31. Grayson
THIRTY-ONE
Grayson
M y heart has been hammering in my chest so hard it feels like it’s bruised.
In the quiet of Avery’s apartment, the tick of the clock in the kitchen has felt like a countdown to something I’m not quite ready to face.
I knew it the second I saw her manager on the sidewalk that our time was up, that she was leaving before we’d had time to figure us out. I just didn’t want to believe it.
It feels like an eternity since I left them on the sidewalk, and I’m seconds away from leaving, from going back downstairs and asking—no, begging—for whatever Penelope is here for, to disappear.
I imagine myself dropping to my knees on the sidewalk and pleading for her to give us just a little more time.
I’m pacing in the living room when Avery finally walks through the front door. A quiet tension fills the room as she closes it behind herself. The click as the lock falls into place is as loud as a gunshot.
She looks defeated, a sorrow filling her gaze as she leans back against the door and looks up at me with glassy eyes. I know what she’s going to say before she utters the words.
Even though I know it’s different now, that we’re both different now, I’m hit with a flashback from the last time we did this. She’s standing on my porch, her suitcase packed in her truck, and a million sorrys on her lips. She had the same look on her face then that she has now.
“I have to go back to Nashville tomorrow.” She chokes out the words like they’re being pulled from her.
They land heavy between us, and my whole body tenses. Have to. I allow the spark of hope that she doesn’t want this as much as I selfishly don’t want her to go to build. But deep down, I know Avery’s love for her fans will always outweigh her own desires. She’s selfless like that.
“I’m so sorry, Gray,” she whispers. Her face crumples, and tears fall from her eyes, tumbling down her cheeks unchecked.
She said those same words to me over a decade ago. But this time, I don’t know what she’s sorry for. I cross the room and pull her into my arms, holding her close as I bury my nose in her hair and inhale deeply.
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Ave. We knew this was coming, right?” I lean back, holding her biceps as I bend my knees to look in her eyes.
She nods, swiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah, but I thought we’d have more time.”
Me too.
I pull her back against my chest, hoping she’ll soothe the ache that’s forming. My throat feels thick, but I force the words out. “When do you leave?”
Avery pulls out of my hold, leaving me to deal with the loss of her. She walks further into the room, her head down, before she collapses onto the couch. “First thing in the morning.”
I don’t know what to say or how to make this better for her.
I won’t ask her to stay because this is her dream, but I also can’t leave right now when we have the Evergreen deal on the table.
And I’ve been fucking stupid about doing everything around the ranch myself, so it’s not like I can delegate it to Wyatt or Kade, and Tanner won’t do it because dealing with these kinds of things isn’t in his wheelhouse.
Panic seizes in my chest, the pain almost unbearable. I dig my nails into my palm, just to feel it somewhere else. The last thing Avery needs is me losing my mind over this.
Clearing my throat, I move to the couch and take a seat on the coffee table in front of Avery. She’s got her knees tucked against her chest and her arms wrapped around them, her shoes discarded on the floor. She looks at me, her eyes red and watery.
I reach out and touch her, the contact of her bare skin on mine grounding me.
“I had plans for us tonight,” I say, more for something to fill the loaded silence.
“Autumn set up some candles on the rooftop, and I was going to ask you if you wanted to make this a more long-term thing.” I chuckle, not because it’s funny, but because this couldn’t be further from what I had planned.
“I really ruined the night, huh?”
Forcing my body to relax, I shake my head.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. None of this is on you, you know that, right?
” Sniffing, Avery nods, and I continue, “Good. I wanted to talk to you and, if it was what you wanted, figure out how you being on the road and me being here could work. I have the Evergreen deal to finish, but it shouldn’t be more than a month, and that would give me time to delegate things to Wyatt and Kade before I joined you in Nashville. ”
She doesn’t speak, just stares, her eyes wide and blinking. I’m suddenly nervous that I’ve overstepped and I’m putting too much pressure on her to label whatever this is. In an effort to give her a way out, I rush, “But if you don’t want that, it’s fine. We’ll call it quits now.”
God help me, I don’t mean that.
Avery unfurls herself and sits forward on the edge of the couch, her knees slotting between mine. “I don’t know when I'll be able to come back.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat, rolling my lips together as I look out of the window at the star-studded night sky.
“But I’d really like it if you’d come out and see me as often as you can.
” Her hand settles on my thigh, and I look down at it before meeting her gaze.
“I can’t ask you to leave Coldwater or the ranch for as long as I’ll be on tour, Gray.
But I also don’t want to throw us away because of two thousand miles. ”
Elation floods my body, and I reach out, cupping her face in my hands. “Then we take it day by day.”
“Day by day,” she whispers.
I close the distance between us, capturing her lips with mine and savoring what could be the last kiss I’ll have until I see her again. It’s slow and languid, like we’re mapping out each other’s mouths and committing them to memory, ready for the long nights apart that we both know are coming.
When we finally part, Avery presses her fingers to her mouth, her eyes hazy as she looks at me. I could get lost in her until it was time for her to go, but I’m going to force myself to leave.
Soon .
Just not this second. For now, I’m going to grab the dessert out of the refrigerator and cuddle with my girl before I help her pack.
I just need to remember that this isn’t the end of us; it’s just the beginning.