Page 86 of Really Truly Yours

Right.

The steps halt a few feet beyond my shoulder. “I’m sorry, Sydnee.”

He bends and picks a long-sleeved t-shirt from the basket, then takes two pins from the cloth bag filled with them. His shoulder brushes mine. “I didn’t mean to creep on you.” He sighs. “It’s been a weird day.”

I look over. Over and up. His strong jaw is set in a taut angle as he clips one shoulder of the shirt to the line. Clearly, this is his first rodeo. His way will leave unsightly marks in obvious places on the fabric.

“What’s wrong, Grayson?”

He rolls me a look out of the side of his stubbly face.

I clear my throat and surrender. “Gray.”

Even with a sideview, I can see the jerk of his cheek is no real smile.

“Gray?”

His hands fall, leaving the shirt to dangle by one shoulder. He stares at the pin still in his hand, squeezing it absently. “I told Tripp.”

Oh. “And?” It went great, Syd. Can’t you tell?

“And…” He pitches the clothespin into the basket. Fear ripples out from his eyes. “I’m scared, Sydnee.”

I want to take his hand and lead him inside, sit down there, and listen to his story. But I can’t. Reach out, that is, and I’m beginning to wonder if that’s a character flaw and not just a reasonable measure of self-protection.

I slant my head toward the house and start walking. After a lingering look, he follows, lowering himself after me onto the stoop. Even outdoors, his long legs seem to have trouble finding a place to go.

“Tell me, Gray.”

As he relates his tale, I ignore the heat every time our arms brush. Warmed by the sun, I ditched my sweater once outside. Now, the hairs on his arm whisper along my skin with every movement.

No, it doesn’t sound like Tripp took the news well. Donny will be heartbroken all over again. “Did Tripp ever come home?”

Gray nods, exuding pain. “He walked in a few hours later looking awful. Blank. He walked past Avery and me both and all he said was he had to get ready for work.”

“At least he came home. And going to work? That’s good, right?”

Eyes closing, he shakes his head. “It’s Saturday. He doesn’t work on Saturdays.”

I bite my lip. “I see.”

Gray jams his knuckles down with the opposite hand, and I hear a crack. “Know what’s worse?”

I’m afraid to.

“When he came downstairs again…I’ve never seen him like that, Sydnee. He hadn’t showered, and he was all scuzzed out. Earrings, gold chain around his neck. A wife-beater shirt, all those sick tattoos showing.”

My fingers go to my mouth.

“Avery said it was exactly how he looked when she met him when he was undercover. So now, on top of everything else, she’s scared to death of what he’s out there doing. He hasn’t worked undercover in well over a year.” Gray lifts the ball cap and combs his fingers through his hair. “And, as much as she hates the undercover thing, she’s actually hoping that’s what he’s up to and that he didn’t just weird out on her. He grabbed his keys and took off.”

We’re both quiet. Gray drapes his muscled forearms across his knees. “I blew it.”

“How so?”

“I shouldn’t have told him. I should have held my ground with Donny. Tripp wasn’t ready.”

I sympathize, I do. “Donny wouldn’t have waited. He feels the clock running out.”