Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128307 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Is it just me, or does he sound a little moody?
It’s understandable. She still hasn’t looked at him.
“Two seconds?”
A ghost-like grin hikes my lips when Grayson replies in true Grayson style. “Three seconds, max.”
I breathe out slowly when Cameron pops open the hood as requested. Finally. Grayson tinkers with her motor like he knows what he’s doing. He’s a genius, though this is out of left field for him. He fakes it like a pro, just like he did when he set up the crib and changing table in the corner of my room.
After a minute, Grayson shakes his head, flopping his blond spikes side to side. “It’s not the battery.” I don’t breathe when he pulls the spark plugs I removed yesterday from his pocket. The hood hides him, so Cameron is unaware of our scheme, but I am still nervous.
I almost asphyxiate when Grayson suddenly peers back at the surveillance camera mounted on a light pole above the lot. He stares straight at me for several long seconds, like he knows I’m watching. He couldn’t. The camera captured this footage hours ago. But you’d swear that he’s assessing my soul through my eyes. His stare is white-hot, and it has me squirming in my seat.
Even through a monitor, the tingles I felt this morning when he strapped my belly are undeniable.
As they shift my hope to an emotion I can’t control, I almost beg him to slot the spark plugs back into their rightful spot. To walk away as if Cameron means nothing to him. But nothing but air bubbles leave my mouth.
He needs this, and I need to continue being the bigger person.
I swallow my disappointment when, a second after he returns his focus to the engine, he stuffs the spark plugs back into his pocket and continues with the ruse I orchestrated.
He tells Cameron that her battery is dead before he offers her a ride into town.
She dismisses his offer with a wave, still not looking at him, before she attempts to call a taxi. I realize I have competition to claim the title of Grayson’s best friend when a security prompt flashes across the screen.
Remotely, Brandon blocks Cameron’s cell signal, leaving her with no choice but to accept Grayson’s offer. She hesitates, then, seeing the empty lot, gives in.
Grayson walks her to his sedan, the space between them as wide as the Amazon. I panic my ploy is failing until Grayson reaches across her to open the door for her. His hand brushes her forearm, and as much as Cameron tries to hide it, I can see how much it affects her.
She gasps in a sharp breath before her eyes rocket to Grayson. I take in the same features she absorbs in rapid succession. His icy-blue eyes, partially stubbled jaw, perfectly straight nose, and lips that taste like heaven. She drinks them all in as the vein in her neck thuds as uncontrollably as my heart.
For a split second, I think she’ll pull away. But then, suddenly, she throws herself into Grayson’s arms and clings to him as if she’s been treading water for hours.
My heart painfully twists the more their reunion unfolds. I’m happy for Grayson. Honestly, I am. But I’m also heartbroken. I want that type of connection, that kind of security. To be loved by a man who will search for me for years and still adore all my imperfections would be a dream come true.
While breathing deeply, I close the laptop before giving myself a few minutes to grieve what might have been. Then, I head straight to bed so I can mourn in private.
32
GRAYSON
Ipull into the parking lot outside Cameron’s apartment before switching off the ignition. It’s so quiet I can hear the engine ticking as it cools. The sun has already set, and the building’s lights sparkle in the puddle of an afternoon downpour.
Cameron sits beside me, quiet and with her hand clutching a designer purse. While she impatiently waits for me to jog around the hood of my car and open her door, I drink her in, searching for something familiar, for something that feels like the girl I once knew.
She is as beautiful as I remember—petite, with big striking eyes and the cutest nose—but when I look at her, all I see is a stranger.
It makes me wonder if my search all these years was for closure, not reunion.
I’m relieved she’s stopped acting like she doesn’t know who I am. I needed that. I needed something to anchor me to a pursuit I’ve been apprehensive about since I shouted her name for the first time in years. But more than anything, I needed to remember that she didn’t ask for this to happen to her. She is an innocent in this sick and twisted game we call life.