Page 82 of Mr. Edwards
Grayson springs to his feet and reaches for my hand, but I slap it away.
“I cannot talk about this when the devil himself is raging inside of me.” He cracks a smile and I clench my fists. He’s walking a very fine line right now.
Sensing danger, he retreats another step. “Ashton didn’t leave because of the pregnancy, and it had nothingto do with Emma.He loves her.It was about him…” He runs his hands through his hair as he speaks. “Fuck.”
“Spit it out, Grayson.”
“Ashton’s ex, Anastasia, was four months pregnant with their child when she killed herself.”
“What?”
“For the past six years, he’s struggled to deal with what happened. Well, to be honest, he’s never really dealt with any of it. I think today he reacted purely on instinct. He just needed a moment to process it all. He’s here now, and he’ll do right by her, that’s all that matters.”
“Until the next time he gets spooked.”
“There won’t be a next time. This is what’s been standing in his way all along. Deep down he’s a good guy, Carlee, and I know for a fact he’ll look after this baby, and Emma. And if by chance I’m wrong, which I know I’m not, I’ll personally kick his ass myself.”
I blow out a puff of air. “Promise.”
“Cross my heart,” he says, stepping forward and pulling me into his arms. Lifting my hand toward his face, he places a soft kiss on my palm. He knows this gesture is my kryptonite. It instantly makes my anger fade. “Let them sort it out.”
I sigh, absorbing his words. I knew the majority of Ashton’s assholeyness stemmed from his ex, but I had no idea she was pregnant with his child when she offed herself. I’m still angry at him, but I can’t help but feel for him too. It’s such a tragic turn of events.
I reciprocate Grayson’s hug. “Okay. I’m sorry for losing my shit. I’m just protective of the people I care about.”
He places a kiss on the top of my head. “I admire your loyalty, babe. Don’t ever apologize for being the person you are.”
Chapter 18
Grayson
“Tell me about your childhood?” Carlee asks as we lie side by side on the daybed, sunning ourselves on my back deck. We’ve just finished breakfast. She got me up at the butt-crack of dawn this morning to do damn yoga on the beach as the sun rose on the horizon. She told me it’s something she and Reece have done together for years.
She even opened up, telling me about the relationship the two of them have. I’m grateful she had someone like him in her life, especially when she was younger. He sounds like a stand-up guy for taking in a thirteen-year-old and caring for her when she had nowhere else to go. Hopefully, I’ll get to meet him one day so I can personally thank him for looking out for her all these years.
I spent the majority of the yoga session staring at Carlee’s magnificent ass in those tight leggings and admiring her flexibility. My dirty mind went straight to the gutter, making mental notes of ways we could incorporate some of those positions in the bedroom.
When we were done, we hit the waves. Carlee’s still struggling to stay up on the board for any significant amount of time. But I love her fighting spirit and how shekeeps on persisting, never giving up. There’s so much to admire about this woman, I only wish she could see herself the way I do.
“There’s not much to tell. My parents were close, the loves of each other’s lives. My mom took it hard when he died.” I swallow down the lump in my throat. “When my dad was alive, we did a lot together. Watched the games, played catch, and fished… we’d often go camping. He taught me everything I needed to know about surviving in the wilderness.”
Reaching for my hand, she entwines our fingers. “I’m sorry, I bet you missed all that when he was gone.”
“My uncle stepped in and tried his best to take his place, but my dad was one of a kind… irreplaceable. My uncle started taking me camping a few times a year until I hit puberty and discovered girls.”
“Your dad’s brother?”
“Yeah, my uncle Jason. He was a few years older than my dad. They weren’t close while he was alive… I guess my uncle tried to make it up to him, through me.”
“That’s nice.”
“He’s a good guy. I don’t know why they didn’t get on… we hardly saw him while my dad was alive.”
“What was camping like?” she asks. “When I was a little girl, still living at the trailer park with Roxy, I’d sometimes sneak into the neighboring campsite… it was down by the lake. I’d climb a tree, perch myself on a branch, and spy on the families vacationing there. They’d spend their days fishing, riding bikes, and playing board games. They were always smiling, laughing, and having so much fun. It made me envious. I used to wish my family was like that.” She lets out a small sigh before continuing. “At night they’d sing songs and make smores around the campfire. Have you ever tried a smore? I’ve always wondered what they taste like.”
I can’t believe she’s never had a smore or gone camping. I need to rectify that.
“Babe,” I say, rolling over to face her. Reaching up, I use my free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “I’ve had plenty. I’ll get the ingredients and we can make some.”
