Chapter 21 #2
We clear our plates and take a walk to the pond, which is down a few winding streets from Greyson’s home.
The neighborhood is built in an area that has hills and gulleys, so homes are set apart on their own individual property without any regard to how they align with other properties.
Roads dip and curve, unlike the perfect grid of neighborhood streets closer to town.
The breeze gently lifts the branches in the massive trees overhead.
They’re practically bursting with new spring growth.
On the way to the pond, Greyson’s hand finds mine.
“Is this okay?” he asks thoughtfully, rubbing his thumb across the back of my hand.
“You’re cheating. You can’t caress my hand and ask that at the same time.”
“I think that’s well within the rules.”
“Hmmm,” I say, rubbing my thumb across the back of his hand.
“Yep. In bounds,” he says with a smile down at me.
We walk the rest of the way like that, hands intertwined, a familiar, comfortable silence between us.
When we get to the pond, Greyson says, “So, this is the pond.”
I laugh. “I think you need to work on this part of the tour.”
“It’s a pond.”
“Right. Well, maybe, work on the presentation.”
“More adjectives?” he asks, pretending to be weary.
“Tell me what it was like the first time you saw this pond.”
He glances at it, eyes roving the glassy surface, taking in the greenery around the edges. Then he looks at me. “It was hard.”
I tilt my face up toward his, not saying a word. Giving him room to expound or not.
“Here I was about to buy my first home—in my twenties—not even required to make a down payment and securing a VA loan. And Zach would never …” His voice catches in his throat. “It didn’t feel fair.”
“It’s not,” I agree.
He nods. His eyes look moist, but he doesn’t cry. He just turns to face the pond and we stare across the water together, his hand clinging to mine with a grip that’s simultaneously tender and firm.
“I’m not always thinking of Zach when I come out here,” he says after a little while. “Sometimes I take a walk at sunset. I’ll come through my woods and circle out the other road and then I stand here and think, or just listen to the sounds in the stillness.”
We’re quiet. I want to hear what he hears when he’s out here alone.
The spring peepers make their high, peep-peep-peep from the pond edges, accompanied by occasional deeper croaks from bullfrogs.
Birds call from the cattails. Robins chatter.
The flutter of wings or a fish flopping splashes the water.
“I like it,” I say.
“Me too,” he says.
And he has that look—the one that says he wants to kiss me. And I want him to.
I turn, pulling our interlocked hands behind me and resting his palm on my back. Then I lift on tiptoes, looping my hands around his neck.
“I want to kiss you,” I say, my voice practically a whisper.
“Then you should,” he says in a gravelly voice.
His lips meet mine in a kiss that lingers.
The sounds of nature lift and fall around us.
And beyond that, the world fades until everything is Greyson and his hands on my hips and the feel of his hair between my fingers and the way he holds me close like he wants to keep me forever.
I melt into him—into our kiss, losing myself in this strong, beautiful, tender man.
We separate and he lowers his forehead to mine. My breath comes slow and steady. I place my hand over his heart and it beats hard under my palm.
“I wish I were the kind of man who could come up with words that expressed everything inside me.”
“I don’t,” I tell him plainly.
“I …” his brow draws in. “You being here …” He pulls back, shaking his head lightly and running his hand through his hair. “It means a lot to me.”
“You inviting me here means a lot to me.”
“I’ve never taken anyone to the pond before.”
My smile overtakes my face. “Really?”
“It’s my place.”
I grab hold of his hand, intertwining our fingers. “You win.”
His face contorts with confusion.
“The contest. To live with me in my castle …”
He chuckles. “Ah. The Justizpalast.”
I nod, feeling silly, but meaning it. No one compares to Greyson. No one ever could.
We walk back, our mood light, hands connected.
I ask him what he does on his days off. He lists dutiful and responsible things like homecare.
He occasionally pops in on Zach’s mom. My heart can barely hold the reality of what that must be like for each of them.
And I fall a little more for this thoughtful man with each thing he tells me.
I’m in quicksand. And I jumped right into it. How could I not?
