Page 34 of Letters of Faith
Her breath stutters as she tries to hold back her sobs, but I don’t want her to hold it back. I’m selfish—I want all her pain and happiness too.
“Let go, Georgia. I’ve got you.”
She drops her head to my shoulder, and tears soak into my sweatshirt. It’s then that I realize that I’m never going to not love this girl. I’ve tried so hard not to love her—to only see her as a friend because I know she deserves better—but I want days like this where I get to be her strength and nights like last night where I got to be a part of her happiness.
We lie there for over an hour, our limbs intertwined and her hands clutching my shirt, and when I’m sure that she has no more tears left to cry, I stand up.
“Where are you going?” she croaks, her voice ragged from her sobs.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, turning and walking out of the room to the bathroom across the hall.
Flipping on the light switch, I search through the vanity until I find what I’m looking for. Then I walk over to the bathtub and turn on the water, checking it to make sure it’s set to the right temperature. When the tub starts to fill up, I dump in the bath salts I found under the sink.
Leaving the water to run, I return to the bedroom and sweep Georgia out of the bed into my arms.
“Hey,” she protests, but I ignore her.
Tonight, I’m taking care of her.
I carry her to the bathroom and then place her on her feet.
“Stay right there,” I instruct.
Her eyes narrow at me bossing her around, but she doesn’t protest.
In a flash, I run to the kitchen, grab a candle and a lighter, and then I’m back in two seconds flat. I set the candle on the vanity, light it, and dim the lights.
“Now,” I say. “I’m going to close this door and give you some privacy. After that, you will get in that tub and soak for as long as you need. When you’re done soaking, you’re going to wash your hair because you always feel better when you wash your hair. In the meantime, I’m going to make supper because I’m sure you haven’t eaten all day. Am I right?”
Her mouth hangs open at my demands, but she nods her head anyway.
“Good.” Smirking, I drop a kiss on the top of her head and then close the door behind me.
For a long time, I’ve not felt worthy of Georgia. I still don’t, but it’s past time I start trying to be because, as she was wrapped in my arms today, I realized I couldn’t let her go.
Chapter 15
Georgia
The water is cold when I finally press my foot against the drain and step out of the bath. Wrapping a towel around me, I walk over to the door and grab the clothes Grayson set outside—an oversized t-shirt and leggings, comfort clothes.
Wiping the steam from the mirror, I study myself. My hair drips down my shoulder from where I washed it. Grayson was right. It did make me feel better. I wouldn’t have gotten out of bed today if it wasn’t for him. Things have gotten better than they were when Nate first died, but there are still days when getting up to start a shower feels too much.
Today was one of those days. I went to bed with a sense of dread sitting on my chest, and then this morning, when I woke up, it all was just too much. I could have called Grayson and told him how I felt, but I didn’t want to bother him. When he showed up, I didn’t have time to hide, not that I could—not from him.
Once my clothes are on, I wrap a towel around my head, grab my leave-in conditioner and brush, and walk out to the kitchen where Grayson is standing.
His back is to me, and he doesn’t hear me approach. It gives me a chance to study him without him noticing. He must have gone home to change while I was in the tub because he’s no longer wearing hisrunning gear. Instead, he has on gray sweats and a black hoodie. I don’t want to analyze why my heart skips a beat in my chest seeing him like this—in clothes that would make any girl drool and standing at the stove cooking.
It’s domestic—a word I’ve never used to describe him before.
Swallowing hard, I step the rest of the way into the kitchen.
“Hey,” I say.
Grayson turns his head, and I swear his smile is devastating.
“Do you feel any better?”
