Big and blue, like mine, but her foundation was failing to hide her circles.
She had a pill problem, but like everything Crowne, it was shoved under the rug. I wondered what else she’d been shoving under the rug.
She slowly let me go. “You’ve been privileged, little bro. You’re only just now starting to realize how fucked up our world is.”
STORY
Hours after the funeral had ended, I found Grayson staring at a family portrait. He looked about six in the painting, so then his sister Gemma seven and Abigail five. He was standing proudly next to his father, and his mother was seated next to his sisters.
A hero for my sisters. A good man. A good father.
Grayson’s dream was like rain on a sunny day against the resigned look in his gaze.
“You’re hiding something,” I said.
He spun.
“Does it have to do with your grandpa? You don’t think it’s a good thing he left either, do you?”
Grayson rubbed the stubble on his jaw. “Little wife…”
Maybe he didn’t realize he was keeping secrets.
Maybe he was keeping them from himself.
How do you tell someone a secret you can’t even say out loud?
“You asked me why I kept doing this to myself. Why I stayed with my uncle, why I chose to stay with West. Why I kept playing the victim. I was born poor, to a disloyal mother, so I didn’t have many choices in my life, but I can choose what kind of person I am. I could choose not to be her. I could choose to be loyal. I could choose to be strong. I could choose to be good.”
I looked down at my fingers. “I didn’t realize how easy my choices had been, until I had real temptation to be disloyal. Weak. Bad.”
Nostrils flared, he grabbed me. “Tell me more words—all of them.”
I opened my mouth, desperately wanting to give him what he sought, but I didn’t know what to tell him.
What more secrets to give him.
“I…I don’t know what else to tell you.”
His eyes narrowed, but he just spun me around, holding me back to chest, wrapping his arms around my body.
“Do you know how fucking sexy you are right now?” Grayson’s voice slid through my bloodstream. “You look like my little nun again. My pregnant nun. For the first fucking time, I want you wearing tight clothes.”
I nearly said something about West—he’d notice my absence soon.
Stop warning me, Snitch. I know the consequences.
I melted into him, resting my head on his chest so I could see him upside down.
“There’s my girl.” His lip tilted up. “Please tell me your words.”
He trailed a soft touch along the side of my face, across my cheek, and under my eyes.
I wracked
my brain for something—then it slammed into my head without consent.
That night when he came in the room, your eyes grew in the way I’ve dreamed about for years.