Page 45 of Letters of Faith
This is not helping my heart rate.
I need four things I can touch. The mug in my hand is warm, taking away some of the chill in the air. That’s one. Reaching out with my other hand, I run my hand against the scruff of his jaw, letting it prickle against my skin. Grayson watches me, but I ignore him, searching for two more things. The drawstring of his hoodie is tucked into his shirt, so I move my hand down his jaw to the v in his hood, pinching the string between my fingers and yanking it out. The fabric slides against my fingers until I reach the knot at the end. Grayson’s hand covers mine, and I can feel the callouses scraping against my skin.
Why is this not working?
Three—I’m at three. I need three things I can hear. Closing my eyes, I listen as I try to ignore Grayson’s hand still on mine. Avery’s gone back to coloring, clearly satisfied with Grayson’s answer. I hear the click of the lid of a highlighter as she makes a new color choice. Brooks and Emryn’s voices weave together as they talk, blissfully unaware of the atomic bomb that’s about to explode in my chest. Grayson’s not, though, because I hear his molars grinding as he waits for me to gain control. He’s not very good with patience. We should work on that.
I’m at two. Opening my eyes, I bring my mug to my lips and take a sip, letting the aroma of the chocolate fill my nose. When I pull the mug away, I take a deep breath, and the spice of Grayson’s cologne is a sharp contrast to the sweetness of the chocolate.
One thing I can taste. I need this to work. My eyes snap back to Grayson’s lips because even though I’ve been sipping on the hot chocolate, the taste of Grayson’s kiss still lingers on my lips. It’s the only thing I can taste.
Zero—there’s nothing left to count, but I’m still struggling to breathe. I’m the flower Grayson’s talking about. Did he make Nate an actual promise, or is this one of those times that he took it upon himself—a way to still be in touch with his best friend? What does that mean for our date—and that kiss?
A thousand questions swirl through my mind, blocking everything out until both Grayson’s hands come up and bracket my face.
“Breathe, Peach. Breathe.”
At his command, it’s like the fist around my lungs loosens, and I can get air all the way to the bottom of my lungs. When I do, my surroundings come into focus. Grayson, Brooks, Emryn, and Avery are all staring at me with looks of concern on their faces. Heat flames my face.
I really am socially incompetent.
Leaning back, I pull my face from Grayson’s hands and clear my throat. “I—uh—sorry.”
If the ground could open up and swallow me whole, that’d be great.
Grayson’s back is to Emryn, and when I look at her, she dips her head towards him. There’s a sly smile on her face as she wiggles her eyebrows up and down.
I give a subtle shake of my head.
After the way this morning started, I expected chaos for the rest of the day, especially when we pulled up to find Brooks and Emryn here,but surprisingly, my heart doesn’t hurt as much as it did when I found Grayson gone and a letter from my husband in my mailbox. I’ve lived lifetimes since this morning. There are a lot of things Grayson and I still need to talk about, but one thing is for sure: lately, he’s the reason I can breathe.
______________________
“They’re gone,” Grayson says, standing in the doorway of the kitchen after he walked his brother and his family out.
I’m wiping down the countertop, and I don’t look up when he speaks. I can’t because I know what’s coming—a conversation that’s well overdue, but it will change everything. In a matter of one day, years of friendship will be laid on the line.
“Georgia,” Grayson urges.
I scrub harder. There’s a stubborn stain that won’t get the best of me.
“Peach.” This time, his voice is sharp and demanding.
Throwing the towel down on the counter, I lift my head, defiance burning in my eyes, but I’m not ready for the sight that greets me.
Grayson’s standing in the doorway, his arms stretched above his head, resting on the top of the door frame. My mouth goes dry when I catch a glimpse of the toned muscle peeking out from where his shirt doesn’t quite meet the line of his jeans.
When I don’t answer him, because—hello, I can’t—a rumble of frustration reverberates from deep in his chest. He yanks his arms from the doorframe and stalks towards me. His movements are slow—predatory. He’s the lion, and I’m the innocent prey waiting to be devoured. Except, I’m not afraid of being devoured by him. What does that say about me?
“Wait,” I squeak, raising my hand so he doesn’t come any closer because if he does, I can’t be held responsible for my actions.
He pauses, stopping a few feet away, but judging by the look on hisface, he’s not stopping for long.
“Why an orchid?” I ask.
There’s a dangerous glint in his eye as he says, “Because it’s your favorite flower. Nate’s not the only man that knew that.”
I swear my heart stops beating.
