Page 42 of The Weight of Your Wishes

“Someone’s gotta do it,” I interrupt. It's somewhat shocking to me how much I’ve managed to change over the last month of being here, so I don’t blame him for looking so surprised. I guess when you strip away all the things that don’t matter, it’s easier to get your priorities straight. As much as I hate to say it, I guess my mom wasn’t too far off the mark with this idea.

Grant makes me reevaluate things. He’d take the shirt off his back for anyone, and it wouldn’t even be an inconvenience. It’s not often that people have that kind of mentality in the city, so I wasn’t used to it at first. But now, I can’t see the point in being any other way. He’s kind to everyone here even after everything he’s been put through by people in this town. It only makes me adore him more.

The front yard is pretty swamped, too, but most of the rain sloped away from the driveway. As we pull out onto the dirt road, I admire the way his hands wrap around the steering wheel, veins crisscrossing up his tattooed forearm. “When are you gonna fuck me in your big, sexy truck?”

He snorts, the corner of his mouth pulling into a smirk. “Your tact knows no bounds, Hendrix.”

“Aw, thanks, Daddy.” It’s so fun to tease him like this. It’s the only time he ever loses that serious composure.

Driving through town is pretty uneventful. I notice a few street signs holding on for dear life and a whole lot of debris—trash, roof shingles, and branches and leaves everywhere. Some people are on foot outside of their homes and in the street, gathering it all up as best they can in the unbearable, muggy heat. Patty’s store is in tip-top shape as we pass by, and there are cars in the parking lot. Looks like she went back to work as soon as possible.

“Do you mind helping me take down the boards from Patty’s store today?” he asks.

“Course not. Let’s do it.”

He makes a U-turn, and we head back for the gas station. As soon as we pull in, he makes quick work of getting his ladder from the bed of his truck and getting started. He climbs up, and using his drill, he removes the screws from the upper perimeter. Then, he climbs back down and does the bottom. When the plywood comes loose, I heft it up into his truck. Soon enough, every window is revealed again. Patty manages to break away from customers just long enough to come out and thank us.

“The big guy did most of the work,” I tell her, and she bellows a raspy, smoker's laugh.

“Glad the big guy took his head out of his ass.” She darts a knowing look between the two of us. An unwanted blush rises to my cheeks, and I look away, thinking of the way he poundedmyass into the mud shortly after we left her house.

He shoots her an unimpressed look. “Keep it to yourself, will you?”

The words land like little daggers in my gut even though I saw them coming from a mile away. Even without the forbidden nature of our relationship, Grant is a very private person. He doesn’t let anyone in.

Patty’s eyes narrow cuttingly, but she grabs my arm. “Don’t mind him. He just needs some time,” she says.

I swallow the lump in my throat, and Grant finally catches on. “I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighs, rubbing his forehead. Patty escapes back into the store with another scathing look aimed his way as two more cars pull into the parking lot.

“It’s whatever.” I shrug and get back in the truck. He stands there for a minute, looking at his boots before shaking his head and putting the ladder away. Then, he gets into the driver’s seat, spicy cologne wafting in around him.

“I hope you don’t think I’m… ashamed of you or something like that,” he says. It catches me by surprise. It’s not really like him to want to talk about this kind of stuff and knowing that he’s trying makes my heart squeeze. “I just want to do things at our own pace, you know? And Cynthia…” He trails off, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I think telling my mom about this will go better than we both think. After all, I am an adult and so are you. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

His jaw ticks minutely, but he reaches over and takes my hand in his. Electric tingles spread from the contact, all the way up my arm. My brain short circuits.

The love of my life is holding my hand.

His calloused thumb strokes lightly over my skin, and I feel like I’m melting. Tears spring to my eyes, so I look out the window, trying to blink them away. God, I’ve never been so emotional over something so simple as holding hands—never been so emotional over another person at all, yet I’m still keeping my guard up as much as possible. I can’t let go until I know this is a done deal.

I envision us together ten, twenty, thirty years from now. It’s like a dream come true. Even imagining that I’d get to experience him loving me back for the rest of time is enough to make my breath catch in my throat.

He pulls into his parking spot at the bar; his hand lets go of mine to shift into park. My brain is buzzing with a million thoughts and feelings I can’t hope to express to him. I reach out, placing a hand on his bearded cheek, and brush my lips against his. They open for me immediately. His hand cups my face too, and my heart speeds up, pounding into my ribcage painfully. “You know I’ll love you forever, right? There’s no version of me that could ever exist and not love you.” I speak directly against his lips, our foreheads pressed together. Something like doubt flickers across his beautiful, brown eyes. “I mean it. No matter how much time you spend doubting yourself, I promise that I can spend double that loving you. Triple. I can love you endlessly.”

“I just don’t understand why,” he mutters. “You’re young and so damn gorgeous. You’re smarter than other guys your age—I never doubted that when your mom claimed you were going down the wrong path. I knew you just needed some balance. I have a hard time imagining that the other college kids aren’t throwing themselves at you, so I just don’t understand why you want me, especially since you know me better than most—probably better than Cynthia at this point.”

An ache unfurls deep in my chest for him. I can’t fathom why he thinks he’s so incapable of being loved by someone. “Exactly,” I say. “I know everything I need to about you—always have—and it all makes me adore you even more. Can’t you feel it?”

His fingers slide to the back of my head, giving my hair a slight tug. “I think you’re just as stubborn as I am, baby boy.” He seals his lips to mine, sucking the lower one into his mouth. “I can feel it,” he rasps. “If you love me anywhere near as much as I love you, then we’ll be okay.”

CHAPTERSIXTEEN

GRANT

“Imiss you,” Hendrix says in his sweetest, whiniest voice.

“Your shift is almost finished. I promise you can live without me for just a few more hours. Not to mention, there’s only one wall separating us.”

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