Page 19 of In Every Chapter

That was . . . wow.

Tour ended, I sank back into the armchair, a wave of exhaustion rolling over me. But I mustered up the willpower to sip the steaming tea Greyson handed me. Tea was a calming influence. A ritual. One could not be depressed when drinking tea. Pretty sure that was scientific. Or at least it should be. I breathed in the rich aroma. It was perfect with the exact amount of cream and sugar. How did he know . . . ?

Husband. The word slammed into me, and I couldn’t help the visceral reaction. The red truck calendar on the kitchen wall grounded me as I identified the emotional war turning me upside down.

Grief.

I’d lost seven years of my life. Seven years, a thousand memories, and any sort of recent connection to the people closest to me.

I glanced between Greyson and my friends clustered around the living room. My body shied away from Greyson’s studying gaze. Not in a weird way, more like “I have a crush and I’m going to act all ridiculous about it.” I was too old for crushes. How old was I anyway? Math was never my strong suit, but a quick mental tally landed me at twenty-eight. I blew out a breath.

Okay, let’s review. Greyson was Juliet’s brother. Therefore, he couldn’t be bad. Poor logic? Maybe, but if Juliet trusted him, that was enough for me right now.

Plus, I’d married him, and she said we were in love. So then why was my body scared? Where was Jared?

Wait a second . . . What if I wasn’t responding to Greyson but to marriage? For some reason, my friends told me I wasn’t with Jared anymore—for four years at least—but why? Did he hurt me? Tension made my neck ache and my temples throb with all the mental gymnastics. I needed answers.

“I’m going to take Rosie for her walk,” Greyson said, breaking the awkward moment. He gave a quick whistle, and she was by his side, tail wagging with excitement at the magic word. He met my gaze again. “The guest room’s ready for you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, clinging to my mug of tea.

Liz jabbed an elbow into Stephanie’s ribs, making her squawk.

“Let us take Rosie,” Liz said, jumping up. “I could use a few minutes of fresh air.”

Greyson’s jaw ticked, like he was ready to argue, but Juliet flashed him a frown and a slight shake of the head. His shoulders dropped a fraction, and he handed the purple leash to Stephanie, who grimaced unenthusiastically about the voluntold exercise.

“It’s like a gazillion degrees out there,” Stephanie muttered as Liz dragged her towards the door.

“Until you’ve traipsed about a jungle at the equator, you don’t get to complain,” Liz retorted. “This is practically balmy. No humidity in sight.”

They barely made it out the door before Juliet’s phone chimed, and she dug it out of her pocket. A sappy smile crossed her face, and she swiped the screen open. “Do you mind if I take this? Myles is gonna call.”

Greyson waved her off, and she hurried out of the room with a soft, “Hey!” as she held the phone to her ear.

“Myles?” I asked, confused. “Myles Delavan? Cal’s friend?”

Greyson nodded and shifted on the sofa. He looked at home and yet uncomfortable, simply sitting there, taking me in. “Yeah. They got married about a year and a half ago. Myles and Cal are away for a game. They’re heading into game six for the Calder Cup tomorrow.”

I remembered catching a few hockey games with Juliet, when we’d watch Cal play and even Myles when he’d been called up to the NHL as the backup goalie. She’d had a crush on Myles forever. Guess things worked out for her in that regard. But why were they playing in Idaho? They were both NHL-level athletes, or at least Cal was. Myles had seemed to prefer the slower AHL pace, although he had been called up to play for Seattle, the Chargers NHL affiliate, while we were in college.

The drum concert in my head intensified while I tried to untie the bundle of missing memories. I set my mug down. “Do you mind if I head to bed? I . . . I’m kinda tired.” Without Juliet or the girls as a buffer, I wasn’t ready to handle this overwhelming flood of . . . Greyson. And my body’s conflicted state of nerves and attraction.

Greyson didn’t appear put out by my request. Simply nodded. “You should eat something first.”

“I’m not really hungry.” My voice was small in my own ears. The nausea from my headache almost guaranteed to send me hurling if I introduced food into the mix.

He stood slowly. “Follow me.”

As I trailed him at the stairs, I realized I was still wearing his shirt—his way-too-comfortable shirt. Tugging the hem, I asked, “Are you still a Marine? I feel that’s something I should know.” Then I frowned. “But we aren’t in a base town, so . . .”

“I retired. Now I’m a mechanic.”

“Do you miss it? The military, I mean. The rush and all that?”

Greyson was quiet as he led me down the hallway. “No. Not anymore. I miss some of my friends, but that can’t be helped.”

I nodded and paused outside the open door of the guest room. Greyson did, too. It was an awkward sort of standoff. So much and yet so little between us.