Only for Us (6 page)

“Emma! Wait!”

But I don’t. I can hear Grayson continue to call after me.

At the base of the stairs, Jessie giggles, only increasing my shame. “Have a good night, Emma.”

Devastated tears streak down my cheeks, and I’m thankful I didn’t park at the hotel. I skip behind the building so no one can find me then weave to my car, which is parked on the street.

Finally, I reach the safety of my Jeep and climb into the driver’s seat. Tears blur my vision, and I reach to the center console for tissues. Coming up without, I do find a drawing Cally made last week. The scribbles and scrawl are supposed to be our new house with two stick figures that hold hands—a mommy and daughter clinging to each other. I can hardly make it out but know her intent. The mommy’s outstretched hand reaches off the page. There’s no one else there for them. That’s how we’ll always be: alone. Even the pictures Cally drew said that was true.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grayson

I’m standing at the corner of Fuck Me and Screwed after running through the hotel’s parking lot and then up the damn block. My fingers are locked behind my head as I scan the empty streets and ignore the pain surging in my side. Blood pulses around the edges of the almost-healed gunshot wound. None of this is important, though. It’s only a distraction in my hunt for her. But no matter where I go, no Emma.

I shake out my arms and stretch out the pain. Again, I hit her number in my phone. Immediate voicemail.

Fuck me
.
I took my eyes off her for one second to say “What the hell?” to Mazie. That was all it took for Emma to melt into the night, a ghost of a shadow that I could not track down. She’s not answering her phone—
no,
she’s
rejecting
my calls—and I don’t know my next move. I’m without allies and completely friendless in this battle zone.

“Damn it,” I shout on the street corner and pace a tight circle.

I try her cell phone again, and shit—I hate leaving messages. But this time, after the beep, I’m ready to plead. “Please call me back. It’s not what you think.”

God, am I the king of “it’s not what you think”? I shove the phone in my back pocket and storm back to the hotel. When I bust into the lobby, there’s fuckin’ crazy Mazie having a heartfelt discussion with Jessie the desk girl.
Fuck me.
Summerland County gossip hags are going to love this shit.

“What did you think you were doing?”

Mazie twists her fingers into a knot. “I was trying to get your AC fixed. Stupid, I know. Can’t keep my own shit together, so I jump in yours.”

“I didn’t mention where I was just to have you show up.” I feel eyes on me and pivot. Jessie is staring with rapt attention. I growl at her, and she waves at me with googly eyes. I can’t handle this place sometimes. “Let’s go, Maze.” Sure to fire up the grapevine, I hook an arm around Mazie and guide her to the stairs.

“That was her, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, that was her.” Quickly, I push open the door and take in the room, trying to see what Emma saw. It’s not hard to picture a bad outlook. There’s Mazie’s suitcase next to one bed. And, God, the horror on Emma’s face. “Damn it, Mazie. Couldn’t you have mentioned the pullout couch? Or that you weren’t staying
with
me?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “I thought I was helping. I was worried after you blew everyone off at the hospital. Really, I’m sorry.”

My head hurts. Why isn’t Emma at home with Cally? Is she working? Where? I've come too far, and I have too much on the line to lose her—lose
them
. I turn to Mazie. “I have a daughter.”

Her head jerks back, then her mouth opens once, twice. “Whoa.”

“I can’t lose them.” My turmoil is brutal, as though the devil’s making waves with my soul, causing a hurricane with my heart. I want to scream, want to explode. There are so many things that I want to do—like rip the hotel room apart and beg in Emma’s voicemail for a chance to explain. But this volcano of emotion is not a PTSD attack. It’s something bigger.

“So, go over there.” Mazie’s gaze is fierce. She has a million flaws, but she’s a steadfast friend who I never doubt wants what’s best for me. “I mean, that’s what you should do, right? Find her and explain.”

“Go where? Her home? She wouldn’t leave our daughter by herself. Obviously somebody’s with Cally—”

“Cally? That’s beautiful.”

