Twenty-four
Greyson
W hen the elevator opens, I dash down the hallway, propelled by a mix of dread and urgency. My fist hammers on her mother’s door—once, twice. There’s no answer. “Trinity! Please! Open up!” A frustrated Fuck! bursts from my lips before I can stop it.
“Greyson Paradise!” The rebuke comes from behind me, and I spin to see Mrs. Henley from across the hall, her eyes narrowed behind her spectacles. “Language!”
“Sorry, Mrs. Henley.” I rub the back of my neck, chastened.
She huffs, disappearing behind her door, leaving me to grapple with my racing thoughts. Where could Trinity have gone?
Without another moment’s delay, I retrace my steps. Anxiety twists inside me. The elevator doors open, and there’s Anita, crumpled on my living room couch, sobbing into her palms.
“Anita…” My voice trails off, unsure what comfort I can offer when my mind is focused on getting her out of here.
She looks up. “Greyson, please—”
“Anita,” I interrupt, softer now, even though impatience is a live wire beneath my skin. “You know we’ve been over for a long time. I don’t know why you’re doing this.”
“Please, Greyson, take me back,” she pleads. “I waited for you to follow me, but I know now that your heart is here. So I’m back.” Her voice breaks, and she rises to clutch my hand.
Her words twist something in me, but not the way she wants.
“That’s not really what you want. You know that’s not right.”
She reaches for me, but I pull away. She’s not going to change my mind.
“Listen to me,” I say, disentangling my hand. “I care about you, I do. You’ll always have a place in my heart, but I’m not in love with you. You need to move on.”
“But—” Her plea is cut short by another sob, and it takes every ounce of my resolve not to comfort her.
“Trinity,” I admit, the name feeling like a confession. “I need to go find her, so you need to go. And I need my key fob back from you.”
Anita’s crying intensifies, but she fumbles in her purse and hands me the small, metallic object. Our fingers brush, a final contact, as I accept it.
“Thank you,” I whisper, pocketing the fob. Guilt gnaws at me, but I need to find Trinity and make things right. “Take a moment if you need to, but then please go.”
I leave Anita behind, her sobs echoing in my ears as I make a beeline for the garage. The cool air hits me like a splash of sanity, and I whip out my phone to call Trinity. It rings into the void, unanswered, and something inside me tightens with unease .
“Dammit,” I mutter. Decision made, I start my car and steer toward Lakeview, clinging to hope that she’s there, that I can make her understand.
But the parking lot at Lakeview is half-empty, and there’s no sign of Trinity’s car. My heart sinks a little more, but I push through the doors of the facility and head straight to the memory care unit where Joy, Trinity’s mother, resides. The scent of antiseptic mixed with something faintly floral greets me, doing nothing for my anxiety.
“Joy?” I call softly as I approach her, noting the vacant look in her eyes today.
“Who’s asking?” Her voice is cautious, distant, as if she’s speaking from another world.
“It’s Greyson Paradise. I’m looking for Trinity, your daughter.” I watch for any flicker of recognition, any sign that might lead me to Trinity.
“Trinity?” She furrows her brow. “I don’t know a Trinity.”
Desperation tightens my throat. “Maybe…maybe Ellen? Your sister? Have you seen her today?”
“Ellen…” Joy’s lips tremble slightly. “Haven’t seen Ellen in years. Who are you again?”
“Greyson,” I repeat, feeling utterly defeated. I thank her and step away.
On the way down the hall, I stop a nurse to ask if she’s seen Trinity. She shakes her head. I don’t know what else to do. Back in my car, my hands shake as I dial Trinity’s number again. This time, I leave a message, my voice raw.
“It’s me. Greyson. Please, just talk to me. I’ll explain everything. I’ll fix everything. You have to know what you mean to me, how you’ve changed everything I thought I knew about love and life. I need you to believe that this, us. It’s worth fighting for.”
I hang up, the silence around me more profound than before. All I can do now is wait, hope, and fight this sinking feeling that I’ve lost something irreplaceable.