Page 170 of Really Truly Yours

Want to believe. The thing is, I’ve been wrong again and again.

“Gray.” I try to contain a sniffle that would make me sound weak. “I think maybe…maybe it isn’t you I don’t trust.” I look into eyes that hang on my words. “I can’t afford to be wrong. To get my hopes up. It hurts. Every time someone lets me down, it’s like the first time. So, I guess, maybe it’s myself I don’t trust.”

His brow lifts, as if dots just connected.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just my psychic brother striking again. That’s what he said you were feeling.”

“You two have talked about me?”

His eyes beg. “Please don’t be angry. Yes, we’ve talked about you. How could we not? I’ve been falling for you since you walked into that coffee house, swaddled in that ridiculous sweater in ninety-degree heat.”

I frown. “You have not. Don’t make stuff up, Gray.”

He straightens. “Have too. You had this little piece of hair that kept falling over your eye, and I kept wanting to see if it was as soft as it looked.”

I give him the side-eye. Yes, I know the lock of hair he’s talking about. It pesters the crud out of me some days, especially the humid ones.

He squares his entire body to mine. “Sydnee, I know your life hasn’t been easy. Mine has. Another thing I can’t change. I can’t go back and make mine miserable, and I certainly can’t say I understand the trials you’ve been through. But maybe that makes us a perfect fit. You can keep my feet on the ground, and I can lift yours up when you need it.”

I feel new tears.

“I have a lot, Sydnee, but none of it is anything without someone to love.” He walks his fingers across the slats. I allow him my hand. “And you’re that someone.”

I gulp a rising swallow. “Love.”

“Yes, love.” His fingers move to my cheek. “I love you, Sydnee Lou Carson.”

My heart thuds. No, kicks and shouts. “My middle name is not Lou.” Love?

“It is to me.” His eyes bobble.

He never stops, does he?

Would I want him to?

Another question slips through a crack in my soul. “Why me?”

He stares a long time.

Oh, no.

At long last, he sighs, full of drama, and checks his watch. “Gosh, Syd, it’s getting late and it’s cold out here, but if you must hear the entire list…”

I don’t try to fight the smile. “I might have time.”

“But you don’t have your sweater. Scoot over here, sweetheart, and I’ll keep you warm.”

Heart, be still. “Nope. I want to see the whites of your eyes.”

“Whatever.” Up to his theatrics, he makes a show of collecting his thoughts. He flourishes his arm, ready to tick items off on his fingers. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re compassionate. You give what you don’t have to take care of others.”

The beat in my chest loses its rhythm.

He skims the ends of my hair. “You’re beautiful. So. Beautiful. Nothing fake or phony. Just raw beauty that makes me, um, a little crazy when I’m around you.”

I can’t…I’m not seeing it.

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