Page 58 of His Build

Bass boomed from the apartment upstairs and the shrill sound of laughter tinkled down from the fire escape. Confused, Lucy checked her watch. It was one in the morning. Even though dinner at Graydon’s felt like it had been years ago, it had been only four hours since Casey dropped her off. Perfectly reasonable for her neighbor to still have people over on a weekend night. That’s what people did.

When Lucy had started hitting New York traffic heading into Manhattan, a strange uneasiness had rumbled in her belly. She thought she’d feel relief when Jewel Lakes County was finally far enough behind her. She thought she’d be able to breathe in the anonymity of the skyscrapers; at the disinterest of the people next to her as she waited at a red light. But all she felt was an empty, numb vacancy in her chest that only intensified as she’d walked up the steps to her apartment. Everything felt hard and gray.

Just like her.

But as she came down the hallway of her building, the thought of seeing Sadie warmed her. The sweetness of cozying up to her sister—the one who’d been there through every moment in her memory,didfeel like home.

“Sadie?” she called again, even as her heart sunk. Lucy was alone. Sadie was out, as she should be. Maybe she was even on a date.

Lucy dropped her bag on the table and strode over to the couch. She flopped down on her back and covered her face with her hands.

A date. Kissing. Feelings. Comfort.Need.

Even here, back in her own condo, where everything was hers, where it was decorated the way she wanted, where she normally found solace, all she could think about was Graydon Mitchell.

Graydon and the way he grinned just for her. Graydon swimming in the lake, laughing as she ran past him in her frilly bathing suit. Graydon holding her as they came together in the heat of the barn on his gorgeous property.

The ache in her heart was unbearable. She considered digging around in her cupboard to see if she still had that bottle of vodka she could mix into a drink, but she was suddenly so overwhelmed all she could do was close her eyes and sob.

21

Alfred’s lake house was a dark blot against the starry sky as Graydon stepped out of his truck.

After cleaning up the mess he’d made of his Grandmother’s chair, feeling like an ass for destroying something so special, he’d grabbed his keys and gotten in his truck. He’d driven himself here, knowing he needed to say goodbye to the place it was. Not just the most beautiful build he’d ever overseen, but the place he’d been with Lucy.

Graydon remembered the night when he had pulled back the tarp right in this very spot to see Lucy in front of him. He’d been stunned by his dumb luck. It was her, the woman from the car. He thought it was luck, anyway.

To hell with that.

The doors were in place now, installed right after the windows, and Graydon punched in the lock’s code and tromped inside, heading straight for the great room. The windows angled up in pointed towers, and outside, the stars had begun to prick the sky with light. He climbed up the stairs and peered out onto the glassy surface of the lake. The moon, low in the sky, still tinged pink at its very edges, shone out over it. Its reflection stretching across the water toward him was like a long white sword, pointed at his heart.

What the hell were you thinking, man?

He texted Chris to tell him he was appointing him to the Miyazaki job. Then he turned the phone off. He wanted to throw it through the giant windows in front of him; to see it sink into the water on the other side. He wanted to walk away—to get in his truck and drive a thousand miles from this house and the very feeling of her in its bones.

In his bones.

It’s your own fault, Graydon. Your own damn fault.

He stomped down the stairs and out the front door, the slam echoing behind him. When he started his truck up he cranked the radio as high as he could stand it. Classic rock pierced his eardrums. He didn’t even particularly like this song, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t on to hear.

He drove back to his place, the barn looming in the dark as he pulled up—the place they were together.

The place where somehow it had all gone wrong.

He turned off his engine, letting it tick into the night. The ticking seemed to slow, as if keeping pace with his heart, which still beat as if it weren’t smashed into a thousand pieces. As if the very thing that had ripped it apart years ago had come back full force. Worse, in some ways, because this time the pain was entirely his fault.

He’d let himself get close to Lucy. He’d opened his heart to her after he’d made it his personal rule never to let anyone in. Ever. He’d thought it would be okay—she was always going home, he knew that. But he didn’t know she would shut her out like that so completely, so abruptly.

What else had he expected?

And now he was paying the price.

Graydon opened the truck door, the night air cool against his skin.

What had he hoped for with Lucy? That she would drop her life in New York and come here and be with him? That he would go there to be with her?

She had shown him plainly enough that it didn’t matter. She didn’t want any part of him.

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