Wren obviously liked that idea. “Yeah. I think he could have. Sheriff Anderson showed up and arrested Uncle John.”
That part of the story caught Grayson off guard. Because he’d never heard a whiff of this happening, and in Gracemont, that was shocking. Not because he thought the sheriff told tales, but because there would have been a trial or something.
Wren must have guessed where his thoughts had drifted. “He hadn’t shown up in Gracemont for a visit or to reconnect with family. He’d been living with a woman in Oklahoma, who had a daughter about my age. She’d found pictures on my uncle’s phone of the little girl, naked. She lost her shit, threw him out, called the cops. When Sheriff Anderson ran his name, he discovered Uncle John was wanted in another state. He was transferred back there to be tried. My parents thought that would be best. They didn’t want people in town whispering about what had happened, behind my back.”
Grayson understood that. “Tell me he went to jail.”
Wren nodded. “He did. He’s still there, as far as I know. He was sentenced to fifteen years.”
She did the math the same time he did.
“Guess he’ll be getting out soon,” she murmured.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Grayson said. “That son of a bitch will never come near you again as long as there’s a breath in my body.”
Wren frowned, as if his words confused her. “I don’t think he’ll come back to Gracemont.”
Grayson hoped she was right.
“So…” Wren had told him that whole story with her gaze averted or directed toward the wall, only glancing his direction for a second or two at a time. This time, she turned and faced him, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I understand if this is too much for you. Because as you can see, I’m still a mess. And that’s with therapy.”
Grayson snorted. Because what the hell? “I’m not going anywhere, Wren.”
“Grayson,” she started, clearly thinking they were in some sort of debate. “I’m serious. I’m twenty-three years old and afraid of the dark.”
“I’ll buy you a million nightlights.”
“My claustrophobia is no joke.”
He shrugged. “I hate crowds too. We’ll avoid them together.”
“I suffer from nightmares, once or twice a week.”
“And I’ll be right there to comfort you when they come.”
“That’s not fair to you,” she insisted. “I’ll disrupt your sleep.”
“I’m a farm boy, little bird. I can exist on five hours of sleep a night, if need be.”
She sighed, then bit her lower lip…which was her tell that she didn’t want to say the next part. Obviously, she’d been building up to what she viewed as the real problem.
She was about to waste her breath, because as far as he was concerned, there wasn’t a damn thing the two of them couldn’t overcome together. But he knew she wouldn’t believe him until he addressed all the concerns head-on.
“You’ve seen… I mean, I’ve never managed to…” She closed her eyes, shutting down.
Grayson wouldn’t let her do that. He tapped her under the chin, forcing her to look at him again. “You’ve come this far, brave girl. Say the rest. Tell me why you think this thing between us can’t work.”
She blew out a shuddering breath. “I can’t do physical intimacy without falling apart. Without responding like a lunatic. You saw what happened the other night. All you did was put your arm around me, and I freaked out and fell out of bed.”
“You were coming out of a nightmare,” he interjected, but she didn’t acknowledge his word, plowing onward.
“And the night after the dance, when you were kissing me and you pushed me to my back…I panicked.”
“We’ve done other things, Wren. You’re perfectly capable of being physical with me.”
She shook her head, unwilling to believe him, but he refused to back down.
“Think about the things that bothered you. Me pinning you beneath me, either with my body or my arm. Of course those things upset you. You felt trapped. But now that I know, we adjust.”
