Did the fact that Gray had confided in her that day mean that he felt safe with her in the present, when he hadn’t in the past? Was her offer to help him, her ability to come through on that offer, building a trust in him that hadn’t been there in the past?
She hadn’t meant to take his hand a bit ago. And definitely hadn’t had any thought about squeezing it. She’d moved on reflex.
From an open heart brimming with more than ten-year-old love.
She’d seen his hard-on. The way he’d been sitting, legs spread to lean forward...she’d glanced down, needing escape from the sudden depth of emotion flowing between them.
She’d seen.
Felt an instant, answering pool of warmth flooding her.
They’d both pulled back so quickly, she grabbing files, he covering his lap with his own, starting right in on business, that she’d almost convinced herself the seconds hadn’t happened.
Certainly, they shouldn’t have.
Nothing had changed between them in terms of hooking up. They weren’t right for each other.
But if through closure, she could gain a very dear, beloved, very close friend...or even just be regular friends with Grayson Bartholomew again...
Sage reached for her cell. Hit the new, temporary speed dial she’d set up on her screen. Beneath Scott and Iris.
Listened to the ringing. Again and again.
Reminded herself he’d been going to the title company straight from her office.
Opened her text app instead. Needing to connect with him right then, right there, before she talked herself back from a moment she knew was too important to lose.
I should have known. I shouldn’t have just accepted shrugs and non-answers. Please know that it wasn’t a sign of not caring.
She wanted to tell him what had prompted a response that seemed a bit careless to her all those years later.
Couldn’t explain, even to herself.
Hit Send.
Put her phone down. Reaching for her office phone to get back to work and connect with one of her most important clients, while she waited to hear back from Gray.
He could be with the title people for a while.
Her phone beeped a new text before she’d started to dial.
Setting the receiver back in its cradle, heart thumping, she picked up her cell.
Don’t, Sage. Don’t look back. Don’t start to wonder. Don’t open that door. It won’t end well.
She read the words once. Twice. Again.
Thought about pushing him, even while she knew that she’d lost that chance.
Knowing, too, that he was right, no matter what differences they resolved, or mistakes they tried to repair, in the end, nothing had changed.
And trying to prove otherwise wouldn’t end well.
On Friday afternoon, late, Gray pulled his newly purchased handheld heavy-duty tape dispenser one more time. Sealing the last of the boxes of things that were being picked up and transported to the storage bin he’d rented.
He’d been working all week, in between business meetings—driving through camera flashes as he pulled onto the property.
He wasn’t currently making headlines, but past experience told him that when the GB Animal Clinics case went to trial, any one of those photos could show up in major news sources, and on personal social media accounts, too.
