Page 40 of Crossfire
Grayson’s expression shifted, a new layer of concern etching itself across his features as he studied me. “Were you hurt?”
His gentle sincerity wrapped around me, calming my heartbeat.
“Just bumps and bruises. But…it could’ve ended differently.”
And then where would Grams have been? My mom was right.
“It was stupid to agree to meet and even stupider to actually go.”
“Sounds like you were trying to help your family. There’s nothing stupid about that.”
Something electric passed between us, raising goose bumps on my skin.
“He said his name wasBob, but I’m sure that was a lie, too. When I got there, at first, I refused to go inside. He claimed he’d be willing to meet me at another location of my choosing,” I continued. “But looking back on it, I think that was a tactic to get me to let my guard down.”
It was a big risk, but that was the whole point. A trusting person would presume Bob would never bluff about something like that—taking the chance I’d walk away. Which I nearly had. But that’s what he had to say to win over my confidence, didn’t he?
“What did this guy say he had?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You said you were meeting him because he had something important. What was it?”
I hesitated.
“Well…” I bit my lip. “My dad died…”
The symphony of voices faded around us until I could hear the beating of my heart and feel the dryness on my tongue.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Grayson’s attention settled on my hand resting on the table, his fingers twitching slightly, as if resisting the urge to reach out and touch it.
“He was the best human I knew,” I admitted, my mind becoming lost in a sea of memories. “When he was young, he lost his grandfather in a restaurant fire, so he decided to become a fireman. Dedicated his life to saving people’s lives.” My lips angled up slightly with pride. “He had the most easygoing personality of anyone I’d ever met, too. It was impossible to not love him, not to get along with him, you know?”
I shifted uncomfortably.
“But he, uh…”
Suicide had a stigma to it, one that needed to be broken down so more people felt safe enough to ask for help. Maybe if Dad felt safe enough to confide his feelings, he would still be here today.
“He took his own life.”
This wasn’t easy to talk about, particularly with a man I barely knew, but I would not let Dad die in vain. Every opportunity I had, I would spread awareness about suicide prevention. That started with admitting the truth to myself and to anyone who asked what happened to him.
Grayson’s face softened as he studied me. “I’m so sorry.”
And he seemed truly sorry.
Grayson’s voice dropped to a whisper, a shadow crossing his face as he confided, “You know I don’t tell many people this, but I know the agony of losing a father. Mine was taken from me through a senseless act of violence.” His words dripped with sorrow that seemed to fill the space between us. “And it’s a pain so deep, so all-consuming, that I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
His raw vulnerability struck me to my core. He didn’t have to lay bare such an intensely personal wound, yet he chose to share his trauma with me, peeling back his protective layers to expose the still-tender scar beneath.
What an honor for him to share that.
His confession reached into my chest and grasped my own grieving heart, silently assuring me that I was not alone in my pain.
Before I could even think of what I was doing, I reached out and gently placed my fingertips on his forearm. The instant our skin connected, a heated current shot through my body, zapping every nerve ending as it raced from my fingers to my core. I inhaled sharply, my cheeks flushing with the intensity of the unexpected sensation, while Grayson’s stare dropped to where my fingers rested on his arm. For a suspended moment, there was only the two of us, connected by this single point of contact that seemed to pulse with energy.
Realizing the unintended intimacy of my gesture, I withdrew my hand, the warmth lingering on my skin like a ghost while aflicker of something unreadable crossed his face before he met my gaze once more, the air charged with something that hadn’t been there moments before.