Page 97 of Hold Me Before You Go

Last night, after Grayson made me see God, made me feel loved in a way I never thought I would, let alone deserved. He told me about the prison break. He told me about my father, all the horrible things he’d said about his daughter. My father knew something was off with Robert from the beginning. He knew about Monica, and yet, he still made me marry him, convincing me that Robert would be the man to love me and take care of me for the rest of my life.

What a load of shit that was.

Grayson explained Robert’s secret identities; the passports, the houses, the bills, the bank accounts, all of it. He also asked me if I knew what Whitelock was. Apparently, that was a place Robert liked to visit often, and if I were to guess, that was where he took his victims to kill them, but not all of them.

The St. Louis River Killer got his name for a reason; all his victims were in found along the river. At least, in the beginning, they were. Then the bodies were found in random spots throughout the city, but they all had the same injuries, the same signature.

Robert killed all of them over the span of a decade, and he was never caught.

The memory of him being covered in blood flashed in my mind, and more guilt formed in my chest. I’d caught him.

I could’ve—

I looked up from my lap, taking a deep breath and looking out the windows. There was nothing I could’ve done. He tried to kill me, choking me until I passed out. Shaking my head, I closed my eyes and counted to ten, pushing those thoughts away.

There was nothing I could’ve done.

The only ones who were able to stop him, didn’t. For some twisted, fucked up reason they let him grow up, go to school, to be a person. They let him free into society, knowing exactly what kind of monster he was. Grayson told me about my in-laws, not hiding a single thing from me.

He told me about Hayes kidnapping them. He told me about how they’d been held against their will in the holding cells in the offices, and how Dominic interrogated both of them. That was when I had been saved by Mags, and he’d gotten in contact with Red Snake through the radio while I was sleeping. Grayson held me in his arms last night as he recalled the horrid, chilling stories Donna Hale told him, and when he got to the part about Robert’s little sister, everything clicked.

Robert killed his little sister, and Brandon witnessed it.

The things Brandon said to Monica during their spats suddenly made sense. Brandon was unstable, but a part of me couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, despite everything he’d done to me. Hell, at one point, I felt sorry for Monica, and look how that turned out. There was no use in trying to find humanity in someone too far gone, but still, my soul couldn’t help it. My father always told me growing up that I was too soft, just like my mother. Part of me wondered why I was still soft. Grayson loved that part of me, but I wanted to be stronger.

For him.

For me.

For everyone in my life.

Feeling sorry for a monster wasn’t strong. It was weakness, I needed to learn to let go.

After Grayson caught me up on everything, I fell asleep on his chest, and when I woke this morning, he didn’t want to let me leave the bed. That was when I noticed the fear in his eyes.

We both knew that none of this would truly be over until Brandon was found, and until then, things wouldn’t be safe for me. Grayson also warned me that things might come back on him and all of Red Snake Investigations.

Now, I was sitting on the couch in his office, waiting for an update on my horrid in-laws while I edited my photos. Grayson brought my laptop and camera from Astoria—he knew, just like I knew, that he would find me. He told me he wanted me to be somewhat comfortable, and this morning I’d ordered some flowers to put in his kitchen. I needed color. He knew that, and he was willing to give it to me.

Carrie, you want color around you because you were locked in a colorless place for over a fucking year. No, scratch that—your life never had color before you moved to Astoria. You need color. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I released a breath and continued tweaking the color of the sky in the photo I’d taken this morning, making it a little more vibrant before spending the next few minutes staring at the piece in silence. My brain was in a fog, and I felt out of place here, in Grayson’s world.

How could he fit so perfectly into my world, but I didn’t in his?

Peeling my eyes from my laptop screen, I looked around his office, taking in the blacks, grays, and whites.

No color.No warmth.

That was Grayson.

I stared at his desk, my eyes narrowing on the thick file underneath his laptop.

Suddenly, the door to the office opened out of the corner of my eye and my head snapped in that direction, my eyes widening as Hayes walked in, his eyes on his phone. I held my breath, remaining silent. His blond hair was clipped short at the sides, but a lock of it was hanging down on his forehead as he studied whatever was on the tablet, his finger scrolling. He was dressed in navy blue cargos, combat boots, and a light gray thermal, the fabric molding to his muscular frame. There was also a duffel hanging off his shoulder and a gun strapped to his hip.

Finally, Hayes looked up, his eyes on Grayson’s empty desk, his jaw tight and brows furrowed. Something was eating at him. I cleared my throat softly, and instantly, those intense green eyes were on me. I braced, waiting for him to say something—anything to me.

When he didn’t, I took the leap. “Good morning, Hayes,” I greeted softly.

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