Page 85 of Things I Wish I Said
But I won’t give it to her unless she asks.
“Are you scared?” I whisper.
“No.” Her voice is firm, certain, but emotion flickers in her eyes, contradicting her answer.
I think it’s the first time she’s lied to me.
“Remember that first day you came to the house to meet with me?” she asks.
I nod.
“You said you didn’t believe in happily ever afters.”
I search her face, looking for some clue as to where this is going. “That’s not a question,” I say, wary of what she’s really asking.
“Does that include me?” She tugs on the seam of the scarf over her head, and my stomach clenches. “You know, with all of this?”
I swallow, my throat raw and my voice rough like sandpaper as I whisper, “No, Sinclair. That doesn’t include you.”
Chapter nineteen
RYLEIGH
“What movie did theleukemia patient watch last night?” I ask, fighting to hide my grin.
Grayson sighs. “I don’t know.”
“Finding Chemo.” I laugh, clutching my stomach until my sides ache, mostly because I know how much my jokes annoy him.
Sure enough, when I glance over at Grayson, I don’t get so much as a lip twitch. “Oh, come on,” I say, lifting my legs from where they’re slung over his lap on the couch. “You know that was a good one.”
“Is she telling cancer jokes again?” Mom bustles through the living room with a laundry basket clutched to her chest.
It’s been more than a week since the party, and in that time, Grayson has somehow become a permanent fixture in my home. Even on game days, he’s here, usually before he plays, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s using me for something to occupy his time and stay sober or if staying sober is the natural byproduct of his time spent here. Either way, my mom lovesGrayson. I have yet to reapproach the trip with her, but I will soon. I’m feeling optimistic, and with any luck, my scans will come back clean and give her just another reason to let me go.
“Yep.” Grayson grins, and I reach across the couch and pinch him. “Ow!” He laughs.
Snitch, I mouth.
“Just so you know, I plan on folding laundry while watching my soaps,” Mom says, scooping the remote up from the arm of the couch. “So, unless you’re interested in helping and seeing if Marcum finally chooses Beatrice, I suggest you skedaddle.”
I grimace. “We’re going,” I say at the same time Grayson says, “We don’t mind.”
I stare at him wide-eyed. “Uh, yes, we do. We mind very much.” I nudge him with my socked foot, imploring him to get up.
The last thing I want to do is fold laundry or watch her stupid soaps.
I narrow my eyes when he doesn’t budge, wondering if Grayson secretly likes the soaps, when he stands and stretches, reaching his arms in the air with a groan. A sliver of tan, toned skin peeks out from beneath the hem of his shirt and my gaze lingers a little too long on the thin smattering of dark hair disappearing below his waistband.
I shift my attention back to his face and find he’s watching me.
My cheeks flush at having been caught, but he just smirks and pulls his shirt down before he nods toward the hall. “Wanna listen to some music?”
He might as well ask me if I want to get naked for how hot my cheeks are burning right now.
Actually, in my mind, he did ask me if I want to get naked.
“Uh, sure.” I stand and grab his hand, dragging him from the living room toward the hallway as Mom shouts, “Door open!”
