Page 28 of Grant’s Blaze

“Well, you see, the beautiful man of my life—the one I’ve just spent the past week and a half crying for, every single night and day, scared to fucking death that I would never hold in my arms again—has been keeping things from me. Seriously key things, you know? And here I was, thinking I was the person he cares about. The person he claims to want a relationship with. Now, he’ll probably say that it wasn’t intentional, and that he was being strategic about protecting my feelings, and a lot of other lines that might look real great on paper—but you know what? Holding shit back…that’s still considered lying in my book.”

I gave him an artfully careless shrug before continuing to look for my phone, but then remembered I needed to get past him and into the bedroom, where I’d likely left it after our shower.

“Excuse me,” I said, trying to wiggle past him in the doorway. But the giant motherfucker wouldn’t budge.

“No,” he intoned. “You are definitely not excused.”

“Grant. Just move so I can get my phone. I think it’s in the bedroom.”

“If you go near that bed, woman, I’m not letting you out of there for the rest of the night. Do you understand me?”

He finished with glittering sapphires in his stare and a defined uptick at one side of his mouth. Why? Because I gave him full access to what that bossy alpha shit did to me, as my whole body tremored from the center out. Traitor! My fucking traitor pussy and all the tingling bits it kept claiming without mercy. Zinging and zapping in all those fantastic ways how traitor pussies zinged and zapped…

“I’m not interested,” I still forced myself to bite out. Of course, with about half the venom I intended, which didn’t help my effort to push past him again. All too easily, the towering man caught me around the waist and then used his ungodly long arm to pull me against his body. With my back now to his front, it was equally effortless for him to bend low and speak into my ear.

“Now tell me what this is about.”

My first inclination was to pull away from him. Correction: to beat at his arms as hard as I could and then squirm until he released me. But didn’t I promise myself I was going to give this a real go? I’d given myself hours’ worth of pep talks that I was going to be better at this shit, to show up for all the lows as well as the highs, and not screw things up with this amazing man.

But how amazing of a man was he if he was lying to me? How thoroughly was he showing up for things in return?

“I heard you on the phone,” I croaked. Tears were welling up in my eyes, giving me the craziest inclination to laugh. How many times had I been frustrated with Abbigail for her waterworks, only to be here pulling the same bullshit at the first sign of difficulty? Where was Rio Gibson, the badass non-crying warrior now?

Apparently, getting karma’s giggling payback for my earlier diss. Damn it.

“When?” Grant charged. “What are you talking about? Just now? With Bas?”

I replied with a lame dip of my chin. I didn’t want to speak and let him hear the emotion in my voice. The betrayal. At least that was what it felt like at the moment.

He’d gone behind my back. To Sebastian fucking Shark, of all people.

“Blaze.” Grant sighed it out before putting some space between our chests without letting me out of the circle of his arms. Maybe he thought I’d still bolt if he did. And maybe—probably—I still would have. I wasn’t sure where my head was at, to be honest.

When I only stood there, silent and still, he sighed again and kissed the top of my head. “Can we sit down and talk about this? I’m exhausted and hungry, and standing here is making me dizzy.”

Well that set me into motion, despite my total unsurety if he was pulling some sort of tactic. But Grant didn’t typically play games like that, so I had to follow my heart and care for him. Because I did care for him. Probably much more than I wanted to admit to myself.

“Yes, of course. Let’s sit down over here. Do you want to order in? If not, I can at least make you some oatmeal. I did see that in the cabinet. Why isn’t there more food here? Literally, all you have are coffee pods and some nasty powdered creamer.” The questions were appropriate but also just nervous rambling. He knew it. I knew it. If he had a goldfish, it would know it too.

We made ourselves comfortable on the sofa, but I kept a full cushion of space between us.

“You’re forgetting, I hop between seven different places,” Grant said, resting his head back on the low cushioned back of the sofa. “Getting groceries just ends with me throwing out a lot of spoiled food.”

He finished the explanation with his eyes closed, as if he would nod off at any moment. The observation was a double-edged sword. If he slept, I could sneak out with smooth ease. But if I did that, concern and worry were going to be my new shadows. I wouldn’t stop freaking out that he’d never wake up again and would die alone on this couch.

“You’re right,” I said, and then mumbled, “as usual.”

Grant surged back to being fully upright but looked pale for being so abrupt. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Grant.” I huffed. “Can we talk about the real issue here instead of splitting hairs over groceries that don’t even fucking exist?”

I’d gained some volume by the end of my question, and he reared back like I was at a full scream. I dragged in a long breath and leaned forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

“Listen. It doesn’t make sense to argue right now. Let me make you some oatmeal, okay? If you’re getting dizzy, you probably need something in your stomach. Please, can I just care for you in that way? In any way possible?”

His posture went stiff. “You do care for me, Blaze. In all the best ways.”

“Right. Sure.” I couldn’t—and didn’t want to—hold back on my scoff. “I mean, I’m not Elijah, who apparently makes doctor’s appointments for you. And I’m not even fucking Sebastian, in whom you’ll confide what happened to you at the hands of Captain Hook and his high seas Lost Boys. But I can make some fucking instant oatmeal.”