Page 26 of Slash & Burn

“You okay?” I asked, desperate for a distraction from the tension pulsing between us. I refused to make more of this than it was. Even if Grady wasn’t looking at me like a man in a panic anymore, that’s exactly who he was. This wasn’t aboutmeas much as it was him processing what just happened.

“Not really,” he admitted, a sad slant to his smile.

I ran my hand down the front of his shirt, watching the fabric move instead of meeting his gaze. “Is there anything I can do?”

Grady was silent for so long I finally looked up at him. His eyes were dark, heat swirling in them as his jaw muscles clenched and released on a tight exhale. I’d never seen him look at me that way.

With a rough shake of his head, Grady dropped his hold of me and stepped back. “I think you’ve more than fulfilled your half of the bargain today, don’t you?” He swallowed thickly, giving me a quick, resigned grin before turning toward the door. “We should get out of here before the photographer wants to take more pictures.”

He was shutting me out, but I didn’t push. And the reminder that we were still mere feet away from that snap-happy woman and her cameras was enough to get me in motion.

The loaded silence I got on the ride back to Holden Cove was exactly what I’d expected. But the longer it went on, the more it gave me time to think. Grady went home alone every night to his childhood house, filled with memories of how his life used to be. As far as I could tell he had no support system helping get him through this. After Adam had left, I’d slipped so far into the dark not even my family could pull me out. I’d needed a therapist in addition to all of them. And here Grady had no one.

“Hey, do you want to stay for dinner?” He probably wanted to get as far away from me as possible given everything that had happened, but I had to try.

“Seriously?” He glanced over at me, his eyebrows up like I’d just asked if he was an alligator or something.

“Yeah. I’m making a shepherd’s pie. Real meaty, just how you athletes like, right?”

Grady laughed. A real, full, straight from the gut laugh and it filled up his car like music. My whole body relaxed at the sound of it. And it looked like his did, too, as he shifted in his seat and rested his head back.

“That actually sounds great.”

“Yeah?”

His eyes were on the road, but even from the side I could see the easy smile curling his lips. “I figured you’d want nothing to do with me after I tormented you all day.”

“I think the photographer was the real culprit. But if you sing that stupid brown cow song one more time I’m slipping a laxative into your drink.”

Grady shook with laughter again, his shoulders bouncing as he took the turn into my driveway. He stilled as soon as my parents’ house came into view, and I watched as he scanned the parked cars. The porch was empty this time, and he let out a sigh as we passed by unnoticed.

“You better now? No one there to see you sneaking around?”

“I’m not sneaking around.”

“I know, but you sure acted like you’d been caught doing something wrong the last time you dropped me off.”

When he put the car in park in front of my cottage, he sat motionless, so I waited too.

“I just don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.”

Ah. Now it made sense. “You mean Joey.” My brother had been overprotective my whole life. I should have guessed that Grady was worried about what Joey would read into him being out here.

“You know how he is.”

“I do.” I nodded, more aware of my brother’s antics than anyone. And more annoyed by the second that I’d never succeeded in getting him to quit it. I shoved the door open and went for my front porch, calling over my shoulder, “Well, the invite stands if you’re not afraid of upsetting the almighty Joey Jordan.”

I didn’t turn around when I heard him close his car door or when I swung open my screen door and strode inside. Dropping my bag on the kitchen counter, I went straight into my bedroom to take the damn jersey off. By the time I came out Grady was standing just inside the door with his hands in his pockets as he slowly scanned the room.

When he saw that I’d changed, some of his humor returned. “Couldn’t get it off fast enough, could you?”

“Nope.” I surveyed my space, pleasantly surprised by the lack of dust bunnies thanks to a fit of frustrated cleaning lately. I wasn’t sure my house had ever been more spotless. “Make yourself at home.”

My kitchen was pretty tiny, tucked around the corner so I couldn’t see what Grady was up to while I pulled all the ingredients from the fridge. “Beer or wine?” I called, once I had things under control.

“What are you having?” he asked, his voice so close it startled me. I looked up to find him in the doorway, leaning casually as if he’d been stopping by his whole life. Sometimes I wondered if that was really how he felt—comfortable and welcome—or if he was just putting that on, like the mask I’d seen him wear talking to the marketing team today.

“I’m going for a glass of red.”

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