Page 53 of Deceiving Grier

I blew out a sigh and gave myself a mental shake, forced my gaze back to my computer screen and tried to pick up where I’d left off on my assignment. It was due tomorrow, and I wanted to finish it before Grier got home—because once he walked in that door, I doubted I’d be finishing up homework. After last night, all I could think about was having him naked in my bed, making all those filthy promises we’d made to each other a reality. Phone sex was great, but it was no match for the real thing.

The wind gusted again, and the floor above me creaked.Jett’s ghost?I rolled my eyes.Focus, damn it!

I picked up where I’d left off. The words flowed faster from my fingers the deeper my attention sank into the assignment until a solid thunk pulled me from the moment. I froze again.What was that?I frowned, straining my ears to hear the sound again. It had sounded like the door, but I knew from having checked earlier that both the back and front doors were locked.

The floor above me creaked again, and muffled footsteps thudded softly overhead. My heart rate kicked up, and every muscle in my body tensed.Someonewas in the house.

I swallowed hard and reached for my phone, listening for the footsteps in an attempt to determine where upstairs the intruder was, but they’d stopped. Then, after a moment, the soft hiss of the shower from the bathroom upstairs.

The tension gripping me loosened, and I sagged back against my chair. It had to be Grier home early. After all, I doubted very much that an intruder would break in and shower.

I should probably double-check though, I thought, grinning to myself, and once I was sure it was in fact Grier, I should offer to help him with any of those hard-to-reach places.

I stood up from my desk, and a sharp clatter stopped me in my tracks. I frowned and glanced at the floor on the far side of the desk—where the noise had come from. The old Bayside University mug I used to hold my pens was in pieces scattered over the hardwood, along with the pens it had been storing.

I frowned.How in the hell had it fallen?I hadn’t been anywhere near its place on the corner of my desk. Maybe when I stood from the chair, I’d bumped something that had bumped the mug, sending it tumbling over the edge of my desk.

With a sigh, I knelt down and gingerly picked up the larger pieces of broken ceramic, but there were a lot of smaller shards gleaming from the dark floor. I would need to vacuum. After dumping the bigger pieces into the wastepaper basket under the desk, I gathered the pens that had fallen to the floor, reaching into the small gap under the bookshelf for a few that had rolled away. My fingers brushed against paper, and my frown deepened. I reached farther under the bookcase until I grasped what felt like an envelope and pulled it out.

Itwasan envelope; I realized once I had pulled it out. The paper that had probably once been white had turned beige with dust and age. I turned it over in my hands, gaze narrowing on the faded, neatly printed address.

Greyson Mackenzie.

The envelope had been stamped, and a small label with Oliver Mackenzie’s return address carefully affixed to the top left corner. Obviously, Mackenzie senior had meant to send this to his son, and somehow it had wound up lost and forgotten under the bookcase.

My fingers itched to tear open the envelope, the need to look inside nearly overwhelming. Just a few weeks ago, stumbling over something like this, I wouldn’t have hesitated to open it and read the contents inside. A possible angle for my story.

But now, I knew there was no story.

Unless there wassomething, just not the story I had originally believed. I would know for sure if I opened the envelope, but even as the thought flitted through my head like a bird briefly touching down before lifting off into the sky again, something about it felt wrong, invasive and strangely dangerous to what was growing between me and Grier—and I wasn’t willing to risk that for anything.

The realization of what that meant hit me like a truck, sucking the air from my lungs and leaving me lightheaded. It was probably a good thing I was already sitting down. My leg muscles felt soft and light, like they’d turned to jelly, and I doubted they’d be able to support my weight if I tried to stand.

Did IloveGrier?

I’d never been in love before. Sure, I dated, fucked, but not with any real seriousness. Hell, I’d never even let myself be exclusive with anyone else, unwilling to get too attached and risk letting someone else hold me back.

Of course, that couldn’t happen with Grier. We had an expiration date. Once school ended, so did we. Was that why I could let myself believe I felt more for him than a pleasant combination of lust and affection? Was it safe to love him because I wouldn’t really have to give anything up for him?

I tossed the envelope onto my desk. I would give it to Grier to give to Finn to pass on to Greyson Mackenzie. Whatever secrets were tucked inside would remain between father and son.

A loud yell broke the silence, followed by a rapid series of thuds and a final crash from somewhere near the front of the house.

Grier.

Panic gripped my throat. I bolted from the office, darting through the dining and living rooms, coming to an abrupt halt in the hall.

Grier lay in a tangled heap at the bottom of the stairs, eyes closed, skin unnaturally pale, his right arm bent at a strange angle.

For a split second, I couldn’t move. My stomach sank to my feet, my blood running cold. He looked dead.

“Grier.” His name tore from my suddenly too-tight throat, ragged and airy. I crouched next to him and gently cupped the side of his face. His breath, warm and steady, whispered across my wrist, and I nearly collapsed with relief. “Grier! Can you hear me?”

The sight of him twisted and unconscious at the bottom of the stairs made my stomach turn. I wanted to gather him into my arms and carry him over to the sofa, but except for his bent arm, I had no idea where or how badly he was hurt. It was probably safer not to move him.

Careful not to jostle him, I eased back and patted my pockets for my phone.Shit. I’d left it on my desk. I jumped to my feet, rushed back into my study and grabbed my phone, dialling 911 as I hurried back to Grier.

The operator answered just as I got back and crouched down beside him. After asking for an ambulance and reporting what I knew—which was frighteningly little, I suspected he’d fallen down the stairs, hit his head and broken his arm—the operator assured me the paramedics were on the way, and there wasn’t much more I could do besides wait.

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