28. Riley
28
RILEY
W e arrive at Sunnyside Nursing Home in record time. “Go,” Logan urges as he pulls up to the curb. “I’ll stay with Aurora.”
I only hesitate for a second, but I trust him with her—I trust all of them with her. When he gives me his reassured, confident smile, I chase after Grayson. Rushing through the sterile hallways, the fluorescent lights flicker overhead as if sensing our urgency. The scent of antiseptic and faintly wilted flowers fills the air, clashing with the adrenaline coursing through my veins from tonight’s activities. I pick up my pace, practically jogging to meet the guys’ long strides as we hurry toward Gran’s room.
Grayson’s face is a mask of devastation, his eyes hollow and haunted. He hasn’t spoken a word since we jumped in the car, and I can tell he’s barely holding it together. We all can. The weight of his grief is visible in the set of his jaw and the tightness of his shoulders. It shatters my heart to see him like this.
I hurt for him.
It makes me realize he’s been hurting for me too.
With Aurora. With Bertram.
He’s been feeling that pain, too.
It makes all the shit that happened at the beginning of the school year seem petty. Childish.
Yeah, he fucked up. Yeah, he never apologized, but honestly, I wouldn’t expect him to. He might regret what he did, but he’s not sorry. He did what he felt he had to, and shouldn’t that be something I value in a person? That they’re willing to do what needs to be done regardless of whether it’s right or wrong?
Besides, knowing Grayson, he’d probably use the excuse as some twisted logic that if he hadn’t done that, the four of us wouldn’t be what we are now. Which, admittedly, I’m not entirely sure what we are, but it feels like it’s something significant. Something bigger than each of us individually.
It feels like family.
Grayson and I may be volatile, like oil and gasoline, but I’m ready to light that match and go up in flames with him.
When we reach the door, Royce slows, hesitating. “I’ll wait here.” His voice is a low rumble. “Let me know if you need anything.”
I move to join him, but Grayson’s words stop me. “Riley.” I turn to face him, my heart aching at the sight of his glassy eyes. It reminds me of the day he found out about Aurora. He had that same sheen. Grayson may act cold and unfeeling, but if I were to hazard a guess, I’d say he feels more than the rest of us. Perhaps too much, even. “Will you come in with me?”
His plea is raw, a crack in the armor he’s built around himself. I see the fear and vulnerability he’s usually so good at hiding, and it breaks me. How can I deny him this? How can I not be there when he’s pleading with such silent desperation?
“Only if you want to.”
I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat and threading my fingers through his. Pain and fear are still prevalent in his stare, but his shoulders drop, some of the tension in them easing. His grip is firm, almost pleading, and I squeeze back, hoping to offer some semblance of comfort.
We step into the room together, the door closing softly behind us. The curtains have been pulled, the only light coming from a small bedside lamp that casts a warm glow over the room. Gran lies comfortably in her bed, frail and pale, her breaths shallow and labored. Beside her sits a nurse, who rises, moving over to greet us. Her face is etched with sympathy as she talks to Grayson in a hushed tone.
“I’m so sorry,” she says softly. “She’s been in and out of consciousness. She’s comfortable and not in any pain.” Reaching out, she squeezes Grayson’s arm. “This is the end, Grayson. Sit with her. Talk to her. We’ll give you peace to say goodbye.”
Grayson’s Adam’s apple bobs, his eyes never straying from his Gran’s frail form as he nods his acknowledgment before the nurse silently slips from the room.
Only when we’re alone does he take a shuddering breath. That brave face he’s been donning starts to crumble, and I direct him to the chair the nurse had been sitting in. The raw pain in his eyes is unbearable as he sinks into it, focusing intently on his Gran. His grip remains firm on my hand the entire time, like without it, he’d drift out to sea and never find his way to shore.
“Gran,” he whispers, his voice breaking.
I stand beside him as he lifts the wafer-thin skin of her hand and presses his lips to it. His face crumples as he drops his forehead to rest beside her arm on the sheet, whispering words I can’t hear but feel in the depths of my soul.
I don’t know how to comfort him, how to ease the pain etched so deeply into his features. My heart aches for Gran, for Grayson, for the love and loss swirling around us. I want to say something, anything, but the words stick in my throat, unable to break free.
Instead, I focus on being present and letting him know he’s not alone. I run my thumb over the back of his hand, a small gesture, but it’s all I can offer. Tears blur my vision as I watch the man I’ve come to care for more deeply than I realized grapple with a pain that’s tearing him apart.
