Page 126 of Unspoken Hearts
My nose flares as I exhale loudly. Hope blooms through my chest, praying that she’s right, but I can’t forget the nagging feeling deep in bones reminding me that Grayson might never forgive us. That my brother might tell her to leave.
“Why do you say that?” I ask gently.
Macie whispers so low that I almost don’t hear it over the rustle of the leaves, “You can’t help choosing who you fall for…”
Her words ring through my head as I hold onto her, cheeks heating my palms. I gaze down into her heavy eyes. She never chose to fall for me—it happened by default. Like our names were written in the stars. Drawn together by an invisible string. I can’t go a day without thinking about her, or needing her near me, as if the air is too bitter when she’s not around. She’s the one I need. The one I’ll fight for, even if someone stands in our way.
I clear my throat, searching her face as my forehead creases. Anxious thoughts try to shadow my mind, and I push them away.
“As much as I like that answer, I just hope he sees it that way too,” I murmur, my heart stinging a little, hating that I have her so close to me, yet she still feels far away.
Macie doesn’t say anything, but I can tell by her silence that she’s feeling the same way. That Grayson might never give us his blessing, and what will we do then?
Chapter thirty-six
Macie
Haveyoueverhadthe feeling that you are the centre of attention for the wrong reason? Like everyone is talking about you, and when you walk into the room, everything goes quiet and your gut tells you that something feels off?
That’s what happens when return home from sitting in the back of Reid’s ute for a few hours. He was kind enough to take me away, but my mind hasn’t stopped since this morning. I don’t think his has either. Reid went straight to his medicine as soon as he walked in, ignoring the stares of his family, but I couldn’t. I felt like a fly stuck in a spiderweb, unable to move or breathe properly.
Strolling towards Reid, who put his empty glass in the sink, my hand touches his warm back gently, silently asking him if he’s okay.
“I will be,” he murmurs, peering over his shoulder at his whispering family. “I need to shut my eyes.”
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
Blue eyes stare back into mine, but I nod slowly, telling him to rest.
My eyes drift over to the boys sitting on the couches. Aspen’s the first to stand, coming up to me with a wide smile, love hearts and stars paintedon her face. She stops in front of me. “My face is painted. And I had a toffee apple, and chocolate–”
“All right, kiddo. I think we should get you washed up,” Holden mumbles behind her.
Aspen pouts as he picks her up, taking her up the stairs. “But I like my face.”
“I do too, but you need a bath.” Holden smiles before disappearing at the top.
Swallowing, I look back over as Hazel approaches me with a gentle smile. Sawyer, Cole and Austin at least have the decency to look away this time. My nerves vibrate uncontrollably as I cross my arms over my stomach, preparing to be told off.
Hazel’s hand reaches out, touching my arm. “Why don’t we have a chat outside?”
Nodding, I follow her outside, the evening sun drenching everything in copper and plumb tones, giving us some privacy. Sitting down on the chair, my fingers tangle uncomfortably as I prepare myself for the yelling again. I hate when adults yell. I know it’s what they do when they’re angry, but I’ve always hated being on the other end.
Shutting my eyes, I wait, but instead, Hazel pulls me into an embrace. Sniffing, I fall against her, letting my arms wrap around her neck as I fight back tears stinging my eyes. I stare over her shoulder, her comfort surrounding me like the warm smell of a burning candle. It’s satisfying and loving—just how they always are with Hazel.
“How are you feeling, dear?”
And that’s all it takes for me to fall apart. Unravelling like a ribbon, I let myself cry against her. It’s becoming my new favourite thing, apparently.That, or my mind has suddenly realised that crying isn’t as weak as I originally thought.
Shoulders shaking, heart racing, cheeks drenched, I choke out under my breath, “I’m so sorry he’s gone.”
“I know.” Her tone is gentle and slightly pained.
My chest tightens as if someone is gripping it tightly.
“Grayson isn’t like the others,” she starts. I silently listen. “He always liked being in control. Never liked surprises. I don’t think he deals well with them.”
A wince escapes my throat, and Hazel pulls me closer. Face digging into her neck, the scent of cinnamon and flour fills my nose. It’s soothing.