He tells me about days spent on Cody’s ranch, pitching in when the workload is heavy.
“Then there’s baseball,” he says with a smile.
“How’d you get into coaching?”
“I loved the sport. It was a bright spot in my childhood—which was a good childhood. I loved the game. And my coaches played a big part in my life, so I just decided it would be good to be that kind of role model for kids too.”
“Girls.”
“They have it worse off in sports. In everything, really. Men get ahead. Women have to double the effort. Sports programs are underfunded for women. Scholarships are less common. I wanted to shift that tide in my own small way.”
“Wow.”
“It’s not impressive, Hallie. I’m just coaching seven and eight-year-old coach-pitch ball. I’m not curing cancer.”
“Right. Thanks for the perspective check.” I bump my hip into his. “I get to say wow when you impress me. And you don’t get to stop me.”
“Is that in the rules too?”
“I just added it.”
He smiles down at me. “Well, thanks.”
“What are you doing now?” he asks as we approach his house.
“Nothing. How about you?”
“No big plans?”
“No plans at all. My mom has another date tonight.”
“So … Do you want to stay?”
“For dinner?” I ask.
“Yeah. For dinner.”
“Well, when you bribe me with food, I can hardly say no, can I?”
“Exactly. I might even have some hot cocoa around here somewhere.” He smiles.
“Oh, that’s just hitting below the belt. Completely out of bounds.”
“I play to win.”
“I already told you that you won.”
His smile grows and he brushes my hair back and leans in to place a soft, lingering kiss on my cheek.
We settle into two chairs on the back porch. Greyson tells me stories about the station before I got there. I tell him about Mia. We talk about life in Waterford. The sun drops lower and we move indoors. He makes dinner, only allowing me to make the salad.
“I want to serve you,” he says simply.
“Who serves you?” I ask, knowing I’ve entered a topic that’s a minefield, so I’m stepping carefully.
“I do,” he says.
“You do not,” I nudge him playfully with a salad tong. “You serve Waterford. Zach’s mom. Cody’s family. The team. Me.”
He shrugs.
I don’t push.
We eat in his dining room. He even lights a candle. It’s comfortable and more quietly domestic than romantic—and that hits me in a different way. I haven’t shared life with anyone but Avery, Mom and Mia for so long.
After dinner, we wash dishes, standing side-by-side at the sink.
“Thanks for staying,” he says.
“I had the sweetest day.”
“I did too. What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Lunch with my mom. Otherwise, nothing.”
“You’re really bad at this day off thing. Did you know that?” he teases.
I walk into the living room, reluctantly getting ready to leave.
“Maybe you could teach me how to improve my skills.”
“Someone better teach you,” he smiles down at me.
“I vote you.”
“Challenge accepted. Wear comfortable shoes and come by after lunch.”
“Oooh. Comfortable shoes. There’s a romance line you don’t hear very often.”
“Is that what we’re doing here? Romance?” His expression is soft—almost vulnerable.
“I don’t know.” My chest tightens.
I can’t answer him with any kind of certainty.
“Well, I don’t kiss the other crew members off-shift,” he says, the playful tone in his voice telling me he’s letting me off the hook for now.
“I’m glad we cleared that up. I wouldn’t want to be competing with Dustin. I bet he has moves.”
Greyson’s laugh is full and loud. I love that I was the one to draw it out.
He brushes his hand down my cheek and then trails his fingers down my neck and arm. When he reaches my hand, his fingers intertwine with mine. He lifts our clasped hands to his lips and kisses my knuckles.
“I know being a single mom is complicated. And I’m not here to make your life harder, Hallie. I just … want us to spend time together. But if you can’t—because of Mia—I get it.”
“Thank you.” I lean into him and he wraps his arms around me. A sigh escapes me, long and deep.
I look up at him. “I don’t know what I can offer you. Can we just take it bit by bit? I wasn’t planning on any relationships. I kind of was planning on not.”
He smiles. “I’m good with bit by bit.”
“Then I’ll see you tomorrow after lunch—in my comfortable shoes.”
