Chapter 14 #3
“After you kissed her,” Lark clarified, speaking to him like he was a toddler. “Was she okay?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t she be?” he asked.
Lark blinked. Once, twice—and then, all at once, the panic disappeared and she sagged against the counter, her relief almost palpable.
Then she looked at him again. “She really was okay?”
Grayson’s confusion deepened, even as he nodded.
“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” This time, that question was directed at him, but if she expected him to supply an answer, she was about to be sorely disappointed.
Grayson opened his mouth, then closed it again. Because suddenly, he wasn’t thinking about Lark or her question. He was thinking about Wren at the festival. About the drunk guy who’d grabbed her arm.
The memory surfaced with startling clarity. Given Lark’s current concern, he was seeing that event through different eyes. He recalled how Wren had gone pale and become instantly withdrawn. How fear had flashed in her eyes before she’d shuttered it.
At the time, he’d been so confused by the indomitable Lark being impacted so strongly by the incident, he hadn’t considered if those reactions might have another, older source.
Then, there’d been the kiss. She’d melted against him for those few brief perfect moments before pulling away so abruptly, jumping out of the bed. As if she’d been startled…
Or frightened.
And again, he’d misread it, stupidly thinking “Lark” was worried about kissing the boss.
Lark was still talking. “…doesn’t make any sense,” but Grayson barely heard her. His mind was racing, trying to connect pieces he’d missed.
“Lark,” he said, interrupting her.
She stopped rambling. “What?”
His voice was careful, low. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Every muscle in her body tightened, and he recognized it for what it was.
Confirmation.
“Lark,” he said again, when she went stubbornly silent. “What happened to her?” he asked, those four words foul and, quite frankly, terrifying.
Her expression closed down tight. “I can’t tell you.”
A heavy weight pressed on his chest—because now he knew for sure there was something to tell. Something significant.
His mind raced over everything he knew about the McCoy family. Like the Storms, they were Gracemont born and bred. In a town this small, it was damn hard to keep a secret, but Grayson was certain that whatever happened to Wren wasn’t widely known.
“Listen,” he started, aware he was wasting his breath.
“This conversation is over.” She picked up her mop, dragging it and the bucket to the bathroom, closing the door between them.
Grayson stared at the door for several minutes.
His conversation with Lark might be over, but he wasn’t letting this go.
For the first time since learning about the switch, he wasn’t thinking about the fact that Wren had lied to him. His anger vanished like it had never even existed at all.
Now, all he could think about was Wren and the fear he’d seen in her eyes. The sadness she carried when she thought nobody was looking. The way she always seemed ready to disappear.
Something had happened to her, and the need to know became nearly unbearable. Not because he was curious, but because he cared. Because…
She.
Was.
His.
The next day, Grayson spent most of Gracemont’s annual Harvest Festival looking for Wren.
Every second weekend in October, the town basically shut down, hosting a parade and carnival before wrapping up the event with a big dance.
He’d always looked forward to the festival, not because he was a huge fan of crowds, but because this event was a sign that the busy harvest season on the farm was pretty much over and his work hours were about to become significantly less.
Main Street overflowed with food vendors, craft booths, children darting between games, and enough fall decor to fill every party store in the country.
The morning parade had wound through the town, led by the Gracemont High School marching band.
Sam, who was mayor, had ridden on the back of Roger Mitchell’s gold Corvette, waving and smiling, even though Grayson knew his brother was hating every bit of the ride.
Sam was an amazing mayor, but he chose to do his hard work behind closed doors rather than in the limelight, like his predecessor, Scottie Grover.
Scottie had been less about the job and more about the prestige of the title.
And it showed, considering how many positive changes Sam had brought to Gracemont since taking over the position.
Grayson devoted his entire afternoon to the carnival.
He bought a lemonade he didn’t want, watched kids win stuffed animals, and spent way too much time wondering where the hell Wren could be.
His attention was continually snagged by every blonde woman he spotted in the crowd.
Every time he caught sight of one, his pulse jumped, but none of those blondes turned out to be Wren.
He saw Lark countless times, which didn’t help his racing heart issue. Because he’d been forced to do double takes that always ended in disappointment. Especially when he quickly scanned the people around her and discovered she was in the company of every person in her family—except Wren.
Lark caught his eye every time he glanced in her direction, which was how he’d spotted the uncharacteristic wariness on her face. She knew who he was looking for, and Lark didn’t seem exactly pleased about it.
By the following night, he’d made a decision. If Wren wasn’t at the Harvest Dance, he was leaving the community center and going to her apartment…because frustration had settled deep.
He opted to drive himself to the dance rather than piling into Everett’s car with Jace, Nora, and Remi. He explained his decision to go alone by claiming he wasn’t planning to stay long. What he hadn’t added was, he wouldn’t be heading home after.
He knew perfectly well that he and Wren hadn’t progressed to the stage in their…
situationship where he could just knock on her door uninvited, but he didn’t give a shit.
Lark’s comments about her sister had worried the hell out of him, causing him to toss and turn all night.
He’d driven to the library yesterday morning, right after talking to Lark.
He’d forgotten that the library was closed, due to the festival and all the setup taking place on Main Street.
At the time, he hadn’t known where Wren lived, so going to her apartment hadn’t been an option.
However, he corrected that oversight this morning, flat out asking Nora if she knew where Wren lived.
After giving him an extremely suspicious look, she admitted she didn’t know the address, but she knew Edith was her landlady.
Edith’s expression, on the other hand, when he’d waylaid her this morning to ask for Wren’s address, hadn’t held a bit of suspicion or concern about him trying to track down a single woman.
Instead, hers was all delight. And it turned to outright amusement when he didn’t correct her after she said, “Another Storm boy bites the dust.”
Grayson knew if it had been anyone other than him asking, Edith wouldn’t have offered the address so easily, but she knew him very well, knew he would never hurt or scare Wren.
So if Wren wasn’t at the dance, he was going to her place.
Because he wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep until he laid eyes on her and confirmed she was okay.
He hadn’t liked the way Lark said Wren was “back sliding.” He didn’t know what the hell that meant, but it sure as shit didn’t sound good.
Strings of lights illuminated the parking lot of the community center and music drifted from inside. Couples and families walked in together, but Grayson found himself pausing for a moment, trying to get a grip on himself.
He wasn’t sure how he knew she was inside, but something told him that she was. Some strange awareness, letting him know she was close. That knowledge simultaneously calmed him down and stressed him the fuck out.
He’d acted like a total dickhead the last time he saw her, letting his pride and stubbornness get the better of him.