“When?” I ask.
“Not long before I phoned you.”
Holy fuck.
“He called me son, like that meant something.” He snorts.
“Grey—”
“Why did he sign his rights away?” He chokes on his words, tears streaming down his face. “Why wasn’t I good enough? I wasthree, Lilly. Fucking three.”
Reaching out, my thumb swipes across his cheek. “You were always good enough. Youaregood enough,” I tell him, and his eyes shoot to mine. “His choices don’t define your worth. You’ve built your life despite him, and that’s something to be proud of.”
Leaning into my touch, he lets out a breath. “Yeah, but at what cost?” It’s a rhetorical question. “I’m just…I’m so fucking tired of pretending it doesn’t matter.”
“You don’t have to pretend, not with me,” I whisper. “I’m here, Greyson. I’m herefor you, okay?” Soothing my thumb across his cheek, I say. “You need me to go down there and beat his ass? Because I’ll do it.”
He finally cracks a smile, his bright blue eyes coming back to life. “You’d really do that?”
“You’re my boyfriend,” I wink. “I’d do anything for you.”
“Fakeboyfriend.” He reminds me.
I smile, my fingers softly caressing his hand. “Fake or not, I’m here. Always.”
And I mean it.
“I’m sorry—”
“Hey,” gripping his chin with my thumb and forefinger, I lift his face to look at me. “Don’t ever apologize for showing your emotions, okay? You crying further proves how much of a perfect person you are.”
Blinking, tears fall from his eyes and roll down his cheeks. “You think I’m perfect?”
“Other than the fact you pour your milk before your cereal,” I tease, nudging his knee. “Yes, I think you’re perfect.”
Snorting, he brings his hand to his nose and wipes. “It tastes better when the milk is added first.”
Laughing, my knees begin to ache, so I rise from the floor. But once I stand, his eyes widen once he sees how erect my nipples are from the air-con that’s been blasting through the room.
“Fuck, Lil-Bug,” his eyes widen as he takes me in. “Did you really drive all this way, wearing that?”
Looking down at myself, I see I’m wearing a skintight tank top that’s a size too small, no bra…and fucking booty shorts. When he called, I was chilling in my room trying to piece together something for the article, and I didn’t think twice about what I was wearing when I shoved my laptop off my lap and ran to the car.
“Uh, yeah.” I wince, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“Do I have to beat any fuckers up for staring at my girlfriend?” He’s joking, but somehow that sentence makes my heart flutter.
“Fakegirlfriend,” I smirk. “And I don’t know, I didn’t pay attention to who was around, I was more focused on hurrying up here to see you.”
Snaking his hands around the back of my thighs, he pulls me closer and soothes patterns across my skin, making soft sighs escape my lips.
“Thank you for coming,” he smiles at me, seeming genuinely thankful. “I totally wasn’t expecting to open the door to see you standing there.”
“You sounded like you needed someone,” I confess, lifting my hand and running it through his hair. “And I know what that feels like.”
Smiling, his eyes lock with mine. “Can we make a pact?”
“What sort of pact?” I ask, intrigued.
