Chapter 24
Hallie
For me, love always means
spending time with people.
~ Damaris Phillips
“Bye, Mommy!” Mia jumps out of the car, grabbing her backpack and running toward her teacher.
“Bye, Mia!” I shout, pulling away from the curb and following the car ahead of me out of the drop-off line through the parking lot.
I check my face in the rearview mirror. Besides the extra pinkness in my cheeks, I look normal—like it’s any other morning when I’d be dropping Mia to school, running a few errands, heading home and coming back to get her in the afternoon.
Only today, instead of turning toward downtown or home, I veer toward the edge of town, driving the now-familiar road to Greyson’s.
I push the Bluetooth on my steering wheel. “Call Ace.”
Yes. I entered him in my phone as Ace. I don’t need my nosy mother or my sister reading texts or seeing my call history and figuring out that I’m constantly contacting my co-worker to tell him I’m thinking of him, or getting messages that tell me how beautiful he thinks I am and how he can’t wait to see me.
“Hello?” his deep, slightly scratchy morning voice comes through my car speaker.
“Good morning.”
“It is,” Greyson says with an uncommon smile in his voice. “Good morning to you too.”
“I’m on my way. I just wanted you to know that.”
“Is that right? You’re calling to tell me you’re on your way?”
“Why else would I be calling?”
“No reason. Except, I already know you’re on your way, so I think you’re just eager to see me.”
“What if I am?”
“Well, that will make two of us.”
“Are you on your porch?”
“I am.”
My smile breaks across my face. I love that he’s waiting for me.
“I’m bird-watching,” he says.
“Hmmm.”
“And itching to see you drive down my driveway.”
“You have no game, Greyson.”
“I never claimed to have game. Not even in Munich.”
“I don’t know,” I say, turning down the main street leading into his sprawling neighborhood, but not hanging up. “I thought you had a whole lot of game in Munich.”
“I just liked you.” He pauses. “And here you are.”
I look up through my windshield to take in the view. And by the view, I mean Greyson, leaning on his porch railing, coffee mug in hand, sweatpants and T-shirt on, casual and masculine, but that’s not what makes my heart tighten with the sweetest squeeze. It’s the way he’s looking at me.
I turn off the engine and climb out of the van. He walks down the steps toward me.
“I missed you,” he says.
“Zero game.”
“The only game I like is baseball. Other than that, I believe in saying exactly what’s on my mind.”
“No wonder you’re so stoic and quiet.”
“Why would that be?”
“Your words are too potent.”
“Do you need sugar and creamer to help them go down more smoothly?”
“Maybe.” I smile up at him for remembering my coffee preference.
It’s a small thing. But to me, it’s not.
He leans in and brushes his lips across mine. “There. Some sugar.”
He smells like coffee and clean linen. I want to snuggle up in his arms and spend the morning wrapped in his embrace.
He smiles and then he laughs at himself. “That line was so corny.”
“I kind of liked it.” I grab his free hand and give it a squeeze.
“You make me into someone I barely recognize,” he says.
“I recognize you.”
“That’s all that matters.”
This tingling warmth starts in my head and sort of trickles down until I feel like I could float up the stairs. I don’t know how he does that—just says things like that, so bluntly and absolutely devastatingly sweet.
“Speaking of coffee …” He smiles, taking a sip of his. “Have you had yours yet?”
“No.”
He glances at his wrist as if checking a watch. “You’ve been up this long without coffee?”
“I wanted you to make it for me,” I confess.
“Gladly.” He drops my hand and holds the front door open. “So, how long do I have you for?”
“I pick Mia up at two. Mom’s out running errands. I told her I had plans.”
“And she settled for that?” He walks into the kitchen and points to a stool indicating I should take a seat.
“No. Not at all. She poked and teased. Asking if I was seeing my friend.”
“Mm hmm. Moms always know.”
“She doesn’t know it’s you. But she knows something’s up. She literally told me, ‘You have no friends. Who is this friend?’”
“You just moved here. I give you a month longer and you’re going to be swarmed with friends.” He pulls a mug down and pops a pod in his coffee maker. “People can’t resist you.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say.
“Fine. I can’t resist you.” He walks over shamelessly and pulls me into an embrace, then he kisses me soft and slow.
“I’m so glad I brushed my teeth,” I say, giggling when we pull apart.
“Not as glad as I am,” he says with a wink.
“I’ve got an invite to book club,” I tell him.
It meant the world to me that the wives and girlfriends of my crew and their friends are including me.
“Those women are solid. I’m glad they asked you.”
“That’s saying a lot,” I say. “If they get a Greyson endorsement.”
