Page 63 of Letters of Faith
He acts like he didn’t notice my head hitting his chin at full force because he continues to talk. “It was an accident. Now sit back, and let me tell you the rest of the story. Watch where you’re throwing your head, too.”
His fingers wrap around the top of my arm and tug me towards him. I go willingly, but all my nerves are on edge. I still don’t believe that Grayson’s worth is equal to the mistakes of a teenager, but I can’t say I’m not shocked. This is the first time I’ve heard about this particular mistake. When the gazebo burnt down, many people in town accused Grayson, but nothing ever came from it. I just assumed they had been wrong and moved on. Besides, I thought he would have told Nate and me if it had been him, but I guess I was wrong on both accounts.
“Okay,” I say, settling back into his chest. “I’m ready now. I was just a little surprised before.”
He makes a sound of amusement in his throat before he continues. “Think really hard. Do you remember what else happened the night that the gazebo burned down?”
My brows dip together as I do what he asks. Then it hits me—that was the night Nate and I had our first date, but I don’t see how they are connected.
“It was my first date with Nate that night,” I supply.
He nods. “It was. By the time Nate asked you out, I had already decided that I would never be good enough for you, but my best friend was. I was happy for him—for you—but I also felt like I was mourning you guys a little bit. Our friendship dynamic wasn’t going to be the same anymore, and I hated change—”
Shifting, I look up at him. “Why didn’t you tell us you felt that way?”
“Because I was just as invested in your relationship working as youguys. If you and Nate didn’t work out, I wouldn’t have let you fall in love with another guy. I would have been selfish and never let you go.”
I can’t decide how that makes me feel because, on the one hand, I had Nate, and I would never trade my time with him, but it makes me so unbelievably sad for Grayson.
“Anyway,” he continues, barreling on through to his story. “That night, while you guys were on your date, I snuck out and went to the gazebo. I was eighteen, so I stopped and bought a pack of cigarettes to take with me. It was the first and last time I ever tried them. It was one of the worst experiences in my life. I guess I didn’t put the cigarette out all the way because before I knew it, the gazebo was burnt down, and the town was pointing fingers at me.”
“Okay, so it was an accident,” I say slowly. “I’m not understanding how this connects to the sermon, though, Grayson.”
“Even though the town couldn’t prove that I was the one to burn it down, I still get judgmental stares everywhere I go—even though I used my first big check from my company to build it back. Well—I guess they don’t know that I was the one who rebuilt it either because I donated the money anonymously. They were quick to assume that I was the one to burn it down, but no one would ever guess that I was the one to build it back. And I think that sums up my life: I’m always the bad, but never the good. Lately, though, I don’t feel so much like the mistake anymore, and the sermon today felt like a reminder of that. It was nice.”
Tracing my fingers along his jaw, I say, “I’m sorry life has been so hard for you, Grayson, and maybe it’s not any consolation—but you’ve always been good to me.”
He drops a kiss onto my lips. It’s sweet and healing and warm—all the things that Grayson can’t see about himself wrapped up in a small, intimate gesture.
When he pulls back, I can tell he’s done talking about it. He changesdirections, and I let him because I can tell he needs it. He’s not used to talking about himself, so I’m grateful for the pieces he’s willing to give me.
“What about you?” he asks. “This was your task from Nate. How did you feel about the sermon?”
I consider for a moment what he’s asking me.
“If you had asked me a year ago if I thought anything good would come out of the storm of losing Nate, I would have told you absolutely not, but now—I can see how God was leading me towards something I never expected.”
“Oh, yeah?” Grayson asks. “What’s that?”
“You, Gray. He was leading me to you.”
______________________
The pelting of rain against the tin roof wakes me up. After our heart-to-heart, Grayson and I watched a movie—a rom-com to lighten the heavy mood between us. We must have fallen asleep, though, because when I look through the window, the sky is turning pink as the sun starts to set.
My head is on Grayson’s leg, and his breathing is deep and rhythmic. When I roll over to look at him, he stirs for a minute before going back to sleep. He’s sitting straight up on the couch with his head tilted back against the cushion—no signs of his usual grumpiness marring his face. He looks peaceful.
“I can feel you staring at me,” he says, keeping his head tilted back with his eyes closed.
“I can’t help it,” I say, laughing. “You’re just so pretty.”
He pops one eye open to glare at me. “Men are not pretty.”
Biting my lip to hide my smile, I can’t help but tease him a little. “Oh, you’re definitely pretty.”
I start to jump up, but he’s quicker, grabbing me and lifting me until his arms are wrapped around me like a steel cage. My back is pressedto his chest, and his lips hover over my ear.
“Tell me how handsome and manly you think I am,” he teases, whispering into my ear. Turning my head, I stick my tongue out at him, refusing to give in, but when his finger starts to dig into my ribs, tickling me, I give in.
