Page 28 of Faith Notes
Instantly, his finger comes to a standstill, wrapping around the steering wheel into a death grip. He keeps his face forward, but his eyes slice to me before going back to the road.
There’s hurt in the way his jaw ticks, and I immediately regret snapping.
My fingers find my seat belt, unbuckling so I can scoot closer to him.
“What are you doing?” He panics, eyes going wide. “Get buckled in.”
“I’m fine, Gray,” I say, sliding over to the middle seat and strapping the seat belt under my protruding stomach. “See?”
“That hardly counts as a seat belt. You shouldn’t be sitting there.”
I place my hand on his arm, calming him. “I needed to sit here to tell you I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“It’s fine,” he says, trying to hide his hurt.
“But it’s not. You deserve to express your nerves in any way you need to, and it’s not for me to get grumpy over that.”
“I’m not nervous,” he argues.
I pointedly stare at his finger which has slowly resumed its tapping. He notices what I’m doing, and red floods into his cheeks.
“Okay. I’m nervous.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Nodding, I stay quiet, fiddling with my seat belt. If there’s one thing I know about Grayson, it’s that he talks when he’s ready. I’ve learned to let him come to me.
Two minutes of silence pass before he opens his mouth and says, “Okay, I think I want to talk about it.”
I suppress the urge to say, “I told you so.” Reaching out, I pat his arm, and he lets go of the steering wheel, wrapping it around my shoulders. With my head on his chest, I ask, “What has you so nervous?”
He’s quiet for a moment while he thinks about it. That’s another thing I’ve learned about Grayson. He likes to think about his answers before he gives them to you. Most times, it’snice because I know he’s being intentional with his words. Other times, it drives me crazy.
Staying quiet, I let him have his moment.
“I guess because I feel like I’m always going to be seen as this boy who made a lot of mistakes by the people of this town. I feel like I can never outrun that person. Sure, they acknowledge me now that we are married, but always with a healthy dose of skepticism.”
Pursing my lips, I try to think about how to word this delicately, but I just put it out there when nothing comes to mind. “Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to agree and tell you I understand how you are feeling?”
He gives me a side eye and shakes his head. “Honesty. Always.”
“I think sometimes you take that image upon yourself.”
I wince, knowing how that sounded and afraid he may take it the wrong way, but Grayson just glances over at me, his brow furrowed.
“What do you mean?”
My fingers find the hem of his shirt, and I rub the pads against the thread, suddenly nervous myself.
“I just think sometimes, when you get around people who have always known you, you see yourself as that kid, even if they don’t anymore.”
“How do you know they don’t?”
Before I can answer his question, he turns into the parking lot, and I smirk.
“I think I’ll let them answer that question for you,” I say, pointing to the crowd waiting for us outside the venue.
