Chapter 25
Greyson
The night is come, but not too soon.
~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I’m wide awake.
The station is dark and still. The clock is moving slower than normal. Dustin’s heavy breathing is the only sound in my bunk—like death by a thousand snores. I roll over and check the time on my cell—again.
Forget it. I can wait for her in the kitchen. No use lying here tossing around.
I get up, slip into my slides and quietly inch out of the room. Stealthy as the soldier I’ve been trained to be.
Dustin rustles and rolls over, mumbling something about "Emberleigh," and “Babe,” and “Six kids,” and “grab the baby.” I almost chuckle, but I swallow my laughter, carefully shutting our door behind me.
I cross the bay and when I open the kitchen door, the warm yellow light over the stove illuminates her smile. The restless energy I’ve been battling all night settles at the sight of her.
“You’re here?” I ask. “I thought we said midnight.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Hallie says in a whisper.
Dustin and Patrick can’t hear us—they’re across the bay, sound asleep.
“Me either,” I confess in a matching hushed tone. “I never fell asleep. Just laid there watching the clock.”
She smiles. “Want cocoa?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. I want something else.”
“Juice?” she asks as I tread across the kitchen in her direction.
“No.”
“Water?” Her cheeks flush.
“No.”
“Tea?”
I’m right in front of her, caging her against the counter.
She looks up at me, her breath fanning my cheeks, eyes wide and fixed on mine.
“You,” I say, plainly.
“Oh.”
Her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip.
“I want to kiss you, Hallie.”
She nods. “You should.”
I lean in, like a man parched from a day in smoke and ash with no relief. She’s the hydrant, and I’m cupping my hands around her chin. Finally, refreshment.
She leans into me, looping her arms around me, toying with my hair, driving me crazy. I can’t get enough of her.
I step back, running my palm down my jawline, stuffing my hands into my pockets only to find I’m wearing station-issue shorts. She giggles at my lack of composure—the way she undoes me with a look or a touch.
And the kitchen door opens.
Hallie’s eyes go wide. Her hands land on my chest and she shoves me backward. I turn.
Dustin’s in the doorway, drowsy eyes making complete sense of what he’s seeing.
“Okay. Well …” He looks between me and Hallie.
“Cool. Cool. Midnight meeting of the extremely not suspicious people.” He gives us a two-finger salute.
“I'll just ... go ... because this is obviously a rookie-in-training moment.” He nods, nervously.
Then he gives me finger guns and shakes his head. “You seem to have it covered, Grey.”
He steps back out of the kitchen. Hallie’s hands fly up to her reddening cheeks. “Oh my gosh! Grey!”
I start to chuckle and then I’m belly laughing.
Hallie swats at me. “This isn’t funny!”
“Yeah it is,” I keep laughing. “It’s really funny.”
She huffs out a soft laugh. Then she’s laughing with me. “Greyson! What are we going to do?”
“Nothing. And neither is Dustin.” I smooth my hand down her hair and tuck her into a hug. “He’s a wild child, loose cannon, but he’s not telling anyone about this—not even Patrick.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah. I am.”
And it dawns on me, I can trust Dustin. He’s got my six. Why did it take this to make me see it?
“Okay. If you say so,” she says reluctantly.
“Are you okay?” I pull back, looking down at Hallie, searching her face.
“I am. Yeah.” She sighs. “I am.”
“Regrets?”
“After that kiss? Not on your life.”
“I’ve got more.”
“More kisses?”
“Yeah. They’re in infinite supply.”
“I think I’ll finish my cocoa first.”
I wrap my arm around her, lifting her mug from the counter and popping it in the microwave to warm it again. Then I escort her to the table.
“Tell me more stories,” I ask her.
“Stories?” She smiles. “You want more of my stories?”
“I want to know everything about you—and Mia.”
She launches into a story about Mia’s birthday party when she turned four.
It was a dragon-princess party and all the guests dressed as either a dragon or a princess, but Mia wanted to be a dragon princess.
I listen with rapt attention, running my thumb over the back of her hand that’s resting on the table.
She asks me for a story when she finishes. “About baseball. When you were younger.”
I tell her about the first game I remember playing. I struck out, but I fell for the game anyway.
We swap more stories. She finishes her cocoa sip by sip. We linger and then she yawns, which sets me yawning.
“We should get some sleep,” I tell her.
“What are you doing when we get off work?” she asks.
And I wish I had the day free when I catch a glimpse of the longing look in her eyes.
