“Point made, Sidney.” She shakes her head. “On that note, I’m heading home.”
She doesn’t waste any time grabbing her stuff and heading to the door before something happens that I can’t handle and change my mind.
For the rest of the afternoon, I sit and watch the numbers the first day of voting brings in. I stay and make sure that nothing goes wrong with the site—no glitches or missing links or whatever else could go wrong. By the time I’m happy that we’ve had a successful launch and am ready to leave, I realize I don’t want to go home to an empty house. An empty house means I’ll end up working. Working means I’ll think of Grayson.
And Grayson is . . . who knows what Grayson is, other than a jerk for what he said to me yesterday.
Normally after a great day, Zoey and I would live it up some. Go out for drinks and a night on the town. Dance with some men, and maybe end up with one when closing time came.
I may not have Zoey by my side, and I may have no interest in taking some random guy home with me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go out and have a drink, right?
I force myself to leave, if only because I refuse to spend the night at the office doing the exact thing I’m worried I’d do alone at my house.
As I drive through downtown Sunnyville, with its rustic storefronts where the word “wine” can be seen somewhere in every window display, I realize my night on the town most definitely is not going to happen here. But I park the car under the big banner advertising the upcoming Harvest Festival and get out to walk around like the many tourists milling about. I poke my head into a few stores, buy some handmade soap, get a bouquet of flowers, and pick up a cute bracelet to send Zoey for her birthday.
A few people smile knowingly at me, as if they are asking with their eyes if the gossip column is true, but I feign that I don’t see them so I don’t have to acknowledge the question.
“Sidney!” I turn to find Cathy stepping out from the nail salon I just passed.
“Hey.”
“We need to stop meeting like this on the street.” She laughs as she glances to her freshly painted toes, which still have twisted paper towels between them so her polish doesn’t smudge. “Or else gossip around town is going to be that we’re streetwalkers.” Her eyes widen as she waits for me to get the joke, and then she laughs even louder when I just shake my head.
“Cute, but more rumors are the last thing I need.”
“Sometimes they’re good for the soul.”
Moving on . . .
“How are you?”
“I’m good. I’m good.” Someone across the street calls out to her, and she waves before turning back to me. “But not as good as you’re doing, I see.”
Yeah, I should have known better than to think she would drop it. “The newspaper.”
“The newspaper.” She nods. “You made a lot of ladies in that line awfully pissed that a newcomer snagged the last Malone and not one of us.” I opt to ignore the “newcomer” comment since she knows I did, in fact, grow up here, and her distinctive laugh sounds off. People walking by turn their heads at its cadence, and I duck my head slightly.
“I didn’t snag him. It really was just a picture taken at the right time, and—”
“Oh, honey, you don’t have to make excuses to me. This whole town is abuzz with the news.” She pats my arm. “How did you think I knew you were out here? Ol’ Patsy from the soap shop said something to Kira as she was walking by, and then Kira came into the nail salon. It’s like the grown-up game of telephone in these parts.”
“It’s comforting to know my whereabouts are being tracked so diligently,” I say teasingly as we both step back out of the middle of the sidewalk so people can pass. “I can assure you that everything was taken out of context. The hero thing. The party. The kiss.”
“At least Grayson is having some fun for a change,” she says, talking right over my explanation as if I didn’t utter a word. “He had a rough go of it when Claire left town.”
“Claire?” Wait. What? “As in Claire Hoskin, Claire?”
“Mm-hmm. Didn’t you know she’s Luke’s mother?”
“No. I didn’t.” My mind stumbles over the information. The beauty queen of Sunnyville and one of my closest friends back in high school. Claire is Luke’s mom? Claire was with Grayson? She’s the one who walked out on them?
I try to hide my shock as I look over at a group of teenagers who are sitting outside of the convenience store at the end of the street. They screech playfully, and I can almost picture us there, doing the same thing, when we were that age.
Claire. Gorgeous. Conceited . . . but couldn’t the same things have been said about me?
Realization strikes. The kind that makes your jaw fall lax and forces you to blink to make sure you’re right.
Grayson sees me as Claire. A “walks like a duck and talks like a duck” type of thing. No wonder he hates me.
When the thoughts settle, I’m left with Cathy staring at me with her brow furrowed and her smile frozen as if she just said something she shouldn’t but can’t wait to say more.
“I had no idea he was with Claire. I left Sunnyville after graduation and never looked back.”
“Yeah, it’s a long story, which the majority of us around here don’t know the half of, I’m sure. You know how money can keep lips from getting loose, don’t you?” She waves a hand my way as if the story is inconsequential. “Anyhoo, I’m sure he’ll tell you when the time’s right in your relationship.”
“I told you, we aren’t—”
“Like I said, if any man deserves a break and something more than a little mindless twisting of his sheets, it would be Grayson “Make Me Moan” Malone. First his suspension from flying at work, when we all know he’s a hero and then everything with Luke yesterday . . . The guy can sure use a little Sidney sunshine in his life.”
“What do you mean? What happened with Luke yesterday?”
