Page 13 of Grant’s Blaze

It was all I got out before he cut me off. Maybe my tone was too plaintive for his preference or energy and comfort level.

“I’ll talk to you soon, baby. Bye.”

Like an ass, I sat with the phone to my ear listening to absolutely nothing for at least another minute. When I finally set the device on the table, the screen had gone dark. I was smart enough to add that unrecognized number to Grant’s contact card though. That way I wouldn’t foolishly let another call go unanswered like I almost had this one.

Time for more trusted behavioral defaults. In this case, my inclination to overanalyze conversations. In this case, I’d have to consider the few sparse sentences of the conversation I’d just had with the man I loved.

He missed me. I missed him. Nothing too controversial there. I was so thankful he was back. He was thankful to be back. Also pretty cut and dry. Either my deductive skills were razor-sharp today, or that conversation was a real snooze festival.

Option B seemed like the clear winner.

Everything was fine until I asked—in several ways, and at several opportunities—for his whereabouts. Head, meet wall. He’d been very deft about just changing the subject or reverting to dazzling me with sweet talk.

Dazzling me. In this case, a fancy word for diverting me.

Why was he being so evasive over where he was sleeping tonight? I knew he had a bunch of homes, and he’d never been embarrassed or awkward about the fact in the past. Hell, he’d even taken me to see the downtown property before he made the offer to buy the place. I remember feeling special, as silly as that seemed, that Grant asked my opinion about some of the kitchen upgrades he wanted included in the closing costs on that property. Something about the whole experience made the place feel more like ours when I started spending more time there after Sean passed away.

I forced myself to haul in a long breath. I nearly made it to Grant’s magic number of ten before letting the air back out. And whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was calmer. There was no use spinning myself into hysteria about this, until I became the woman I used to be. I promised myself I was going to be a better version of myself when we got off that damn boat, and this was my first test. If he said he was tired and just needed to get some extra rest, then I had to believe him. He’d never lied to me before; I had no other choice—even if the truth hurt a little more than I was willing to admit.

So, great. Just damn great. My feelings were a little tender, and now I had a bruised ego to boot. And I knew I was being ridiculous. Grant was the one who had just been held prisoner by some nasty motherfuckers out in the middle of the ocean. But I wanted to be the one he turned to when he got back. More than anything, I wanted to be his safe harbor, the person he felt secure with. It should be my arms that held him and shielded him when he felt threatened.

Because Grant would be all those things for me.

He already had been.

So why couldn’t I return the favor? Why wasn’t I all those things for him? Why couldn’t he count on me the same way I could count on him?

Again, the truth was right there. It stared me in the face when I looked in the mirror, shaking its recriminating finger as soon as I heard my mother’s nagging, doubting voice in the back of my mind. I knew the answer already; I just didn’t want to face it.

I wasn’t reliable in most people’s eyes. I wasn’t stable or even sane as far as most of my friends and family were concerned. Hell, two of them had already called the necessary agencies and had me carted off to the funny farm!

So yeah…as much as I wanted to be the arms Grant ran into when he was returned home to Los Angeles, I knew why I hadn’t been. But that didn’t mean it hurt less. Hell. Understanding the reasons why might have made it hurt even more.

Cutting deep enough to make me start bleeding with new fears.

If I wasn’t comforting the man, who was?

Another woman? One of the many he regularly entertained before he decided to tie himself down with the likes of me? Or perhaps someone new, ready to be the bosom he nestled into for welcome warmth…and more?

Somehow, I managed to suck in another breath. It stabbed into my sternum, making me push a trembling fist to the throbbing spot. “Don’t go there,” I ordered myself in a rasp. “Don’t go there. Don’t go—”

The cellphone’s ringtone snapped me out of my spin cycle, thank God. I snatched the thing up off the sofa and accepted the call without looking at the display. At that point, I would have talked to a telemarketer if it meant getting out of my own damn head for a few minutes.

“Hello?” I rushed out.

“Hey there, it’s Hannah.” Her upbeat voice came across the line.

“Oh, hey.” A big burst of air came out of me like a cough-laugh-bark combination. “I meant hi. Sorry.” Who laughed, coughed, and barked at the same time anyway? That thought really did make me laugh. My God, maybe I was losing my mind.

“You okay there? Did I catch you at a bad time?” my sweet friend and Abstract Catering sous chef extraordinaire asked from the other end of the line. Her gentle voice had a soothing effect, even over the phone.

“No, of course not.” With my free hand, I rubbed at the knot of tension that had gathered in my forehead. “I’m just laughing at my own ridiculousness. How are you, beautiful girl?”

“You’re too kind, Rio. And other than missing you, I’m doing good. Are you well? You’ve been away so long, and the last time we saw you at the kitchen…ummm…”

“Not my finest hour. I know.”

“No, no. That’s not what I was going to say.” She gave up a delicate snort. “I was actually going to issue my two cents about how Abbigail wouldn’t let up on you that day. But I guess we don’t need to go down that road again, do we?”