“I’m actually helping Cody out at the ranch. We planned it a while ago—before I wanted to save every minute off duty for you.”
“Every minute?”
“Every minute you’re free.”
She pauses. “Grey?”
“Yeah?” I lift her hand and kiss her knuckles. In a few hours, men from both crews will be gathered at this same table. But right now, it’s our oasis.
“When will our bubble pop?” her eyes soften.
“Our bubble?”
“This magical space that envelops us—it seems like it always has.”
“Never,” I say, being fully convinced I’m right.
“It has to pop.”
“Why?”
“Because this?” She gestures between us. “And that look?” She points to my eyes. “It doesn’t last.”
“What if it does?” I ask her, earnestly.
“What if the way I feel about you only grows stronger the more I get to know you? What if every time you do something, like blink at Mo or gasp at a waterfall, or laugh at something dumb Dustin says or does, I fall a little harder? What if that’s true? What if the bubble just expands?”
“When bubbles expand, they pop.” Her lips thin.
“Now who’s the grump?” I ask her.
But I lift both her hands in mine and stare into her eyes. “Hallie. If we go through conflict or seasons of distance … or times when we disappoint one another, we’ll just hang on.”
Her brows draw in.
“Because that’s what you do when someone matters,” I assure her. “You hang on.”
I give her hands a gentle squeeze.
“I like this part—the bubble,” she says, sounding more like Mia than herself.
“I like it too. A lot. And I’m not kidding. What we have is special. I don’t see it popping. I don’t know what it will do, but popping isn’t part of what I see. And I’m a doomsayer if there ever was one.”
“You are!” she shouts, laughing. “Grumpy Greyson.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“But you smile … lately.”
“You make me smile.”
“No pressure,” she says offhandedly.
“Absolutely no pressure. You just do. I can’t help myself.”
“Greyson Stone.”
“What?”
“You’re a romantic.”
“Only for you.” I smile at her and she smiles back—this private exchange that tells me whatever she was worried about has been settled, for now at least. “And don’t go telling people I’m happy. I can’t have my reputation getting tarnished like that.”
“Your secret’s safe with me.”
“And Dustin,” I say with a soft laugh. “Our secret’s safe with him.”
“Ugh!” she says.
I grab her mug and stand, rinsing it in the sink and setting it in the dishwasher. Then we cross the bays together and separate with a kiss goodnight. Or good morning. It’s almost four. We’ll be up in two hours. Totally worth it.
The morning comes way too quickly.
Dustin’s shaking my bed. “Wake up, Romeo!”
I grumble and sit up.
“Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo?”
“Are we really going there?” I ask, stretching my arms overhead.
“We?” he chuckles. “No we about this situation. This is alllll you.”
I nod. “Yeah. It is.”
Dustin smiles. And smiles. And smiles. Then his eyebrows start wagging in what I’d almost call a dance. “Don’t worry, Grey.”
“You know what?” I tell him.
“What?”
“I trust you.”
“Awww, Grey. Now you’re going to make me all weepy and emotional. Bring it in, man. Give me a big ol’ hug!”
“Get out of here,” I tell him, standing and pushing him lightly out of the way.
He overdramatizes and flies backward onto his bed.
We hit breakfast and do last-minute checks before shift change. Hallie keeps glancing over at me. I smile at her every time, carefully, but maybe not as carefully as I had been before Dustin walked in on us last night. Something about him seeing us made me realize we’ll survive exposure.
Mia’s another story. And for her sake, we still need to be careful. Bit by bit.
My phone pings with an email when I’m walking toward the Jeep.
“See you in twenty-four!” Dustin shouts.
I wave to him.
I open my email.
Sender: USA JOBS. Subject: Application Status Update–FEMA Emergency Management.
Dear Mr. Stone,
Thank you for your interest in the Emergency Management Specialist Position with the Federal Emergency Management Agency.
Your application has been reviewed and determined to meet the qualifications for the position. At this time, your application has been referred to a staffing specialist for further consideration in the hiring process.
You may be contacted if additional information or next steps are required. We appreciate your interest in serving with FEMA.
Sincerely,
Barbara Sterling, FEMA Human Resources
Federal Emergency Management Agency
I close out the app and climb into my Jeep.
Maybe I should put a stop to the process. When I started pursuing the DC job, Hallie wasn’t on my radar. I thought I could do more good in a position of that magnitude. And I wasn’t wrong. I’d help more people—be a part of saving lives at a much wider scope.
But, the way Hallie was talking this morning, if she’s getting serious and sees us making this last, I’m obviously not going anywhere.