Grayson
. . .
TWENTY-FOUR
I wake to the intoxicating scent of cherries and almonds. It’s hot as balls, every inch of my body covered in sweat like I have a heated blanket on. I struggle to peel my eyes open. Everything hurts, from my throbbing head to my ribs when I breathe.
The heated blanket on me shifts, and a beautiful angel comes into view, wrapped tightly in my arms. She clings to me like a spider monkey. I’m instantly brought back to last night's events. The fight. The man I killed with my bare fists like the monster they made me become.
The blood.
Everywhere.
Mine. His. Maisie’s.
I let my emotions get the best of me last night, falling into old habits. I let them get to me. They wanted me to break under their thumb, and I gave them exactly what they wanted.
They were wrong. I may have lost myself last night, but I found Maisie and her strength. They threatened me with her, and that only makes me want to hold her closer, to protect her.
I’ll let them think they’ve won. I’ll stop pushing back every time they summon me to fight, let them think they have me wrapped around their little finger.
Meanwhile, I’ll have Moretti dig even deeper until we can turn the entire operation upside down, lighting it to the ground with them inside at the same time as having Maisie tucked safely into my side.
Maisie.
She came to my rescue like some superhero last night, barging into my shamble of a life without a look back. She had no idea what she was walking into, but she ran anyway. She could have gotten hurt.
She did get hurt.
Because of me.
She picked up my pieces, literally and metaphorically, helping patch me back together. I owe her my life after what she did for me last night.
I was close to breaking so finitely, there would be no recovering from it. I was stuck in my head of what they made me become, stuck in my head over the guilt of having Maisie used as bait.
I buried my suffering in alcohol and fully lost myself.
I was one more second away from running out of my house and killing them all myself.
I didn’t care if I got taken down in the process.
At least they would be gone, and my people would be safe.
I’m already damned to hell, but I won’t let them drown with me.
Then, my sweet, honey-eyed woman walked in like an angel sent from above.
I may have been drunk off my ass, but when it comes to Maisie, I remember everything.
The way she cared for my cuts so tenderly.
Made me take a full on concussion test like she was some ER nurse.
How she washed away the blood that was triggering me before helping me to bed.
Most of all, the way she got shy when she asked if I wanted to watch her change.
I had to physically restrain myself from jumping up, ribs be damned, when she dropped her clothes to the ground.
No woman could hold a candle to Maisie. She’s beautiful, smart, kind, funny, and, after seeing her in her little lace number, sexy as all hell.
The things I would have done to her last night if I was capable should never be said aloud.
I was about to tell her every single one of those things until I saw her bleeding knee.
She took care of me that entire time, getting into the shower fully clothed, and didn’t make a single peep about her hurt knee.
It pissed me off to all hell, but I reined my temper in, too exhausted to blow up. My only focus was taking care of her.
Seeing even one drop of blood on her perfect skin was enough to turn me feral. I don’t want her marked in any way, but all I seem to be doing is leaving a stain of red on her left and right.
I hate that I can’t walk away. I tell myself it’s to keep her safe now that they know who she is. I don’t want her where I can’t see her. I know I should cut all ties, show them she means nothing to me, but I can’t. Not after that kiss, and especially not after last night.
Maisie saw all the dark ugly sides of me, and she didn’t run for the hills like I thought she would, what any sane person should have done. She stayed and helped me. She has more compassion in her pinky finger than half the world, and I selfishly will eat it up for my own gain.
For once in my life, I want to be selfish and choose happiness. I want the life and the girl. I want all the stolen kisses under the stars and giggles I can squeeze from her. I want it all with her. Maisie is the oxygen tank I latch on to when I’m drowning under a sea of grief.
I’ve gotten a taste of what life could be with her, and I want the whole damn cake now.
I take the quiet moment to soak her in, her cute dimple that peaks out when her lip twitches from whatever dream she’s lost in, the adorable light brown freckles that dot her nose and cheekbones like little butterflies taking flight. I could stare at her for hours and never get tired.
Sometime in the night, Maisie flipped in my arms, her right leg slung over my hip to hold me close. I love that she has no boundaries in her sleep. We’ve only kissed once, but it feels like I’ve known Maisie a lifetime.
