Page 119 of Worth the Risk

I can’t look at his face, at the hurt that’s there, when I can already feel it crashing down on him.

Two weeks. That’s the answer I can’t bring myself to tell him.

“I haven’t figured that part out yet,” I try to explain. “I work for a huge corporation, and sometimes, they send me to certain places to do certain jobs, and then when I complete them, I do the next one.”

God how time has flown. The past two weeks have been a lot of working and a lot of Grayson and me taking things day by day. There has been a lot of pretending that nothing is bugging us when everything is. The me not telling him my assignment is almost up and the him not telling me whatever is preoccupying him. The kind of bugging where asking if something is wrong just prompts a million reassurances that everything is all right.

“If you leave for a different assignment, you’re still coming back here after, right? You’re still coming back to the Kraft house when you’re done?”

I turn from where Grayson is standing and answering questions. One of his helicopters is at his back, and the reporter is interviewing him, asking the same set of questions she’s asked the other top five contestants. When I meet Luke’s eyes, I kneel so I’m on his level.

“Of course.” The words get caught in my throat, right next to where my heart is lodged.

He eyes me, uncertain if he believes me, and the confused expression on his face only serves to tear me apart even more. “My mom left me. My dad tells me she still loves me, but she wouldn’t have left me if she did. People who leave never come back, even when they promise.”

Chills blanket my body as his words hit me one by one, and I take my hand and put it over his heart. “I’ll prove differently, Luke Malone. I promise you if I have to leave, I’ll be coming back to see you.”

His skepticism slowly blurs with tears welling in his eyes. Then he nods. “I believe you . . . but don’t come back just because of me. Come back because of my dad. I think he really likes you.”

Oh, my heart.

“He does, does he? What makes you say that?” I feel ridiculous asking an eight-year-old to tell me why his dad likes me, but I’ll own it.

“Because he doesn’t need coffee in the morning to not be grumpy anymore. Because he puts cologne on before you come over. That, and he said he’s going to move the PS4 into his bedroom. I think he wants you to come over and play with him some more.”

I burst out laughing. I can’t help it, and then I have to apologize to the camera crew for ruining their take, even though I’m not sorry at all. Luke and his comments are all I need to hear to encourage my thoughts to keep going in the direction they have been headed.

“It’s true isn’t it?”

Grayson stands in my doorway. I haven’t even opened the screen door, but his words are out and now there is a whole hell of a lot more between us than the piece of wood-framed mesh.

“Is what true?” I push open the door, but he just holds it still, almost as if it’s a barrier protecting him from the truth.

But I know he knows. It’s in his posture. In the tension of his body. It’s in the hurt in his eyes.

“You’re leaving.”

I stare down at my fingers twisting before looking back to meet his eyes. “I’ve tried telling you.”

“Not hard enough.” It’s the first trace of anger.

I wish there was more. This would be easier if there was a ton more. Rage, I can deal with. Defeat is a whole different emotion.

“Gray . . . we were casual. We were enjoying the secret-lovers thing. You made it clear that there would be nothing more between us, so I figured that by the time I had to leave, you’d be done with me.”

“Don’t put words in my mouth to make this easier on you, Sidney. Don’t turn this on me. I made a lot of fucking mistakes—things I did and the things I said to you . . . but when it came to how I felt—to how I feel about you, I never lied.”

I shift my feet. I go to push open the door again, needing to connect with him, but his hand holds it firmly shut. Shit. Tears well, and I blink them away.

“You’re right. I . . . I don’t have an excuse. We were fun and flirty one minute, and then the next you said you wanted to try to figure this out. You wanted to try to make this work. I should have told you then. I should have—”

“You should have let me have a choice in the matter whether or not I fell in love with you. But you didn’t. And now it’s for nothing.”

“Grayson.” His name is a broken plea as every part of me absorbs the words I didn’t expect but now know I don’t deserve.

“I thought you were staying. I took a chance on this—on us—because I thought . . . Christ, I don’t know what I thought.” He runs a hand through his hair and lifts his head to the night sky above. The tendons in his neck are taut and his hands fist and unclench as he processes everything.

“I’m so sorry.”