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“Let me go, Walker!” Gray bellowed as Walk grabbed him from behind, wrapping strong arms around his chest in a futile attempt to rein him in. Mason moved in too, a silent shadow flanking Gray’s other side, his gray eyes dark with concern.
“Easy, boss,” Mason said, his voice a low rumble, steady and calm. “This ain't worth it. Think of Eryn.”
“Damn it, Gray, listen to him! She's safe now, that's what matters!” Walker added, struggling to keep a firm hold on his seething sibling.
I stepped closer, my fingers reaching out, trembling slightly as they brushed against Gray's tense arm. “Gray, please. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, his gaze shifted to mine, and for a moment, the fury that had been there began to ebb away, replaced by a raw vulnerability that made my chest tighten.
“It’s okay.”
He sighed, deeply. Walker relaxed his arms and Gray grabbed me again, pulling me back against his chest.
“Baby, you're safe now. That's all I care about,” he murmured, his voice cracking with emotion. His eyes searched mine, fierce and gentle all at once, and something inside me unfurled—a feeling warm and bright, like the first rays of dawn after a stormy night.
“Nothing else matters,” he said, his lips brushing the top of my head. “Just you.”
“Just us.”
“Let’s go home,” he said. And I wanted nothing more.
30
Eryn
The ride over to the farmhouse had me bouncing with anticipation, but I couldn't ignore the way Gray's hands gripped the steering wheel of his dusty pickup truck like he was trying to wring out the truth from it. His jaw was set, his blue eyes fixed on the road ahead as if he was bracing for a storm.
“Easy there, cowboy,” I teased, reaching over to loosen one of his white-knuckled hands. “Your truck can handle the bumps; you don't have to manhandle it.”
A gruff chuckle escaped him, and he shot me a sidelong glance that had those familiar butterflies fluttering in my stomach. “Can't help it,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “I've got precious cargo onboard.”
“Gray Anderson, are you being over-protective again?” I asked, arching an eyebrow while attempting to keep my tone light. Inside, warmth spread through my chest. For all his rough edges and grumpy demeanor, Gray had a way of making me feel cherished without saying much at all.
“Reckon you'll just have to get used to it, princess,” he replied, the casual drawl in his voice doing funny things to my heart. “In these parts, we look after our own.”
As the truck rumbled to a stop outside the farmhouse, I took a moment to admire the fresh paint and new shutters that framed the windows. It was clear Gray and Enzo had poured tons of energy into every detail, from the polished doorknobs to the flowers beginning to bloom in the garden beds.
“Let's go see how much love you've put into this place,” I said, my voice soft with admiration as I hopped down from the truck, eager to explore his latest labor of love.
“Only the best for you,” he murmured, wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders as we walked up to the front porch together. “Now don’t get too excited, it’s only been a couple weeks, so there’s still a lot to do.”
“Babe, I know. I’m just so thrilled it’s come this far.” I kissed him, what was meant to be a sweet peck on the lips, but had quickly turned into a scorching flame.
Gray's stubble scratched against my skin, igniting a fire within me that only he could stoke. His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer, the warmth of his touch seeping through the thin fabric of my blouse.
A throat clearing behind us broke the spell, and I pulled away with a sheepish grin to find Enzo standing at the door, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “I hate to interrupt such a touching moment,” he chuckled, “but I've been dying for you two lovebirds to see what we've done with the place.”
Gray shot Enzo a mock glare before ushering me inside, our fingers entwined as we stepped over the threshold into a world of fresh paint, rustic charm, and the unmistakable scent of new beginnings. The farmhouse had transformed from a dusty relic to a cozy sanctuary, infused with touches of both Gray's rough-hewn sensibilities and Enzo's flair for design.
Antique wooden furniture gleamed in the sunlight filtering through the windows, casting warm, honeyed hues across the room. Enzo had added delicate lace curtains that fluttered in the breeze, softening the rugged interior with a touch of feminine grace. Gray's eyes roamed over the space, his expression unreadable as he took in the changes.
I watched him closely, knowing how much this place meant to him and how resistant he had been to it originally. But seeing him now, his gaze lingering on a refurbished rocking chair by the fireplace, I knew he realized that maybe change wasn't always a bad thing.
“It's beautiful,” I whispered, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “You and Enzo have done an amazing job.”
Gray cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted with a light blush that I rarely had the pleasure of seeing. “Enzo did most of the work,” he grumbled, a hint of pride underlying his gruff tone.
Enzo beamed at us from where he stood by the stairs.
