Grayson’s solemn headshake dashes my optimism. “While I was endeavoring to get Cameron away from them, I didn’t realize how hard I must have grabbed her.”
Oh, Grayson.My heart breaks for him. So much so that I don’t protest when the anger he has no right to issue himself sees him snatching Cameron’s file out of my grasp before he stalks back to the living room minus the caffeine he needs to put hours into her case before calling it a night.
Instead, I wait for the percolator to finish before pouring half into a travel mug and placing it on the coffee table thatonce again houses hundreds of reports, blueprints, and witness statements.
Although I don’t have access to the real file in Cameron’s case, I still have access to the many reports lodged about her abduction over the past seventeen years. I have plenty to work with, so I’m not at all surprised when the next few hours tick by at the speed of light.
I use the time well. While reviewing Cameron’s file, I look for matches to abduction cases that share the same MO. I make a note of some leads that will probably go nowhere but are still worth investigating to keep her case relevant, and I’ve refilled Grayson’s travel mug four times.
I am refilling the percolator’s water tank when a faint rustle projects from behind me. When I twist toward the noise, Grayson props his shoulder on the doorjamb between the kitchen and the living room before he drags his tired eyes down my body. “It’s late, Mace, and you’re only weeks from enduring one of the most tiring experiences of your life. You need to rest.”
I shrug as if the dark rings circling my eyes will clear away with makeup wipes. “I’ll go to bed soon. I want to finish the report I’m reading first.” When he gives me a look as if to say,You look like shit, I purse my lips. “I’m tired. There’s no point in lying about that. I am just not comfortable enough to consider sleeping yet.”
For once, he appears lost.
The knowledge that I finally know something about pregnancy that he doesn’t makes me talk freely. “It’s… heavy.”What? I said freely, not smartly. Realizing I will never be one to speak cordially with this man, I blurt out, “Anytime I sit, it’s like the baby’s head is going to fall out of my…” A cough completes my reply.
A hint of a smile graces Grayson’s lips. I’ve missed it greatly for the past four-plus hours.
After a beat, which feels more like minutes than seconds, Grayson pushes off his feet and enters the kitchen. “Can I try something?”
I nod without pause for thought.
“It is a trick my father did for my mother all the time.” His words tickle my ear when he walks around me. “We were never tall enough to help our mother with this.” I crank my neck and peer up at him when the warmth of his body heats my back. “Can I…?” His eyes finish his question. He is seeking permission to touch me.
Incapable of speaking for the fear I will lodge my foot into my mouth again, I hum my agreement.
Grayson smiles faintly before he curls his arms around my body and then places his hands low on my stomach. I’m confused until he takes the weight of my stomach in his hands. Then I feel nothing but sheer relief.
“Oh my god.” I moan as the sensation roaring through me far exceeds anything I’ve experienced in the past decade. “That feelsamazing.”
Not thinking, I lean into Grayson’s embrace, my head coming to rest on his chest. With his body taking most of my weight, the weightless feeling I’m experiencing extends from the tips of my toes to the roots of my hair.
“I had no idea how heavy it all was until now.”
Grayson doesn’t flinch at me referring to my unborn child as an “it.” He simply allows me to relish a moment I doubt I’d have with anyone else. It is probably because he knows I’m not solely referring to the heaviness of my midsection. His hold has lifted a ton of weight from my shoulders as well.
After all this time, it’s like the only burden I’m carrying is my own.
I force my sluggish eyes to open when Grayson says a short time later, “Do you think you could sleep now?”
I almost scoff at the idea of sleeping standing up until I realize how groggy I am. My eyelids are heavy, and my mouth is dry since it has limited my saliva production.
I’m seconds from passing out.
“I think I could.” Grayson’s laugh rumbles through my back when I murmur through a yawn, “But I’m not sure I could rock a giraffe neckline. Turtlenecks aren’t my style.”
I yawn again, and it sees Grayson slowly maneuvering us toward the bedroom. I love how weightless his hold has made me, but it won’t last when I slip into bed. It is growing increasingly uncomfortable to sit, so I’m unsure if a sleeping position will fare much better.
After I say that to Grayson, he says that there’s no harm in trying.
I mumble obscenities under my breath when the duvet brushing against my knee corresponds with Grayson removing his hands from my stomach. The weight I’m forced to endure alone again drags me into a moody pit in less than half a second, and I more slump into the bed than glide into it.
My throat dries for a completely different reason than tiredness when Grayson requests that I scoot over.
Mistaking my expression, he pulls out an invisible we’re-just-friends card. “I won’t try anything or do any weird shit. I’ll get you settled so hopefully you’ll get more than a couple of hours of sleep.” When his reply sounds foreign even to him, he hooks his thumb to the door. “I could get some medical tape. It will act like the pregnancy support girdle Alex is adamant Regan willneverhave.”
I giggle like a schoolgirl when he gags before I slide to the far-left side of the bed. “I’m happy for you to use your hands… if you’re comfortable with that?”