“They do.” He pulls the mug away from the coffee maker and walks to the fridge, taking out the sweet creamer and setting both in front of me. “Teach me how you like it.”
“My coffee?”
“Everything. Whatever you want to teach me, I’ll become a student. And then I can do it for you.”
I reach down and pinch my forearm.
His face contorts.
“I’m just checking if I’m dreaming here.”
He laughs. “Hallie, if I told you …”
“Told me what.”
“The way I’ve thought of you over the years.”
“Of me?”
“Yeah.” He ducks his head so I’m not looking him in the eyes. “It’s almost embarrassing.”
“You thought of me?”
“After Munich …” he takes a seat at the island next to me. “We went to Afghanistan. You were the last person I spent time with before deploying. That night was …”
“Special,” I finish for him. It was for me too. He has to know that.
“Yeah. Special. So, whenever things would get hard—rough. Sometimes it was really bad. Or boring. It could be really boring too. Anyway, I’d think of you—of our night. And it would carry me through. The thoughts of you were like this promise.”
A weight settles in my chest, constricting and heavy.
I stare into his eyes: blue, clear, honest.
He’s thinking of Afghanistan. I see the memories in his gaze.
“I thought of you too,” I tell him. “I’d wonder whatever happened to you.”
He puts his hand over mine. “So, now? I found you. Or you came to me. And I didn’t know what to make of it.”
“So you were stone-cold silent and aloof.” I smile over at him.
“No game,” he admits with a smile that has all the game he needs and then some.
Does he even know how handsome he is?
“I was watching and waiting. Seeing if you’d end up recognizing me.”
“And if I didn’t?”
“I don’t know. I just knew I had to wait you out.”
“Like a soldier.”
“Like a patient man.”
I sip my coffee, savoring the warm, sweet caramel taste.
“But now that you’re here?” he says. “I just want to make you happy. And to show you what you mean to me.”
“You do,” I tell him. “Trust me. And not just because Danny fell so short in being anything close to the man he needed to be. You’re just so present. And you make me feel wanted.”
“Because you are.” He clears his throat. “I want you, Hallie. However much you have to give. That’s what I want.”
I take another sip of coffee, washing down thoughts of how much Greyson is coming to mean to me—not only because he is Ace, but the man he is now and the connection we have.
My feelings for him are growing the more time we spend together.
And I still have to consider Mia and her needs.
But this morning, I’m going to set that all aside and just enjoy this rare time alone with Greyson.
“So should we just spend the day staring into one another’s eyes over our coffees?” I ask.
“As fun as that sounds, I thought I’d take you on a hike.”
“I’d love a hike.”
“Great. Finish that—take your time—and we can head out. Did you eat?”
“I had a protein drink.”
“I can cook you something.”
“I’m good.”
“Lunch, then.”
“Okay. Lunch sounds good.”
I finish my coffee and Greyson and I take the Jeep to a place he knows about a half hour outside town.
We walk the trails through a gorge filled with oak, maple, and hickory, sharing stories about our lives before I came to Waterford.
The earth is damp underfoot and a distinct after-rain smell fills the air.
Spring buds cover every branch, and the rush of water and birdsong is our soundtrack.
We come to a spot where cascading falls fan across stepped rock, with a deep pool beneath them.
“People swim here as soon as it’s hot out. It gets a little crowded.”
“Your favorite,” I tease him, bumping against him slightly.
He wraps his arm around me and tugs me close. “I like people,” he says, looking down into my eyes with a smile.
“Do you?”
“I like you. And Mia.” He smiles.
My heart clenches at the declaration. Tears threaten to spring out of my eyes.
“She likes you too.”
“And you?”
“I find you very tolerable.”
“Tolerable, huh?” he tugs at my back where he’s got his hands wrapped behind me.
“More than tolerable,” I say.
He leans in and kisses me, running his hand gently down my cheek.
“Okay. A lot more than tolerable.”
“That’s what I thought,” he says, releasing me and clasping my hand in his.
We walk further into the woods and then circle out another side of a loop, passing smaller falls that come down in a single, powerful stream. Then we arrive back at the Jeep.
“I want to take you somewhere for lunch,” Greyson says. “It’s this little spot off the beaten path.”
“Oooh, an adventure! Yes, please.”
We drive a little way in the opposite direction of Waterford. I check the time. Forty-five minutes drive plus lunch. If we eat in less than an hour, I’ll still be good.
“I’ll get you back on time,” Greyson says, practically reading my mind.
“Okay.”
“I won’t come between you and Mia, Hallie. She matters.”
“I …” I blow out a breath and stare out the window as Greyson pulls into a little parking lot of this small roadside grill out in the middle of nowhere.