A lump surfaces in my throat. “I know.” I swallow it away. “So, Emma’s… out. Work?”

“It’s super late.”

If she’s only now heading to work… I have to wonder again how hard she’s had it while I’ve been gone.

“You have a daughter.” Numbly, Mazie trudges toward the couch and collapses. “That’s amazing.”

My phone rings. Caller ID: Emma Kinglsey. I don’t even give her a chance to say hello. “Let me explain.”

Mazie pops up and points toward the door before showing herself out.

“Explain.” Em’s voice is sad and quiet and mistrusting.

“Where are you, Emma?”

“At work.”

Damn it. I knew it. “Where’s that?”

She hesitates. “Why?”

“Because I am coming for you, baby.”

“Grayson, this… you and me. I had some time to think, and I believe in us. I want us. And I have to trust you to get that. Your voicemail said you’d explain, and I’m scared whatever you have to say isn’t enough.”

“It is.” I need to say something that proves she can trust me. That she can give herself to me. Again. Forever. In the middle of my hotel room, I fall to my knees, terrified that what I need to say won’t come to me. I close my eyes and—thank fuck
—
I can see her face.

“She’s your fiancé?”

Crazie Mazie and her fuckin’ fiancé line.
“No. Not at all. It’s not like that. I’ll put her on the phone—”

“Were you engaged to her?”

“No. She’s only a friend. Just like one of the guys. I swear.”

“Gray?” Her mistrusting voice sounds broken. “I’m… I—”

My heart’s pounding. “I was yours the day we met. Before I knew how deep I loved you, I knew you were my friend. My…
person
. The face I was supposed to see every day. The voice I was supposed to hear every night. If there’s one thing that you need to know it’s… Ems, I was made for you.”

I die waiting as each second passes.

“I’m waitressing at the Delightful Diner. On till four in the morning.” She sniffles. “This is hard, figuring us out.”

On until four in the morning? My insides are strung tight. “I swear I thought you were in college. I thought it. Believed it.” My words break. “That everything was perfect for you without me. College, classes, fun, parties. Far away from the hell that I was living every day.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I didn’t know you were killing yourself with work. I didn’t know you're raising our daughter. So help me God, had I known, there is no military force on earth that would’ve kept me from you.”

She sniffles, and I would absorb her pain if I could. I’d do anything to make this right for her.

“Grayson,” she whispers. “I still want the fairytale.”

“Good. Because it’s coming for you.”

Emma

Delightful Diner’s door chimes, and I turn around, knowing it’s Grayson. There’s something about his presence that, even before I see him, makes me react to him. It’s as if the air shimmers, and the pressure increases. My skin tingles, and my nerves fire.

Our eyes lock as the diner lulls. Every eye is on him. Everyone in this stinking county thinks they know our story. He ignores them, and his fiery emerald eyes focus on me like lasers, pinning me with a fierce hunger and desire, with alpha possession and domination. It’s so real and so palpable I’m not sure how I’m still standing.

“Hi,” I whisper though there are twenty feet between us, and bacon and eggs are sizzling in the background.

Grayson’s boots echo on the floor. The confidence in his stride makes my mouth drop. With each step forward, I think he’ll slow down, that he’ll stop this…
charge.
But no.

His arm wraps around me. Hard. The other hand tangles in my hair, threading fingers into the tight bun. He pulls me to his mouth, holding me to his chest. His full lips take mine as though he’s underwater, and I’m his oxygen.

Instantly, I’m drowning in need for him, moaning into his mouth. His fingers tighten against my scalp, and the arm supporting my weight has me off my feet and onto a counter barstool.

He tears back, his breathing harsh as mine. His lips hover close to mine, his green eyes brighter than I can remember ever seeing, and he growls, “I love you.”

My breaths stutter past my lips, which tickle against his, and I nod because there aren’t words to express how much I love him.