He leans in and kisses me and I hold on to him. Then he walks me to my car and holds the door open for me.
“Thanks again—for today,” he says.
“Curiosity killed the cat.”
“I have no intention of anyone dying on my watch, cat or otherwise. But I’m grateful for curiosity if that’s what it took to get you out here.”
Greyson shuts my door after I’m buckled in—always the caretaker.
I’m light as air the whole drive home. An occasional thought flits through about the impossibility of bringing a man into Mia’s life—even a man like Greyson.
He’s her coach and my coworker. How would that ever work?
But I push those thoughts away, needing to give myself this one small gift of four days with him.
“Bit by bit,” I tell myself. “Just see where this goes for now.”
When I walk in the house, Mom’s sitting in the main room.
“I thought you had a date,” I say.
“I thought I needed to call the cops to file a missing person’s report. Jonathan said there’s an app we can get where I can track your whereabouts.”
“Jonathan?”
“That man next door.”
“Oh! Jonathan. Yeah. Well, we’re not getting an app like that. You could always call if you’re that worried.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Oh, yeah. Hence the missing person’s report.”
“So, I exaggerate. Where were you? With this friend all day?” She emphasizes the word friend.
“Yes. We had lunch and took a hike. Spent all afternoon talking. So, I stayed for dinner.”
“Sounds nice.”
I clear my throat to avoid sounding dreamy in any way. “It was nice. Nice to hang out with an adult.” I quickly change the subject. “I’m looking forward to our lunch tomorrow.”
“Me too. You can tell me all about your friend.”
“Or … not.” I walk toward my bedroom. “I’m going to change into my pajamas and call Mia.”
“Tell her Nana misses her. And Daddy. Tell her Daddy misses her.”
The dog. Sheesh. I’m not telling my daughter Daddy misses her—not when she’s with her actual daddy.
I change into pajamas and call Mia. She answers on the first ring. “I miss you, Mommy.”
“I miss you too. Is everything okay?”
“Everything is great!” she shouts really loudly. “Mommy?”
“Yeah?”
“Knock knock.” She’s yelling so loudly. Maybe there’s background noise.
“Who’s there?”
She shouts, “Ice cream!”
My answer comes through my laughter. “Ice cream who?”
Her voice is so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. “I scream because I love you!”
She busts up and I laugh along with her.
I hear Danny’s voice, “Mia, not so loud.”
“Sorry, Daddy,” she tells him. Then, in her indoor voice, she tells me, “Mommy, is it weird to have Daddy my daddy and Daddy my dog?”
“It really is,” I say, laughing again. And our laughter mingles like it does when she’s right here in our home.
“How is Daddy my dog?” she asks.
“He misses you. He’s just laying around like a mop rug.”
“Awwww.”
“You’ll see each other soon.”
“Yeah. I saw my cousins too.”
She goes on, telling me about her day. Then she yawns. “Tomorrow, Daddy is taking me to a real baseball game with all my cousins.”
“That sounds like fun.”
I search for a sting of jealousy and can’t find it. I’ve got plans too.
Mia yawns again. “I better get to sleep, Mommy.”
“Yeah. You better. I love you, Spike.”
“Love you too, Mommy. And you can call me tomorrow.”
“Okay. I will. Or you can call me.”
“I know. But I might forget so you better remember for us.”
“I will remember for both of us.”
“Okay. G’nite.”
“Goodnight, Mia. Love you big.”
The call clicks and I smile softly to myself. Then I lean back, settling into my pillow with a soft sigh—the kind that feels like it’s been waiting years to leave my chest.
For a few blissful seconds, it’s just the pond, the feel of his hand around mine, and the way the world narrowed when he kissed me.
Then the sensible thoughts begin their slow orbit.
Greyson is my co-worker.
He’s Mia’s coach.
And Mia doesn’t need one more upheaval. She’s had enough shifting around in her short seven years.
My fingertips graze my lips in the low lamplight of my bedside table.
This isn’t only about Greyson’s kisses or the way he makes me feel.
But none of that matters. I’m not sure I could walk away from him again—even if I tried.