Page 15 of Entangled

He lifts his bags slightly. “A man’s got to eat.”

“I like your clothes,” I blurt because it’s true. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in anything other than creased T-shirts and sweatpants in weeks.

Grayson looks down at his jeans and his ironed, navy-blue shirt beneath his unzipped, black winter coat. The first top two buttons are undone, revealing a hint of chest. “Well, the T-shirt I wore this morning had a tomato stain. I decided it was time to shower and shave.”

I’m smiling up at him. “I’m happy for you.”

His lips twitch before he seems to catch himself. He lifts the bags again. “I figured it’s my turn to cook for you.”

“Yeah?” Something flutters in my belly.

“I can’t let you do all the cooking.”

“What did you have in mind?” I want to keep him talking. I don’t know if it’s the winter sunshine or what, but he seems brighter today.

“It’ll be a surprise for later. If I tell you, and you say you don’t like it—well, I’m not going back to the grocery store. Once is enough for today.

“Okay.” My smile is soft.

Grayson half turns. “Want to come back to my house now or swing by later?”

I have no other plans, so I fall in step with him. We walk in silence, but it’s comfortable silence. It’s the kind I could bask in forever. It’s a space where thoughts are allowed to coexist in peace.

“How’s school?”

We cross the road. It’s a short walk to our street from here.

“It’s school, you know? Ever since Chloe disappeared, I haven’t been able to focus.”

“You shouldn’t fall behind.”

“I know,” I reply, my arm brushing up against his. “I guess I struggle to see the importance now that I know how fragile life is. Chloe is gone, and I’m somehow supposed to care about calculus?”

“I get it.” I like that Grayson talks to me like I’m an adult, not a child his daughter’s age. “I have to return to work soon, and I lie awake at night, wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to move on.”

I sense he wants to say more, so I wait for him to carry on.

“After my wife… At least I had Chloe back then. Because of her, I had no other choice but to stay strong. This time, I’m alone.”

The path has been salted overnight, and the crunching underfoot is the only sound while we walk in silence. Grayson’s house is just up ahead.

“You have to be strong for yourself,” I reply when we reach his driveway. “Life carries on whether we want it to or not.”

“You know,” he says as he puts his bags down on the porch, digging in his pockets for the house keys, “you’re very mature for your age.”

“So are you.”

That makes him laugh, and the sound tugs at my heartstrings. “I would hope so at my age.”

We enter the house and Grayson makes a beeline for the kitchen, where he proceeds to unload the bags on the kitchen counter. I walk to his living room and peruse the pictures of Chloe on the mantelpiece. I can’t imagine how hard it is to sit in here every night with her ghost in the room.

Grayson eventually joins me with a beer in his hand. He holds out a glass of lemon water, which I gratefully accept.

“I remember when you took this picture.” I point to a photograph of Chloe and me at the town hall when we went to our first concert. It was only a local band, but we were super excited anyway.

Grayson leans in, studying the photograph. His masculine scent settles in my nostrils before he moves back again. “You were thirteen or something, right?”

“Fourteen,” I correct him.

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