Nothing But This (Broken Pieces 2)

He tilted his head; the sounds were muffled and a lot quieter now. This wasn’t too bad. He didn’t feel like a voyeur any longer—it merely sounded like someone had left the television on in the other room. If he concentrated really hard, he could pretend that was what it was. Just the TV.

He turned his attention back to the book, and after a few minutes, even the soft pretend TV sounds faded completely into the background, and he went back to reading about baby feeding habits.

He was jarred out of his comfortable reading zone by the sound of raised voices. He lowered his book and watched the bedroom door in concern as the argument escalated. The door opened abruptly, and Harris, visibly distraught, exited. He went straight to the front door and left. The engine of his car started up seconds later; Greyson sat up in alarm, and when Martine exited the room, she appeared to be as devastated as Harris had seemed. She turned to close the bedroom door quietly behind her.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded to know.

She jumped and turned to face him, her face paler than usual. “Oh my God. How long have you been sitting there?”

“If you’re wondering whether I heard you and my brother having sex, the answer is . . . kind of. The argument that followed was a lot louder, hence unmissable. Then he storms out of here and drives off without a word. Like I asked before, what the hell?”

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop.”

“I live here. If you want privacy, move your liaisons next door . . . although that’s not much better. The walls are paper thin.”

Martine’s eyes dropped to the book on his chest. “That’s a baby book,” she said, stating the obvious.

“I know.”

“Why do you have it?”

“Because I’d rather not continue being a shitty father.”

She just stared at him mutely for a few moments before the wind seemed to leave her sails completely, and her shoulders fell.

“I have to go. Tell Harris . . .” She paused. Greyson watched her struggle to find the words to express whatever it was she was feeling and felt a surge of tenderness toward the woman who had been so horribly wronged all those years ago.

“Martine, for what it’s worth,” Greyson said, hoping to make things a little better for her and possibly Harris, “my brother would never intentionally do anything to hurt you. Not ten years ago and not now. That ridiculous bet was so out of character that it makes me question the circumstances surrounding it.”

“You knew about the bet?” She sounded sad and humiliated, which hadn’t been Greyson’s intention.

“Only after the fact. Jonah Spade spoke of it to me precisely once, and to my knowledge he has never, and will never, speak of it again. He was also ostracized from our group immediately after that.”

“Does Smith know?” She looked absolutely terrified at the prospect of her brother—and Harris’s best friend at the time—knowing about the incident, and Greyson clenched his fists, quelling the urge to get up and give her the hug she so clearly needed. But he wasn’t a hugger and would probably freak her out if he suddenly got all affectionate on her.

“Of course he doesn’t, Tina,” he said, imbuing his voice with the warmth, love, and tenderness he felt toward her. Using the nickname because he wanted her to know that he considered her a friend, even if she didn’t feel the same way about him. “I can guarantee Jonah Spade and his cohorts would all have been permanently injured if Smith ever got wind of it. And quite frankly, even though Harris sometimes annoys the hell out of me, he’s still my brother, and I dread to think what Smith would have done to Harris if he ever found out. It was selfish of me, but that’s one of the reasons I quashed any and all potential rumors.”

She crossed the distance between them before he could react and then completely shocked him by bending and dropping a sweet, affectionate, and sisterly kiss on his cheek.

His face went hot, and his eyes widened in shock, but he felt outlandishly pleased by the gesture.

“Thank you, Greyson.” She turned and left before he could respond, but he didn’t really have a response for her. Instead he traced his cheek with a bemused finger while a foolish grin settled on his lips. He and Tina had rarely spent one-on-one time together in the past. And while he had always felt a brotherly kinship toward her, he knew that she didn’t feel any particular warmth toward him. He had always attributed that coldness as some kind of overflow of what she felt toward Harris.

But today, it felt like she was finally starting to see him as someone separate from his relationships with Harris and Olivia. And that felt satisfying. It felt like Greyson was getting at least one relationship right while he was here.