Grayson’s shoulders shake with silent sobs, and I feel my own tears spill over. The love in this room is palpable, even amidst the heartbreak. I squeeze his hand again, hoping he can feel my support, my unwavering presence.
Eventually, he sits up. He tugs on my hand, his other arm banding around my waist as he drags me into his lap so my back rests against his chest. He buries his nose in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply before releasing a shuddering exhale.
“I don’t know what to do without her,” he confesses in a voice so low that if he wasn’t breathing the words directly into my ear, I wouldn’t have heard them. “She’s been my rock. The one constant in all the chaos. I might not need her the way I did at eighteen, but I still need her.” His eyes shimmer with unshed tears, and he takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
Still unable to find the right words, I lean back into his chest, letting him know I’m here. We’re silent for a drawn-out moment, Grayson lost in his thoughts.
Eventually, he starts to speak. “Gran used to make the best apple pie,” he says, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Every Sunday, without fail, we’d have pie after dinner. I remember helping her in the kitchen whenever I stayed at hers when I was little. She’d let me roll out the dough, even though I always made a mess. But she never minded. She’d just laugh and tell me I was her little chef.”
I can see the memories playing out in his mind, each one a bittersweet reminder of what he’s losing. “She taught me how to drive,” he confesses. “Dad was… busy, so Gran took me to an empty parking lot and let me practice until I finally got the hang of it. I remember how patient she was, never once losing her temper, even when I nearly ran into a lamppost.”
Grayson’s eyes drift back to Gran, and he brushes his thumb over the backs of her fingers. “She’s the reason I am who I am today. Why I didn’t end up completely lost in the dark. She believed in me when no one else did.” He pauses, his voice trembling. “I just don’t know how to do this without her. She’s been my guide, my confidante. I feel like I’m losing a part of myself.”
I swallow hard, shuffling sideways on his lap so he can see my face. His expression is one of devastation as I lift a hand, pressing my palm to his cheek. I wish there was more I could do. Wish I could take away this pain for him. “You’ll always have those memories, Grayson. She’s given you so much, and you’ve made her proud every step of the way. She’ll always be with you in everything you do. Everything you achieve.”
He nods, a tear escaping and sliding down his cheek. “I just... I wish I had more time,” he says, his voice breaking.
I wrap my arms around his waist as he drops his forehead to my shoulder, and I soothe him as he falls apart in my arms. The minutes roll by, time losing all meaning until Grayson lifts his tear-stained eyes to mine. Beneath the thick layer of grief burns a fire, one aimed in my direction. “I’m done letting you hold yourself back from me.”
“Grayson…”
He shakes his head. “We both know I fucked up, and we both know I’m not the type of guy to apologize for that. Not when it brought you back into my life.” His eyes search mine, his hand moving to rest on the side of my throat. “I can’t promise I won’t piss you off. Hell, we both know I will. But I want to know that even when we’re angry at each other, we still love one another. I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to put the past behind us and move forward.”
He continues, his grip tightening as if afraid to let go. “I want to start a new life with you, with Royce and Logan, and with Aurora. I don’t have all the answers to how that looks, and I can promise you it won’t always be smooth sailing, but I know I want it with you. The good times. The bad. The hard and the ugly.”
His vulnerability, his earnestness, they pierce through my defenses. I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. “I want that too, Grayson. A life with all of us.” My lips quirk in a teasing smile. “Although, for the record, I won’t say no to you chasing me through fields or abandoned churches.”
He smirks, a spark igniting in his eyes. “Good, because I had no intention of stopping.” Then his lips are on mine. Coaxing. Demanding. Somehow both passionate yet chaste.
All too soon, he pulls away, the somberness of the situation settling between us once more as we turn to face Gran. I tense as I find her watching us, her eyes cracked open and a weak smile on her face.
“Grayson, my dear.” Her voice is a whisper as her bony fingers squeeze Grayson’s.
Shuffling me on his knee, Grayson leans closer, his face inches from hers. “I’m here, Gran.”
She manages a small smile, her eyes filled with a lifetime of memories and unspoken words. “You’ve always been my strong boy,” she croaks, her grip on his hand tightening slightly as a shadow casts over her face. “Don’t let your father turn you into him. You’re better than that, my dear.”
