Page 67 of Deceiving Grier

Grier lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. His mouth tensed, jaw tightening the way it did when he was hurting.

“Is your arm bothering you?” I asked, frowning.

“It’s okay. I just have a bit of a headache.” He rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand.

I tensed. “Concussion?”

“I don’t think so. Probably just a lack of sleep and stress. I took a couple of Advil. I should be fine.”

He was probably right—we’d had to deal with both—but a week ago, I’d found him at the bottom of the stairs out cold and for a split second, I’d been afraid he was dead. My stomach swooped at the memory.

“Maybe you should lie down and get a few hours sleep before we leave.” I grabbed my suit and hung it in the closet near the hotel room’s door.

He leaned back against the pillows. “I don’t think I can.”

I returned to the bed, climbing onto it next to Grier and settling back against the pillows. He shifted closer until he propped his head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry if I kind of sprung telling my family about us on you,” he said.

I chuckled and kissed the top of his head. “I didn’t mind. Remember? I told you before, whoever you needed me to be.”

“I probably shouldn’t have, but when I saw Marty and Ethan sitting in the living room as if they belonged, it pissed me off that I should have to pretend we were just roommates or worst—just friends.”

“To be fair, we are roommates as well as friends…and more.”

“I should have probably run it by you first since now you’ll spend the rest of our time here getting dirty looks from my mother.”

I chuckled. “I don’t care. It really doesn’t bother me.”

Grier looked a little like his mother. He and his sister, Paisley, had inherited the older woman’s fair hair and spring-green eyes, but for Grier, that’s where the resemblance ended. Where his mother’s features were tight with perpetual disapproval, the corners of her mouth pulling down locked in a scowl, Grier’s face was open and beautiful—those slow grins and thoughtful frowns. I could spend the rest of my life looking at his face and never get bored. Something squeezed tight in my chest.

“Maybe I’m not being fair to my mom. She’s going through a lot. She just lost her husband.”

“She lost her husband, and you lost your father. You’re allowed to need things too.”

“I know I should be mourning my father, and I am. Sometimes, I just can’t wrap my head around the reality that he’s really gone, but under all that is this feeling of dread because when school’s over, I have to come back here and run his business, and this will be my life going forward.”

Of course, he’d be dreading having to move back here. I’d only sat through one awkward lunch, and I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of that house. I was counting the days until we could go home. Growing up, my home life had been no hell, but I’d take Carl’s big mouth over the awful tension around that dining room table any day.

“I know that you love your family, and you feel that you need to be loyal to them,” I said, carefully. “But you can do whatever you want. No matter what your father wanted and your mother believes, you don’t actually owe them anything.”

Grier was quiet for a long time, and I wondered if I’d overstepped. Leaning back to try to see his face, his gaze met mine. “I really don’t want to go to the visitation tonight.”

I shrugged. “Then we won’t go.”

“You don’t think I’m a terrible person?”

“First, you’re surviving on nearly no sleep in twenty-four hours. I honestly don’t know how you’re still standing. Second, you’re one of the best people I have ever met. If you told me you wanted to pack up and go home right now and skip the funeral, I still wouldn’t think you’re terrible.”

A faint smile touched his mouth. “Is that because, deep down, you want to pack up and go home?”

“I want to be wherever you are.” The enormity of my own words caught me like a gut punch, stealing the breath from my lungs. Did I mean that really? I let out the breath I’d been holding. I did. I really did.

Grier sat up and lifted his phone from the side table. “I’m going to text Paisley and tell her we’re not coming, and yes, I know I’m being a coward by dumping this on my nineteen-year-old sister.”

“Given her age, she’s probably the most likely to check her phone regularly.”

He snorted, thumbs tapping his screen. “I appreciate the rationalization.”

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