Hostile(57)

He groans and leans back next to me, covering his face. “She’s a lot.”

“But you love her,” I say definitively because there’s no question. I can hear it in his voice.

“I do.” He drops his hands and turns his head to look at me. “I couldn’t tell Rhys about the job yet, but I want to.”

I nod, knowing it’s a burden on him. “I think it’s going to be okay. They love you.” I think back to the love my grandfather showed me—like I could never do any wrong, even when it seemed that’s all I did when I was around my father. If Rhys loves Rhett half as much as that man loved me, I know it’ll be fine. “You should tell him.”

He gives a quick nod. “Yeah. Maybe I will.” He doesn’t point out I’m keeping secrets from my own father or push me to tell him I’m gay.

We sit in comfortable silence until he turns his body more, enough to cup my face in his hands. “You’re a good man, Grayson. It’s good that you’re going to continue your grandfather’s legacy.”

My heart cracks in half, and I don’t know if it’s because of his admiration or because I want him to ask me to stay so badly. To beg me not to go and to say, “fuck it all.” But I know that’s not fair.

What we have is still new. We’re too damn young to be talking about forever, and I can’t blow up my entire life for a “friends who kiss and fool around and fuck” relationship. And I can’t ask him to want more than that or to ask me to stay.

So, I do what I do best and add a little humor and distraction. “Why the fuck are we still wearing clothes?” I waggle my eyebrows in the direction of the bed, and Rhett laughs, jumping off the couch almost instantly and pulling me toward the bed.

“According to Blair, we need lots and lots of lube. And prep.”

I burst out in laughter as he pretends to shudder before I crash my lips against his and tackle him onto the bed.

Because for now, this is enough.

I still have the summer with him.





THIRTY-SEVEN





Okay, it’s time to sac up. I can’t do this anymore. I changed my last name officially last week, and I’m set to start at Rhys’s shop tomorrow. It’s time to face him. Kole has told me several times if I want to go and work for Rhys, I can always come back. But I can’t do that.

I just can’t.

I walk into Rhys’s shop and am greeted by him almost immediately. “Hey, kid. You start tomorrow, you know? You should be lounging around and enjoying being a kid for one more day.”

Instead of laughing, guilt creeps up again because I’ve been working for months, and he looks happy at the thought of me starting here tomorrow.

Maybe I should just do it.

I shake that off quickly though. “Rhys, can I talk to you for a minute?”

I look around the busy shop and try like hell to remain strong. He turns to the giant steel clock on the wall and then back to me. “Yeah, I have an hour before I have another client scheduled. You wanna walk outside?”

I nod, surprised he has an entire hour off, but I think he’s been cutting back a little lately. Leaving it more to the newbies in his shop and working on the intricate work. Great, now I feel even worse. He’s not going to be a man up like he thought.

We walk outside, and he studies me cautiously but doesn’t pressure me to get on with it. No, Rhys is calm as he waits, even though I can see the worry in his eyes. Okay, just tell him.

“I can’t work here.” Maybe do better than that. He looks surprised like a sharp slap hit him across the jaw at my stupid blurting. “I mean, I want to, but I just . . .” I continue rambling, “It’s too much, Rhys. You’re great, and the shop is amazing. I mean, you’ve been featured on television and magazines, and I know you’re a badass. It has nothing to do with that.”

He holds up one hand, effectively shutting me up. “Breathe.”

I do. But my heart is still racing. I’ve tried to keep my family at arm’s length. I really, really have, but after telling them about Grayson the other night, I realized just how shitty of a job I’d done at that. Because they’ve wormed their way in, and dammit, I want them to be proud of me. I want him proud that I have his last name, and here I am, letting him down.

“Kiddo.” He places a hand on my shoulder. It’s a light touch but still firm somehow. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

I take another deep breath and try to steel my stance. Be strong. “Kole offered me a job. I took it. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I grip the back of my neck with my hand so hard it hurts. “I told you I’m a shithead.”

His face remains stoic. Rhys is hard to read. “Kole? As in the kid who worked here for a bit?”

I nod. “The man you taught. Yeah. I’m so sorry, Rhys.”

His brow furrows for a moment. “Why didn’t you just tell me that?”

I shrug, looking down at my feet, my hand still digging into my neck. “I didn’t want you to hate me. Or think I’m ungrateful.” I meet his eyes again. “I promise you, I’m very grateful to you and Blair. I . . .”

His lips slowly curve up. “Rhett. Look, I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to. I’m working on it, but I know.” He places his other hand on my other shoulder and faces me head-on. “But you can tell me anything. You think I’d be anything less than proud that you want to make your own way? That you don’t want a job handed to you?”