I am your daughter, a voice inside me said, but I kept that voice quiet for the time being.
“We’re going to go upstairs,” Grayson told his mom, a look passing between them.
“That might be a good idea. I’ll get you a towel.” She offered me a comforting smile as she went down the hall. She glanced over her shoulder, and our eyes met again.
Grayson rubbed a hand over my back, bringing my attention back to him. “What is going on?” he asked.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go. I didn’t know they were home,” I rushed out quickly when we were alone, wiping off my face with the end of my sleeves.
“It’s okay. Really,” he assured. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “But you deserve to know.”
His brows drew together. “Is that why you came here?” The front of his shirt was imprinted with wet spots.
“You mean instead of running to Brock?” I concluded.
His lips twitched. “That’s not what I said.”
“No, but you were thinking it.”
“Yeah, I was. It’s just I know how close you’ve become.”
I snorted. “Except he’s with Ava now.”
“This has more to do with you just being jealous over a bitch like Ava,” he said seriously. When had Grayson begun to understand me so well? “Especially when you know it is all bullshit.”
Mrs. Edwards came back with a fresh white towel in her hand. “Here you go. Grayson, why don’t you see if there is anything dry she can borrow from your sister,” she offered.
Chilled, I replied, “Thank you. I’m sorry to just show up like this,” I apologized, finally able to find my voice in front of her.
“Nonsense. Don’t you worry about that.” It was obvious she could see the hurt and bruises on my face, that I’d been through an ordeal and needed a friend.
Not just a friend—my brother.
I was embarrassed to have her see me like this, but the damage was already done.
Slipping off my drenched shoes and hoodie, I wrapped the towel around my shoulders as Grayson said, “Come on, let’s get you into something dry. Then we can talk.”
Mrs. Edwards’s gaze followed me as I trailed Grayson up the stairs as if she couldn’t take her eyes off me. But I understood the feeling well. I also wanted to just stare at her, soak up every detail of the woman who should have been my mom.
Inside Grayson’s bedroom, I toweled off my face and hair, waiting for him to return with some dry clothes for me to wear. What had I done? Was it right to come here, to bring my problems with me? The last thing I wanted to do was implode their lives.
Grayson came back holding a pile of clothes. He kicked the door shut behind him. “I didn’t know what you wanted.”
I could care less about making a fashion statement. I just wanted out of these heavy, wet clothes. “Are you mad?” I asked, unable to read Grayson’s face. Or perhaps it was his lack of attitude that threw me off.
Grayson rubbed at his jaw. “At you? No, why would I be mad?”
I could think of a dozen reasons. “For showing up here.”
“It’s not like you planned it. Besides, it’s time the truth comes out, don’t you think?”
Once again, he surprised me. “I’m not sure of anything,” I mumbled.
“How about we get you dry first,” he suggested, nodding his head toward the door behind me. “The bathroom is in there. Take your time; I need to make a call.”
“Brock?” I assumed.