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“What are you doing here?” Grayson asks, and I lean back as far as possible without actually lying down to make sure I don’t miss a thing.
“I wanted to tell you,” Liz pauses, “I don’t blame you for Bill’s death.”
Grayson grunts. “But it is my fault he died.”
“No, it isn’t,” she insists. “It’s those rebel forces or whatever they’re called who put the IED in the road.”
“It should have been me.”
“And then you would be dead.”
“As I should be.” I can’t help it. I gasp at his words. I can’t imagine a world without Grayson in it.
“No, you shouldn’t be.” Liz’s voice wavers.
“But surely you wish I were dead. Then, you would have Bill back.”
“What’s to say Bill wouldn’t have died in some other way? You don’t decide who lives and dies.”
Someone seizes my upper arm and yanks me out of the booth before dragging me across the room. I slap at Wally’s arm. “Stop it. I was listening.”
“You were being nosy is what you were doing. Haven’t you been nosy enough?”
I glare at him. “You’re the one who gave me the information.”
He cringes. “My mistake.”
Pops pushes Wally out of the way. He grasps my hands and grins down at me. “Look, darling, I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t work.”
Phoebe raises her hand. “What is she trying to do?”
“Yeah,” Hailey adds. “What the hell is going on here?”
“If I had to guess, I’d say Suzie asked Wally to dig up Grayson’s past, and then she went nosing around in it.”
I nod at Pops’ explanation. He hit it right on the head. Except for the nosing around part. I didn’t nose around. I conducted an investigation. Totally different.
“Why?” Phoebe asks. “You know better than to go digging up people’s pasts. It leads to trouble.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Because ignoring your past worked out super awesome for you.”
She purses her lips but doesn’t say a word, because she knows I’m right.
Pops squeezes my hands to gain my attention. “Darling, I know you care for Grayson, but you can’t fix him.”
I disagree. “I can too.” I tilt my head toward the booth where they’re talking. “It’s working already.”
“Darling, look closer. It’s not.” He releases my hands and turns me around by the shoulders. “Look at his face.”
I study Grayson’s face. Shit. He’s right. Grayson’s jaw is clenched. I look closer. His hands are balled on his lap. Damn. He looks ready to explode. I take a step in his direction, but Pops’ hand on my shoulder stops me.
“No. Leave it be.”
“But—”
“You can’t fix him,” he repeats.
I disagree. This has to work. Once Grayson realizes Liz doesn’t blame him, he’ll lose the guilt he’s carrying around. He has to.
