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The horses whinny and kick out at the wind whistling around us, and yet I’m still able to hear her footsteps a way back from me drowning out their sound. She’s probably contemplating decisions about her way forward, trying to work out if I’m worth bothering about any longer.
I doubt I am, but that’s not stopping me thinking of possibilities I shouldn’t be envisioning. It’s only a few switches. One minute’s worth of time and everything changes.
“Gray?” I look back at her, disturbed by the way her small form seems to own the expanse of space around her and me with it. “Is he your son? Is that another truth?”
I’m not ready for that yet.
I wait for her to catch me up and point to the house, nodding at it for her to go on up the steps. “If you don’t want to stay, I’ll have Jackson take you home. I’d like some dinner, though.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No, it’s not.”
She stares. She stares so long, and so hard, that I can almost see my reflection in the tears still glazing her eyes until she brushes them away again. No turning away from me, though. I chuckle a little at that. She never has. Never looked away when I’ve stared her down. Never let me discard the emotion she causes in me as irrelevant either. Tenacious.
“Are you staying?”
Still no movement from her other than her gaze drifting up and down my body, one arched brow showing contempt or scorn for the truth she already knows. “I’d like it if you’d join me for dinner.”
“You don’t deserve my company.”
“Possibly right. Doesn’t mean I don’t want it.” A frown covers her features, as if she’s still considering telling me to bring Jackson out here rather than coming inside.
What feels like hours passes us by before she eventually looks away towards the steps and makes her way over to them slowly. No smile on her face. No attempt at seduction or sexual endeavours. It’s jarring in some ways. Unusual. My body follows her at a distance, halfway ready to close the space down and force skin on skin again. It’s easier like that. Less honest in some ways maybe, but simpler to contend with irrespective.
Opening the door, I usher her in and cut through the halls to the back lounge. She stares around it, taking in the lines of a home built for family.
“This is nothing like you,” she mutters. She’s right. It isn’t. Never was, other than the horses outside.
Never will be either.
I pick up a bottle of red wine and pour two glasses, taking one back to her. “Do you want to shower and change?”
“Into what?”
“I can have someone find something.”
“One of the many women you have lying around?”
She sneers and drinks half the contents of her wine.
Ignoring the taunt, I walk out the room and crook a finger at her. She follows again until we’re up the main stairs and into one of the guest suites. “I’ll have someone bring you something.”
I leave after that, giving her some space to get rid of any anger she’s holding onto, and head back down. It’s unnecessary, and not welcome regardless of how much I might deserve it. Slow feet lead me through the halls to the one room that renders me inadequate, and I stop in the doorway, looking over the interior. Confusing. Pale curtains. Pale floor. Heather. It’s all insipid. Lifeless, but for the attempt at pretence. Nothing dark.
Nothing sensuous or engrained like Hannah is either.
A sigh falls from me, as I pick up the one thing I came in here for, and I pocket it and lean on the doorframe. I don’t know what’s happened in the last half an hour. Something changed in me when I saw her running away from me. I felt … lost. I yearned and ached in ways that countered the need to cut her off, and then I chased with nothing but her in mind. I never expected that, never thought it would be a real consideration to deal with. And now it is.
Because of her.
“Gray?” I blanch and look back at Beatrice, uneasy with the fact that she’s still here. I check my watch absently, wondering why she hasn’t gone home yet. If I’d have known she was still here I might not have done what I’ve damn well done. I don’t need sisterly interventions in this. It will be done my way. “She looks better now. I can see why you like her.”
I grumble to myself and walk straight passed her, looking for a maid to order some dinner through to the dining room. My body stops, as I get to the orangery, a smile tipping my lips at the dark content of the space. Dark greens, dark leaves wrapping along vines and twining their way around harsh metal trellising. Twinkling lights gently caress the area, showing a view of all this fucking dishonesty spread out in front of me.
Dinner. Truths. Maybe then there’s an answer that isn’t the only one I’ve got.
Heels come up behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder. “It’s alright, Gray. It always was. It’s okay for you to live.”