Gran’s hand trembles as she reaches out, touching his cheek with frail fingers. “I see you, Grayson. I see how hard you fight the world, how you keep everyone at arm’s length. But you don’t have to carry that burden alone. You deserve love, my boy. Happiness. Strength isn’t just about holding everything together.”
Tears threaten in Grayson’s eyes as he clings to every word, his emotions raw and exposed.
“You’ve built walls around your heart, my dear,” she continues, her voice growing fainter. “But those walls… they keep out the love you deserve. Don’t be afraid to let them down.”
Grayson places her hand gently against his cheek, tears running freely down his face as she draws a shaky breath. “Let yourself love, Grayson.”
“Gran,” he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion. “I…”
She smiles faintly, a glimmer of pride in her cloudy eyes. Gran’s next breath is her final one before she slips away. Grayson’s face crumples with grief as he leans over, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead and whispering his goodbye.
Even after she’s gone, we sit there for a while longer. The silence is peaceful, healing. The room steeped in a solemn hush. Gran’s presence lingers in the air, a bittersweet memory mixed with the heavy weight of grief.
Minutes. Hours. Days.
However long Grayson needs, we’ll sit here. I’ll support him .
For now, everything else can wait.
My eyelids are heavy, and my muscles weary as I trudge into the house alongside Grayson; however, many hours later, Royce and Logan brought Aurora home and put her to bed hours ago. Thankfully, she’s been out like a light all night.
Once we’re home, Grayson heads straight for the stairs. I watch him go, sighing before I go to check on Aurora. I pop my head into her room, reassuring myself that she’s safe and sound, before ducking across the hall to Logan’s room.
“You okay?” he murmurs from where he was lounging on his bed. Getting up, he comes over and pulls me in against him.
“I’m fine.”
“Grayson?”
I shake my head.
“He will be,” Logan assures. “He’s got us, whether or not he realizes that yet.”
With a sad smile, I press onto my toes and plant a quick kiss on him. A thank you.
“I’m going to say night to Royce, then I think I’ll stay with Grayson.”
Logan nods as though he expected nothing else. He tucks my hair behind my ear, tracing my jawline with his finger. “You should. He needs you tonight. I’ve got Aurora.”
“Thank you.” With another press of our lips, I slip from his room and go to Royce’s. He doesn’t hear me enter, bent over his desk with headphones in as he draws. I tap his shoulder gently so as not to startle him, and lifting his head, he pulls the headphones off. “Ry.” He glances past me toward the door. “You’re both home?”
I nod.
The openness he always sports when he’s drawing slowly shutters until his face is set in its typical hard mask. “I need to go… Lydia.” I’d momentarily forgotten we left her tied up in the basement of Dax’s club. I hadn’t been joking when I said that she was dead to me. Still, we can’t just leave her there indefinitely.
“Should you be going alone?” I question, worrying my bottom lip.
He gives me a sly smirk. “I’ll be fine, James. You just take care of Grayson for us.”
I give him a soft, weary smile. “I will.”
His lips quirk in the semblance of a smile before he ducks in, kissing my temple. “Help yourself to something to sleep in,” he offers, gesturing toward his dresser as he grabs his jacket before disappearing out the door.
I take him up on his offer, grabbing a t-shirt of his before making a pit stop at the bathroom to freshen up. Once I’ve stalled for as long as possible, I approach the stairs leading to Grayson’s room. Dressed in Royce’s top, my legs and feet bare, I pause with my foot on the first step, worrying my bottom lip. I’ve never been in Grayson’s room, and suddenly, I’m second-guessing myself. Would he want me in there when he’s grieving? Maybe he’d rather be alone?
Except, isn’t that Grayson’s problem? He shuts down and pushes everyone away. Knowing the stubborn asshole as I do, he’s probably shoving every bit of emotion he’s feeling into a box and snapping it shut.
Frowning, I march up the stairs, refusing to talk myself out of what I’m doing as I push open his bedroom door and step into the dimly lit room.
Grayson’s bedroom is perfectly him—dark and moody. The walls are a deep charcoal, and the slanted ceiling adds unexpected coziness. A massive bed dominates the space with its dark, luxurious linens. The rich, deep tones of the bedding and furniture give the room a masculine elegance. Two doors are on the far side of the room, one presumably for the closet and the other for the adjoining bathroom.
