“The men that didthat,” I couldn’t say what, the words lodged in my throat. “Did the police ever find them?”
“No. But we did.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “It was an eighteenth birthday present from Hunter’s father.”
I didn’t know what to make of that. “What happened?”
He turned to me, looking haunted. “I messed with their minds for a few months and when they were ready to book themselves into an asylum, I took them to a remote place to…play.” He gently brushed a strand of hair from my face as his eyes softened. “And you, my darling, Ava, don’t have the stomach for the details,” he said softly.
I tried to picture it. This Grayson, my Grayson, killing someone brutally at the young age of eighteen. I couldn’t. “He wasn’t very good to you. Hunter’s father. If that was the kind of presents you received from him.” I shuddered. What kind of father did that?
“I was a messed-up kid, Ava. Jo helped me the only way he could. If it wasn’t for him, God knows where I would have ended up. He helped me hone all that anger so it wouldn’t consume me. Or the people around me.”
I nodded. “I guess I can see why you couldn’t live a normal life. After all that, listening to students drone on about how hard life was must have driven you crazy.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, something like that.” He turned to the stove and lit a burner. “I wish I could, though. Be happy in a home with a lawn, kids’ toys in the driveway, a boring, mundane job.”
I scoffed. “Don’t lie. Since when?” I couldn’t even picture him like that.
He turned to me, his face sombre. “Since you.”
A lump formed in my throat. The thoughts of our impending separation, I had been doing my best to ignore, surfaced. Grayson was lettingme go, but could I let go of him? It would break my heart. It was already breaking. Crumbling slowly with every tick of the clock.
“I wish I could fit into such a life, for you.” His head was low.
“I wouldn’t want you to change for me, Grayson.” I wrapped my arms around his torso and pressed myself against him. I wished I never had to let go.
His hand was in my hair, and he lifted my chin, tracing the curve of it, his eyes on my lips. He was battling with himself. I tried to tip the scales by inching upwards, standing on my toes. I wanted nothing more in this moment, in this life, than for Grayson to kiss me. To make me his. If only for a fleeting moment. We both knew we were not compatible. That we, our lives, were just too different. Neither one of us could fit into the others. But I wanted him. Gods, I wanted Grayson against me, inside me, so close that I could pretend he was mine. Pretend that I could take away his hurt, with my body, with my hands, with my love. It would only make the heartbreak so much worse once I had to let go, but I didn’t care. In this moment, I would sell my soul to Hades to feel Grayson’s lips on mine, on my body.
He lowered his head, brushing his nose against mine. I strained on my toes, pulled to him. Magnetised. That tether between us pulling tight and glowing brightly. If our lips touched, his strangled defences would crumble, and he would unleash himself on me. I felt it in the air around us, his want like static electricity. I felt it pressed against my lower abdomen. I felt it in the slight tremor of his hand on my jaw.
“Ava,” he breathed, his lips brushed against mine, so lightly I would have thought I imagined it if it wasn’t for the shudder that rippled through his body. His hands fell to my arms, which he gripped painfully, pulling me even closer to him. My body trembled in pleasure and anticipation.
“Don’t do this. For once, I’m trying to do the right thing here,” he whispered against my ear.
I inched backwards, to look at him, to understand what he was saying through the haze that clouded my mind. He took that as an opportunity to pull me down so my heels hit the ground again, to separate us a little more. But he still held on tightly to me, pulling me against him.
“I’ve done enough damage to you, Princess.” The hurt on his face that he tried to mask with a smile made my heart ache. “Just let me get you home before I make it worse.”
“You’re that bad a kisser?” I joked softly, trying to lift his mood. My whole body was still trembling. I had to stop myself from climbing him like a tree and have my way with him. To hell with his sudden urge to do the right thing. I wanted him to ruin me, to break me, like he had once warned. I was already ruined and breaking. I wanted him to burn the sight of him fucking me into my mind, like every other thing about him already was. I wanted him to ruin me for any other man that might come after him, because I already knew in the deepest crevices of my soul, they would never compare.
He loosened his grip on me, making me feel heavy. “Let me finish your pancakes.”
He was asking me to let go. I dropped my hands and took a step back. I struggled not to feel rejected. He just wanted to do the right thing by me, I kept telling myself while I watched him flip the first pancake over.
A few seconds later, he placed it on a plate and speared a piece on a fork. He blew on it, tested to see if it wasn’t too hot against his own lips and then brought it to mine.
No, I couldn’t see how this man could have been a killer at eighteen.
I took the bite and let my head fall back. It was the best pancakes I had ever tasted. “Gods, Grayson! It’s amazing,” I swooned with my mouth full.
He chuckled and placed a kiss on my cheek, before turning to make the rest.
We sat, cross-legged, on the kitchen island, the stack of pancakes between us. We didn’t bother with a fork or syrup. I was telling him about Rachel, and all the trouble she got us into while in her rebellious phase. He laughed from his belly as I explained how we ended up in the back of a cop car when we were sixteen. Of me being so scared I almost peed myself.
Halfway through our stack, Grayson suddenly pulled me to the ground, startling me. Then I heard the front door rattle, as someone tried to open the rusty lock. Grayson pushed me towards the backdoor, but I protested.
“Don’t you dare leave the pancakes,” I whispered as the front door creaked loudly.
He laughed softly and grabbed the plate off the counter. I struggled to get my heartrate down and my laughter contained as we ran down the alley. It was a sight to behold, Grayson running with the plate of pancakes held high in the air to keep them from falling off.
