Page 5 of The Elusive Billionaire
I can’t leave him all alone, I just can’t. I’ll have to be the friend Grey needs but will never ask for. If he never finds out it’s me who’s supporting him as Firefly12 and also pushing him to open up as Savvy, we’ll be just fine.
This is a secret I’ll take to my grave, because if Grey learns to let someone in, he’ll be the hero every woman deserves but most never get. I know that in my soul, and he deserves to love and be loved that way—even if it’ll kill me to see him happy and in love with someone else.
Because the other thing I know for sure is that Grey can never be mine.
Firefly12: Never.
Firefly12: And I understand that kind of loneliness more than you’ll ever know.
Firefly12: I’m jumping into a meeting, but I’ll check in with you tonight, okay?
Firefly12: Thank you for opening up to me. I’m honored. Truly.
A moment later, my phone buzzes, but I pocket it, suck in a deep breath, and then chase after Grey so I can find a way to push him out of his online chats and into his real-life relationships.
Who knows, perhaps if I can help the storm cloud that is Greyson Reyes, then maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for me too.
CHAPTER TWO
GREYSON
Six Months Ago
Guilt.
It sits heavy and solid in my gut.
It always has.
It always will.
That’s what happens when your sister dies a senseless death you couldn’t—didn’t—prevent.
Or when you witness your father do despicable things, expecting you to follow in his footsteps, but you’re too young or too weak to speak up—that shit changes you.
Too bad for him, I’ve done everything since to be the exact opposite of him.
Until now.
Because ofher, I’ve turned into someone I said I would never be. I hate myself for it, but I hate her too.
And now she’s here. I sense her before I see her—I always do. We’re connected in a way that shouldn’t be possible. She’s my missing piece, and I feel the ghost pains of her every time she comes near.
My thumb hovers over the send button, the sick feeling of betrayal washing over me for the second time in less than a minute. It doesn’t help my mood that we’re standing in a park in the middle of January and I’m freezing my ass off to celebrate something as fickle as love.
Fucking weddings.
“Pops,” Savvy hisses. “I swear to God, if we can’t get the soot off your suit, Madi will lose her mind.”
My fingers clench around the phone until the whooshing sound starts, then I relax my grip. Shit. Message sent.
Guilt grows spikes and claws its way up my throat, but I pocket my phone and rush to Savvy’s side—I always do.
I’ll unpack my screwups later. Right now, I need to focus on whatever’s happening on the lawn. If Pops hurt Savvy, I’ll string the guy up by his old pointy elbows. I’ve never met someone who can cause so must destruction under the misguided muse of concern.
The park is decorated for Braxton’s wedding, with white lights that twinkle like stars while we stand here waiting on his bride, but Pops is leaving a trail of smoke in his wake, and my nerves get the better of me.
Lifting Savvy’s arms, I inspect her skin and see no burns, cuts, or other injuries, but she has soot on her face, neck, and the left side of her body.
