Worth the Risk(88)

Sidney is lying on the bed beside Luke. He’s under the covers and she’s on top of them in her shorts and tank top. A Harry Potter paperback is folded open and slightly off her lap, but he’s holding her hand, and her chin is resting on top of his head.

They look like a mother and son.

The sight knocks the wind out of me.

How odd. Until right now, I hadn’t realized how they could pass as related so easily.

I’m exhausted and starving, but I stand there in the doorway and watch the two people who are part of my life, day in and day out, as they sleep. How did this happen? How did I let this happen?

If this were a test, she just passed it with flying colors.

But it wasn’t.

Or maybe it was my mom’s way of testing me. Maybe it was her subtle way of saying “Test this woman any way you can and she’s going to come out on top each time.”

The two of them. Side by side. Asleep. At ease. Peaceful.

Things I’ve said I never wanted slowly stir to life inside me, and the effort is half-hearted to shove them back into the usual place I keep them hidden.

Tears burn in my eyes as the sight just reaffirms what I already know: Luke is missing so much by not having a mom. The quiet comfort. The woman’s touch. A different view of everything.

But seeing Sidney here, being able to study her in her sleep with my son in her arms, makes me want to hold on tighter. This woman—with the Converse and shorts and tank top—could fit in here. Does fit in here. She’d be willing to give me the things that I want.

But the woman with the red soles and designer wardrobe who first walked into my life . . . Sunnyville doesn’t have enough to keep her. At some point that editor-in-chief position of a fancy fashion magazine will call her name, and its glamour will shine brighter than the charm of this town. And just like that girl I used to listen to in the diner who couldn’t wait to leave town, she’ll leave again.

What are you doing, Gray?

The doubt creeps again. The questions rage. The need to protect flares.

And yet, here I am, staring at her. Wanting her. Needing her. Begging myself to let her in. Convincing myself that people change. That she’s changed in the months since she’s been here.

Or maybe she’s always been her, and I’ve just been looking at her through Claire-tainted lenses.

Fuck. I scrub a hand through my hair, confused as fuck and not wanting her any less, regardless of my thoughts.

Screw the contest.

Can’t I just have her as the prize?

I’m not na?ve enough to think that prizes don’t come at a cost.

I step forward and slowly untangle Luke’s arms from Sidney’s. They both stir some but neither wake fully. I slip my arms beneath her knees and under her neck and pick her up.

It takes me a second to find my balance as she slips her arms around my neck, but the moment I do, she knocks me completely off kilter when she murmurs, “I love you, Grayson.”

I stand there with her cradled in my arms, my son asleep in front of us, and stagger under the weight those words hold.

It’s been almost eight years since I’ve let a woman say those words to me. Eight years since I’ve allowed myself to react to them. Eight goddamn years since I’ve wanted to say them back.

I can’t. My tongue ties and every damn thing I was just thinking comes back and hits me again. Sunnyville doesn’t have enough to keep her. So, even if I do . . . could love her, even if I do ask her to stay, that would be asking her to be someone she isn’t meant to be. That would only end with her leaving.

This is who we are. Changing for each other would mean compromising who we inherently are, when that isn’t what a relationship is about.

So, I do the only thing I can . . . I carry Sidney into my room and lay her on my bed. I don’t know how much time passes as I try to calm what those words did to my insides, but I stand there and memorize everything about her as she sleeps.

The rise of her chest. The line of her nose. The curve of her hips. The shape of her lips. The smell of her perfume.

I wonder a thousand what-ifs before I shove them down, lock them away.

It doesn’t stop me from wanting to show her how I feel about her. It doesn’t stop me from testing the same three words out on my own lips as I stand in the darkness of my own room. It doesn’t stop me from leaning over and kissing her with every ounce of embattled emotion that I feel.

When I do, when that soft sigh falls from her lips in response, when her lips react in turn before she fully wakes up, I know I’m a goner. I know she’s the one I’ve waited for, even though I know she was already gone before she stepped foot back in Sunnyville.

There are no words between us. There is no rush as we touch and taste and enjoy. Hands running gently over skin. Sighs filling the room. Unspoken emotions filling our hearts. There is nothing but us as I slip into her and show her how I feel in a way I can’t express with words.

As I show her I love her in the only way I’m capable of letting her know.





“Do you have an innie?”

I’m startled awake by Luke’s voice, by the curious face that’s angled to the side, staring at me, and by the grin he’s fighting a losing battle with.

In the split second it takes me to remember everything that happened last night, it’s already too late to escape this situation unscathed. My hands tighten the comforter around me as his eyes glance at my bare shoulders. I cringe as I imagine what he’s thinking.