Gray had the potential.
I’ve held some resentment towards Gray since arriving here, clearly. But after yesterday, it felt like the last bit of resentment washed away, like a piece of debris floating down the river I’d gracefully fallen into. We were in the same boat, and we had to act that way.
Admittedly, I was the one pushing him away. As Taylor Swift says: I was the problem, it was me.
Survival shouldn’t be a game of me versus Gray; we needed to be a team. Our very real adult decisions had gotten us here, and the consequences were an inevitability we’d achieved—together. I wouldn’t be Betty if I weren’t rigid toward change and afraid of the things I couldn’t control. I’m well aware of my limits and what I lack. But coming here had happened so fast, it felt like mental whiplash, and I needed a hot second to catch up.
That hot second had passed, and I was ready to hear Grayson’s side of things.
I reached up and trailed a hand down Gray’s chest, over the thermal shirt he was wearing. I wish he weren’t wearing it at all, but I appreciated his attempt at formality. Touching him felt involuntary, like blinking or breathing. My fingers traced over the bulk of muscle, pillows of softness waiting to be explored. His breathing lightened as his body grew more alert. He shifted, and his hand reached up to cover mine on his chest.
I grinned. His gesture was so simple, natural, and sweet. Half asleep, he still knew the perfect way to comfort me.
With a deep, relaxed rumble of a sigh, he brushed his chin against my forehead in a sweet gesture. I reciprocated the movement, using my body language to convey what I couldn’t yet put into words. His hand on mine tightened in comprehension and acceptance, then loosened before falling away.
“How did you sleep?” he mumbled groggily.
It was difficult to do, but I rolled away from him and rested my head on the pillow, looking up at the ceiling.“It was fabulous,” I admitted. Why bother mincing words?
He shifted onto his side to face me. His stare felt like an X-ray into my mind. I noticed him adjust himself in his pants, though he tried to be discreet about it, as he’d attempted to last night. I wasn’t blind. He was too well-endowed to hide it, but I’d let him pretend. It was cute.
“I’m a lot warmer now, that’s for sure,” he said.
I laughed.“It’s a hard toss-up to decide who’s warmer, you or Tallulah. That bear packs some proper body heat. I was snug as a tick in her presence. But if I had to choose, she was the better furnace. Plus, she had the built-in fur.” My nose wrinkled.
He chuckled.“I have fur.”
I laughed.
A very loud grumble echoed from my stomach.
He gestured to the Moka pot on the stove.“Do you want to make your coffee first?” he asked.
Until now, I’d made it a race to be the first one to make coffee each morning, trying to shut him out. I’d put so much effort into avoiding him. It was exhausting. He was absolutely the kind of man who wanted to make a woman coffee every morning; I could tell.
I bit my lip, rolling my head to look at him.“I was kinda hoping you’d make it today?” It was the proverbial olive branch.
His eyes brightened, pupils widening as they met mine.“Yeah?”
A playful curve tugged at his lips, a smile he couldn’t quite suppress. His cheeks were flushed a rosy red below his beard, looking wind-chapped and slightly singed from bear spray. The redness in his eyes had mostly faded, leaving them looking much clearer.
I nodded, pulling the blankets tighter around my neck. The air outside the warmth of the bed held a distinct chill, suggesting the fire needed tending. Gray, a determined look on his face, sat up and climbed out. Mr. Beans and Villainy were quick to benefit from the residual warmth he’d left, filling the spot.
I gave Mr. Beans a scratch under his chin.“How are you doing, Beanie Weenie?” Villy got jealous and swatted at my hand before I offered him a similar scratch. Once they settled down, I turned my back on their grooming session to watch Gray move around the cabin.
He filled the Moka pot with water, placed it back on the stove, and then tended the fire. I couldn’t stop grinning like a Cheshire Cat. This is how it should have been all along. It felt cozy and right to let things run their natural course for once.
“Tell me a story,” I said after a minute.
Gray glanced my way, his blue eyes and thick lashes contemplative.“What kind of story?”
I pursed my lips, as if considering, though I already knew what I wanted to ask.“What aboutyourstory?” I suggested.
His brow furrowed, but he didn’t seem put off by the idea. If anything, he appeared to be mulling over a good chapter to begin with.“Okay, well…” He pulled down a few pans from the chain above the stove, then went to the fridge. He came back to the counter with eggs and a few other things I couldn’t see from where I was lying.
“You don’t have to,” I added quickly. I needed him to know the option to refuse was there if he wasn’t ready.
He regarded me.“I think I owe you some truth.” He cracked a few eggs into a bowl.“And you owe me some too, but I’ll start. Deal?”