The only light in the room is the bedside lamp. It creates a warm pool around the bed, the rest of the room fading into shadowy corners. A sharp, warm scent lingers in the air from Grayson’s cologne, and feeling the plush carpet beneath my bare feet, I pad on silent feet into the room, quietly closing the door behind me.
Grayson lies flat on his back in the middle of the bed as he stares at the ceiling. Not once has he looked my way since I walked in. However, I know he knows I’m here.
“Go away, Riley.”
Aaaand we’re back to being an asshole.
Oh, how Grayson loves to give me whiplash.
“Yeah, no, I don’t think so.”
Done with letting him push me away, I move to perch on the opposite end of his bed.
He sighs but doesn’t make any further attempts to get me to leave.
Because despite the walls he’s putting up, he doesn’t want me to leave. Stupid, stubborn male. The muscles in his face twitch before smoothing out one by one.
Stretching my bare leg across the bed, I poke him in the ribs. “Don’t do that.”
His head falls to the side, flat eyes staring unblinkingly at me. “Do what?”
“Shut down.”
He sighs, returning his focus to the ceiling. “It’s the only way I know how to deal.”
“No, it’s the only way you’ve allowed yourself to deal,” I correct. “You’re used to shutting everyone out, turning off your emotions to tackle the practical problem instead, but you can’t keep doing that, Grayson.”
“Says who? You?” He frowns.
“Yes. Me.” Shifting my legs beneath me, I lean on my knees. “You say you don’t want to waste time, yet here you are, wasting time. ”
Snarling, he hauls himself upright to glare at me. “The only family I have just died! I’m allowed to take some time.”
Before he can launch me across the room, or I can chicken out, I crawl into his lap, planting my knees on either side of his narrow hips as I grab his face between my palms.
“Your Gran was not the only family you have. You have us. You have me. You have Aurora .” Holding his gaze, I lightly trail my fingers over the high rise of his cheekbones. “For once in your life, Grayson, let yourself feel all the hard emotions. Don’t bottle it up. Don’t push us away. You’ll regret it.”
He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I’m scared.”
“I know, but you don’t need to be. You’re not alone. Isn’t that what the three of you keep telling me? That I’m not alone? Well, it goes both ways, Grayson. If I’m not alone, then you’re not alone either.”
One minute Grayson is staring at me like he’s never seen me before, his hands fisting the bed covers, and the next, his lips are on mine, his hands in my hair, dragging me closer as he swallows me whole.
“Grayson.” My hands move to his chest, fisting his top. I intend to push him away. Instead, I pull him closer, eliminating the last of the space between us. “You’re supposed to be feeling,” I get out between frantic, desperate kisses.
“I am.” His voice is a deep rasp, rougher than usual. “Believe me, Riley, I’m feeling everything .”
I gasp as he lifts us, flipping me onto my back in the middle of his massive bed. With his hand planted on the mattress beside my head, he hovers over me, his weight a sensual comfort as he stares down at me with that stoic, unreadable expression.
Except his eyes say everything.
Despite being darkened by his pain and grief, they are also warmer than I’ve ever seen. His gaze holds mine, and in that moment, I see past the facade he presents to the world. The walls he’s meticulously built around himself are still there, but there are cracks now, letting the light in. It’s as if the loss of his Gran has stripped away some of his defenses, revealing a man who feels deeply, even if he rarely shows it. Seeing him like this, so raw and unguarded, stirs something deep within me.
“You’re the eye of my storm,” he murmurs in a voice scraped raw with vulnerability. “When I’m with you, there’s this calm… this quiet I’ve never had before. Everything stops, and in that moment, I can just be.”
Bringing my hand to his face, I run my fingers through the coarse hairs of his stubble. Lifting my head, my lips hover inches from his. “Get lost in the storm with me, Grayson.”
It’s all he needs to hear before his lips capture mine in an intoxicating, dominant kiss, and he settles his weight fully between my legs.
I moan, arching my back and fisting his hair, pulling on the ends as I attack his mouth with equal fervor. Grayson and I might have crossed some invisible impasse tonight, although that doesn’t mean we aren’t still a storm waiting to happen. That we don’t still crave that harsh and demanding outlet from the other.
It’s different, but it’s also the same.
Just like when he chased me through the graveyard. It was the same as when he chased me through the field behind their house, but it was also different because I trusted him with my body that night—trusted him to keep me safe. To make me come. To make me forget.
Now… Now, I’m trusting him not only with my body but with my heart.
