18.
Sort of a long update. Got a bit too wordy (and freaky) on this one ?????♀?.
Enjoy!
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A solid weight pressed lightly along my back, an arm draped loosely across my waist like it had been there for hours.
For a second I didn't move.
I just lay there, listening.
Grant's breathing was slow and even behind me, the quiet rise and fall of his chest brushing against my shoulder blades every few seconds. It took my brain a moment to catch up with my body, to remember where I was and why the bed felt unfamiliar beneath me.
Grant's house.
The couch.
The crying.
Everything I'd said.
A faint crease formed between my brows as the memories slid back into place, but something about the way his arm rested around me made the tension stop before it could really settle in.
I shifted slightly, testing the movement.
Grant stirred behind me but didn't wake, his arm tightening for half a second before relaxing again as he stretched instinctively in his sleep. The movement nudged me onto my back, and I turned my head enough to look at him.
His face was softer like this.
Sleep smoothed out the usual focus that lived in his expression, the small line that sometimes formed between his brows gone completely now.
His hair was a little messy, pushed in different directions from the pillow, and for a moment I found myself studying him in a way I'd never really allowed before.
The quiet intimacy of it felt strange.
Not uncomfortable.
Just unfamiliar.
I must have moved more than I realized because Grant shifted again, this time rolling slightly onto his back as his arm slipped away from my waist. His eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking once as he adjusted to the light.
For a second he looked confused.
Then he saw me.
A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.
"Morning."
My voice came out softer than I expected.
"Good morning," he replied, his voice still rough with sleep.
Grant pushed himself up slightly and stretched his arms over his head, the movement pulling the sheets down a little as he swung his legs off the side of the bed.
"I didn't realize how late it was," he muttered, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.
I reached into the pocket of the hoodie I'd fallen asleep in and pulled out my phone.
The screen lit up.
11:08.
My eyebrows lifted slightly.
I couldn't remember the last time I'd slept that late.
Two notifications sat waiting.
The first was from Vivian.
Right.
Bianca.
The thought made a small smile appear on my face before I even opened the second message.
I laughed quietly under my breath and typed back.
Grant had already disappeared into what I assumed was his bathroom by the time I set my phone down.
A minute later the door opened again and he stepped back into the bedroom, looking far more awake now.
"I have to run into the office for a few hours," he said. "But you can stay here while I'm gone."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"If you want to shower or anything, feel free," he added. "I'll use the guest bathroom."
The offer was so casual it almost caught me off guard.
"Alright," I said.
Grant grabbed a few things from the dresser before heading toward the door.
Then he disappeared down the hallway.
The room fell quiet again.
For a moment I just sat there, stretching my arms above my head before sliding out of the bed.
The sheets were still warm from where we'd both been lying.
I smoothed them out instinctively, pulling the blankets back into place before wandering toward the closet.
If I was going to be here for a few hours, I might as well shower and change.
The floor was cool beneath my feet as I wandered toward the closet, curiosity pulling me there more than anything else.
Grant had mentioned it casually before, but I'd never actually seen inside.
The moment I pushed the door open I paused.
His closet was enormous.
And extremely organized.
Rows of suits lined one wall, arranged by color like something out of a department store display.
Dark blues shifted gradually into charcoal and black, each jacket spaced perfectly apart.
The next section held neatly pressed dress shirts, the colors transitioning from white to pale blues and then darker shades the farther down the rack they went.
Even the shoes were lined up in precise rows beneath them.
I blinked.
Of course his closet looked like this.
Grant struck me as the kind of person who folded his laundry the moment it came out of the dryer.
I moved deeper inside, trailing my fingers lightly along the rack until I reached the other side of the room where his more casual clothes were stored.
Workout clothes.
Sweatpants.
Athletic shirts.
Those at least looked slightly less intimidating.
I pulled a pair of gray sweatpants from the shelf and held them up.
They were way too big, but workable.
Next I grabbed a black compression shirt from the stack beneath them and draped both pieces over my arm before heading toward the bathroom.
The moment I stepped inside I stopped again.
