I twist and turn in bed, my mind replaying the way Gray was looking at me today, the way his fingers brushed against my breasts as he draped his jacket over my shoulders.
Thoughts of him are all thatâs keeping me sane. Itâs my ammunition against the niggling feeling that something might be wrong. Iâve barely been able to sleep lately, and every day my anxiety gets worse.
Tonight, Iâm battling a sense of paranoia I used to experience every night, and not even thoughts of Gray keep them away.
I sit up in bed, my heart racing. Countless scenarios run through my mind, each worse than the one before. I try my hardest to resist the compulsion, knowing how irrational Iâm being, but I canât help myself.
I know no one is going to break into Grayâs house. There are too many checks to get through first. Thereâs security at the front door, the elevators are linked to key cards, and then thereâs the actual front door itself, which has physical locks and an alarm system. Despite all of that, I canât resist the urge to check that the doors are truly locked. That weâre safe.
Itâs a routine I went through every single day after the robbery. It took a lot of therapy, but eventually I managed to stop checking every single night, and then the time in between my checks became weeks before they turned into months. I can feel that tonight is one of those nights, though⦠one of those nights where I know Iâll lose.
I swallow hard as my feet hit the cold floor, a sense of dread washing over me. I donât want to do this, but that niggling feeling wonât go away until I see for myself that the door is locked. I wonât be able to sleep. I wonât be able to fight the nightmares.
I know itâs because I keep thinking of Peter Simmons. Every time I get another notification, I feel more conflicted. Just today, he donated some money to a charity named Brady. I looked it up, and it appears to be a charity against gun violence. Is it a way of repenting? I canât help but overthink things. If my parents hadnât owned the gun he managed to get his hands on, would they still be alive? By the time I walked into the house, it was too late. The gun was on the floor, and my parents were bleeding out. What if the gun hadnât been there at all? Based on the police investigation, it appears he was surprised by my parents coming home earlier than expected. He seemed to have struggled with them for the gun, shooting my mother during the battle, and then my father once he got his hands on the gun. Itâs why he couldnât be put away for first degree murder. The best thing we could do was felony murder. The fact that he was unarmed is the only reason heâs a free man before completing his time.
I feel sick to my stomach as I slip out of my bedroom. I hope Gray is fast asleep already. The last thing I want to do is alert him to my weird behavior. I canât even imagine what heâd think. Heâs been seeing the worst parts of me lately. He spent hours with me last night, letting me talk about my parents until I fell asleep in his arms. I donât want him to think badly of me. I donât want him to feel like Iâm a burden. If he finds out I canât sleep again, he might feel so bad that he spends another night with me, and I donât want to do that to him, no matter how much I need him tonight.
I breathe a sigh of relief when I reach the door and rest my palm against it, dropping my head to the cold wood. I hate this. I hate that I canât fight it. I hate that the memories assail me every time I try. Even as Iâm standing here, Iâm trying to keep myself from unlocking and re-locking the door, but I canât. Iâm weak. I know itâs all in my head, yet I canât fight this.
I inhale deeply as I unlock the door, the sound loud in the silence of the night. I turn the lock, and when it clicks closed, a rush of relief washes over me. I drop my forehead to the front door, feeling as helpless as I always do after having done this.
I turn to walk back to my bedroom and freeze in my tracks when I find Grayson leaning back against the wall, his arms crossed. Heâs staring at me, the moonlight coming in from the windows illuminating his silhouette. Heâs in nothing but black boxer shorts, and I canât help the way my eyes roam over his body. Heâs far more muscular than I imagined, and I force my gaze away, startled by my own thoughts.
He walks up to me, and my heart starts to race. Gray pauses in front of me and raises his hand to my face, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. His gaze is searching, and it makes me feel bared to him. I should be coming up with an excuse, a way to hide the vulnerability Iâm feeling, but instead I find myself staring into his eyes. What I find there isnât curiosity or confusion. Itâs understanding, tinged with a hint of concern.
