Page 45 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
“We’re still a good team.” There is sincerity in his eyes, vulnerability. Resignation.
“I know.” I take a deep breath and do what I need to do. “It’s time for me to turn in.”
“Dylan.”
“We were doing fine until you brought up the past. Don’t you get that’s why I left town and came here? It allowed me to keep us out of this,” I say, motioning to our guitars lying across the mess of notes. “The only relationship left is a professional one, and it needs to stay that way. We need to be able to get through these songs without muddying up the waters. We’re no longer together.”
“Not if I can help it.”
I exhale a frustrated breath and shake my head. “Good night, Jett.”
I walk out of the room and shut the door behind me. I rest my forehead against it and wonder how in a month’s time we got here. I can’t deny the sadness, but I can own my self-esteem and know I deserve better than that.
After I check on Petunia and make sure she has water, I head to Grady’s bedroom. I’m cautious and exhausted all at the same time not to mention more than emotionally overloaded when I enter the room as quietly as possible. It’s dark, save for the moonlight coming through the open blinds, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust. When they do, I see Grady on the left side of the bed, his breathing even and deep, and on the right side is a T-shirt and a pair of boxers.
When I slide my eyes to the empty spot beside him, I’m met with a white sheet of paper standing out against the dark blue of the comforter.
Just in case you couldn’t figure out how to wrangle your pajamas from your room without blowing your cover, here are some for you. And yes, Mom. I promise they’re clean. — G
Sometimes it’s the simplest thing that can cause the strongest of walls to crumble. His thoughtfulness. His ability to make my guarded heart swell without splitting open the old wounds that never healed. The way he somehow likes ‘the me’ I continually try to hide from.
I stare at him, and the part of me that was convinced long ago that his profession only breeds selfishness in the men called to do his job, slowly buckles under the weight of the moment. Between “his want to show Jett what he’s missing” to now this, leaving me pajamas, he’s starting to make me see him in a different light.
The kind of light that shouldn’t be anywhere near my thoughts. Neither should reliving the feel of his kiss on my lips, but some things are hard to forget. Kind of like this thoughtful gesture.
Without thinking, I pick the T-shirt up and hold it to my face. It smells like Grady. Like soap and softener, and I hold it there for a moment before I realize what I’m doing and feel silly. I tiptoe to the en suite bathroom to change and brush my teeth before heading back to the bedroom.
Now or never, Dylan.
I slowly slide into bed beside Grady and swallow back the nerves that rattle around, whispering that I’m doing something wrong. I hold my breath and try to be as still as possible. Then, after a good five minutes, I realize how stupid I must look lying here stiff as a board on the very far edge of the mattress as if that will make me forget that Grady’s beside me.
My mind is too alive with everything that has happened over the past few hours for me to fall asleep. So, I turn my head and study him in the darkness. The lines on his face have relaxed. His lips soft. The stubble he has to shave before the start of every shift starting to show. His dark lashes fanned against his cheeks.
He’s definitely not a bad sight to drift off to. But about the time I do, I’m shocked back awake when he reaches over, hooks his hand over my hip, and pulls me against him. He murmurs something dreamily, but I don’t catch it because I’m too busy noticing how our bodies fit together. I’m too busy fighting the urge to press my lips against his chest, which is dangerously near them. I’m too busy telling myself I should remove his hand from where it heats my skin, because it’s causing other parts of me to heat up too.
But I do none of them.
Instead, I close my eyes and let myself enjoy feeling close to someone when I’ve felt nothing but alone since Jett and I broke up.
Coffee.
I need coffee.
Half asleep, I roll out of the empty bed and shuffle toward the bathroom, my head down, my body sluggish from a sleepless night spent pressed against—
Oh.
My . . .
A very hard, very wet chest cuts off my thoughts as Grady opens the bathroom door the same time I put my hand on its knob.
“Whoa,” he says with a laugh as I look down to avert my eyes, only to end up looking right at the bulge in the towel. Flustered, I look up. His eyes are amused. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” I pull at his shirt I have on.
“No biggie.” He shrugs. “It’s bound to happen in such close quarters.”
We stare at each other longer than we should. I’m embarrassed but still standing there, and he’s amused, obviously enjoying my mortification.
