Page 22 of Paths
He looks down at me while keeping his hand on the door to hold it open. “We have to talk. Everyone is worried about you.”
“How did you find me?” I need to know where I went wrong.
“It doesn’t matter.” He softens his voice in a way I know is a crock of shit. “All that matters is we found you and you’re okay. Your family misses you—I miss you, Maya. It’s time to put this behind us and come home.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I somehow find a way to strengthen my voice. Weston shifts closer, but I put my hand to his chest and push. “You’re not coming in. You need to leave.”
“Maya,” his voice tightens. “We can work this out. I thought we were until you left. Let me make it right for us. I can do that if you give me the chance.”
“Right. I’m not young, stupid, or naïve anymore.”
He can’t hide his frustration, he never could for long. Controlling his emotions isn’t his strong suit, so when the next words pass his lips, they’re harsh, abrasive, and curt, just like he’s proven to be. “This shit is getting old. It’s time to come home and get over your fit.”
My fit?
Fuck him. How dare he describe my cutting things off from him, his family, and even mine for that matter, as a fit, after what happened. But just when I was about to lose it, I hear a familiar voice. “Maya?”
Weston jerks, surprised by the voice coming from out of nowhere. He turns, dropping his arm from my door, giving me a clear view of Grady standing close. In our heated conversation, we didn’t even hear his approach. Between all the rock, gravel, and twigs lying about, it’s usually impossible to make a move without causing a ruckus.
Grady glances Weston as if he’s an animal at the zoo he’s grown bored of looking at because he’s seen him a million times. He doesn’t appear surprised to see a man standing on my porch, nor does he feel the need to explain his presence, appearing out of nowhere, and at this moment of all times.
But I don’t dwell on any of this. I’ve been found and I know what that means, it was clearly explained to me before I left. According to them, I have two choices. Conform and accept the truths that were hidden from me for years—or be considered a liability, that being worst of the consequences. But it doesn’t matter—conforming and accepting will never be an option.
I decide to create a new option for myself, that being delay the inevitable.
Looking up into Grady’s inquisitive blue eyes, I do the only thing I can think of at the moment, even though it’s a risk. I reach out to grab Grady’s hand on his good arm so as not to hurt his shoulder. The moment my skin touches his, he quickly wraps his hand around mine, and I don’t have to work hard to pull him to me. He comes willingly, but when I grasp his sweatshirt in my other fist, his eyes flare with surprise for only me to see. I don’t get to contemplate them long because I surge up on my toes, pressing my body to his firm one, and put my lips on his.
I barely have a chance to put my plan into motion when I feel a big hand in my wet hair and his strong arm round my lower back. Where I only planned on giving him a quick peck to get Weston off my doorstep, Grady has turned my intended brush of the lips into a kiss for the ages.
My back arches. As his strong arm pulls me close, and grasping my wet hair, he tips my head. I immediately open my mouth for him and he answers, his tongue dipping inside as his lips move on mine.
My body, which has reacted to Grady in so many ways the last few days, does something it’s never done. Since I’ve met this man, he’s made me nervous, excited, frustrated, and even tingle. But right now, the impossible happens. While being kissed by only the second man in my life while the first one watches—I relax.
I simply melt.
“What the fuck?”
Even Weston’s irate tone doesn’t affect me.
Grady pulls back enough to look into my eyes with his intense ones. “You okay?”
I tell him the truth, plus some, hoping he gets the message because I need him to play along to buy some time. “I am now that you’re home.”
His face doesn’t change, he gives nothing away, but I do get a squeeze before he murmurs, “Good.”
“Who are you?” Weston demands.
I get another quick kiss from Grady before he turns, but doesn’t let me go. He pulls my front into his side and I’m tucked under his good shoulder. He holds me tight, and it not only feels good, but he’s warm, and I just realized I’m freezing from standing here in the night air with hardly anything on.
Grady looks down at me and sounds bored when he tips his head toward Weston. “Who’s this guy?”
“Weston MacLachlan. Remember, I told you about him?” My heart beats rapidly, hoping this goes well enough to get Weston off my porch so I can really figure out what to do next.
“Ah.” Grady nods as if we’ve had many lengthy discussions about Weston. “You said he was a pain in the ass, now I see what you mean.”
“Get your hands off my fiancée,” Weston growls before looking at me. “Maya, what the fuck?”
My body tenses and I tell Weston what I tried to tell him for months. “I’m not your fiancée and haven’t been for more than a year now.”
