12. Grayson

12

GRAYSON

“ H ow much further is it?”

I start out of my reverie. My mind has been in dark places since she brought up my family.

Charlotte’s eyes have a haunted look to them, and I can see the signs of strain on her face. We’ve been going non-stop all day and night.

“Only about forty more minutes.”

Charlotte groans and buries her face in her hands.

“I’m so sick of driving I could just scream.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

I spot a billboard for a Flying J truck stop.

“How about we pull over for a little bit? Give you a chance to stretch your legs?”

“And get some snacks,” she adds. “Dinner feels like it was forever ago.”

The highway ramp’s newer pavement makes a smoother sound as we roll up and over it. I slow down, feeling the jeep pull ever so slightly to the side. I’m going to need to do some maintenance on the old girl when this is all over. That was one rough ride.

The truck stop lights seem brighter than they should be. It really has been a damn long day. Yet, seeing Charlotte half-walk, half-run into the truck stop lightens my load. I don’t know how else to describe it. She makes me feel like the darkness isn’t quite as oppressive.

I join her inside. We roam the aisles filled with enormous amounts of snacks. She makes a beeline for the Mexican section.

“These are my favorite,” she says, holding up packages of white wafers with some kind of filling.

“What are they?”

“Goat’s milk wafers and chocolate cream. Have you never had them before?”

“I can’t say that I have.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

She loads up a hand basket with the treats. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I dig it out, expecting it to be Jax calling me out on my shit. Instead, it’s Malloy.

“Talk to me,” I say after pushing the button.

“I’ve been checking up on our mutual friend Wyatt. I’m sorry, but there’s zero evidence he’s involved with the cult. Zip. Nothing. Nada.”

I purse my lips tightly. I am inclined to believe that Wyatt is clean, based on his goofy, drug addled behavior, but something still doesn’t feel right.

“Are you sure?”

“Gray, buddy, I was at his manor house on the night that the hack happened. Wyatt didn’t do anything but wander around talking his nonsense philosophy to anyone who would listen. I’m sorry, he’s just not your guy.”

I heave a long sigh, and rub my tired eyes.

“Thanks, Malloy. Keep me posted if anything else turns up, will you?”

“Of course.”

I end the call and find that Charlotte has moved on to the drinks section. She holds up a bottle of something pink.

“Prickly pear soda. Have you ever tried it?”

I laugh and take the bottle from her hand.

“I have a feeling that I'm about to.”

“That’s right. Resistance is futile.”

Her smile takes my breath away. It’s so hard to be this close to her, but not to be able to do anything about it. She’s my client. I’m supposed to keep her safe, not ogle her and fantasize like a lovesick teenager.

I tilt the drink back, stomach braced for the deluge of sugary sweetness. Instead, I’m pleasantly surprised by a mild, tangy flavor that cools my dry throat. She smiles and arches her brows.

“Well?”

“It’s good. In fact, it’s probably the best soft drink I’ve ever had.”

“I knew you’d like it.”

We’re getting along well now. I feel bad about getting sullen before. I always get that way when the subject of my sister comes up.

We return to the Jeep. I turn the key, and the engine struggles for a good ten seconds before turning over.

“Is everything all right?”

“Everything’s fine.”

I pat the dashboard.

“There’s life in the old girl yet.”

We pull back onto the highway. Once we leave the lights and sounds of the truck stop behind us, the darkness and lack of conversation grows oppressive. I want to say something to clear the air between us.

Charlotte is probably upset because of the way I’ve distanced myself every time the subject of my sister comes up in conversation. If I really want to make things up to her, I need to open up.

I fight down a stab of anxiety. Opening myself up isn’t something I’m used to doing. Even with the other guys at Platinum Security there exists a certain distance.

I don’t want there to be distance between Charlotte and I. Not anymore.

“My sister’s name was Sabrina. She loved tennis and roller blading and was probably way too good for this world.”

Charlotte starts, snapping her gaze onto me. She waits while I build up the courage to speak again.

“I used to be kind of a jerk to her when we were both kids. I tried to make up for it in the years that followed.”

My jaw clenches hard as I recall the time leading up to her death.

“I was deep undercover in the organization of a drug lord named Castillo. I didn’t realize they’d made me until it was too late. They set a trap for me, but I managed to keep from being killed. After that, Castillo went after my family.”

Charlotte’s hand rests on my shoulder, kneading gently.

“I am so sorry.”

“Not your fault. It’s mine. I should have known a maniac like Castillo wouldn’t rest until he had his revenge. If only I had warned my sister.”

I sigh, and briefly glance her way.

“I don’t like to talk about Sabrina. Try not to take it personally, all right?”

She smiles gently and nods her head.

“I get it. Not being able to talk about it must be a terrible burden to bear.”

I rub the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut for as long as I dare while driving. All of the sudden I’m weary. Not exactly tired. Weary, like my soul’s worn thin.

One look into her eyes and I feel bolstered, though. Charlotte’s a great listener. That’s not as easy as it may seem.

