Page 46 of Falling Into Forever
CHAPTER12
DANTE
“You’re still here.”
I’m sitting on the steps of Saylor’s back porch with my head in my hands. It’s late, though I have no idea what time it is or how long I’ve been out here trying to make sense of a nonsensical situation.
Lifting my head so my elbows are on my thighs and my chin rests in my palm, I blow out a harsh breath through pursed lips, then look down at Grady at the bottom of the stairs.
“Yeah, I’m still here.”
He stands like an angry linebacker with one hand on his hip, the other hanging stiffly at his side, and his chest puffed out like a rooster. On second thought, the guy might just be so big that he doesn’t have to preen. He’s huge.
I don’t remember him being so pissed off all the time, though. But both times I’ve seen him now, he’s been wearing a scowl so entrenched on his face that he looks more like the leader of a biker gang than the lawyer he is—or was, maybe. I’ve never met an attorney quite like him.
I’m not sure what happened to him, but even I can tell he’s not the same man he used to be.
“Where’s Sass?” he says roughly.
Tilting my head, I study him. He’s two seconds away from ripping my head off.
“She’s sleeping.” Thankfully, once she had cried herself to sleep in my arms, she didn’t awaken when I carried her to bed.
Even if he’s been good to her, he doesn’t get access to that piece of us. I hate that he has any part of her at all, and I don’t care if it makes me sound like a petulant child or a jealous asshole.
“Ainsley said she had a rough night.” He lifts his hand to the back of his head and rubs his neck, relaxing his face a little. He’s not wearing a scowl now. No, that expression is full of concern.
Why the hell did Ainsley call him?
My jaw works back and forth, trying to keep the question in.
“Listen,” he growls, at the same time I say, “Did you need something?”
We glare at each other, neither of us willing to back down. I knew Grady a little in high school. I was closer in age to his younger brother, Harrison, but these towns are so small that everyone knows when you take a shit, when you check your mail, and when you run away. Unlike LA, there’s no hiding here.
He’s a good guy, but if he’s trying to stand in my way after everything Saylor and I’ve been through, I will ruin him.
“Goddamn drama,” he mutters under his breath before clomping up the stairs and dropping a bag to the floor before sitting next to me. I glance over my shoulder to make sure he didn’t wake up Saylor.
Eventually I face him, and he’s holding out a beer.
“Ains said you could probably use one, and after seeing your brother’s face all over the news, I assumed she was right.”
Fucking Trent just won’t give up. He and Malimar seem to be duking it out for the biggest twat award. I take the beer, but discomfort makes my shoulders tense.
“Trying to poison the competition?” I chuckle like an asshole because I’m not sure how to respond to his seemingly sincere gesture.
Is it a rule that everyone over twenty-five has to act like a dick to live in this town?
He snorts, and the sound is full of disdain. “You’re no competition. Trust me.”
That raises my hackles.
“What’s your plan?” he asks, surprising me.
“What do you mean?”
He takes a long pull of his beer, and the label catches my attention when he lowers it. “Are you drinking root beer?”
