Page 38 of Accepting Fate

I don’t turn around. I pretend like I didn’t hear him. It took a lot to say that shit. Plus, despite sleeping like the dead last night, which I never do, I’m exhausted.

I walk up the three small hardwood stairs and plop down on one of the red Adirondack chairs. I look out at the deep forest that expands beyond my little oasis and try to empty my mind of all things Grayson.

Loud footsteps announce his arrival and he sits next to me. I don’t know why he is still here but there is no way I’m going to speak first. I said my peace.

Well, I said what I know is right. I let him go. We aren’t deep into this yet and I know if I let it go on longer, it would hurt more than it already does.

“Logan. We need to talk,” Grayson says in a tone that is gentle, yet authoritative.

“I said everything I needed to say. You saw enough to give you a glimpse into my life. No one wants that.” I don’t look at him. I keep my gaze on the trees. Because I know the second I stare into those blues, I will give him whatever he wants.

“You said everything you needed to say. You have a pattern of running away every time I try to talk to you. Last night I tried to talk to you after you flinched, and you bolted across the room like your ass was on fire. You don’t like talking about your past and that was fine at first, but it’s starting to piss me off.”

My head snaps to him. That was the last thing I expected him to say. I’m about to tell him to get the fuck out when he stops me.

“Stop. It’s my turn now,” he says sternly.

Grayson shifts forward in the chair and leans his elbows on his knees. He runs his hands through his hair and looks back at me.

“Logan, I know you have secrets and a past. Judging by everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours, I’m betting it’s more than I would have guessed. I told you last night I wasn’t here just to fuck. I will say it a thousand more times to get through that thick skull of yours. Got it?”

I nod.

“Good. Unless you do have bodies buried in the backyard, nothing you do is going to make me walk away. Even that wouldn’t send me running. Because if you are some serial killer, they probably deserved to be dead anyways.

“You know how we met. I told you last night it wasn’t the first time I had to do that. And I fucking hope your past isn’t anything like that. I’m not going to pressure you to open up, but you have to give me something. You flinched last night and then this morning, we were messing around and you bolted out the front door. I’ll walk away right now if you want me to, but I don’t think you do.”

He stands and walks over to the edge of the porch and turns to face me, leaning against the wooden railing.

“How do you know what I want?” I argue. “ We barely know each other.”

“That’s true, but do you call every guy you barely know to come to your house at midnight and pass out on their chest?”

“No, but–”

“You seem to have a good judge of character,” he says. “And I think we know each other better than you let on. But I’ll give you a hint. You need to work on your facial expressions, Angel.” He sends a smirk in my direction and then winks. “The next time you kick me out, try not to look like someone just died.”

I roll my eyes. “Your point is?”

“Do you want to be just friends, Logan?”

I glance down at my lap and mess with the edges of the blanket and quietly say, “No.” My eyes slowly lifted to see his reaction.

“I know you better than you think, pretty girl. It hasn’t been that long but I have a good grasp on people. Good and bad. And I think you do too.”

He’s right. The moment I told him to leave, it felt like my heart dropped into my stomach. I know I need to give him something. I’m not ready to spill my entire backstory, but I can give him a little.

I wave my blanket-covered arm toward the chair. “Fine. But can you sit down? You standing there like that is intimidating. Plus, you are blocking my view.”

He rolls his eyes and makes his way back to the chair.

Instead of sitting down next to me, he picks up the chair and sets it right in front of me. He sits down and reaches forward pulling my legs into his lap. His warm hands cover my feet.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “I can’t see over your big head you freaking giant. You. Ow!” I yelp as he squeezes my foot.

“That did not hurt you big baby,” he says while his fingers trace the lines of my tattoo. “Now start talking.”

I want to fight it, but my feet are freezing. Plus, something about his touch makes me feel safe and calm.