Any surprising, disconcerting feelings I may have had over the sound of my name abruptly fled at the mention of Aruba.
Swallowing around the wholly unwelcome knot of emotion in my throat, I straightened my shoulders and asked, “And howwasAruba for you?”
Gray’s eyes narrowed and head slanted like he knew the question was a trap just waiting for him to walk into. After long seconds passed in strained silence, he carefully answered, “Full of surprises.”
My head moved in small, absentminded nods before I whispered, “Wish I could say the same.” Turning, I wove through the small space, shakily calling over my shoulder as I did. “Leave, Gray.”
I was feet from my bedroom when his familiar hand curled around my arm.
Turning on him, I spun out of his grasp and went for a hit to his sternum, but he’d already anticipated the move—grabbing my fist and attempting to use it to twist me back around. But as with him, I’d anticipated the move and managed to slip out of it.
That was the thing about fighting with someone you’d sparred with for over a decade. You knew all their moves, and they knew yours. Just like I knew all his faults, and he knew mine. After so long, you’d think he wouldn’t have the ability to hurt me, but he did.
And I hated him for it.
At least that traitorous knot of emotion was nowhere to be found as I threw all my focus into trying to take Gray down.
“Talk to me,” he said once we were both on the floor minutes later, and he had me in an Achilles’ lock—the same way our spars always ended.
“Let go,” I said through clenched teeth, desperately and vainly trying to relieve the strain on the tendon. Not that he would actually, physically hurt me. Just as I knew all his faults, I knew his best qualities too, and Hudson Gray wouldn’t hesitate to protect me with his life.
He already had once before.
“Tell me what’s going on first.”
Just like that, all those complicated emotions rushed up to overwhelm me...
Crushing my lungs. Tearing at my frayed heart. Gripping my throat. Burning the backs of my eyes as I desperately tried to fight the building tears.
And I knew I was seconds from doing what I’d wanted to for three months: baring my soul and giving Gray all my weaknesses...but I couldn’t.
I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.
I hadn’t realized my breaths had turned harder and more clipped until his worried, “Mallory?” filtered through my spiraling thoughts.
Forcing my mind to empty of everything else, I focused only on the way Gray hurried to release me and move back, giving me the perfect opportunity for me to slam my foot into his chest.
A hissed curse burst from him and ended on an appreciative laugh. “That was dirty,” he said, as if the entire thing had been a ploy.
He could think what he wanted.
I forced myself not to look back at him as I got to my feet and finally made it to my room. Quickly shutting the door behind me, I twisted the lock, then pressed my shaking hands to the surface and let my head hang low. After a few heaving breaths, I finally stepped back to stare at the door.
Not that I expected him to break it down or pick the lock...again, this was Gray. I knew him. But for as much asmy ruined heart needed him to leave, a part of it needed him to continue trying.
Hearts were complicated, fickle things. It would’ve been better if I didn’t have one at all.
When minutes passed without so much as a sound from the other side, I suppressed a sigh and forced myself to move.
Resisting the urge to crawl into bed, I numbly walked back to where I’d been before he arrived. Lifting my phone, I tapped on the screen until the same picture from earlier was pulled up, then set it so it was leaning against the wall, perfectly in view.
A photo I had clearly taken, given the way my right arm was outstretched in the shot. From the background, I couldn’t tell you where we were, but that didn’t matter. Gray was kissing the corner of my mouth as I smiled in a way I wasn’t sure I ever had. From the way I was holding up my left hand, showing the too-large band we’d somehow procured, we were already married.
I didn’t remember what happened that night in Aruba, but I had this. And I wasn’t sure if it was better that I did. I also wasn’t sure what it said about me that I stared at that photo for an unhealthy amount of time each day.
Blinking away the threat of tears, I picked up my brush with shaky fingers, then carefully swiped it through one of the colors on the palette before lifting it to the wall. For long seconds, I just stood there, hand raised, before finally continuing the painting. One where a knight was walking through a field, surrounded by hundreds upon hundreds of beautiful wildflowers. Behind the knight, at the edge of the field, was a fortress of thorny bushes with a single, wilted bloom hidden inside.
Gray was still in my condo.