His possessive hold doesn’t care that eyes are on us. “And I’m sorry for this, what I’ve put you through. Middle of the night waitressing and raising our baby alone.”

Our baby
. I want to die hearing that, but I only melt closer to him. “Gray…”

“Ask me anything.”

“Are you sleeping with her?”

He shakes his head. “Mazie’s a friend. A close friend who’s crazy, and it’s her thing. She says she’s my fiancé. It gets her in places. She knows about you. That’s just her. Crazy fuckin’ Mazie. I’ve got no secrets from you.”

Oh, boy.
I have a doozy for him that involves a stage name and six-inch heels. “I—uh—”

“Forget about her,” he says.

“Okay. Trying to forget.”

“You can quit this job right now if you want. I’m going to make this right by you. Starting with you not working nights.”

I’m exhausted. I want to go home, crawl into bed, maybe even with him. But that would leave Jan in a lurch. “I can’t walk out on a shift.”

“Fine. But you don’t have to come in like this again.” His face is so serious, so solemn that I almost believe that our fairytale might one day come true.

“I have to work, Gray. Bills pile up fast. Faster than I can keep up with them, even with help.”

“Not like this you don’t.”

“If you really want us, you have to know my reality. Forget our chemistry and the… the…” I don’t know how to describe what I feel between us.

He tucks close to my ear. “The need to take you to bed? To have you right this goddamn second?”

If I was hot and bothered before, call me primed and ready. Heat crawls up my neck, and I nod. “If you want more than that, I’ll break it down for you, explain what responsibility means and then—”

“Fuck that. I accept. Sign me up. All of it. I want you.
Both
.”

I can’t breathe. “You’re so certain?”

“No doubt.” The conviction pouring off him is intense. His eyes are deep, his voice low.

I swallow against the emotion tightening my throat. “Is this really happening?”

“Not sure why you have to ask after last night. But yeah, baby. We’re a go. Put a ring on it. Count me as yours. Tell me that we’re together. No worries over outsiders, no questions from family. It’s you and me and Cally.”

My heart seizes. Every bit of me hurts for wanting this so badly. “How do you know this will work?”

He smiles. “You’re not saying no. So, how do
you
know?”

Easy answer. “Because I had you with me every day you were gone. I lived for you. I danced for you. I breathed and dreamed so that one day when you came back, it’d be like you never left.”

His mouth skirts up to my ear. “You danced for me?”

Shit. Shoot. Shit.
I’ve said too much. But the truth just pours out. “I have something to tell you—”

“Emma, honey.” Jan snaps from behind the counter. “Reunions are great, but the tables are stacking up.”

I take a deep breath and look around. No way are tables stacking up. No one’s taken a bite—they’re all watching the Emma-Grayson show. But tips will suffer if tables don’t order and turn over, so Jan’s point isn’t lost on me. “Right. Okay.” I inch back. “Want some pancakes or something?”

He tilts his head. “I’ll take off. But I can pick you up after your shift?”

“No. Don’t do that. But…” I bite my lip and remember the promise not to care about my questioning, doubting family. “My birthday’s tomorrow.”

He smiles. “Well aware.”

“Would you come over with me? Mom and Dad are having a little get-together.”

His eyes bounce, hesitant for a second. “Absolutely.”

“Cool. Alright. Okay.”

Grayson kisses my cheek. “Better get back to work. And don’t think I’ll forget that you’re going to dance for me.”

Oh, baby. Don’t think I will forget that
,
either.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Grayson

Armed with a birthday-paper-wrapped notebook and a stuffed animal with a big bow, I shake my nerves and park my truck on the street in front of Emma’s house. My fingers drum on the steering wheel, and I take another huge swig of Mountain Dew, trying to alleviate my tension. Mega caffeine probably won’t help, but it can’t hurt. Nothing I’ve done—walked away from my home, walked into war—has prepared me to hang out with my daughter.