Maisie
. . .
THIRTY-FIVE
Just as the leaves have fallen, so have the days. It’s hard to believe another month has come and gone, which means I only have one month left here. With my family, with him. The thought of staying used to give me anxiety, but now, the thought of going back to my old life is having the same effect.
Life has been everything I never knew it could be. Somehow, love has crept back into my heart like it always belonged there.
Evie and I have taken up permanent residence in Grayson's bed.
Yes, there is a dedicated room in his house for me, but why would I want to sleep in a cold bed alone when I could be snuggled up next to a Greek god?
A very giving Greek god, may I add. We work all day together, come back to his house to cook dinner, and then spend the rest of our night cuddled up on his couch or rolling around in his bed.
After breaking the dam that night in Grayson’s truck, the floodgates haven’t slowed.
If anything, they’ve rushed harder, pushing us towards a cliffside that will have us both free-falling if we aren't careful. Yes, things have kicked up a notch physically, but I’m scared to admit my heart might be in the tangle as well.
As a little girl, I always dreamed of a knight swooping me off my feet. After the car accident, all those dreams died.
With writing, though, I can’t seem to stop the words from pouring out of me.
It seems my writing has been mirroring my life in that aspect.
This story has been flowing from my fingers to the point of pain, and Gray, the gentleman he is, massages them each night.
He’s asked on multiple occasions if he could read any of it, but, for now, I want to keep it a secret.
I wrote until the early hours of the morning, so wrapped up in my story, I didn’t realize how late it was. Usually, I would have Gray to drag me away from my keyboard and into bed, but he never came home last night.
The sheets were still cold this morning when I woke up.
That tingling ball of anxiety has sat low in my stomach all morning, waiting for him to at least pick up his phone and let me know he’s okay.
I know they have him. He wouldn’t just disappear.
I saw the way his face dropped during dinner when a text came though.
They summoned him.
As each hour passes, my anxiety grows until I’m a jittery mess, pacing the kitchen with a second energy drink. The front door creeks open, and I’m racing for it before he even enters.
“Grayson, is that you?” I call.
He stumbles in, bruised and bleeding, and my suspicions are confirmed. He fought last night. I know I should be happy he’s home and safe, but I can’t be, not when the thoughts of his death playing out in my head could have been a very real reality.
“Hi, honey,” he rasps, kicking his shoes off.
“Jesus Christ, Grayson. You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be okay. Just a few cuts and bruises. Nothing worth writing home about,” he jokes, but it falls flat.
“This has to stop. You were gone all night. I was worried sick, thinking you were laying in some run-down building drowning in a puddle of your own blood.” My voice wobbles, coming out a whisper. “You didn’t even call or text.”
His face drops immediately, his palms caressing my cheeks to pull me in for a kiss. “I’m so sorry, Maisie. It was never my intention to make you worry. My phone died, and I swear, I’m doing everything in my power to get out of this mess. That’s why I was out all night, working on a plan of sorts.”
My face crumples. “Of sorts? What does that mean?”
“I can’t tell you yet. I don’t want you wrapped up in this any more than you already are. Just let me handle this, please.”
“You said no more secrets.”
“I’ve told you everything you need to know.
All you need to know is I’m working on getting out of it.
Permanently,” he punctuates. I’m about to argue when his phone rings.
He curses when he sees who it is. “I have to take this real quick.” He places another kiss on my lips before disappearing into his bedroom.
I follow, putting my ear to the door. “Fuck,” he hisses into the phone.
“I did the best I could. They have to know that.” A pause.
“Yes, I understand, but that man was double my size. Maybe if they gave me more days to rest between fights,” he growls into the phone.
“Yeah, I hear you loud and clear. Keep digging for those files, Moretti. Bye.”
The slam of the bathroom door lets me know he’s going to shower. I can tell he’s not in a mood to talk, so I let him simmer down and crack open my computer. I find a new email has just hit my inbox.
Maisie,
We are filled with excitement and anticipation for your next submission. Everything you’ve sent our way so far has been beyond our expectations, and we can’t wait to see how this new love story unfolds. It seems your research has been an immense help in your writing process.
Looking forward to having you back in the Big Apple in just a month's time for marketing meetings and promotional content. Keep up the good writing!
-Bound By Love Publishing House
That anxious ball of nerves triples in size after I read the email three times. On one hand, my heart swells. The hard work I’ve been putting in is finally getting acknowledged. But on the other hand, the thought of leaving Grayson and the Foxes behind has bile rising in my throat.
Research Notes: cowboys think they can put fictional Band-Aids on their problems.