Page 36 of The Ballad of Us
Of all days for him to show up, it had to be today. I woke up late. My alarm didn't go off, so I threw on the first clean clothes I found and raced across the street to open the shop. When I adjusted the espresso machine earlier, my hand jerked, scattering coffee grounds across the counter. My hair is one step away from a disaster, every strand sticking out in a different direction. I managed one swipe of mascara this morning before giving up on looking put-together. I’m disheveled and unprepared for this meeting.
But Gray doesn't seem to notice my lack of preparation. He's looking at me like I'm exactly what he hoped to find, messy hair and all.
“I'm here,” he confirms, taking another step closer until we're standing arm's length apart. “Surprised?”
“What are you doing here? I thought you weren't getting out until this afternoon, and even then...” I trail off, trying to process his presence in my space and in the life I've begun living without him.
“Andrew and the guys had other plans. They've rented a cabin about ten minutes from here. They think being near you might help my recovery.” His eyes never leave my face, drinking me in like he's been wandering a desert and I'm the first water he's seen.
“Are they right?” The question slips out before I can stop it, vulnerable, hopeful, and terrified all at once.
Instead of answering immediately, Gray reaches up and gently tucks a runaway strand of hair that's escaped my messy bun, pushing it behind my ear. His fingers are warm against my skin, and the touch is so careful and tender that my eyes flutter closed for a moment.
“You look at home here,” he says softly, and when I open my eyes, his expression is full of wonder. “Happy. Peaceful. Like you've found where you belong.”
The simple observation hits me hard. He's right. I do feel at home here, in this small town where I know everyone’s coffee order by heart. Mrs. Chen saves the good romance novels for me, and Emma is the sister I never had. I've created something here, something that's mine, and Gray sees it just by looking at me.
“I am happy. Happier than I've been in years.” I admit it tentatively, not knowing if my happiness will bother him since it doesn’t include him.
“Good. God, Rhea, that's all I wanted. That's all I've ever wanted for you.” The words are fierce with emotion.
We stand together, close enough for me to smell his soap and see the silver in his blue eyes. The space between us is charged with anticipation. The air is thick. Then a mug drops behind the counter, breaking the spell. I glance over, pulled back to the present.
But I don’t reach for him. Neither does he. We're both silently choosing not to fall back on old habits. We each intend to honor our new boundaries. My goal is to protect this life I've created, and I sense he wants to show he's capable of respecting what matters to me.
“So,” I say, stepping back slightly to give myself room to think clearly. “You're living ten minutes away now?”
“Temporarily. The band wants to work on some new material, and they thought the mountain air might be good for creativity. But honestly? I think they just wanted to keep an eye on me for a while. Make sure I don't immediately self-destruct the moment I'm out of rehab.”
“And will you? Self-destruct, I mean?”
He considers the question seriously, which I appreciate. The old Gray would have immediately reassured me with promises he couldn't keep. This Gray thinks before he speaks.
“I don't think so. I feel different this time. Stronger. Like I understand what I'm fighting for instead of just fighting against the entire world because I’m angry.”
“What are you fighting for?”
His eyes meet mine, steady and clear. “I’m fighting for the chance to be the man you saw in me when we first met, not necessarily for you. Though I'd be lying if I said that wasn't part of it. But I’m doing it for me. Because I finally believe that man is worth fighting for.”
The honesty in his voice makes my chest tight with emotion. This is what recovery looks like, I realize. Not grand gestures or dramatic promises, but quiet certainty and hard-won self-knowledge.
“The guys are waiting outside.” He gestures toward the window where I can now see a large SUV parked across the street. “They're hoping to talk to you about something. About maybe coming back to work for the band.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Coming back?”
“Part-time, maybe. We're not touring for a while, just writing and recording. Local stuff. They miss having you organize their chaos.” He pauses, studying my face. “But only if you want to. Only if it wouldn't mess up what you've got here.”
The offer jolts me. I thought that part of my life was over, because surely leaving Gray meant leaving Case in Point. The idea of working with the guys again excites me, but I can’t ignore my fear. My intention is to protect the stability I’ve found, and I'm anxious that returning might undo what grounds me now. Taking on this role could also affect my relationship with Emma, who trusts me with her coffee shop. The stakes are high and the uncertainty daunting.
“I'd have to think about it. Talk to Emma about coverage here, figure out logistics and such,” I say carefully.
“Of course. No pressure. We're not going anywhere for a while. We really do want to live quietly before chaos ensues again. Take your time. There’s nothing pressing.”
The door chimes again, and Emma walks in carrying a bag from the bakery down the street. She stops short when she sees Gray, her eyes widening as she takes in the scene.
“Um,” she says, looking between us. “Should I come back later?”
“Emma, this is Gray.” I’m grateful for the interruption, which gives me a moment to process what's happening and decide how much I'm willing to divulge about the past. “Gray, this is Emma. She owns Mountain Mornings and has put a lot of faith in me, trusting me with her baby.”
