“You’re acting like I told you I didn’t want you around.” I shake my head in disbelief.
“You have, like twenty times,” Gray exaggerates.
“In the beginning, I might have tried to avoid you, but I never said I didn’t want you around.” I look at the table and give a small shrug. “I was trying to escape a messy situation and a freshly broken heart,” I admit.
“No broken hearts allowed.” Remy lays his hand over mine. “But it does occasionally feel like you’re pulling away from us.”
His tone is unusually serious, so I peer up at the side of his face. “I guess I got kind of used to being and doing things on my own,” I murmur softly. It’s the truth. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared so much of myself with anyone. I don’t want to feel like a burden.
Grayson curses softly under his breath and readjusts himself on the bench. I can’t tell if the frustration I hear in his tone is at me or because of me.
“I didn’t mean that as a dig,” I tell them.
“I know you didn’t,” he snaps, then stands up. It seems as if he’s moving away from me, but I might just be overthinking it.
“I don’t know what to do.” Grayson looks over at Remy with a heavy frown.
“What do you mean you don’t know what to do?” I ask, because it feels like it has something to do with me even though he’s talking to Remy.
“I don’t know what to say or do to make you feel better. It never used to be so hard.” Gray makes it sound like a direct challenge.
I scoot around the booth so I can stand up too. This is about his ability to pick up on my emotions, not just reading into what I say and do. “First, I’m entitled to how I feel, and it’s not your job to make me feel better—”
“Wrong,” comes Grayson’s retort while I’m still speaking. “Especially when it’s mostly my fault.”
I’ll address him always taking the brunt of the blame in a minute, I need to finish my thought. “Second, of course it’s harder than it used to be—we’re not kids anymore. There’s history and insecurities to work through.”
He points at me as if I’ve said something profound. “That’s the problem. I don’t want you to question everything as if you’re worried about how we’ll think or feel about it. You never did before.”
“I never had reason to,” I blurt out, then take a deep breath. I don’t want to get into a yelling match. “If you want this to get easier forall of us” —I widen my eyes, hoping he hears the emphasis of my words— “you have to stop blaming yourself and taking on all the responsibility for everything that did or didn’t happen. We all own pieces of that, Gray, not just you.”
Grayson looks me up and down, and if I didn’t know better, I would think he’s mad at me, but I don’t think that’s true.
“I can’t just flip a switch and forget the past several years and everything I felt over that time. There’s going to be bumps along the way when feelings get hurt or we get mad at each other. If you’re expecting something different, get over it.” I give him a long once-over myself. “I’m not walking away this time. If you want to get rid of me, you’ll have to do the work yourself.”
The second the last word is out of my mouth, Grayson shoots forward, eliminating the space between us, and gets right in my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Remy take a step forward as if he may get between us, but he pauses when Gray shuts his eyes ever so slowly and wraps his arms around my back before hauling me against him so tightly, I have to strain to take a breath.
“That’s what I needed,” I hear him murmur against my hair. “That conviction.”
I snuggle a little closer, feeling the soft material of his shirt against my cheek. The problem with giving him what he wants, that certainty he’s looking for, is that it’s going to take some time to find when it comes to things outside of my control.
TO CARE OR NOT TO CARE. THAT ISN’T EVEN A QUESTION.
Felix and Remy file out of the kitchen, leaving me wrapped in Gray’s arms. Eventually, I lean back and search his face. His eyes are downcast, looking me over as if he’s committing my features to memory.
“Take a picture, it will last longer,” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I don’t want to be the reason we don’t work,” he says with all seriousness, and the small smile on my face falls away.
“Gray,” I murmur softly and reach up to touch his cheek. His eyes fall closed again, and he lets out a long, shuddering breath.
“I’m still adjusting to…feeling everything, and I don’t want to fuck something up,” he admits when he opens his eyes to meet my gaze. He’s opening up a little, telling me he’s trying to adapt to no longer having his emotions stripped. Well, I hope he isn’t planning on doing that anymore.
“I’m not going to run away and hope you follow me this time. If we have a problem, we’ll work it out and deal with it, like adults,” I add as a subtle reminder we’re not kids anymore.
“It’s tough to relinquish control. Everything in me is screaming that if you’re unhappy, I should do something to fix it.” He strokes his fingers over my cheek while continuing to examine my face.
“I don’t expect you to fix it, I just expect you not to be the one pissing me off.” I grin up at him.
