Page 110 of The Sweetest Obsession

“Hey, dumbass,” Grant growls. “It’s been a few. Where you been hiding?”

I can’t help a choked laugh and I turn my face into his arm.

“I can see it now,” I murmur. It hurts my throat, yet I’m still smiling so much and I can’t explain why. “He’d put you in a headlock for that and ask who’s the dumbass now.”

“Like he could reach.” Grant snorts affectionately. The growl in his voice seems more tender. “So he’d just end up hugging me like the big lanky softie he was.”

“Right. Until he tackled you at the knees and put you on the floor,” I tease.

“Good luck knocking me down with a thousand hours of training and years on the force. I wouldn’t move an inch for that guy.”

Liar.

The softness in his dark-mocha eyes tells me he’d jump off a cliff taller than a skyscraper just to have one more conversation with his best friend.

Oh, I’m so gutted, but I’m smiling.

Pulling my hand loose from Grant, I raise both hands with my fingers curled. “I remember how he got you. Every time.”

His eyes widen and he takes a wary step back. “Butterfly, don’t you dare. I’m a grown-ass man and this is hardly the time or place—don’t tickle—fuck!”

What can I say?

Since Ethan isn’t here, someone has to do it.

So I lunge at him and Grant hops back with the most ridiculous, funny sound I’ve ever heard.

I never knew a man his size couldsqueakin baritone.

We both freeze, him staring warily, me looking on in surprise, my fingers still curled and reaching for him like claws.

“I wasn’t actually gonna,” I whisper sheepishly.

Grant startles me again with that rich, hearty bass laugh that trembles my heart.

I can’t help myself.

I’m laughing too, and we’re falling into each other. I lean on him hard.

Yes, there’s a saying about whistling past graveyards, but... let’s hope laughing our heads off in one isn’t too blasphemous.

I needed this.

Call it catharsis.

And I’m so much more relaxed as I slump against him, resting my cheek on his chest and curling my hands against his arm.

“I think he’d like this,” I say. “Us, here with him, I mean. Laughing like we’re still teenage screwballs. Ethan wouldn’t want us wallowing in misery.”

“We have been, though,” Grant answers. “Or maybe it’s just me.”

“No, no... I’m just as guilty. Even in Florida when I thought about this place, about my brother...youwere always in the back of my mind.” I push my arms around his neck. “I always felt alone in Miami. Part of me was scared to come back here, I think. To all these memories. Even though the only people who could possibly ever know how I feel are here.”

“The people who miss Ethan the most,” he finishes.

My heart dives. It’s like he’s read my mind.

“Yeah. That.” Shaking my head, I burrow my face into Grant’s massive chest. “But I’m also talking about the people who look at me like I was somehow involved in that whole mess. It’s almost worse, now that the truth is out about what really happened to Celeste Graves. Just feels like they pity me.”

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