Page 81 of Sighs By the Sea

"You’ve been on my mind for three years, Gray. It’s fast, I know. But I can’t fucking help it. I’m a mess when we’re apart. This week was torture."

"Maggie," I say again, but there’s a grin tugging at my lips this time. Her hands cover her mouth, tears glistening in her eyes. "Ask me again," I say, my smile widening.

"Move in with me, Gray. Bring George home. To our house in LA."

For a split second, I almost refuse, but then I find myself nodding. She flings her arms around me, and we’re both laughing as I lift her into my arms, peppering kisses on her tear-streaked face.

Maggie

After Grayson agreed to move in, we plunged into planning mode. It was almost midnight by the time we had everything listed out. I was busy on the phone, coordinating with my boss, arranging support, and requesting a few days of vacation.

Once all that was settled, we finally crawled into bed, holding each other like soldiers preparing for a battle—though really, the only war we’re fighting now is making sure we never have to sleep apart again. We already managed to pack his car and mine with the essentials from his place earlier this morning. Since my home is already furnished, he didn’t need much. We even braved rush-hour traffic to drop everything off before our flight.

It leaves in a few hours, if Gray can ever decide on what to bring. I threw in a few pairs of jeans and some blouses—easy. But Gray has been agonizing over every detail, obsessing over what to pack. I can see the nervousness in his eyes, the way his hands fidget with each item. It’s not really about the packing; it’s about everything else—the move, the risks, the future.

I try to be patient, giving him the space he needs. He probably needs to channel his anxiety into something, anything, to feel a semblance of control.

I can almost smell the forest air already, picturing the lush green trees and the fresh, earthy scent that always lingers there. I glance over at Grayson, who’s meticulously packing yet another pair of socks into his already overstuffed bag. His brows are furrowed in concentration, the most endearing look on his face. “Gray, that’s the fifth pair of socks. Are we planning on getting stranded in the woods for a week?” I tease, hoping to lighten the mood.

He grumbles, shoving the socks into the bag. “Damn it all. They won’t fit. Are you sure we don’t need a second suitcase?”

“Gray, you’ve asked me a dozen times already,” I say gently, reaching out to grab his hand. “It’s going to be okay. We’ve got everything under control.”

He looks up, his blue eyes filled with worry. “Am I doing the right thing by bringing him back? What if—”

“Hey,” I interrupt softly, squeezing his hand. “You’re doing the right thing. George deserves to be with his dad, and you deserve to be with your son. We’ll be safe. I’ve got my guns locked up in the safe, and the station will have patrols driving by regularly. We’re covered.”

His small smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but he nods, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

As we’re about to leave my house, bags in tow, my phone rings, cutting through the silence. The name on the screen makes my heart sink—Harry.

“It’s Harry,” I say, turning away from Grayson as I answer. A knot of guilt tightens in my stomach, but ignoring the call isn’t an option.

“Hey,” I greet, trying to keep my tone light.

“Hello, sweetheart. Got a minute?” Harry’s voice is steady, but I can sense the urgency beneath it.

“For you? Not even a little.” I attempt to joke, but the tension in my chest only grows. “You’ve been flirting with my boyfriend’s pseudo-mom. You’re on a time out,” I add, hoping to buy myself a few seconds to brace for whatever’s coming next.

He laughs, but it’s short-lived. “She’s a babe, and besides, don’t I deserve a little—”

“Oh my God, stop. What do you want, Harry? I don’t want to keep you from whatever nastiness you’re up to.”

The tone shifts, and he sighs. “I know you’re about to head out, but we’ve got a sighting on our perp. Same place Suze has been laying low.”

My heart skips a beat. We’ve been tracking Don for weeks, and this is the first real lead. “What’s the plan?”

“Go in, check things out. Maybe have another little chat with Mrs. Cardenas.” His voice hardens, and I know he hates calling her that as much as I do.

“Do you need me on this?” I ask, my voice steady despite the adrenaline starting to pump through my veins.

“Yeah, I do,” he admits reluctantly. “She opened up to you last time. I couldn’t get two words out of her after you left.”

I close my eyes, feeling the weight of the decision before me. I tell Harry I’ll call him back, giving myself a moment to figure out how to break this to Gray.

When I turn back to Grayson, he’s already looking at me, concern etched across his features. I quickly explain the situation, watching as his expression shifts from frustration to something deeper—something that mirrors the anxiety I’m feeling.

“Damn it,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.

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