Page 48 of Really Truly Yours
And kind of wonderful.
I can’t make up my mind which.
I frown into his broad back. He’s not the first guy I’ve known who’s run hot and cold, one of my least favorite traits in a man. Dad woke up in a new world every morning and dragged the rest of us along for the ride.
It’s painful to admit that his twenty-year sentence was a relief to all of us. We released a collective breath when Dad got cut out of the family picture.
How sad.
The back I’m slowly tempering my glare at is wide and obviously muscled, even beneath a loose-fitted t-shirt. Sam gives me a hard time about my stoic nature, suggesting I don’t even notice men. Oh, I notice.
So shoot me if reserve is my default setting. I’ve come by my cautious nature honestly.
Grayson Smith is a lot to notice.
“Would you do that, Sydnee?”
I shake myself awake like a computer screen from sleep mode. “I’m sorry. What was that again?”
“Would you help Donny pack some things, his medicines and stuff?”
“Of course.”
Grayson exits to help his grouchy brother with the roof.
I’m not convinced I like Tripp Walker. I mean, even less convinced than I am that I like Grayson after the ugly show he put on. I know there’s history there and I try to be openminded, but Donny didn’t deserve that. It’s a testament to how much he wants a relationship with his son that he digested the apology readily enough.
This Tripp guy is a weird mix of clean-cut and scary thug. His hair is neat, his truck is high-end, and his clothing is, as well. I’m used to men with tattoos, even copious amounts of them, but some of Tripp’s are downright disturbing and indicate he did time at some point. My word, I’m a law-abiding girl. How do I always end up surrounded by the criminal element?
Donny stays parked while I hustle about gathering the items he tells me he needs. He seems extra tired today and is coughing more than usual. In spite of that and the sadness over his home, I sense excitement. A change of scenery, a new-old face.
The hope of something with his sons.
Muffled voices drift through the gash in the roof. There’s a sharp call, scraping and sliding. I hold my breath until someone yells that he’s alright. Donny, lip drawn in, frets a moment over the safety of the guys on his roof.
His boys.
Wow, wow, wow.
A few weeks ago, he started talking about trying to reach out to Grayson, the only one of the two he had a clue how to find. I offered my assistance. The fact that, today, both of his long-lost sons are milling around, like rats in that attic up there, is astounding.
The fact that I was able to make contact with a public figure with guarded privacy is equally so. I pushed out of my comfort zone on that one. I did it for Donny. Now, he’s leaving with the son I found. I hope, temporarily.
I hope he comes back.
Chapter 11
Sydnee
My eyes are drawn over and over to the forlorn house across the street.
No Donny. No Grayson.
Just me again. No one to take care of. No one to talk to except my grumpy callers, and even that’s been slow.
When I try to call Donny, the message I receive says the caller is unavailable. Probably he’s out of minutes again.
The good news is that Sam called to let me know he and Kenny have started the body work on my car. The bad news is that it will take another week, maybe more, since both are slammed at their day jobs with paying customers.