Page 113 of Cockpit
“I was an even bigger ass.”
“Grayson.” I chuckle in protest, and his lips meet mine again and then he rests his forehead against mine.
“I said a lot of things,” he says, “most of which I’m not proud of. They’re my hang-ups, Sid. They’re things I need to fix if we’re going to make this work. They’re things I need to fix so that I can be a better man.”
It takes me a moment to swallow over the lump in my throat his words have formed. To realize what he is telling me without coming out and saying it.
“Make this work?”
He looks like a scolded little boy having to explain himself, and I hate that I want to step into him and take it all away.
“Yeah. Make this work.”
That panic I felt moments before intensifies for so many reasons . . . all of them good except for one.
“There are things I need to say, too, that haven’t been said.”
“Not right now.” A brush of lips. A soft touch of tongues. “This is my turn to apologize. This is my turn to tell you that we’re good together, Sidney. That it’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to feel whatever this feeling is. I know we still have to be quiet about seeing each other . . . but can we just figure out how to enjoy this right now? Can we just accept this step and take it day by day without sticking parameters on it while we feel our way through?”
My heart swells and soars, and yet I meet every word he says with a cautious trepidation. The ball is in my court when it comes to us, and I don’t know how to respond.
“Gray . . . I . . .”
“I know.” He chuckles. “It’s a lot . . . especially coming on the heels of the other day, of the shit I accused you of. But Christ, Sid, I’ve been so damn miserable.”
He reaches for the nape of my neck and pulls me in for a kiss that reflects the despair it seems we both felt being at odds with each other. While he might not think he can express himself with words, the ones he is speaking are saying a lot.
The kiss he’s giving me is saying even more.
A throat clears, and I try to jump back, but Grayson just holds me in place.
“Gray?”
“Dad.” His name is a warning. “Can’t you see I’m trying to kiss a girl here?”
Chief chuckles. “As long as I’m paying for the roof over your head, there will be no kissing any girls in this house,” he says in the most fatherly of tones, I can assume he’s perfected over the years.
We both laugh, and the groan that Grayson emits when he steps back and gives his dad the look of death has my cheeks heating.
“Good to see that you two are getting along,” Chief says with a knowing smile. “Gray, the station keeps calling your cell.” He holds it out.
“Christ,” Grayson mutters as he dials, but I can already see the transformation from the Grayson I know to Grayson in command.
“This is Malone,” he says when whoever answers picks up. “He’s what? How long will he be out for? Okay. Okay. I can cover, but I need to check about Luke.”
“It’s fine,” Chief interjects, and Grayson nods, glancing at the clock on the wall.
“I’ll be there in about fifteen, twenty at the most. Is that good?” There is another stretch of silence before he says, “Okay. Yes. Ten-four.” His laugh rings out. “I know you do.”
Grayson’s already in motion when he ends the call. “Luke?” he calls out the open door before turning back to us. “Charlie came down with the stomach flu mid-shift. They need someone to cover.”
“It’s fine,” Grayson’s dad says. “We’ll get Luke home so he sleeps in his own bed and is ready for school tomorrow.” He winks at me. “It isn’t the first time we’ve had a child.”
I smile at him and then follow after Grayson.
“Grayson.” He stops when I say his name, and turns to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I seem to be saying that an awful damn lot around you.” But his smile is there with his words, and for a split second, I feel like all is right with this world.
