Page 153 of Play Dirty

The storm hadn’t exactly surrendered, but it loosened its grip enough that the world outside existed again. The sky was blue. The sun was shining — in places, at least. For the first time in days, we heard the distant hum of plows, clearing the roads.

All of which meant one thing: Mercer and the team would be coming.

Eventually, anyway.

I stood waist-deep in snow, shovel in hand, staring at what used to be a driveway.

“This is insane,” I muttered.

Beside me, Grayson drove his shovel down and heaved another load over his shoulder. The movement was clean. Efficient. Like everything else he did.

“You don’t have to stay out here,” he said.

“I know.”

We’d worked in silence for a while. The scrape of metal. The soft thud of snow, piling up. Our breath fogging in the cold air.

He hadn’t said much all morning. Not like the others. Not like last night.

Something was off.

I jabbed the shovel into the drift and leaned on it.

“You’re going to tell me what’s wrong,” I said.

He didn’t look at me.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Grayson.”

That got him. His jaw went a little tighter. Not much, but enough.

“You already know something’s wrong,” he said.

I held his gaze. Those cool gray eyes reflected the whole world.

“Then say it.”

A long pause stretched between us. Wind pushed across the yard, dragging loose snow with it. The world felt quieter than it should’ve been.

“I knew,” he said finally.

My stomach dropped.

“Knew what?”

Another pause.

“About Sutherland.”

For a second, I didn’t understand. Or maybe I did… I just didn’t want to admit it.

When I finally did, everything inside me went cold.

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”