Grant had already left things out for me.
A towel sat folded neatly on the counter beside a washcloth and a brand-new toothbrush still in the packaging.
The gesture was simple yet thoughtful and it made something warm settle quietly in my chest.
I set the clothes down and turned the shower on, waiting for the water to warm before stepping underneath.
The heat hit my shoulders first.
For a moment I simply stood there, letting it run over me while the tension from the last few days slowly started loosening.
Eventually my eyes drifted downward.
The bruises were still there.
The one along my ribs had faded slightly, shifting from dark purple to a dull yellow around the edges. The marks on my wrists were lighter but still visible if you knew where to look.
My stomach tightened a little.
Bianca would be here next week.
Hopefully they'd be gone by then.
I turned slightly, running soap slowly across my arms and shoulders, trying not to linger on the marks too long.
Fifteen minutes later I stepped out, wrapping the towel around myself before reaching for the clothes I'd grabbed from the closet.
The sweatpants were even bigger than I expected.
I had to fold the waistband over twice—maybe three times—before they stopped threatening to slide down my hips. The compression shirt was worse, hanging nearly to my knees like some oversized sleep shirt.
I stared at myself in the mirror.
I looked ridiculous.
Rodney would be absolutely disgusted if he saw me dressed like this.
The thought crossed my mind automatically.
Then just as quickly I pushed it away.
As I moved farther into the room, I heard the closet door slide open.
And then Grant stepped out.
For a second my brain forgot how to function.
He had a towel wrapped low around his hips, water still clinging to his shoulders and chest like he'd just stepped out of the shower.
I blinked.
Quickly.
Then looked away.
Unfortunately not before he noticed.
A slow smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
I pretended to be very interested in the floor.
He disappeared back into the closet, the sound of hangers shifting following a moment later as he started getting dressed.
I moved toward the edge of the bed and sat down, trying to act normal even though the image of him standing there with a towel around his hips was now very firmly stuck in my brain.
After a second I called toward the closet.
"How long will you be gone today?"
Grant answered from somewhere inside.
"Probably until five or six."
There was the quiet sound of a drawer sliding open.
"I usually go in around nine," he added, "so there's not much chance of leaving earlier."
Guilt tugged at me a little.
"Sorry if I'm the reason you woke up late."
A moment later he stepped back into the bedroom, pulling on a pair of dark slacks as he shook his head.
"That one's on me," he said easily. "You didn't make me sleep in."
He crossed the room while finishing the button on his pants before zipping them, stopping directly in front of where I sat on the bed.
Up close I could see the faint dampness still clinging to his hair from the shower.
Grant reached out almost absentmindedly and slid his fingers gently through the ends of my hair, smoothing it back from my face. His hand lingered there for a second before shifting slightly, his thumb brushing carefully beneath my eye where the bruise had been the darkest.
"Did you sleep okay?" he asked quietly.
The softness in his voice made my chest tighten a little.
I nodded. "Yeah."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Yeah?"
"I think I fell asleep almost immediately."
Grant huffed out a small breath.
"I was awake for a while."
The confession surprised me.
I looked up at him.
"Thinking?"
He gave a small half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
"Something like that."
For a second neither of us spoke.
Then he said, almost casually, "Why don't you stay here for the next couple days?"
I blinked.
"Until Rodney's back," he continued, leaning one shoulder lightly against the wall beside the bed. "I checked the public schedule last night. He hasn't had an event in the last four days, and nothing's listed for today either. Whatever he's doing in Missouri is probably scheduled for tomorrow."
My eyebrows pulled together slightly.
"It could be. I don't actually know what he went to Missouri for," I admitted.
Grant's expression softened.
"Unless you wanted to go back home," he added quickly. "I was just suggesting."
"No."
The word came out faster than I expected.
I cleared my throat.
"No," I repeated, a little calmer this time. "I'd like to stay... if you're okay with that."
Grant's mouth curved into a small grin.
He leaned down then, pressing a quick kiss against my lips before straightening again.
"Alright," he said. "Then that's the plan."
Grant turned and headed back into the closet.