Page 4 of Really Truly Yours
“Sydnee?”
He uses my name as if we’ve known each other longer than two minutes. Well, what else is he supposed to say, especially if I don’t tap the mute button and turn the sound back on pronto?
“Sorry. I…” I drop my head and study the grain pattern on the faux wood surface. I hear the tapping of fingers and decode their message. Get on with it, lady.
“You said something about a family matter?” Grayson Smith sprawls back, one giant leg hogging the aisle. “Frankly, I don’t see how.”
I do my best imitation of a smile. “It is, though.”
His eyebrows bunch into a worried knot.
I may not be the only one cramping up in this twisted situation. I take a deep, deep breath. “Okay. I have a neighbor. He’s the one who wanted me to speak with you.” This is so difficult to say. “Do you by chance know anyone in Mineral Springs?” For all I know, he’s done his own searching.
Eyes darting, he presses his lips into a thoughtful line. “I don’t even know where that is.”
Right. He’s not from this area. He’s visiting with family, I was told, when his manager, my source for his phone number, consented to hand it over to me. “It’s a couple of towns to the west.”
“Okay.” He nods blankly. “Should I know someone there?”
Oh, yeah. “Mr. Smith—”
“Gray.”
Ironically, my message is in the same general ballpark as what he feared, just with different players and different…positions.
“Grayson.” I ball both my fists. “The man across the street from me is older. I’ve been helping him with some things lately, and…” Deep brown eyes with hints of gold pierce right through me. Oh, alright already. Yank the sticky bandage and be done. “My neighbor is a man named Donald Grayson. He’s your father.”
It’s quite a sight, a big, strong, tough man, with the world at his fingertips, lowered and leveled by a hit out of left field. An array of emotions kaleidoscope across his face. It’s like watching a spinning game wheel and waiting to see where the arrow lands.
I bet on disbelief, but at the last second the wheel clicks another notch and, anger it is. Grayson towers to his feet, the chair screeching across tile. Abandoning both his coffee and me, he’s barreled nearly to the door before I snatch my purse from the back of my chair and bump my way through the crowd, murmuring hasty apologieson the way.
“Grayson!” I dodge a pickup exiting the drive-thru and cross to the side parking lot. “Grayson!” Finally, I catch up to him with his hand on the door of a shiny black Range Rover. “Wait. Please.”
He turns, his eyes darker than I thought inside.
“I’m telling the truth.”
His square jaw clenches. “I don’t doubt you for a second.”
Oh. I wondered if we had reverted to me being a scammer. I clutch my purse strap. “May I tell you more?”
He’s silent for a hard second. “Nope.” He tugs open the driver’s door and slides inside.
“Wait!” I smudge the spotless window with my palm. “What should I tell Donny?”
“I don’t give a—well, I bet you know the rest. Goodbye.”
I stare at the retreating bumper. There’s not so much as a flicker of brake lights before Grayson Smith guns it, creating his own spot in traffic to the tune of blaring car horns.
Poor Donny. His body is already broken, and now his heart will be too.
Chapter 2
Sydnee
My excitement quota is filled for the year, and now I’m exhausted. Good days still wear me out. I’m just thankful to have the prospect of improvement.
Poor Donny. His days are numbered. Reconciliation meant everything to him. My report on the disastrous meeting with his son crushed his hopes and took a lot out of him.