My brows crash together. “I mean, Ididhave a good day, but…”
He jerks the crates into the air and plops them on the deck with a thud. Only then does he plant his hands on his hips and look at me.
Instantly, my bubble of happiness pops, anxiety filling the space. Because Grayson’s face is impassive, devoid of all the warmth I’ve become addicted to.
The last time I saw this look was when he wanted me gone. Back when I was theworstpart of his day.
I know why he’s wearing that expression the instant he says, “I’m sure you did. Probably the best day ever. An interview and an instant job offer. Your dream.”
I blink.
My lips part.
The cascade of implications hit me all at once, and the picture they paint is unforgiveable. Grayson thinks I pursued a job in the city today. That I told him one thing last night, and turned around and did another behind his back. Iknowhow much staying in Garnet Shores means to him, and I lifted all his hopes, just to toss them aside.
He misreads my silence for confusion. “They called me for a reference, instead of Anson.”
References.I hadn’t even thought of that, because I wasn’t taking this job opportunity seriously. Ineverwas, at any point in the process. That’s why I didn’t tell him. But he doesn’t know that, and it looks so, so bad.
“I—”
“I told them you’d be an amazing hire,” he states.
My explanation halts in my throat. Why would he do that? Does he…does he want me gone? Does a simple phone call, a screwed up misunderstanding, just negateeverything?
A buzzing fills the air, and he drags his gaze away to glance at his phone. “Fuck,” he murmurs, then answers.
I don’t know what he says, worry and hurt flying around my head in disorganized chaos. His call is short, and thirty seconds later, he jerks his phone back into his pocket, starts up the engine, and loosens the lines.
His intent sends another wave of disbelief through me.
He’s…leaving.
“Engine problem by the float. Kenny’s stranded. I’ve got to go,” he mutters, his eyes everywhere but me.
I should jump onto his boat. Force him to listen and understand, talk this out. But I feel like I’ve been punched in the face, so I watch, numb, as his skiff drifts away instead.
I can’t think, can’t process. I’m mentally drowning as I rigidly retreat from the dock, barely aware of where I’m going.
Which is why I nearly crash into Amanda as she exits the warehouse.
“Shit! Sorry.” My head jerks up, and there’s no time to hide my feelings.
Amanda freezes. “You okay?”
Tears, delayed in their reaction, spring from my eyes.
“Alright, you’re definitely not okay,” she rushes out, eyes flaring in panic. “Do you, um, want to talk about it?”
I rapidly shake my head as the first tear makes landfall on my cheek.
“Okay,” she breathes. “Do you want to be alone?”
I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what to think.
The only thing I canthink to do right now is call Kitty, but she’s unreachable.
When I don’t answer, she nods, grabs my arm, and drags me toward the warehouse.