“Oh my, you don’t know?”
“Don’t go clutching your pearls on me, Cathy,” I say when she lifts a hand to her chest. “What happened?”
“He was in a fight at school.”
“About?”
She looks around as if she’s about to get in trouble for talking, and the simple action has dread dropping into my stomach. “Well, someone teased him about that picture in the paper—the one of you two—and one thing led to another about his mom not wanting him, and boom, he threw the first punch.”
“Regardless of what you might think, not everything is about you, Princess.”
Grayson had been trying to tell me he wasn’t canceling because of something I had done or said. I was just too wrapped up in myself to listen.
God, maybe I am every bit as selfish as everyone keeps implying. As Grayson keeps saying without coming right out and throwing it in my face.
“Little boy is just like his father. Willing to fight for love. How does it feel having two men—Grayson and Luke—love you at the same time?”
Her words snap me from my thoughts, and I mumble some kind of generic response. Even if I refute her, she will argue with me. I take a step backward. “It was good seeing you again, Cathy, but I have to run. Drinks next time?”
“You know I’m definitely in.”
I head toward my car, my mind a confused mess.
That damn picture.
It only serves to prove my dad right. That I act before I think, without taking anyone else around me into consideration.
The heat from my dad over the photo was just another reprimand in a long line of them. It’s water off my back.
The pang of remorse I feel when it comes to Luke, though, is a whole different ballgame that I’m not sure how to process.
My actions caused him to be bullied and teased. To throw a punch in defense. He’s hurting, and it’s all because I acted in haste without thought to anyone else who might be affected.
Feeling like shit is putting it mildly.
I don’t know why I’m here.<
br />
It’s because I want to apologize to Luke.
I don’t know why I’ve sat staring at the front of his house.
It’s because I really want to see Grayson.
I don’t know why I’ve spent the last thirty minutes watching the porch swing move ever so subtly under the influence of the intermittent soft breeze. Why I keep glancing at the blue BMX bike lying on its side in the driveway or the baseball bat propped beside the front door.
Even more, I don’t know why I keep staring at the lights in the windows and wondering what’s going on inside.
I should start my car and drive away.
But I can’t.
Something happened to a little boy yesterday, and it was because of me. My dad may say I’m heartless and only think of myself, but no matter how many times I told myself to stay home, I couldn’t. And then as I told myself I was just going out for a drive to clear my mind, my hands kept turning the wheel to navigate the streets until I ended up here.
With a deep breath, I climb from the car and make my way up the front steps. The house is quiet except for the undertones of the television coming out from the open window.
I hold my breath when I knock, letting my hand fall to my side as my heart pounds in my ears and nerves jitter in my stomach.
Last time I stood on this porch, I told myself that it was just Grayson. He was just some guy from high school I hardly knew.
This time it’s so much more. This time, I get that. It’s Grayson. It’s Luke. It’s a whole different dynamic from what I’m used to.
“I got it.” The television is clicked off. The door opens.
Grayson seems shocked to see me standing on his porch. He’s in athletic pants, a plain blue T-shirt that looks like an old favorite, and a baseball hat pulled low on his brow.
He isn’t trying to be as handsome as he is, which makes him simply stunning as he stands there—irritated expression and distrustful eyes included.
“What are you doing here?”
“I heard about Luke.”
“Heard what about Luke?”
“The fight. The picture. The—”
“Goddamn small-town bullshit,” he mutters under his breath.
“Is it true?
He glances over his shoulder before crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging. “What does that have to do with you?”
I open my mouth to say everything and then stop myself. That’s exactly what he expects me to say. That’s exactly who he has painted me to be.
I try again.
“I heard it started because—”
“And like I said yesterday, the world doesn’t revolve around you.” A shift of his feet. A huff of a sigh. Impatience that radiates off him.
“I know it doesn’t.” His snort is one of complete derision. It’s one that I deserve, but I’m here trying to make things right, and the sound frustrates me. “Just once, can you be nice to me? Why is that so hard for you?”
“You tell me why I should be?” Grayson gets the words out seconds before I see something fly by my head. I yelp and flinch.
“Nerf wars!” Luke shouts at the top of his lungs before another foam dart hits me squarely in the chest.
“Luke!” Grayson warns just as he skids to a stop beside his dad. His left eye is a bluish-purplish color, and there’s a scratch on his cheek that makes me feel horrible, but the smile on his face widens when he recognizes me. “Miss Sidney? Why are you here? Are you here to go on a date with my dad?”
I sputter out a laugh that sounds like I’m choking on air and shake my head violently, more than shocked by his question.
“No. I’m not here to go on a date with your dad.” I glance to Grayson, who’s standing beside his son. His eyes are narrowed, and I know he’s trying to figure out what I’m really doing here.
Get in line, because I don’t know what I’m doing here, either.
“In fact, I came to see you.”
Both of them jerk ever so slightly in response. “You did?” Luke asks.
“Yep. I had kind of a weird day, and I thought you might be able to help cheer me up.”
“Why was it weird?” He angles his head to the side. I keep my eyes on his, not looking over to Grayson, because I don’t want to see his response.