He cups my cheek, his thumb tracing over the edge of my lips. âYou set off the silent alarm, Ari. This house is a fortress. Itâs as safe as itâs going to get, sweetheart. You canât even open the door if you havenât turned the alarm system off first. Usually Iâm the first person up and the last one to go to bed, so I never thought to show you. Iâm sorry.â
I try my hardest to push down the sense of shame I feel and look away, my arms wrapping around myself without even realizing.
Iâm about to come up with an excuse when Gray suddenly leans in. He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the living room, rendering me speechless.
âGrayson,â I whisper. He looks at me and smiles, making me forget about the excuses Iâd come up with. He sits down on the sofa with me in his lap; our position the same as the night Brad broke my heart.
âWhen I canât sleep, Iâll sit here and stare out the window. The view is so astonishing it melts away my worries. Tonight is the first night I donât have to be alone as I sit here.â
His arms wrap around me, but his gaze is on the skyline in front of us. I relax in his arms and rest my head against his shoulder, my knees drawn up to my chest. We sit there like that, the two of us finding solace in the silence of the night.
âI canât help it,â I whisper.
Gray tightens his grip on me, and I squeeze my eyes closed.
âIâve done it ever since my parents were taken from me. When I get these feelings, I canât go to sleep unless Iâm sure the doors are locked. I canât help it. I donât want to do it, but if I donât, I canât keep my destructive thoughts at bay. Iâll worry that someone will break into the house, that weâll get hurt. And I just keep thinking I could prevent it if I make sure the door is locked.â
Gray exhales shakily and pulls me closer, his lips settling against my temple. He presses a gentle kiss to my skin, and I try my hardest to blink away the tears that are gathering in my eyes.
âThe way I grew up⦠not every house I lived in was as safe as I wished it was, so my home is outfitted with countless security measures. Youâre safe here. But if that isnât enough, know that youâll always be safe in my arms, too. Iâm here, Ari. Iâll help you keep those thoughts at bay.â
I swallow hard and throw my arms around him, hugging him tightly. Noah and I are both lucky to have Grayson in our lives. I rest my forehead against his shoulder, creating some distance between us. Having our bodies pushed together like thisâ¦
I lift my face to find him staring at me, his gaze intense â heated even. I force myself to smile through the thoughts that I shouldnât be having. I shouldnât be wondering what his lips might taste like. Just a few months ago, I thought Iâd spend the rest of my life with Brad. Yet here I am. Iâm a hypocrite. How could I be thinking about Grayson when my heart is still bleeding?
I lean in, my lips brushing against Grayâs cheek, and press a lingering kiss to his skin. I allow myself that much. One friendly kiss.
And then I flee. I jump off his lap and walk away, leaving him sitting in the living room, my heart in disarray.
Iâve only just calmed my raging heart when my phone buzzes, the Nemesis App lighting up my phone. My guilt only intensifies as I reach for it, knowing that thereâs only one person who Iâve got my notifications turned on for.
My eyes widen as I re-read his text, and I canât quite explain why my heart tightens the way it does. I bite down on my lip, pushing down the sudden heartache I have no right to feel. Iâve found myself in Graysonâs arms twice in a row now, and I enjoyed being in his embrace. I have no right to be jealous now.
Besides, I shouldâve known that Ash was just joking around with me. I made the exact same mistake I made with Brad. With him, I also assumed he was flirting with me when I couldnât have been more wrong. I swallow hard as I type my reply, my chest constricting painfully. Iâm still the same fool I was then.
Somehow, it hurts to think that Ash has someone heâs after. It hurts even more to know that once again I let myself be fooled into thinking someone might be into . Of course he canât be. He doesnât even know me. He has no idea what I look like, and while I donât know who he is either, I can tell heâs naturally charismatic. I wouldnât be surprised if flirting is in his very nature. He probably doesnât even realize heâs doing it.
I stare at my phone, confused. He was talking about me? I canât figure out what heâs after, but he must have some sort of endgame. Is it my platform? He canât want me because he doesnât know me. Am I just a challenge to him?
:
I put my phone away, unable to stop overthinking everything. My thoughts keep turning to Grayson and the way heâs been making me feel lately. Tonight, simply texting Ash has me feeling guilty⦠and it shouldnât because thereâs nothing going on between Gray and me, is there?