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As I peer down at the tomb, weathered by rain and sun, grass growing over the sides of it, neglected but for freshly cut flowers in blue, yellow and white, the likes of which are abundant in the field at the back, I take a step back, pivoting at the sight of a dark figure watching me.
“Shit,” I pant, my hand slamming my chest as I see Greyson standing ten feet behind me, watching me, unmoving, unspeaking.
He always stalks me so quietly, as if an expert at it.
“Shit. I… I’m sorry,” I stammer. “I… I wasn’t trying to… invade your privacy. I just… I… I saw the flowers and…”
He walks towards me, staring down at my face before his eyes stray to the tomb.
At his fraught silence, I finally ask, “Is this…?” I drop my head. “Nevermind. Sorry.”
“Yes it is.” His solemn eyes wander to my face.
“The woman who… died… in the accident that scarred you?”
He nods slowly.
“She was your family member?”
“Yes.”
“Who… who was she?”
A glimpse of pain flashes across his face but he swallows it down, his eyes soft as he regards me, but his jaw tensing.
“Yesterday was… emotional,” he finally says. “How about we talk about her another time?”
I frown, both hating his need to keep secrets but fully understanding why he does, for I do the same. I wonder in this moment if there are things we both keep inside us that we’ll never get out …
“Okay,” I say to his gentle smile.
“Did you sleep well?” he asks as he lifts me into his arms, carrying me back towards the house.
I protest mildly but he ignores me, as I’ve come to expect.
“I did. You?”
But as I ask it, I realize I remember something from last night, only… I’m not sure if I dreamed it, or if Greyson really did wake me in the night, snarling in his sleep from some heinous nightmare, which stopped the second I awoke.
Did that happen, or did I just dream it?
“Yes,” he responds, dropping me down onto the step outside the mudroom.
We enter, closing the door behind us. Grey’s boots are off fast as my clumsy fingers grapple with the laces of mine. He heads to the kitchen as I take one shoe off, and then another, tucking them into a cubby on the floor.
As I go to stand up, my gaze is drawn to another pair of boots in the corner, only for trepidation to surge into my body, my heart racing as a tremor rolls through me at the sight of paint mottled on the rubber sides of these boots.
Grey’s boots, I think.
The paint… black.
I lean into them, my eyes straining as I try to see if the paint is old only to be startled by the arrival of Grey in the doorway of the mudroom.
His eyes wander from my face to the boots I was looking at and back.
“Ready for something to eat?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
“Um… sure,” I reply, my voice choked.
I get to my feet, my legs weak as I leave the mudroom only for him to pick me up and carry me out of the kitchen.
“Hey… where are we going?” I ask.
But he remains silent.
“I, um, I think I might need to go home today,” I say as he leads me down the hallway.
“Not today, Indigo,” he whispers, his breath heavy on my ear which he scrapes with his lips. “You’ll be staying with me. My wolf needs you.”
