Page 64 of The Ballad of Us
I know he's talking about, The Ballad of Us, the song he's been working on for months, and something warm spreads through my chest at the knowledge that he's saving it for my ears first.
As the evening winds down and David and Meg prepare to head to their own rental on the other side of the mountain, Meg pulls me aside in the kitchen.
“I have something for you.” She presses a small, wrapped package into my hands. “It's not much, but I wanted you to have something that belonged to our family.”
Inside is an ornate silver locket, delicate and obviously vintage. “It was my grandmother's. She always said it should go to the woman who helped our Gray find his way home to himself,” Meg says in a proud tone.
Tears prick my eyes. “Meg, I can't accept this. It's too much.”
“It's exactly enough. You're family, sweetheart. Whether you know it or not.”
After David and Meg leave, the cabin settles into comfortable quiet. The guys gradually drift off to their rooms, leaving Gray and me alone by the dying fire. I'm curled against his side on the couch, his arm around me, both of us reluctant to let this perfect evening end.
“Thank you.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “For tonight, for being amazing with my parents, for just being you.”
“They're wonderful people. I’m so glad you have them.”
“They saved my life long before rehab ever did.” His voice is thoughtful, reflective. “Taught me that families aren't just about blood. They're about choice. About showing up for each other even when it's hard.”
“Is that what we're doing? Choosing each other?” I ask, curiosity lacing my words.
His voice gives way to something more serious. “Every fucking day. Every single day, I choose you.”
The weight of his words settles between us, and suddenly the air feels charged with something deeper than our usual comfortable intimacy. I sense the shift from simple appreciation to an intensity neither of us can ignore. When I look up at him, his eyes are dark with an emotion that makes my pulse quicken.
“Gray,” I start, but I'm not sure what I want to say.
“I should probably head back to my room,” he says, but he doesn't move. If anything, his arm tightens around me.
“Actually, would you like to wake up on Christmas morning at my place? I know it's just down the mountain, but...” I say, the words tumbling out before I can second-guess myself.
“Yes.” His answer comes out so quickly, it makes me laugh. “Sorry, was that too eager?”
“Just eager enough.” I shift to face him more fully. “You could sleep on the couch, and we could make Christmas breakfast together, and?—”
“Rhea,” he interrupts softly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. “I don't care if I sleep on the floor. I just want to wake up in the same place as you.”
The tenderness in his voice, combined with the way his thumb brushes across my skin, snaps me into focus. This is it. This is the moment I stop being careful, stop holding back, stop protecting myself from the full force of what I feel for him.
“We should go,” I whisper, but neither of us moves.
“We should,” he agrees, his gaze dropping to my lips.
The space between us disappears slowly, like we're both giving each other every chance to pull away. When his lips finally touch mine, it's with a gentleness that quickly transforms into a deeper, more urgent kiss.
This isn't like our careful kisses of the past few weeks. This is months of pent-up longing and love finally given permission to breathe. My hands tangle in his hair as he pulls me closer, and I taste the promise of everything we've been too scared to reach for.
When we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard, and the air between us crackles with electricity.
“My apartment. Now.” I can’t even form complete sentences.
Gray doesn't need to be asked twice. He stands from the couch and says, “Give me two minutes to pack a bag.”
“Just two minutes,” I tease.
He offers me his hand, helping me to my feet from the couch. “Baby, you’re waiting to take me back to your apartment for a sleepover. I doubt I’ll need the entire two minutes.” He presses a kiss on my forehead and disappears into his bedroom for an overnight bag.
The drive to my apartment feels both endless and over in the blink of an eye. I hold Gray's warm, steady hand, feeling the pull between us. This is the moment we've been waiting for, when we finally stop holding back and let go.