“I won’t deny that it sucks. I miss Sabrina every day. Every damn day. They say that time heals all wounds, but sometimes I think it just covers up the pain instead of healing it.”

My throat grows tight as I picture Sabrina’s face, smiling and gilded with sunlight.

“I don’t wear a white hat, Charlotte. I’ve done drastic things to get the job done. But I won’t let the Order get to you. That’s a promise.”

Charlotte purses her lips. With a snap, she undoes her seat belt.

“What are you doing?”

She slides over on the seat and wraps her arms around me, resting her head on my shoulder.

“Grayson, you’re a good man. Don’t ever forget that.”

Warmth travels from her body to my own. Charlotte's sublime softness feels amazing against me. A lot of things stir inside of me, and not just physical desire. My heart feels lifted, as if it’s just shed a ton of weight. For a moment, the pain of losing my sister seems dull and distant, like a half-remembered bad dream.

She releases me, retreating to her own seat and buckling herself back in. I glance over at Charlotte, my lips forming an inverted U. What is it about her? I’ve never been so distracted on the job before.

Charlotte bursts into laughter, which heightens my confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“You. You acted like I just grew a second head when I hugged you. How long has it been since you were hugged, Grayson?”

I chuckle, but even I can hear the anxious edge to it. Charlotte really gets under my skin.

“Ha. What kind of a ludicrous question is that?”

“It’s a simple question, that’s what kind. How long?”

I shrug and shake my head.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I keep these kinds of things on a calendar somewhere.”

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”

I roll my eyes. “Why does it matter?”

“People need human contact, Grayson. It’s a thing, look it up.”

“Right now?”

“No!”

She slaps my arm playfully.

“Obviously not while you’re driving!”

Charlotte cocks her head to the side and gives me a long, appraising stare.

“If no one’s hugged you in a long time, does that mean you haven’t had a girlfriend in a while?”

I scowl and shake my head.

“Relationships don’t exactly go with the spook job.”

A smile spreads over her face, as if she’s just won something.

“Yeah, but…you're not a spy any longer, are you?”

“That…”

I don’t know what to say. She has me cornered. Old instincts take over and I turn it around on her.

“Well, what about you? How long’s it been since you dated someone?”

Charlotte’s smile fades. Her brow furrows and her azure eyes focus on something far away.

“I’ve dated guys, sure.” She sighs, and stares up at the moon. “I had a semi-steady boyfriend back in high school. I haven’t dated much in the last few years because it’s hard to meet someone when you're famous.”

Now it’s my turn to stare incredulously.

“What?” she says when she notices my reaction.

“Wouldn’t being famous make it easier to meet people?”

“Sure, in a manner of speaking, but I don’t want to date a fan or a follower.”

“Why not?”

She purses her lips and mulls the question over for a mile or so.

“Well,” she says at length. “I guess it’s because they tend to think they know everything about me. People don’t understand the version of myself I present online isn’t exactly the same as the real me.”

I cock my brow, genuinely puzzled.

“I thought the whole point of influencers was that you’re a real person?”

Charlotte stares at me for a long moment. Then she snickers, which expands into a chest-shaking chortle.

“Are you kidding?” she says between peals of laughter. “No, influencers are essentially playing an amped up version of themselves. A character. I’m playing a role, Grayson. You really think I brush my teeth and sit there thinking about how good my toothpaste is if I’m not being paid to market it?”

“I dunno, some people are really into dental hygiene.”

She gives me a look, then realizes I’m kidding. We both laugh. It feels good, giddiness spreading through my entire core, something I haven’t felt since my sister died.

“Seriously, though,” I say as we wind down. “If you don’t want to date a fan or whatever, what’s to keep you from finding someone else famous? Another influencer or something?”

Charlotte snorts, her eyes narrowing.

“Oh, give me a break. That’s even worse than dating a fan. Most famous people are either totally fake or so full of themselves they act like they’re doing you a favor by taking you to dinner. I don’t want to date someone famous, either.”

“Then who do you want to date?”

Charlotte’s cheeks darken, and she turns her gaze out the side window.

“I don’t know. It’s not like I think about it that much. I guess…someone who wants to put in the effort.”

I scoff and shake my head.

“What?”

“Any guy who’s not willing to put in the maximum effort to get with you is a dumbass.”

Her blue eyes widen. I wonder if I’ve said too much, crossed a line, and now I can’t turn back.

I almost miss the exit to the safehouse. Tires screech as I cross three lanes of traffic. That effectively ends the conversation.

But not the tension behind it. Charlotte and I spend a few miles riding in silence, and pretending we aren’t sneaking glances at each other.

Being this close to her, the memory of her body pressed up close to my own still fresh, is almost too much to bear. I want her so bad, it’s crazy. The thought of holding her close beats against the long-standing barriers around my soul, demanding to be let in.

Soon, we’re going to be all alone. In a desolate place, with literally nobody for miles around.

Charlotte the internet superstar, and Grayson the retired spook. Doesn’t sound like a match made in heaven.

Or does it?