Chapter 24
Chapter twenty-four
Paisley
Were all hotel beds this divine? Because I’d be happy to never move again. My usually cold limbs were toasty, and my pillow was delightfully warm. Plus, it smelled amazing. Was sandalwood laundry soap a thing? Yummy.
Wait a minute.
The pillow was breathing.
This was no pillow.
I. Was. In. Bed. With. A. Man.
Half of my girl brain chanted, snuggle closer. The other half demanded, run for your life! Clearly, my brain was officially broken.
With all the clumsy ninja skills of my awkward self, I slipped out of Greyson’s arms and slid over the side of the bed with a thud. He didn’t move.
Half running to the bathroom, I closed the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Like I’d run a marathon instead of half falling out of bed with an attractive man. Who I was married to.
I needed help. And someone with more brain cells than the current Tweedledee and Tweedledum I was stuck with.
Thankfully, my phone was still on the bathroom counter where I’d forgotten it last night. Swiping, I hit Stephanie’s number and held the phone up to my ear. She gave the best advice. Hopefully that memory was still accurate.
Somehow I didn’t think Juliet would be all that sympathetic to my plight. Given the fact it was her brother in question.
“Pais?” Stephanie’s groggy yawn came over the line. “What time is it?”
I glanced at the phone. Barely seven. And Stephanie was not a morning person. “I’m so sorry, but I need help!” I whisper-shouted.
“What’s wrong?” She instantly sounded more awake. “Are you in trouble? Where’s Greyson?”
“No, I’m . . . he’s . . . we . . . Steph, we did the one-bed thing!”
“You . . . what?”
“We’re in a hotel room, and there was only one bed,” I hissed. “He took me to see Jared’s grave. Because, yeah, Khia dropped that bomb last night. I needed to see it. And I threw up. And then the hotel had one bed, and I thought I was on my side.”
“Whoa, Pais,” Stephanie said gently. “Just let me clarify, you’re not hurt, bleeding out, or broken?”
“No.”
“But you cuddled with your husband in bed because you one-bed-troped and now you’re freaking out?”
“After I visited my previous husband’s grave, Steph! The man I was convinced I was married to until last night!”
Stephanie sighed. “So they told you the whole story?”
“Yes! It would have been nice to have known sooner.”
“I know. But Grey really didn’t want to add that extra stress. He wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
I huffed. “He’s really protective.”
“He loves you a lot.” A smile infused the observation.
I blew out a shaky breath. Just hearing another voice on the other side of the phone eased my panic. “How did it happen? How did I fall in love with Jared?” I sniffed. “Did I really think a monster could love me?”
“No, Pais,” Stephanie said gently. “He had an excellent mask. None of us saw through it—we wouldn’t have let you marry him if we knew.”
I glanced in the mirror. The haunted expression of a woman with tears running down her face peered back at me. “He was supposed to love me. Just like my mom. Why didn’t they?” My voice cracked. “Wasn’t I worth it?”
“You are worth it,” Stephanie whispered.
“I know it’s hard to believe when the lies are screaming in your head.
I . . . I’ve been struggling with Nash loving me, too.
After my parents ditched me . . . I thought since everyone else had left, no one would stay.
But the Lord used Nash to show me there are good men.
The staying kind. Greyson is that for you.
” She sniffled, and I knew I wasn’t the only one crying.
“You didn’t deserve what your mom did to you.
What Jared did. You are a treasure, Paisley Grace.
A beloved daughter of the King, a friend and sister.
A cherished wife. I know you don’t remember everything right now.
But don’t let one man’s abuse make you think it reflects your worth.
You are so much more than what happened to you. ”
I sank down on the edge of the yellow-stained bathtub and muffled a sob with my hand. “I’m glad you found a good man, Stephie. You deserve all the love in the world.”
“So do you. You are so loved, Pais. Don’t let the past make you doubt that.”
After a few more whispered words, we hung up, and I clutched the sunny yellow phone to my chest. You are so much more than what happened to you.
Why was it so hard to believe?
Greyson was up and dressed when I slipped out of the bathroom fifteen minutes later. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t hide the red puffiness around my eyes, although the mascara helped me not look like I’d been run over by a truck.
