I nod, afraid that if I open my mouth again to speak, I’ll fall apart in a fit of sobs. All the emotion, the regret, and pain build up like water behind a dam. It seems like no matter how hard I try, nothing goes right.
He eyes me carefully. Can he tell that I was upset or is he measuring my receptivity for an apology after what happened in the salon?
“May I bring it in?” he asks.
I step aside and his foresty, fresh split wood scent fills my nose, the same as it did when I was cutting his hair.
Grey wheels my suitcase to the corner and puts the bag on the table.
The suite is spacious with a sitting room, a kitchenette—not that I’d ever use it since I don’t even know how to scramble an egg—a washroom, and a bedroom.
He sits down on the sofa without asking, but I’ll review manners later. Who am I to judge? I haven’t even offered him a beverage.
I lean against the table and fiddle with the file, recalling Cateline’s comments. I’m in charge of my student, but how can I be if I’m barely holding myself together?
Sensing Grey’s gaze on me, I slowly look up.
Gone is the gruff football player. His eyes are soft, honest, and trustworthy. “You look like you’ve been crying.”
If I open my mouth, I’ll stumble and reveal more than is wise.
“Do you want to—?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“If you change your mind?—”
It’s like neither one of us wants to commit to the consequence of finishing those sentences or answering the questions. When I don’t reply, he grunts and walks to the door.
His muscles ripple and shift under his T-shirt, but I hate the sight of his back, of him leaving. An inner tug yearns for him to stay.
“You don’t seem much like the talking type.”
He grunts. “I’m not.”
In the quiet between us, I realize that Greyson Adams is the strong and silent type, but maybe what isn’t tacked onto the end of that expression is the part about him being a great listener. Perhaps we both need one of those.
It’s obvious that he, too carries around a bag of broken bones. Skeletons in his closet. Something damaged inside him. I can’t be the one to fix it, but I know what it’s like to tip too far into the vacuous pit of despair. I spent three days there when I found out about Todd, got the diagnosis, and had to make two tough decisions. I vow never to return. Seeing Grey on this track, I know that I’m strong enough to extend a helping hand. Yes, even though he’s twice my size. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, and as his wife, I’d probably feel the aftershocks if I don’t do something.
“What position do you play?” I ask.
He looks over his shoulder and the corners of his lips twitch. “Linebacker. Why?”
“I’m supposed to get to know you...and,” I twist the ring on my finger, “I’m sorry about cutting your hair.”
“Is that what this is about?” Grey’s eyes fill with thunder. He crosses the room in a few short strides.
I freeze, determined to hold my ground. Not because I’m afraid he’s going to do something dumb or dangerous, but because he needs an anchor in the storm that rages inside him.
14
GREY
Ican’t deny that Everly and I butt heads. I admit that I’m frustrating and have a tendency to break things, but I want to fix whatever is bothering her. To cheer her up. But the idea that she thinks she did something wrong busts me up.
Her gaze holds mine as I open my arms. It’s an invitation. One I can’t, in recent memory, recall offering anyone.
She steps forward into my embrace and grips me like a life raft.
