Chapter 21 Grady
grady
. . .
Bringing the bottle of beer to my lips, I scanned the email from my attorney.
Barring any complications and Liv’s approval, they would be filing our divorce papers first thing on Monday morning.
After getting off the phone with my soon-to-be-ex-wife, I listened to the myriad of voicemails I’d been avoiding from our legal and PR teams. It was time to stop ignoring my problems and tackle them head-on, regardless of the shit storm that would follow.
There were already rumors circulating about Liv’s and my separation, despite our teams trying their hardest to squash them before they garnered media attention.
They ranged from cheating scandals to addiction troubles, none of which were true.
However, truth never seemed to matter to the vultures circling for a single juicy morsel of gossip.
Some part of me wanted to say fuck it and let them fly, but I wasn’t the only one who’d be affected.
It was vital for us to control the narrative so Charlie remained unscathed, and Liv’s company didn’t take any heat.
The moment we filed those papers, it would be mayhem.
It was all on public record, and I was willing to bet that people were watching.
It wouldn’t take long for our phones to start ringing off the hook and paparazzi to station themselves outside our Nashville home.
Though it probably wouldn’t take long for someone to come sniffing around here, it would at least buy us more time for Charlie’s sake.
And Cleo’s.
When Liv and I first talked about separating, I’d wanted a clean cut.
It wasn’t fair to come down here and pursue Cleo when I was technically married to someone else, but Liv asked to wait for both her sake and Charlie’s.
I couldn’t say no to her, not when she’d given me such a wonderful life.
Besides, nothing was happening with Cleo anyway.
It wasn’t like I’d popped down here, professed my love, and was ready to run hand-in-hand for the hills.
There was plenty of muddy water we would need to wade through before that ever became an option.
I thought back on my conversation with Liv, unable to stop myself from wondering if I was doing the right thing.
I stood by what I said. Just because I wanted something didn’t make it right.
Despite Cleo not immediately shying away from me when I picked Charlie up earlier, there had been no signs she was receptive to anything other than cordiality.
It was strange to see her now, compared to when we were kids.
Even though she was guarded back then, it paled in comparison to how she was now.
I couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with her ex-husband.
It wasn’t my place to pry. By all accounts, I should let it lie until she told me—if that day ever came—but my curiosity was too strong.
I needed to know if there was anything to worry about, for her safety and my daughter’s.
Grabbing my phone, I typed in Cleo’s name in the search bar.
The only thing I knew for sure was she’d never changed her last name.
I scrolled through the results, finding nothing beyond brief mentions in articles about the ranch or a story about local teachers in Ashwood Independent School District.
I scanned for anything that might give me some sort of clue about her life before.
Nothing. Zip. Zilch.
“Dammit,” I muttered, taking another sip. Where had she lived before? Montana, wasn’t it?
Adjusting the search, multiple hits with her name popped up.
Most were similar to what I’d just seen, discussing the connection between Black Springs and a dude ranch in Montana.
Apparently, Cleo’s ex-husband and his brother were trying to revitalize their parents’ legacy by leeching onto the Hayes name.
There was a picture of the three of them standing in front of a large wooden fence. At first glance, they looked content. Happy, even. If I hadn’t known her the way I did, I probably would’ve assumed the same and minded my business, but there was something off. I just couldn’t quite place it.
I zoomed in, immediately noticing Cleo’s stiff posture and rigid smile despite the grainy black and white picture. Without thinking, I popped his name into the field and waited. It was likely going to be a dead end, but I was desperate enough to try anything at this point.
The moment the search loaded, my blood ran cold.
Assault, battery, and harassment were the first few things I saw.
I clicked on the first link, seeing his haggard face staring back at me from his mug shot.
I’d only met the guy once in passing, right after my mother’s diagnosis and my agreeing to marry Liv, but I didn’t see a single hint of familiarity in his features.
His eyes were soulless, beady little things that were damn near black.
I couldn’t make out a lick of color in his irises, despite them being listed as blue. He looked high out of his goddamn mind.
“What a low-life piece of shit,” I muttered in horror. Was this the type of shit she was dealing with? I was going to be fucking sick.
A notification from the last person I ever expected appeared at the top of my screen, drawing my attention away from the jail log.
Cleo
What’re you doing right now? I can’t stop thinking about you.
I stared at the message, wondering if I was reading it right.
Grady
Are you drunk?
That was the only explanation I could think of, because there was no way in hell Cleo was texting me at nearly midnight, telling me how much she missed me. No way at all.
Cleo
Maybe a little
Grady
Ah, that explains it
Cleo
You didn’t answer the question. What’re you doing right now?
I fought a smile, knowing damn well I should shut it down. But I could picture her sitting there, frustrated at my avoidance, brows pinched together. Bringing the bottle to my lips, I typed out my reply.
Grady
Talking to you. I thought that was obvious?
Cleo
One of us is very bad at sexting…
I choked on my beer, spilling what was left of it down my shirt. “Shit, shit, shit,” I cursed, pulling it over my head and using it to wipe at my skin. What the hell was happening right now?
Grady
Sexting? Is that what this is?
Cleo
omg *texting
But sexting was Lennox’s idea
God help me.
Grady
You’re gonna regret telling me that in the morning, bluebird.
Cleo
Maybe, but you know what?
I can do what I want
My dick shouldn’t be getting hard right now, but I couldn’t help it. Especially not as I wondered what she was doing on the other side of the phone. Was she naked? Was she touching herself? God, what I would give to hear her quiet little whimpers of pleasure.
Grady
Is that what it takes to get you to talk to me? A little liquid courage?
I watched the text bubbles pop up and disappear multiple times before her response finally came through.
Cleo
Unfortunately, I always want to talk to you. I try to stay away, though.
Well, that was the best goddamned news I’d heard all day.
Grady
Out of curiosity… What’s your poison tonight?
Cleo
Why?
Grady
So, I can slide some your way tomorrow when you come to your senses
Cleo
Not gonna happen. This is a one-night-only deal. Text tonight and forget tomorrow.
Grady
What about sexting? Is that on the table?
Cleo
This was a horrible idea.
Grady
I kid, I kid! Don’t block me again.
Why can’t we talk sober?
I waited for the text bubbles that never came. I was about to give up when my phone rang. Cleo’s name flashed on the screen, and I nearly dropped the phone to answer with a hurried, “Hello?”
She laughed, actually laughed, and it was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard. “Someone’s eager.”
“When it comes to you? Absolutely.” I wasn’t afraid to admit it, and maybe that was what she needed to hear. Maybe she needed to know I was done playing it cool, not that it’d ever been my forte, and that she held all my cards.
Cleo sighed. “That’s why we can’t talk sober. It’d be too easy to fall into your trap.”
“There’s no trap here, bluebird. Just a foolish man waiting with open arms.”
I could hear her shifting on the other line and held my breath, wondering if I’d gone too far. To be fair, we could both blame our brazenness on the alcohol, but I didn’t want to. If she would let me, I’d have admitted all this sober, too.
“I think I missed that, you know,” she breathed.
“Missed what?”
“The nickname.”
“I missed you,” I replied honestly.
She sucked in a breath. “You can’t say things like that.” I was about to ask her why, to tell her it was just my way of being honest, when she said, “I’m sorry, this was a mistake. I’ve got to go.”
“Wait, Cleo… Don’t—” but it was too late. The line clicked, and I pulled my phone away to stare at the blank screen, mentally berating myself for being such a fucking idiot.