Page 119 of Things I Wish I Said
Victoria hums in response. “The thanks all go to him. I might have been the one to give it my stamp of approval, but he’s the one who agreed to it. I’m not sure we would’ve been able to grant it otherwise.”
“I’ve actually been trying to figure out why he did.”
“I suppose that’s his story to tell,” she says with a sad smile. “But I will say that taking on your wish was no small feat for him . . . after everything.”
I frown, having no idea what she’s referring to. I’m half tempted to ask, but I don’t want her to think I’m nosey. That, and part of me feels like maybe Grayson should’ve already told me.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I let him off the hook so easily.” Her blue eyes find mine over the rim of her mug.
“After how freaked out Grayson was about facing you, yeah, I kind of am.”
“It’s because I knew I’d get more information from you than him. He filters everything he says around me, especially when it comes from a place of worry. So, tell me, who gave my son a black eye and a wound that looks like it could’ve used stitches?”
I flinch, my guilt at not taking him to the hospital returning like the swing of a pendulum.
Ultimately, my allegiance lies with Grayson, but that does little to abate my fears he’s not yet done with Dustin. I knowhe says he has everything under control, but I’m not sure I believe him. Once the dust settles and the bruises fade, he might reconsider if he’s desperate enough.
A sigh escapes my parted lips, before I blurt, “It was Dustin. I only met him once by accident, so I don’t know much about him, but he sort of . . . ran Grayson off the road, and he hit a tree.”
Victoria gasps, her hands curling into fists. “I told him to stay away from that boy.” She shakes her head, her voice thick. “I knew it was only a matter of time before he got hurt.”
“He says he’s done with him now.”
“I hope you’re right.” She sags like a deflated balloon, clinging to her steaming coffee cup. “Tell me, how bad was it?”
When I say nothing, she asks, “Did he almost kill him?”
“It was bad,” I say, hesitating to tell her how bad.
In truth, Grayson is lucky to be alive.
Her gaze drifts past me, focusing on something in the distance when she says, “Ever since his father died, he hasn’t been the same. Seems now he’s intent on getting himself killed.”
“His father . . .?”
If she notices my questioning tone, she doesn’t show it. She continues to stare straight ahead, lost in thought. “I’ve stood by and watched him slowly try to destroy the one thing he loves while destroying himself in the process, and I feel like I’m powerless to stop it. I can’t get through to him. Then again, maybe this is all my fault. Maybe if I’d handled thingsbetter . . .”
She sighs and sets her mug of tea down on the coffee table in front of her, looking me in the eyes. “I withdrew after Antonio died, when he needed me most. And we . . . we weren’t as forthcoming with how long he had left when Grayson asked. We didn’t want him counting down the days, waiting . . .”
She scrubs a hand over her face while my stomach somersaults to my feet.
Grayson’s father is dead. His parents didn’t split like I assumed.
“Oh. I-I didn’t know,” I say, unable to hide my ignorance any longer. If I can feel the shock on my face, I’m sure she can see it.
“He didn’t tell you?” Her brows rise as I shake my head.
She chuffs. “Why am I not surprised? He won’t talk about it—about him.”
“What happened?”
She stares at me for a moment, and I get the sense she’s hesitant to tell me.
A beat of silence passes before she clears her throat and says, “It was a year ago in May. Cancer.”
My heart stops. That single word. The same one radiating inside my chest like the beat of a gong.
Cancer.
