Grayson twisted his neck to look at me. “I don’t know.”
Irritation crawled up my spine. “Have you checked?”
“Ash, the woman came to Astoria to start over. How do you think she would feel if the company of the man who tried to save her kept trying to dig into her past?”
I swallowed and broke our gaze. “I just—I just want to make sure that she has everything she needs.”
He looked around the porch and gave me a small smile. “She’s good, Ash. We’ve been keeping an eye on her, but we’ve kept our distance.”
“You just said she’s close with Margo.”
His lips twitched. “Carrie says Angel comes into Rossy’s to journal.”
“Journal?” I parroted, my brows coming together.
He didn’t answer me, looking out at the rain again. For a few minutes, it was quiet. “Do you believe in fate?” he asked quietly.
My brows came together. “Excuse me?”
“Fate.”
I cast one more look at the front door before going to stand at his side, mirroring his position. “Why are you asking me that?”
“What happened between Carrie and me was fate.” He dropped his chin, studying the puddles glimmering in the grass. In the distance, on the water, lightning struck. I watched its veins, bright violet, scatter throughout the storm cloud as the tip touched the sea. Thunder rolled, and before it had completely subsided, Grayson spoke again. “You were the only one available for the Benson assignment.”
The hairs on the back of my neck shot up, my jaw snapping tight, jumping underneath my skin, every inch of it prickling at the sound of that bastard’s name. I tore my eyes from the view and focused on him. “What are you saying?”
He pondered for a long time, then rose up to his full height, turning to me. The crease between his brows was deeper than normal and there was something swirling in his eyes. I couldn’t make it out, because even on a normal day, Grayson was hard to read. This wasn’t a normal day, and he was standing before me, silently challenging me to solve the mystery, to read his mind so he didn’t have to say the words aloud.
“For fuck’s sake, Gray.” I sighed, glaring at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Angel.”
“No, you’re fucking sputtering shit about fate and staring off into the damn rain.” I shook my head and gestured to myself. “I can’t read your mind, man, and I don’t have the patience for riddles.”
Another few seconds passed. “Before, I tried brushing it off as a coincidence. Astoria is a popular place, and lots of people escape to small towns. You and I both know this.”
Suddenly, the path he was trying to pave for me became clear. My stomach twisted, piercing me with doubt. “I can’t—don’t say it.”
His head ticked to the side. “So you’re following me, then?”
I tore my gaze from him, looking out at Astoria. I’d always liked this town, even when I came here as a kid. It was only a handful of times, but the memories I had with Nonna were enough to make an impact. When Carrie told Grayson she wanted to stay, which led Grayson to want to close our Charlotte offices and relocate to Portland, it was the first glimmer of light I’d seen since Devil’s Den. “Astoria is a popular place,” I repeated through clenched teeth.
“So you don’t believe in fate?”
A rough, dark chuckle left me as I dropped my shaking head. “You know damn well I do. Everything my Nonna taught me is still,” I looked at him and tapped my temple, “in here. Etched in stone.”
“Angel stumbling into Rossy’s was fate,” he whispered.
I jerked, my throat working. “Stop.”
“I saw the look on your face when you realized it was her, Doss,” he continued, unfazed by my agony. “It was the same look I had when I saw Carrie for the first time.”
“But it wasn’t my first time,” I spat.
He brushed his nose, glancing at the door before taking a step closer to me. “Right. So tell me. Tell me how you really felt the day you found her. Underneath all the rage, of course.”
I stared at him, my chest starting to heave, my pulse racing.