I scooted around him shyly, unable to meet his gaze. He’d been asleep when I woke up, so he wouldn’t have known I’d used him as my own personal heater. Right? I could be an adult about this. Totally chill.
Unfortunately, totally chill wasn’t in my genetic makeup. More like the queen of awkward.
“Was there anywhere else you wanted to visit while we’re here?” Greyson asked as I checked the drawers for a third time.
Cannon Beach. The thought came so swiftly it sucked the breath right out of me. Literally. I started choking on air because, remember, queen of awkward.
It felt like an age since I’d seen the ocean, and the salt was in my blood. But could I simply say that like a normal human being? Absolutely not.
With the choking-spit out of the way, I shook my head firmly. “I’ve already inconvenienced you enough.”
Greyson swept in front of me. “Look at me.” He gently tipped my chin up, and I didn’t resist. “Being here with you is my honour. Not an inconvenience. Understand?” His thumb lightly brushed my cheek. “Were you crying?”
“No,” I denied feebly.
His lips twitched, like he knew I was lying. He saw me. “Now, where did you want to go? I know you thought of somewhere.”
“I . . . I’d like to go to Cannon Beach. To see the ocean,” I whispered.
Greyson smiled warmly. “Let’s go.”
The roar of the ocean thundered in my ears.
Despite it being summer, grey fog still cloaked the sky, touching the horizon in a whimsical way.
It might not be a sunrise officially, but Frodo Baggins was right when he said: Dangerous or not, a real sunrise is mighty welcome.
The light after the darkness was a glorious sight.
The tall rock columns stood in silent sentry just like they always had. I’d come here with one of my foster families once upon a time.
You never forgot the thrum of the water churning and roaring. The way it clattered into the expansive sandy beach, each wave different. Each powerful and cleansing.
But that was then; this was now.
Greyson waited beside me, hands in his pockets, taking in the stormy atmosphere.
“Can you smell it?” I hollered above the crashing waves. The wind whipped around us, tugging at my hair and yellow gingham sundress. I gripped the fabric tightly to avoid any unnecessary wardrobe malfunctions.
“What?”
“The salt!” I inhaled deeply. “The sea!” I hadn’t realized just how much I missed it. After college in Seattle, moving inland to Idaho had given me new scenery. And it smelled different. Like dust and pine instead of tangy salt and high seas adventure.
But this? This was the essence of my childhood. It was wormed into my blood. I might breathe dust, but I bled salt water.
A lump lodged in my throat, but I refused to cry. I needed new memories. And if they weren’t coming back, it was time to make them.
Starting right now.
I smacked Greyson’s chest. “You’re it!” I shouted before pelting down the shoreline, parallel to the waves nearly lapping my feet.
I wasn’t delusional enough to think I could outrun him.
He’d been a Marine after all, and his physique was far more athletic than mine.
But maybe a chance to laugh would keep the tears at bay.
Blood whooshed in my ears with each pounding step.
The roaring waves licked up the shore towards my feet, never quite catching me.
The inky rock guards saluted me as I passed.
The wind flirted with my oversized cardigan trying to slip off my slender shoulders.
Overhead a seagull cheered me on, dipping a wing in acknowledgement.
Strong arms wrapped around my waist, hoisting me up and spinning me. I laughed, wiggling to break free.
Greyson loosened his hold enough for me to twist around, but his hands lingered on my hips. His ocean eyes were even more beautiful than the stormy water in front of us. One of his hands slipped up to cradle my cheek. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.
My face warmed at the frank appreciation in his voice and gaze. “I want different memories from my time here,” I said softly. “Oregon might never be home, but I wanted to take away one good thing.”
“Is that good thing me?” he asked hoarsely.
My fingers tangled in his shirt front, holding onto him—to this moment. “I think I want it to be.”
He swallowed hard, then bent slightly, lips brushing my forehead. “Give me a chance, Pais. I’m a patient man.” Leaning back with a wry smile, he let me go and tapped my shoulder. “You’re it.”
“I . . . what?” But he was already racing down the beach. And did he mean I was it in tag? Or it for him?
Who needed to fall off a ladder to lose your memories when Greyson Satterfield made me forget everything with a simple forehead kiss?