Page 26 of You First
“Not every night,” she offered. “Just when I want some time to myself.”
Gray pictured her crying in his back yard, and he frowned. What did she have to put up with that drove her to such a risky escape?
“Do you take any protection with you? Pepper spray or something?” he asked, wanting to be able to stop worrying about her. But even if she said yes, he had the feeling it wouldn’t help. Gray waited. And waited. “I’m going to take your silence as ano.Where are you right now, exactly?”
“I’m alongside Blackham, heading to Bourgeois Park,” she said. “I can see a soccer game up ahead at the intramural field.”
Two rows of outbuildings sat behind the coliseum. Used for livestock shows, they were more like barns made of corrugated tin and cement, some with outdoor paddocks and stables. Those buildings, dark and unsecured, stood between her and the practice field. Poorly lit and tagged with graffiti, the buildings welcomed trouble. Anyone could hide out there and wait for just the right moment…
“But I bet they can’t see you,” he muttered, thinking how much the outbuildings looked like the warehouse in his Alex Booth novel.
“I’ve only done this about a hundred times, boss.”
“Boss?”Gray made a choking sound. “That’s worse thansir.”
This time, her laughter was immediate, untethered. In spite of himself, Gray smiled at the buoyant sound.
“Well,Gray,” she said, stressing his name. “I’ll pick up some pepper spray the next time I’m at Academy. Do you need anything before tomorrow?”
His head cocked back. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
“Wh— No,” she sputtered. “Of course not.”
“Good. Because you’re going to keep talking to me until I know you’re safely back home.”
SHE DIDN’T PUTup a fight, and as she walked into Bourgeois Park and past the practice field, she asked him about his books, and Alex Booth, and why he liked writing crime. And when she reached Coliseum Road, the long stretch of emptiness that wreaked havoc with the dark part of his imagination, Gray found himself asking about her family.
“So… why doesn’t someone at home walk with you?” The question and all its intrusion was out before he could call it back.
To his surprise, she laughed, but the sound held a sour edge.
“I’d rather not walk with anyone at home.”
“You don’t get along with your family.” Again, it wasn’t a question, and he felt he’d crossed some invisible line he couldn’t help crossing.
She sighed, and the silence that followed was almost long enough to make him apologize for his impertinence. But then she surprised him a second time.
“I get along with my sister, Becca.” The truth and sadness in her words hit him square in the chest, and an image of Cecilia flashed through his mind.
“Is she younger or older?” But somehow, he sensed by the rawness in her tone that her sister was younger.
“She’s fourteen. Becca’s a freshman at LCA.”
With a bittersweet sting in his chest, Gray smiled, thinking of Cecilia at fourteen, years before her demons got the upper hand. She’d always loved her older brothers, but at fourteen, she still worshipped them. Cecilia would have given up her allowance to go for a walk with him or Baxter after dinner — up Philip Street to St. Charles or down to Magazine.
“Why can’t Becca walk with you?” With his head thick with memories, his voice had softened, and it took a moment to hear the silence again. Wherever that invisible line was, he’d far overstepped it now.
“Forgive me. You have a story,” he said, coming to his senses. “And it’s none of my business.”
Her sigh of relief was clear enough to make his curiosity double, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I have a story,” she confirmed, her heavy tone speaking volumes.
He wasn’t going to pry, but he wanted to leave the door open. Meredith Ryan was thoughtful and bright and interesting, but she carried a burden even he could see, and if she ever wanted to share it, he’d be happy to listen.
“Well, maybe one day you’ll tell me your story.”
“Maybe one day you’ll tell meyours.” The smile in her voice had returned.
