Page 73 of In Every Chapter

Conflict etched his shadowed features, and he avoided eye contact.

“Grey—” But the pleading died on my lips when his gaze finally locked on mine. Whoa. Heat and heartbreak collided in his fathomless eyes. This memory wasn’t like the others. This was big. It meant something.

“Our first dance,” he rasped out before clearing his throat. “At our wedding.”

“It’s our song.”

He froze, mid-sway, and we stood there, staring. Locked in position. “You remember?” A thread of hope laced the words.

“I . . . I think so. It feels special. Important.” Flickers of stargazing and dancing in the rain and laughing over a shared plate of nachos hummed in my mind. Fragments and phantoms of a different time.

He wrapped his arms fully around me, breaking our dancing hold and tugging me into a hug.

I sank into his warmth. Wow, he was a good hugger. I could stay here forever. New postal address: Greyson’s arms. He hugged like he meant it. Like he was holding on for dear life and yet holding me together at the same time.

When the song changed, I leaned back slightly to study him.

He had that look again. Like he wanted to kiss me but thought better of it.

“Grey.” I brushed my finger over his bottom lip. My stomach spiraled with a buzz of nerves, and not all the good kind. Panic niggled my insides. What was I doing? I loved the way he made me feel special. But I . . .

His neck muscles rippled as he swallowed. But he didn’t lean down, just caught my finger gently in his hand. “Not yet, Pais. Not until you’re sure.”

My chin dropped, and embarrassment flooded my veins. It was two o’clock. What was that saying one of my foster moms used to say? Nothing good happened after dark. No doubt I’d regret my moment of boldness in the morning. I’d ruined everything by overthinking. And—

His finger tilted my chin up, and he kissed my forehead. About five inches higher than where I wanted his lips. He lingered for a minute before whispering against my hair, “Ready to get some sleep?”

After that? Absolutely not. I needed to go find a hole to bury myself in. Avoiding his gaze, I nodded and set my mug in the sink. He turned the range light off and trailed me up the stairs, neither of us saying anything.

He walked me to my door. Same as usual, but it was different, too. “Good night,” he said, his voice gravelly with emotion.

But I didn’t go into my room. Something glued my feet to the rug, and I stared up at him. He wasn’t retreating either. In a last moment of bravery, I lifted a hand, cupping his cheek, the scrape of his five o’clock shadow sharp against my fingertips. “’You and I, we must endure with patience the hours of waiting.’”

His eyes fluttered shut, his jaw working under my touch.

I wanted this. Wanted him. I think. Maybe. But . . . “Good night,” I whispered and fled behind the door, like the coward I was.

“Are you sure grocery shopping is the best way to tell everyone I’m fine? I thought that was what church on Wednesday was for?” I asked as Greyson’s hand on my lower back gently steered me between the aisles on Friday afternoon.

Jazz floated over the speakers, and I wasn’t sure if it was because the owners were literally in their eighties and loved this stuff or if it was a poor attempt to relax customers. Because everyone knew grocery shopping was the worst chore on the planet. Although . . .I side-eyed Greyson. Having someone to share in the mundane tasks somehow made it sweeter.

Greyson grunted. “Trust me, Camille is working the counter today, so it’ll officially be all over town by nightfall.”

I huffed and tugged a couple bags of rice off the shelves. “So much trouble over nothing.”

“Not nothing, Pais.” Greyson’s voice trailed seriously over my neck.

“Not what I meant. It’s just . . . This is . . . hard to navigate, you know?”

“Yeah.”

After the midnight kitchen escapade, things between us had tiptoed into the land of slightly awkward. There was new history being formed and the past kept getting tangled alongside it. I liked Greyson. A lot. But that wasn’t enough of a reason to jump back into a relationship with no foundation. At least, no foundation I remembered.

He’d been in his right mind to stop me last night. Even if a part of me really, really wished he weren’t so noble.

Greyson was still his usual self. Like it didn’t faze him. But there were times I caught him watching me. And in those moments, he didn’t look as unaffected as he projected.

By the time we hit the produce section, I’d ticked nearly everything off the list of things we needed to have Myles and Juliet over for dinner tomorrow.