Forbidden Fate (Crowne Point 3)

* * *

Grayson sat on the floor, his back against my bed, taking sips from his flask. It was almost like before, the nights we spent in the dark, the secrets we shared…only now Grayson was on the floor.

“He was like my dad,” Grayson said. “The only one that counted, at least.”

“Same,” I said roughly.

We paused, and he lifted his head, giving me a bone-melting, delirious grin. “That’s kinda fucked up if you think about it, Snitch.”

I hadn’t realized how much I missed his smiles until it blasted me in the heart like that.

He shifted on the floor. “Man. I really was an ass, making you sleep down here.”

Another sip.

He raised the flask for me to have some, but I shook my hand. I still felt kind of nauseated, a little weak.

“Everything in my life worth keeping, Woodsy gave me. He gave me the pen. When my dad died, he promised he wouldn’t die…obviously lied.” He laughed brokenly. “You know what my grandfather said to me at my father’s funeral?” Grayson took another drink, and I waited. “He pointed at my half-siblings and said, ‘You see them? They’re your competition now, Grayson. Thank your father for that.’”

I stared at the top of his golden head, my heart once again cracking for the little boy forced to grow thorns around his heart. Why did Grayson always make it so hard for me to hate him?

“My mom didn’t have a funeral,” I said weakly. “I couldn’t afford it.”

He slowly lifted his eyes to mine, and I cleared my throat, looking away, looking for anything to change the subject.

“Do you remember when I asked you what you would want to be…you know, if you weren’t born Grayson Crowne. Do you have an answer for me yet?”

Silence spread.

“I’m not sure it matters, Story.”

It mattered to me, even though it shouldn’t. Even though all it did was feed the wrong, twisted part inside of me that kept me up at night, wondering if there was a universe where we could be together.

“Yeah,” I whispered. “You’re right. I’m leaving and…” And I won’t need to know anything more about Grayson Crowne. I shouldn’t know anything more.

He took a long swallow, staring back at my cracked walls. “I don’t like it when you say you’re leaving, Snitch. I know I’m supposed to let you go. I…” He shook his head, taking a deep draw of his whiskey. “It’d be easier to chain me to the fucking wall.”

I stared harder at the top of his blond head, willing myself not to do what I was about to do.

I climbed off the bed, sliding shoulder to shoulder with Grayson. If I stared at the wall, it doesn’t count.

“My uncle gave me this book of poetry with a note,” I said, reaching for the book from my bed. “I called him in Asheville and told him I would leave, take us somewhere…but he didn’t want to go. He knew. He knew I wouldn’t make it back in time and still said no.”

I handed Grayson the book, and he stared at it for so long I thought he would never speak. When he did, his voice was rough and warbled and raw.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Snitch.” His blue eyes found mine, gleaming like the ocean at dawn. “For just…everything.”

I realized I was looking at him.

I shoved his face away, and he gripped my wrist, keeping my hand pressed to his cheek.

“My wife is supposed to be the one I trust. The one I confide in…so why are you the only one I trust, Snitch? The one I want to tell everything?”

His truth shattered me because…

“I don’t trust you anymore, Grayson Crowne. I trust you the least out of everyone.”

“Don’t fucking say that to me,” he growled.