Page 50 of Crossover

Desperate, I shoved the covers off my legs and stumbled toward the motel room door. With a trembling hand, I swung it open, and the fresh, cold air rushed into my lungs like a lifeline.

But as the initial relief washed over me, it was quickly replaced by a wave of absolute shock. I froze, stunned by the sight before me.

More specifically, the set of familiar emerald eyes that stared back at me.

27

IVY

“Ivy?” Grayson’s voice, laced with concern, cut through the night air. He pushed off from the railing, his body tensing as he took in my tearstained face.

In that one suspended moment, the world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the space between us, charged with unspoken emotions. Those eyes—the ones that had haunted my dreams for days—locked on to mine. Shades of forest and fern, more vivid than I remembered, scanned my body up and down, looking for any fresh injury, his muscles poised to attack whatever had created these tears.

Despite my best efforts, my gaze betrayed me, drinking in the sight of him. The long-sleeved black shirt that clung to his frame, outlining every curve of muscle. The way his hair peeked out from beneath his baseball cap, softening the sharp angles of his jaw. My heart, traitor that it was, quickened its pace, falling into a rhythm that clung to his orbit like dangerous gravity.

I opened my mouth to speak, to push him away. But those words wouldn’t come.

Instead, caught between the urge to run and the desperate need to close the distance between us, I shut the door behind meso I wouldn’t wake Mom and whispered, “What are you doing here?”

“You’re crying,” Grayson said, his voice rough with an emotion I couldn’t—wouldn’t—name. The words seemed to pain him, as if my tears were wounds inflicted on his own heart.

His hand twitched, rising slightly before he caught himself. I watched the internal struggle play out across his face like he had to fight the urge to fold me into his strong arms—the arms that once felt like a sanctuary. His fingers curled into a fist at his side, and I could almost feel the phantom touch of his thumb brushing away my tears.

I tore my gaze away, glancing up and down the motel’s second-floor outdoor hallway.

“Where’s Red?” I managed.

His stare was unwavering, his tone a blend of sadness and anger. “Why are you crying?”

“How long have you been here?”

“You haven’t come outside at night like this before.” Grayson’s words were meant to be evidence that he knew something was wrong, and he wanted to know what that something was. But instead, they revealed something else.

My eyes drifted back to his tentatively, and in a meek voice, I asked, “How do you know that?”

When he scanned the parking lot rather than replying, I suspected he was worried that the truth would upset me even more than I already was.

“It’s not safe for you to be out here,” he warned. “Someone could see you.”

“You’ve been out here the whole time,” I realized. “Haven’t you?”

Grayson’s eyes met mine, and those verdant depths, usually so guarded, now fired off flares of affection that threatened to thaw my icy hatred for him. For a heartbeat, I saw past his hurt,past his pain, and I caught a glimpse of the Grayson I’d fallen for—the one who looked at me like I was the answer to a question he’d been asking his whole life.

The slight furrow of his brow spoke of concern he couldn’t hide, as did the almost-imperceptible lean of his body toward mine—as if, even now, he was drawn to me against his will.

“You weren’t supposed to see me.” His voice was low and rough with emotion.

My eyes burned, not just with unshed tears, but with the realization of every hidden meaning lurking in his words. He’d been here the whole time; even after every awful thing I’d said to him, he’d never left me.

And he cared. God, he cared enough to respect the boundaries I’d set, to stay hidden, even when every fiber of his being probably yearned to comfort me. The realization was a double-edged sword, slicing through my carefully constructed defenses.

I didn’t deserve his loyalty, his concern, the depth of feeling I saw reflected in his face. Not after the harsh words I’d hurled at him.

“I’m sorry, Grayson. For what I said.”

His features softened, a flicker of pain crossing his face before being quickly replaced by concern. He took a half step forward, his hands twitching at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach out to me, and when he spoke, his voice was gentle, laced with a tenderness that made my heart ache.

“Ivy.” His gaze searched my face again. “Why are you crying?”

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