With rough tugs, he yanks my top over my head. He twists the fabric, my arms getting caught inside the material as he pins them to the mattress above my head.
Pulling away, he growls, his eyes raking over my face and chest. “I love it when you’re pinned and helpless beneath me.”
I moan, arching deeper as I grind my core along the hard length pressing against his jeans. With his free hand, he pulls down the cups of my bra, ducking his head to suck a pert nipple into his mouth.
He’s not gentle about it. Nothing about Grayson is gentle despite the caged, refined appearance he puts on for the world.
And I wouldn’t want him any other way.
Only when the skin is raw and sensitive does he move on to my other breast, lavishing it with the same attention before crawling down my body until his face hovers above the soft pink panties I’m wearing.
Working his way up my inner thighs with his mouth, there’s a damp patch darkening the cotton by the time he presses his nose to the fabric and inhales, humming. He bites and sucks on my clit through my panties until they stick to me, and I’m desperate for more.
“These have to go,” he finally declares, making quick work of peeling them down my legs and stuffing them in his jeans pocket before burying his face in my pussy like he’s been dying to do exactly that for days.
“Oh god,” I groan, lifting my hips to meet his talented mouth.
It amazes me how Grayson can infuriate me yet have me coming apart on his tongue in mere seconds. Perhaps that’s part of it. The passion between us. The explosive chemistry. It can’t only flow in one direction.
“Fucking delicious.” Grayson’s words are muffled, barely audible as he eats my pussy like it’s his job—and we all know how seriously Grayson takes his job.
His fingers join the assault, and I’m primed to explode.
“Come, Tempest. Now.”
Goddamn, I both hate and love how he just has to command it, and my body instantly obeys like it was born to follow Grayson’s orders.
Like the crash of waves against the shore, I implode.
My limbs are still heavy, my breathing ragged as I push myself upright. Fisting the back of Grayson’s top, I pull him up my body, ripping off the Henley so I can run my hands over the hard, lean planes of his torso.
Grayson smirks, the expression flooded with pure masculine smugness. “Eager, are we, Tempest?” he teases as I tear open the button of his jeans before shoving them over his ass.
“Are you saying you aren’t?” I challenge with an arched eyebrow.
“Fuck no,” he snarls, surging forward to claim my lips. The momentum has me falling back to the bed, Grayson settling on top of me as he kicks off his jeans and boxers. “Having you is all I’ve been able to think about since seeing you stand up to Lydia like that. That fucking slap, Tempest, had my fucking balls aching. I’ve never been so proud.”
He nips my lip, and I yelp, before he slides the head of his cock teasingly along my slit, never actually entering me and giving me what I need. What we both need.
“Need you,” I pant, rolling my hips and digging my heels into his ass in a bid to get him moving.
“Fuck, I love you like this. Wet and needy for me.” Fucking finally, he pushes between my folds. Sighing, I stretch around him. His head falls to my shoulder as he seats himself inside me. “God,” he groans. “You have no idea how much I needed this. Needed you. I don’t know how you calm the chaos, but it’s so fucking quiet.”
Rapturous pleasure has smoothed the lines on his face as he lifts his head to look at me. Chemistry buzzes along my skin, yet what simmers in the air between us is so much more than simple attraction.
“We’re in the eye of the storm,” I murmur, feeling that same peace and contentment he does. Like the world has stopped turning. For a blissful moment, everything is frozen in time.
Then he begins to move, and that tranquility melts into a molten desire that sizzles along my nerves and fries every thought in my head until all that exists is the slide of skin against skin, the heat of Grayson’s warm body, and the insane pleasure every grind of our hips elicits.
My nails dig into his skin, clawing marks down his back as he thrusts into me with bruising force while leaving marks all along the column of my neck with his teeth and lips. Despite his sweet words, this is not lovemaking. It’s a battle of wills. A clash of titans. The way I imagine it will always be with Grayson.
Sliding a hand into my hair, he fists the auburn strands. Pain dances along my scalp as he wrenches my face to his. “Mine.”
“Yours,” I agree, because there truly is no denying the inevitable. I think I’ve always known it was the truth, but opening myself up to Grayson is terrifying. Scarier than falling in love with Royce or Logan. Not because of what he did when I first came to Halston, but because he’s my teenage crush. The one man I put on a pedestal. Who seemed so far out of reach that he was nothing but a fantasy that I’d immerse myself in in my darkest moments. He was the spark in the night that kept me going when my demons were pressing in on all sides. He’s the reason I didn’t give up sooner. The reason I clung to hope for so long.
