walks to the pantry, grabs a broom, and begins to sweep up the scattered chocolate chips.
“Good morning, by the way,” he says, still sweeping.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?” I watch his face intently. He’ll probably say he’s fine just so I don’t feel bad.
“I slept fine, thanks for asking.” He bends down, sweeping the chocolate chips into the dustpan, then deposits them into the trash. His muscles flex underneath his shirt, and—why am I noticing his muscles?
“How did you sleep?” He leans against the counter, crossing his arms.
“Great, actually. Your bed is way more comfortable than mine.” I plate more pancakes.
He quirks an eyebrow. “I guess I have good mattress-picking-out skills.”
“Oh, you do. It was some of the best sleep I’ve had.” I cut a piece of pancake. “Taste test?”
He takes the fork from my hand and takes a bite. “Hmm, surprisingly good,” he mumbles through a mouthful of pancake.
“I know I’m no chef, and they aren’t Gramps’s cinnamon pancakes. But surprisingly?”
“No, really. What did you do? Sometimes the protein mix turns out kinda bland.”
“I added a secret ingredient.” I chuckle.
His brows narrow. “Oh, really? And I suppose you’re not going to tell me?”
“Not a chance.” I wink, stealing the fork from him to take a bite. Hey, that is pretty good.
“Come on, Tandy. You’re really not going to tell me?”
“Where would the fun in that be?”
“This is cruel and unusual punishment.”
“Punishment? Really?” I take a step back and lean against the counter.
He moves closer. “The crime of withholding information.”
“Oh, is that so?” I challenge, meeting his gaze head-on. Cheesy topic, I know. But I’m not backing off now. I’m stubborn, and he knows it.
“Definitely. It’s a very serious offense. I’m a cop, remember? I can’t let criminals roam free.”
I burst into laughter, trying to back away from him, but the counter is behind me.
“I gotta flip the pancakes, Gray! They’re gonna burn!”
“Then tell me the secret.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, and something twists in my stomach.
“Alright, alright! I added vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate chips,” I admit in a rush, gesturing toward the pancakes frantically. “Now, can I save the food?”
He laughs with a dramatic bow and steps aside, allowing me access back to the stove.
“Your secret is safe with me, Bookworm,” he teases, resuming his spot against the counter.
I roll my eyes, flipping the pancakes. “Good. Because if I find out you’ve been sharing my top-secret recipe, there will be consequences.”
“What kind of consequences?” His eyebrow lifts.
“The worst kind! You’ll be banned from all future pancake breakfasts for starters.”
A gasp escapes him in faux horror. “Not the pancakes!”
I giggle at his theatrics. “Better be on your best behavior.”
“Yes, ma’am.”