Page 92 of Only for Love

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Grayson

Talk of battles and war zones before walking in wasn’t the best move. It forces me to remember my team that I lost, and then I look around at my two girls I abandoned. The stress that accompanies both lines of thought itches for attention, but I ignore it. I told Emma I had her back, and I’ll cover her always. Still, I have no idea what to expect behind that door and am prepared for the worst from Ryan and her dad.

Mrs. Kingsley opens the front door as Cally squeals and jumps into her arms. The tension in my chest expands, my nerves quickening the beat of my pulse.

“Gamma!”

“Hi, buttercup.”

“Wook!” She shoves the stuffed animal in the older but familiar face of Emma’s mom. Somehow, I always thought the two women were similar, even though her mom looks as if she walked out of a clothing catalog, and Emma is wearing a shirt she probably designed herself.

“That’s very nice.” Cally wiggles out of Mrs. Kingsley’s hold and runs inside, leaving her mom to turn toward us. “Happy birthday, Emma. Nice to see you, Grayson.”

I’m strong for Emma and controlling my apprehension, but my knees try to lock up, and my breath staggers. I know this house better than the one I grew up in. Each step farther inside is like pushing through desert sand with a seventy-five-pound rucksack and no sleep for days. My throat tightens as the heaviness of her disapproval hangs over me even though she’s done nothing but smile.

Emma’s hand slips free from mine, and I’m suddenly on my own. Fuck me. She thought I was supporting her? No way—she was holding me together.

“Hey, Mom. Thanks for doing this.”

“Of course.” Her eyes move to me. “Welcome home, Grayson.”

I can’t swallow, can’t take a breath. I nod. “Thanks.” Disappointment will be my death, abandonment my curse. Once upon a time, I wanted this woman to be my mother as much as I wanted to live in this family rather than my own. Being twenty-one doesn’t take away childhood memories. “I’m sorry.”

She moves from Emma and wraps me into a maternal hug. Tears I won’t let show sting my eyes and throat.

Her hand pats my pack. “I mean it, Grayson. I’m thrilled you’re back.”

I pull away and need her to understand. “I didn’t know. I thought I left her in a better place without me.”

She hugs me again and then again pats my back as if I’m still part of her Kingsley clan. “Alright, you two. Cally’s probably already in the cake, which I haven’t finished yet, so let’s go.”

Emma takes my hand again, and we follow her mom. My heart rate is sporadic, and my feelings are scattered. Coming home from war alone was hard. Injury made it worse. Walking into their familiar home, with all its same smells and sounds, is heartbreaking.

Cally and Cherry are screaming and laughing in a back room. Mr. Kingsley stops on his way from the kitchen with platter full of hot dogs and hamburgers. There’s a hardness in his posture that’s impossible to miss. It’s a mistrust that he doesn’t need to explain. We stare, locked for a long second, until Emma breaks free to hug him.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Happy birthday, Emma.”

After they hug, he goes back to his assessment of me. It’s awkward, the way we all are. Ems doesn’t seem to know what to say. Her mom is behind me, hovering. Finally, Mr. Kingsley nods and extends his hand. “Welcome home.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“A lot has changed.”

I gulp. “Yes, sir. It has.”

His eyes narrow a fraction, studying me. I’m not sure whether he’s going to throw me out of his house or try to kick my ass. “You plan on sticking around?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Mrs. Kingsley passes by and tucks herself against his arm. “I think we’re past all the Mr. and Mrs. stuff. Certainly no need forsir. George and Laura, okay, Grayson?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

She smiles. “Alright then. Like I said, I have a cake to finish. My helper bee yesterday wasn’t too keen on putting the icingonthe cake.”

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