Page 6 of Gray’s Surrender

“Not three times. Not like this.”

Gray looks toward the hallway. Ruby’s door stands open enough to see her night light peeking through.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he says. The answer irritates me, but not because I think I’m owed club information. I know the line. I grew up waiting beyond church doors while Tank sat in a room I couldn’t enter. What bothers me is the word need, as if Gray gets to set the amount of truth I can handle.

“Okay.”

He looks back. “That’s it?”

“Would you rather I interrogate you?”

“Not really.”

“Then I trust you to tell me if it becomes my business.” Something moves behind his eyes. Guilt, maybe, but it’s gone before I can be sure. Gray sets down the glass and studies me long enough to make the room feel smaller.

“You planning to stay in Ransom?” The question is abrupt enough to change the room.

“That’s the plan.”

“Permanent job doesn’t always mean permanent person.”

No accusation, only an expectation. I put down my mug. “My lease is twelve months. My contract is permanent. I turned down a district post in Columbia to take this one.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to come home.”

Gray rests both hands on the counter opposite me. “People say that when they need somewhere to land.”

“I didn’t need Ransom. I came back because I wanted to.”

“Tank said the city wore you out.”

“Tank says anything outside Missouri is trying to kill me.” I fold my arms. “The city didn’t wear me out. I liked my school. I was good there. Then Ransom advertised the reading-specialist job I wanted, and I realized I could build the life I wanted back here.”

“What life is that?”

“My own.”

His jaw tightens as I continue. “Not Tank’s spare room. Not a temporary stop until another district calls. My own rental, my classroom and a town where people know too much about me but are polite enough to pretend they don’t.”

“You left before, though.”

“At eighteen.”

“Still left.”

“Tank’s made plenty of choices you didn’t like. You still trust him.”

“Not the same.”

“Because he’s a man, or because you never wanted him?”

Gray goes completely still while rain presses harder against the windows. I can hear the seconds tick above the stove, but nothing about the silence feels empty.

“Both,” he says. The honesty warms me from throat to belly. I step closer, and Gray doesn’t retreat. He watches every inch disappear between us with the concentration he gives a road he doesn’t trust.

“Yesterday, you told me you no longer saw that teenager when you looked at me.”