“Just work stuff. What about you? It seems to me you got into a fight with a Creeper.” Thank God for the conversation between a mom and her little boy in the soap store earlier, otherwise I would have no idea what a Creeper even was.
His eyes widen and then narrow. “You play Minecraft?”
“No.” I laugh. “But I know Creepers can be pretty vicious. So, who won? You or the Creeper?”
“Well . . . uh . . .”
“I bet it was a hard fight, but that you were victorious.” I resist the urge to reach out and touch him and then am startled by the want to.
“Can we help you?” Grayson places his hand protectively on Luke’s shoulder as he speaks. The warning to leave is loud and clear.
I look at him, see the confusion in his expression, and can only hope he doesn’t see how hard I’m working at talking to a little boy when I have zero to no experience in doing so.
“Dad, she came to see me.” Luke rolls his eyes and reaches out to grab my hand. It takes everything I have not to think of the millions of germs on his little fingers and let him take hold of it. “Let me show you my Minecraft collection.”
“Luke, I don’t think Sidney really cares about your Minecraft figures.” Grayson grabs on to my opposite arm and holds me steady in the doorway. His eyes search mine, demanding answers as to why I’m here and telling me I’m not welcome, all in the same look. “Give us a sec, bud. She’ll be right in,” he says to Luke but never takes his eyes off me.
“’Kay.”
The minute Luke’s feet pound on the stairs, I try to yank my arm from Grayson’s grip, but he just holds tighter and pulls me in to him. “Don’t think for one second that I’ll let you use my son to get to me,” he says, voice near a growl.
I should have a witty comeback. I should tell him to go to hell and that I’m not here to manipulate anyone . . . but, for that split second, with the mint of his breath in my face and his hard, lean body against mine, my synapses misfire. My words falter.
“I—Cathy Clementine told me about the fight. That it was started because of the picture. I didn’t mean for him to see—”
“He doesn’t know it was you in the picture.” He spits the words out almost as if they are a challenge. Will I bail now that I know Luke doesn’t know it was me, or am I still going to stick around?
“Oh.”
“Exactly. Oh.” His fingers dig deeper into my arm. “Since your conscience is clear, you can take off the jeans and tank top you wore to let me know you’re just like us,” he says with sarcasm dripping from every word, “put back on your skirt and red-soled shoes, and stop pretending you care.”
“That isn’t fair,” I argue and hate that he saw right through me. The attempt to dress down and not be so . . . Sidney.
“You and your fair bullshit. I’ll tell you the same thing I said before. No one said life’s fair.”
“I promised him I’d see his Minecraft—”
“Like you really care.”
“It doesn’t matter if I care or not, Grayson.” I grit the words out. “It only matters if he thinks I do, so—”
“Miss Sidney, are you ready to see all of them? There are tons,” Luke calls from behind Grayson, and his words are followed by the distinct sound of things being dumped all over what I can presume is the table.
I look at Grayson and shrug as I step past him and into the living room. At first glance, I’m surprised by how put together the house is. I know that sounds stupid, but maybe I expected a single dad to have a house that’s a mess, with clutter everywhere. Grayson’s house is the exact opposite. It’s dark wood with blues and grays. There’s a television on one wall and an inset den across from it with shelves lined with bo
oks. The kitchen is small but homey, a butcher-block island in its center. Luke is sitting at the dining room table and has a heap of miniature figures in front of him.
I take the seat next to him, my grin matching his as I say, “I have no clue what any of those are, but I have a feeling you’re about to teach me.”
And he does. For the next hour, Luke goes through each character, explaining their significance in the game. Figure after figure. There are so many that I wouldn’t even be able to remember the names if I tried (like I would want to), and yet, his nonstop enthusiastic chatter tells me whoever designed this game hit the nail on the head marketing to their demographic.
Grayson sits in a chair across the room, alternating between his iPad and a magazine. I catch him staring at us every so often, and I know he’s quietly enjoying this display of my complete incompetence with Luke. I forget the characters’ names immediately. I use the wrong terminology, which earns me Luke’s exasperated but secretly-happy-he-has-an-audience sighs. Regardless of my flaws in knowing how to relate to him, there is something about this little boy that captivates me. Maybe it’s his willingness to listen or his eagerness to share. Maybe it’s the subtle way he asks every so often if I’m sure I’m not here for his dad. Maybe it’s that shy little smile he gives me as he bumps his shoulder against mine when he shows me a character he deems as “really cool” that has me actually enjoying my time with him.
“C’mon, Luke-ster. That’s long enough. It’s time for bed.” Luke’s protests fill the room as Grayson rises from his chair and takes a few steps toward us. He meets my gaze, and I hate that I can’t read what his says, but it definitely says something.
“Aw, Dad. But I don’t have to go to school tomorrow. Can’t I stay up a little later?” Luke walks the few steps to face his dad, and I smile because they both have the same stance as they stare each other down.
“You don’t have to go to school tomorrow because you can’t. You were suspended for getting into a fight.”