The T-shirt she’s wearing has slipped up her thigh, exposing her long legs. I trail my eyes up, stopping when I find the start of ink peeking out from the hem of her shirt. I inch the shirt a tad higher to take in the full piece and laugh under my breath when I realize what it is.
Fuck em’ in cursive script on her hip, just below her lace panties. I stroke my thumb over it, reminded of the day she told me about getting this matching tattoo with her brother.
“Guilty,” Maisie rasps, rousing from her deep sleep. Her dimple makes an appearance again, and I capture it in my mind to add to my wall of moments I never want to forget.
I stroke over the tattoo, loving the way her skin pebbles under my touch. “What are you guilty of?”
She curls into me deeper, mumbling against my chest. “Being in possession of one badass tattoo.” The giggle that follows is one of the cutest things I’ve ever heard.
My hand slips beneath the hem of her shirt, gripping her lower back to drag her closer. “So badass,” I groan into her neck.
Her leg grips me tighter, like she’s spurring on a horse. She laughs into my chest when my thumb strokes her bare back lightly, tickling her. “Gray,” she gasps.
Our heavy breathing fills the room, and I just now realize how wrapped up we are in each other. That, paired with my name on her lips, is my favorite memory with her to date.
I peer down at her, stroking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Good morning, honey,” I rasp, my voice thick and gravely from yelling last night.
“Good morning,” she muses back, a genuine smile on her face.
I continue to play with her strawberry locks. Stroking them draws the tension from my shoulders and helps me ease into the very heavy conversation I know is coming.
“Thank you for last night,” I whisper.
“I’ll always come running. I’m not afraid of the monsters in your closet, Gray.”
“You should be, though.” I gulp, resting my palm at the nape of her neck.
“You should be running for the fucking hills, far, far away from me. I’m no good for you, Maisie.
I’m bad, and the monsters in my closet are even worse.
They don’t have morals, souls even. They are gonna take me down with them eventually, and I won’t have you aboard that ship when it sinks.
I can’t let you get hurt. I won’t allow it. ”
Her eyes harden, determination etched on her face. “Then let me in so I can help. I’m already in this after last night. You can’t push me away again. Let me help bring the light you’re looking for. We can figure out whatever this is together. I know we can,” she pleads.
I just shake my head, stroking her soft jaw with my thumb. “There’s no escaping these monsters. Can’t you see that? Look what they do to those who defy them. They’ve made me into a monster, turned me into a man I hate.”
Maisie cuts me off. “You said they threatened me last night. What does that mean? I can’t help you if I don’t understand.”
I’m not sure how much I want to let Maisie into this, but it’s clear I have to give her something.
“I owe a debt to some bad people. I’m working through it, but they don’t always play fair.
I’ve been uncompliant recently, and they didn’t like that.
They have pictures of…of us kissing in the rain.
They wanted me to know they have eyes everywhere.
I can’t escape them, no matter where I go.
” I grip her face, letting her see the scared man I am and how serious this is.
“Don’t you see now why I couldn’t let you get close to me?
I didn’t want you wrapped up in my mess, and that all went to shit because I can’t resist your fucking kissable lips and your golden heart. ”
A single tear escapes Maisie's eye, and I scoop it up with my thumb.
“That little red bandana you love to use in the barn, they tied it to my door handle with barbed wire last night. Fucking barbed wire! It was a warning, a threat against your life. It was the last straw to tip me over, and I went feral last night because of it.”
Her lip wobbles, but she stays strong for me.
Her hand reaches out hesitantly, stroking my busted lip.
I close my eyes, leaning into her touch.
“Did they do this to you? Do they, do they beat you?” Her voice breaks on the last word, and when I blink my eyes back open, her shiny, tear-filled ones find mine.
“No, honey, they didn’t do this,” I assure her.
“Then who?” Her voice is firm now, a burning rage underlining her tone. “Who hurt you, Gray?”
I sigh, thinking over what to tell her. I can’t bear the weight of her disappointment when she finds out I fight people, kill people with my bare hands. Not today, not yet. I want to keep the innocent look in her eyes when she looks at me for a little bit longer. Call me selfish.