31. Grayson

Chapter 31

Grayson

M y mom's car is in a million pieces. Delilah is somewhere in the mess, bloodied and sleeping. I scream her name while I rush to her, but the moment my grown-up hand touches her small one, her face morphs into someone else.

Long brunette hair and unseeing brown eyes. Macy .

The world shrinks around me, and I realize it's the hole in my chest, vacuuming every corner of pain that crowds the planet. It drowns my lungs until I'm screaming from the pit of my chest.

"Grayson," a sad voice whispers. "It's just a dream. Open your eyes." I do, and staring down at me are brown eyes with flecks of gold. Very alive ones, on a very alive girl. My throat burns like I've been screaming, my skin slick with sweat. I pull Macy to my chest and hug her tight to me. After what we did beneath the lifeguard tower, I insisted she spend the night with me, not expecting it to go this way.

I haven't had the nightmare since I was a teenager. It was always the same dream. An endless torment from my own mind, showing me what happened that day. But now it's changed. Now, Macy takes Delilah's place.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she whispers. My heart races beneath her ear, and she grabs my hand and interlocks our fingers. She places a gentle kiss to my sternum. I like when she peppers soft kisses on my skin.

"No." I sigh. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize."

"You're right. Sorry."

She shoots me a pointed look.

I chuckle. "I really do love when you look at me like that."

"Go to sleep."

"Yes, ma'am."

I shoot up the moment my hand reaches for her body and meets the unoccupied side of my bed.

"Macy!" My voice trembles with fright.

"Yes?" she walks through my open bedroom door with damp hair and a towel wrapped around her.

My entire body seems to sigh with relief. My heart races, and my hands shake but I set them down so she can't see. "Nothing. I thought you…" Died . "Went home."

She grins. "You would miss me if I did?"

I roll my eyes. "If I hadn't made it clear already, let me elaborate. My mind has a hard time focusing on anything other than the thought of you. So yes, Mace, I'd miss you."

She squints her eyes at me like my statement was sarcasm. I'm utterly serious.

"Oh," I say, holding up a finger. I pull open the drawer to my nightstand and carefully grab the sand dollar. "This is yours."

She eyes the round thing in my hand, tilting her head. Then, her eyes turn to glass. "You saved it for me? After all these years?"

"I promised you I would, didn't I?"

She runs and jumps on me, tightly hugging me around the neck and nearly killing me with her strength. I rub circles into her back for several minutes.

"Pancakes for breakfast?" she eventually asks in a sweet voice that she uncommonly uses with me.

"Sure. Pancake mix is in the cabinet by the fridge."

She tilts her head and narrows her eyes.

"You want me to make the pancakes?" I surmise.

"You make them really good." She shrugs.

It's cute that she thinks she needs to persuade me. I'd do anything this woman asked me to. But I like her kissing up to me, so I drag this out. "I don't know. You look pretty cute in that apron of yours. I can go get it from next do?—"

"Grayson," she interrupts. "You do not want to see me when I'm hangry."

Is it strange that I do? I want to see Macy in every facet of her day, including when she's miserable with hunger. I'm unafraid of the bad days. I want to be someone she can rely on. I'll always be patient with her, and I'll scour to the ends of this Earth to give her everything she wants and needs. I want to make her as happy as she makes me. So, I climb out of bed in nothing but my boxer briefs. I pull on sweatpants and squeeze her delicate hand on my way past her, and then I whip up breakfast for the woman I've known since I was a little boy.

Now I'm a man who wants to glue myself back together to be everything she needs. Everything she wants. But more importantly, everything she deserves . And Macy Brookes, the angel that she is, deserves it all. From the tops of the stars to the burning core of this world, she deserves every bit of it.

I'm a grinning, lovesick fool, flipping pancakes and using chocolate chips to form a heart in the ones that come out perfectly round.

I'm hers. I always have been. Now I long to call her mine.