Without him, I’d have died before I was far enough along for that pregnancy stick to turn positive. Before I found out about Aurora. Before I found a reason to live.
“I’ve always been yours.” I curl my hand around the back of his neck, squeezing. “I might be your eye in the storm, but you’ve always been my candle in the dark.”
“Good. I’ll be your guiding light, and you can be my shelter from the storm. Together, we’ll make it through the night. Now, show me how those pretty eyes spark when you’re coming on my cock.”
Reaching between us, Grayson rubs his finger against my clit until stars blanket the clear sky, and there’s no fear of either of us getting lost.
We spend the rest of the night in each other’s arms. Every time one of us would stir, our hands and lips would wander until Grayson had me seeing stars all over again.
By the time the gray light of dawn battles the night for dominance, muscles I didn’t even know I had hurt, and a sleepy smile graces my lips as I slide out from between the sheets. Not wanting to wake a sleeping Grayson, I tip-toe to the adjoining bathroom and quickly relieve myself.
The room is lit by only the weak daylight straining through the window when I step back into it. I don’t immediately go back to the bed. Instead, I wander the room to the soothing backdrop of his soft breathing. I’m struck by how minimalistic it is, yet each item here carries weight and meaning.
On his nightstand is a framed photo of his Gran, her smile warm and loving. I pick it up gently, feeling a pang of emotion at the sight of her kind eyes. Nearby, I notice a small stack of ticket stubs tied together with a thin piece of string. I untie the string and carefully sift through them, recognizing one from Logan’s championship game last year. The edges are worn from handling, and I imagine Grayson’s excitement and pride as he watched his brother achieve such a milestone.
On a shelf above his desk, there’s a sleek frame housing an article clipping. It’s about a huge deal his company landed, demonstrating Grayson’s pride in the company he has reconstructed in the wake of his father’s actions. The headline is bold, praising his strategic mind and leadership. I trace the edge of the frame, feeling a surge of admiration for his accomplishments.
I trail my fingers over the rigid spines of business books and classic novels as I pass a modest bookshelf, before approaching his dresser. A small, intricately carved wooden box is perched on top that draws my eye. My fingers hover over the top of it before I open the lid. Inside, sit a pair of antique-looking cufflinks and…
… a bright pink scrunchie.
It can’t be.
Gingerly, I lift it out, the fabric silky smooth against my fingers.
“I stole it from your bedroom when we were teenagers.”
I whirl toward his husky voice. “Why?”
He’s sitting upright in the bed, his lean torso on display, the sheet pooled around his waist as he stares at me. His hair is sticking up on end, and he has never looked sexier. Something about seeing Grayson undone gets to me—knowing that he’d never let just anyone see him like this.
“You had a part of me,” he says, gesturing toward the bracelet I’m still wearing. “I wanted a part of you.”
I arch an eyebrow. “You could have just asked. Instead of snooping through my room.”
His lips twitch in a semblance of a smile. “Says the girl currently snooping .” He gives a casual shrug. “Thought that might be weird. What with you being my sister and all.”
“Stepsister.”
“Same thing.”
“I don’t think it is,” I argue with a genuine laugh.
“Besides,” he continues. “I like the idea of you not knowing.”
“You realize I spent weeks searching for this. I assumed one of the girls from school nicked it from my locker during gym.”
“I’d apologize…”
“But it would be a lie.” I roll my eyes, unable to control the muscles along my lips as they quirk upward.
Unrepentant, he merely shrugs before we’re interrupted by the pinging of my phone. Scrunchie still in my hand, I move over to my bedside table. I find my phone on the charger and subtly cast a glance at Grayson’s way, knowing he must be the one who retrieved it from where it fell on the floor after our first sexcapade and put it on the charger while I was sleeping.
Plucking it from the table, I settle against the head of the bed and check my notifications. The top one is a text from Royce. Surprised, I open it, wondering what he would have to message me about. Anything urgent, and he’d have come upstairs, and anything else could probably have waited until breakfast.
Reading the text, my mouth goes dry.
“What’s wrong?” Grayson asks. His body heat practically burns as he leans closer.
The phone slips from between my fingers as I lift my head to stare into those depthless eyes. “Lydia escaped.”
We’re no longer in the eye of the storm.