I tangled my hands in my hair.
“Fuck.”
STORY
* * *
Gray was gone so long the sun dropped below the ocean, stars appearing one by one like diamonds stabbed into a dark-velvet blanket.
I tried calling my uncle to check in, but he didn’t pick up my call. I tried like twenty times. Each went to voicemail. The only way I knew he was okay was by calling the servants’ quarters and speaking with Ms. Barn. Busy, she’d said. I knew what busy meant.
Uncle was avoiding me.
Why?
The door slammed open, Gray following with it. He dropped a bag into my lap seconds later.
It smelled amazing.
“Spaghetti?” I asked, caution lacing my tongue. Did he bring me spaghetti?
“You should really try the seafood while we’re on the fucking Riviera,” he gritted.
I made a face. Gross. I hate seafood. Something was…off with him, but I couldn’t be sure. After all, it wasn’t like he was talking to me.
I fished around the bag, watching him warily. “Where did you get this?”
“Italy,” he deadpanned.
“Like…the country?” I stared at the spaghetti, then slowly lifted my head. “You went to Italy?”
I stared at him, my jaw about to drop off its hinges. He said he didn’t remember my favorite food, but not only did he come back with it, it was from the country. He took hours out of his day to fly there and back.
He’d utterly ignored me, but then he did something like this, and I didn’t know what to think.
I think he misinterpreted my silence, because Grayson grabbed the bag like he was going to throw it in the trash. I ran and grabbed his arm, wrapping one around his bicep, reaching across his chest for the bag.
“Wait!” I said.
He turned his head, and our lips were so close. I could smell sugar on them. He’d been chewing suckers.
Something was on his mind.
His eyes dropped to mine, the air thick.
“I’ll eat it,” I said quietly. “Thank you.”
His eyes slowly found mine, and then I saw, saw what distance had hid. He was all kinds of twisted. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his hands through it over and over again.
So I did the insane thing. I pushed the wild messy hair off his face.
“My father cheated on my mother,” he blurted. “Kept a mistress and had three kids with her. They go to the same boarding school I did, and we’ve seen them every Thanksgiving and Christmas for as long as I can remember.”
I knew that. Everyone knew about the bastard Crownes. They came for the holidays with all the others.
But I waited, breath pulled.
“I don’t know if my mom was ever a human, but I’m sure being reminded every family holiday that she was only there because he had to keep her there didn’t help. I always told myself I wouldn’t be anything like him, nothing like my grandfather. I would be loyal.” His eyes slowly found mine, burning with anguish.