Page 103 of Burning Embers
A large shadow moves by the window, and I ball my hand into a fist and open my mouth to scream. Before any sound can escape, however, someone places a palm over my mouth, trapping the cry.
Familiar ice-blue eyes peer back at me, appearing almost silver in the ambient moonlight seeping in through the window.
“Grayson?” At least, I try to say his name, but with his hand still over my mouth, it comes out like “Rayzon.”
He keeps his hand on my face a second longer, ensuring I’m not going to scream, before pulling away and placing a finger to his lips.
Questions settle on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. I quickly slip out of bed, throw on a sweatshirt, and follow Grayson out the window.
The forest is eerie at this time of night. Darkness creates ominous silhouettes, and the trees look like skeletal monsters. The moon and stars only add to the creepy atmosphere. The minimal light they provide creates evenmoreshadows, more places for monsters to hide.
Crickets chirp, and somewhere in the distance, an owl hoots. Dying leaves and brittle grass crunch underneath my bare feet as Grayson leads me farther away from the house and closer to the forest edge.
“What the hell, Grayson?” I mumble, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “I’m not wearing any shoes, it’s colder than Satan’s asshole out here, and I have a job interview tomorrow. Why are you?—”
My rant is interrupted by Grayson pulling me into his arms.
Grayson Grey is hugging me.
Huggingme.
I abhor touch, but that’s nothing compared to Grayson. He once broke the fingers of a man who accidentally bumped into him at a party.
My body wilts against his instinctively. There’s just something so familiar about Grayson, so comforting. I know him on a primal level, in a way that defies logic and reason. If I were to believe in soulmates, I would say he’s mine. He understands me better than anyone else I know.
Which makes this entire situation even harder.
He’s hugging someone he considers a little sister. A best friend. An obligation he promised to look after.
I’m hugging a man I’ve been in love with for years now.
I try to tell myself to pull away, to put distance between us, to laugh this off, but I can’t seem to get myself to move. I remain limp and pliant in his embrace—a rag doll for him to use and discard. My pulse skitters in a way that’s almost painful as I inhale his leather scent.
But then reality slaps me in the face like the bitch she is.
Grayson has a girlfriend, and though we’re doing nothing but hugging, this isn’t fair to her.
It takes every ounce of willpower I possess, but I force myself to leave Grayson’s arms. Almost instantly, I’m bombarded by the cold air, which slices at my skin like throwing stars. I miss his warmth.
“What was that for?” I try to keep my voice light and playful, even as the knots in my stomach weave themselves into a damn quilt the size of Texas.
Grayson swallows heavily. “I saw. At the game. I saw. And I thought…” Shadows create dark lines across his face, almost obscuring his features from view. “Fuck, Izzy.”
I wrap my arms around myself. I’d like to say it’s to ward off the chill, but that would be a lie. A part of me feels the need to protect myself from Grayson and his words.
Only the people you love most of all have the capacity to destroy you so irrevocably.
“Well, as you can see, I’m good as new.” I try for a smile, but it flutters at the edges before dipping completely. “I’m fine, Grayson. I swear.”
“I thought I lost you,” he rasps.
“I’m too hard to get rid of. It’ll take at least two football players to keep me down for good. Now, can we talk tomorrow? I’m freezing my tits off, and I swear my—” Once again, I’m cut off.
But this time, Grayson doesn’t just hug me.
He kisses me.
Kisses. Me.