His.
The next day, Grayson spent most of Gracemont’s annual Harvest Festival looking for Wren. Every second weekend in October, the town basically shut down, hosting a parade and carnival before wrapping up the event with a big dance. He’d always looked forward to the festival, not because he was a huge fan of crowds, but because this event was a sign that the busy harvest season on the farm was pretty much over and his work hours were about to become significantly less.
Main Street overflowed with food vendors, craft booths, children darting between games, and enough fall decor to fill every party store in the country. The morning parade had wound through the town, led by the Gracemont High School marching band. Sam, who was mayor, had ridden on the back of Roger Mitchell’s gold Corvette, waving and smiling, even though Grayson knew his brother was hating every bit of the ride. Sam was an amazing mayor, but he chose to do his hard work behind closed doors rather than in the limelight, like his predecessor, Scottie Grover. Scottie had been less about the job and more about the prestige of the title. And it showed, considering how many positive changes Sam had brought to Gracemont since taking over the position.
Grayson devoted his entire afternoon to the carnival. He bought a lemonade he didn’t want, watched kids win stuffed animals, and spent way too much time wondering where the hell Wren could be. His attention was continually snagged by every blonde woman he spotted in the crowd. Every time he caught sight of one, his pulse jumped, but none of those blondes turned out to be Wren.
He saw Lark countless times, which didn’t help his racing heart issue. Because he’d been forced to do double takes that always ended in disappointment. Especially when he quickly scanned the people around her and discovered she was in the company of every person in her family—except Wren.
Lark caught his eye every time he glanced in her direction, which was how he’d spotted the uncharacteristic wariness on her face. She knew who he was looking for, and Lark didn’t seem exactly pleased about it.
By the following night, he’d made a decision. If Wren wasn’t at the Harvest Dance, he was leaving the community center and going to her apartment…because frustration had settled deep.
He opted to drive himself to the dance rather than piling into Everett’s car with Jace, Nora, and Remi. He explained his decision to go alone by claiming he wasn’t planning to stay long. What he hadn’t added was, he wouldn’t be heading home after.
He knew perfectly well that he and Wren hadn’t progressed to the stage in their…situationship where he could just knock on her door uninvited, but he didn’t give a shit. Lark’s comments about her sister had worried the hell out of him, causing him to toss and turn all night. He’d driven to the library yesterday morning, right after talking to Lark. He’d forgotten that the library was closed, due to the festival and all the setup taking place on Main Street.
At the time, he hadn’t known where Wren lived, so going to her apartment hadn’t been an option. However, he corrected that oversight this morning, flat out asking Nora if she knew where Wren lived. After giving him an extremely suspicious look, she admitted she didn’t know the address, but she knew Edith was her landlady.
Edith’s expression, on the other hand, when he’d waylaid her this morning to ask for Wren’s address, hadn’t held a bit of suspicion or concern about him trying to track down a single woman. Instead, hers was all delight. And it turned to outright amusement when he didn’t correct her after she said, “Another Storm boy bites the dust.”
Grayson knew if it had been anyone other than him asking, Edith wouldn’t have offered the address so easily, but she knew him very well, knew he would never hurt or scare Wren.
So if Wren wasn’t at the dance, he was going to her place. Because he wasn’t going to get a good night’s sleep until he laid eyes on her and confirmed she was okay. He hadn’t liked the way Lark said Wren was “back sliding.” He didn’t know what the hell that meant, but it sure as shit didn’t sound good.
Strings of lights illuminated the parking lot of the community center and music drifted from inside. Couples and families walked in together, but Grayson found himself pausing for a moment, trying to get a grip on himself.
He wasn’t sure how he knew she was inside, but something told him that she was. Some strange awareness, letting him know she was close. That knowledge simultaneously calmed him down and stressed him the fuck out.
He’d acted like a total dickhead the last time he saw her, letting his pride and stubbornness get the better of him.
Sure, she’d lied to him, but now that he knew it was because she was trying to help her sister and keep her job safe, he got it. There was precious little he wouldn’t do for any of his brothers or cousins. He liked the idea that she was so committed to her family. It was something they had in common.
Maverick’s words echoed in his head.
Go get your girl.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and headed for the entrance. It took him a moment to catch his bearings once inside, because the place was hopping. The dance floor was already crowded, the music was thumping, and laughter echoed from every corner of the room.
The community center was awash in white twinkle lights and autumn-colored decorations. Someone had really gone the extra mile in cutting out orange, red, yellow, and green leaf shapes, plastering them to basically anything that didn’t move.
Grayson scanned the room. It was easy to find the tables his family had claimed. They’d grown so large in the past couple of years, they had to shove a couple together. And even then, it looked like they’d added a few extra chairs.
Jace caught his eye and waved, indicating an empty spot next to him. Grayson waved back, holding up one finger.
Jace, the clever bastard, fully aware of who he was seeking, smirked, then tilted his head toward a table to his left.
Grayson followed that direction with his gaze…and found Wren seated at a table near the wall. His heart skipped a beat.
She was sitting alone, watching the dancers, looking like she’d rather be literally anywhere else in the world. She’d managed to position herself close to some decorative maple tree someone had dragged inside and strung with lights. He started to head that direction but stopped short when Lark approached her sister, sliding an orange-colored cocktail in front of Wren before claiming the chair next to her.
The twins leaned close, speaking with their faces next to each other, probably so they could hear over the music. Wren gestured toward the exit, and Lark shook her head.
He’d worked with Lark long enough to recognize that she had a stubborn streak as wide as Grayson’s. He didn’t have to hear their words to know that Wren wanted to leave, and Lark was refusing to let her do so.
For once in their lives, he and Lark were on the same page.
He studied the way Wren sat, with her shoulders stooped and her body hunched over. Was this what Lark meant by reverting?
