Page 10 of Grant’s Blaze

“Rio?”

Tamp down the rage. Tamp down the rage.

It wasn’t a far stretch to figure out his assumption. I mean, the current “crazy” person in my life was that woman I was head over heels for, but the guy also went way the hell back with me. So if he had been a little more thoughtful with his guess…

But he wasn’t, and there was the reality. I’d have to deal.

“My mother,” I said through gritted teeth.

He sat up then, holding up his hands. Somebody had gotten the memo about how pissed I was. “That was insensitive, man. My apologies. But Grant, your mother was a drug addict, not insane. There’s a difference.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose between my thumb and index finger again. Christ, no wonder Bas made the gesture all the time. “I think she was both. Chicken or the egg fits pretty perfectly.”

“You’re probably right,” he offered. “But damn, buddy. We were what—fourteen or fifteen when she died? Grown-up enough to think we ruled the world; young enough to screw up a lot of attempts getting there. So how does a kid understand complex mental health issues at that age?”

“Not saying I did. But have you ever remembered something from your childhood, and the more you think about it, the more you think that it doesn’t really add up?”

“I guess so. I don’t really know.” My best friend let out a heavy sigh.

It dawned on me that maybe I’d crossed the line between tapping into his advice and overburdening him with all my dramatic woes. Yes, he was the one who brought me here instead of my own home. And yes, he was the one who kept encouraging me to stay a few days while I tried to get my head screwed on straight. But now, I wasn’t sure a few days was going to be long enough—the same way I sensed that I had more to deal with than just the last two hundred and forty hours.

“I think I’m going to call Rio,” I finally said, needing to change the subject. “I really want to hear her voice.”

Like, right the fuck now.

“I think you should wait, but I’ve said my peace on the matter.”

“Elijah, can you imagine doing that to the woman you love? Letting her worry even a moment longer than necessary? It’s already shitty enough that I’ve waited this long to reach out to her.”

“So don’t tell her you waited. I’ll call her and tell her you passed out from exhaustion the minute we got in my car. I brought you back here, and you’ve been sleeping ever since. It’s not too far from the truth. You’ve only been awake some of the time. It’s been what? Two hours? Three, tops?”

“And you know that so precisely…how?” I retorted, rolling off the bed. “Is this where I add creepy babysitter to the long list of your illustrious nicknames?”

My friend just chuckled as we left his bedroom through the French doors that led back out to the pool deck. I couldn’t help but turn the spotlight on him for a few minutes. God knew I’d had more than my fill of centerstage for the day. No—the year.

“So Shawna, huh?” I knocked into him while we walked, throwing him off balance for a few steps.

“Don’t read more into it than it ever is with me. You know how I roll,” he answered with very little emotion.

“You think you’ll ever collar someone again?” I asked randomly as we walked around the infinity edge pool toward the extensive guest bedroom wing.

At once, Elijah spat, “Hell no.”

I almost scuffed to a full stop. “Wow,” I blurted instead.

“What wow?” he volleyed.

“You just answered so fast, and with such conviction,” I explained, stabbing my hands into the front pockets of his butter-soft lounge pants that he’d given me. “I’d like to feel that way about something. Shit—about anything—right now.”

The path forked, and he led the way out toward the lookout point over the ocean instead of back toward my guest room. “You don’t feel like that about Rio?” he queried, almost too casually, as we walked.

“Well, of course I do. I love her,” I declared into the briny air. “I’d get down on one knee—hell, I’d get down on both—and straight-up beg her to marry me, but I know she’s not ready. So for now, I have to be satisfied playing the sad puppy chasing behind her. I’ll keep lapping up her crumbs, and I’ll be grateful for it.”

He grew still, as if literally comparing me to the big hound that galloped next to his jogging owner on the sand below us, looking more than happy with his crumb-filled life.

At last, he asked, “Is that really how you see yourself?”

“Kind of,” I muttered. “Yeah, I guess I do. At least right now it is.”