608 Alpha Avenue (Cherry Falls)

“What do you mean?”

“She’ll think that you must be covering for the fact that she’s not good enough for you.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

He shrugs. “I agree. But that’s what’s going to happen. Mark my words. And, because you like her, care about her feelings, I can’t imagine that you’d want her thinking that about herself.”

I clench my jaw.

“She’s an amazing girl, Gray. Don’t smother that sunshine you spoke of.” He lifts a brow as if he just defeated me. “Now I’m going to go home and get some rest so I can be here early in the morning. I’d recommend the same to you.”

I point at him in some gesture of a goodbye and turn back to the tractor. The door closes soon after.

I’m too worked up to stand still, too bothered to think about the piece of equipment in front of me.

I pull over a bucket and flip it over. I plop down on top of it.

My head rests in my hands as I mull over my options.

Could this be a great thing?

Is Garret right?

I wasn’t lying to Haley when I said that I like my independence, the freedom to hike, drink, and work out whenever I want to. That’s not selfishness. It’s fact, and up until this moment, I’ve never seen the necessity to even consider making any changes. But now …

It’s like I’m a perpetual wallflower. And if by some grace of God they do spy me as I’m blending into my surroundings, I’m just a … a speed bump they haul ass over as they get to whatever destination they’re aiming toward. And that end point is never me. Ever.

Haley was so fucking wrong about herself. She’s no wallflower. She’s no speed bump. She’s the end point.

She could be my end point.

I’m not sure. But when I quiet my brain and sit still for a few minutes, I know the truth: I’m not going to be able to get the taste of, and desire for, Haley Morgan out of me.

And even though I know it’s a rotten idea, I don’t want to.

Ten

Haley

“You need any help?” Corbin asks, coming up behind me.

“Nope.” I flash him a smile that I hope he reads as friendly. “I’m good.”

Music pulses through the bar thanks to the bachelorette party that came in a few hours ago. It’s all upbeat and happy. Coupled with their laughter and antics that have amused our other patrons to no end, it’s very festive inside Fireside.

But not inside me.

My eyes have bounced from Grayson’s empty chair, to the door, and back again all night.

He never doesn’t come in.

He’s here like clockwork.

Except tonight.

“Are you all right?” Corbin asks. “You seem … off.”

“I’m good. Just tired, I think.”

He gives me a puzzled look but refrains from asking more. Thankfully.

“Can you grab me some cranberry juice out of the back?” I ask him. “The party back there is sucking down cosmos left and right.”

“Got it.”

Corbin disappears into the back.

I survey the crowd. The girls are dancing to a nineties hit, and a table full of regulars are sitting by the door. A couple of guys who came to town from Syn City to get a tattoo at Cherry Bomb Tattoo Parlor sits at the end of the bar with their Jack and Cokes. Everyone else has gone home for the night.

My heart sinks as I look at the clock and realize that Grayson isn’t coming.

I haven’t heard from him since yesterday. I don’t know if I expected to or not, but I wanted to.

I hoped I would.

Our conversation as we descended the trail was light and fun. The smile he tossed my way as I pulled out of the parking lot was hopeful. Kaylee’s insight into things last night made it seem like it was a given.

Yet, all day, I held my phone and hoped it would ring. I scanned the streets for him on my walk. I had lunch at Virgin Street Diner because I know he likes their pot roast on Fridays.

It’s like Grayson Blake is a ghost or a figment of my imagination. I might actually believe that if my body wasn’t still sore.

I grin at the memory.

“Excuse me,” one of the men at the end says. “Can we get another?”

“Sure thing.”

I get to work fixing their drink while pondering what happened with Grayson. Surely, he isn’t mad at me. What could he possibly be upset with me about?

“Nothing,” I mutter. “You did nothing wrong.”

There’s a chance he’s busy, or maybe he’s as confused as I am about what this shift in our relationship might mean. If anything.

Please be something.

I reach over to get the whiskey and stop with my hand floating in the air.

Grayson’s steely eyes snatch mine up and hold them in place.

My mouth goes dry as I take him in. His black hair is wild, spiking up in every direction. There are lines at the corners of his eyes like he had a crappy night’s sleep.