Page 148 of Seeing Grayscale

“That it does.” She winks and air kisses my cheek.

FIFTY-SEVEN

Ihavealist.

My mom helped me go over it until late at night, then she retired to my guest room. We talked for a long time before making the list, and even though I’m still hurt over her leaving, I feel the threads of our broken bond slowly weaving together.

Ineededher today—more than I thought I would. Now, I’m out in my backyard, braving the frost and snow while smoking to look at the half-finished art on my wall.

I can see where he was going with it, how beautiful it’d become when finished, but in a way, it’s symbolic.

I only ever gave half to him.

Gray gave me everything he had.

His trust. His body. His love.

I don’t deserve it. I didn’t earn it, either. But unfortunately, I am a Kade, and Kade men are selfish.

I couldn’t see it before—didn’t even want to—but now that I’m looking with open eyes, I can feel the change taking form. All that I have to do fuels me to look past the wreckage that my father created inside me.

I look away from the wall to pull out my cellphone. Opening my photo gallery, I find the pictures I took weeks ago of the sketchy house. The one Xavier’s men deal out of. I email them to myself for safekeeping, then scroll up to the most recent picture. The one I sent to myself from Gray’s phone while he slept.

I want it to be real.

It will be, sweetheart.

I attach it to a text, typing a response to his question. It’s probably too late—he probably wants nothing to do with me after what I’ve done—but I have to try.

Better late than never.

Isn’t that the saying?

Sweetheart: Why did you give me the opportunity?

Because you gave me one first.

If someone had told me two months ago that I’d be waiting in Grant O’Connell’s office for a meeting, I would have told you that you were insane. I would’ve bristled over the insinuation—abhored you for labeling me a traitor against my father.

Well, after another sleepless night, too much caffeine, and the horror stories of my father’s years as a pisspoor husband and manipulative father, I guess I am a traitor.

A proud one, too.

I’m downtown, in a building close to City Hall, and the blasts of color throughout the office are stark in contrast to the drab, stuffy beiges in my dad’s. Pride flags, along with several others, hang off nearly every wall, revolving around equality or other movements. It’s like being sucked into another world.

I’m not afraid of it, either.

Straightening my posture, I glance down at my casual wear, and I'm happy I decided against the suit.

I might just burn them all once this is all said and done.

A throat clears, and I snap my head over toGrant’s door. He stands there, all golden skin, sparkling ember eyes, and fluffy brown hair that’s perfectly coifed. His suit is tailored, black with lilac accents. The polka dot tie is a bit odd, but Grant screams individuality, so I’m not too surprised by the bold choice.

I stand up, walk over, and extend my hand. He shakes it easily.

“Hunter Kade, a pleasure."

“Likewise.”

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