Page 56 of Breaking Point (IceHawks #1)
Bella
LAYLA
taking off
I can’t stop crying
BELLA
thank god you said it first
I can’t either
I’m going to miss you like crazy
R olling my head this way and that, I link my fingers together and stretch my arms up high, surprised to feel that familiar ache in my lower back.
I only ever felt that pinch when I had buried myself in an art project and hadn’t moved.
Picking up my phone, my eyes practically bug out of my head as I note the time.
Standing quickly, my eyes rove the area for Bambi.
Maybe I should put a little bell on her so I know where she is at all times. The yard is so large and she can’t hear me call her if I need to bring her back.
But peeking over the railing, I stop short.
Sitting in the garden, with hands knee deep in mud, is Grayson. His brows are furrowed, lips pinched and back glistening with sweat. He’s working shirtless despite the plunging temperature. Bambi lies beside him, her puppy dog eyes enamored.
He’s gardening.
Something in my heart flips that he held up his end of the bargain, that he stuck to his promise. I’m not sure why he stopped, especially when I find that there’s not a hint of tension lining his body.
Like me with my art, he’s completely focused on the task at hand.
And suddenly, it’s like I’ve broken a dam.
For the first time in nearly a year, inspiration strikes, hard and fast.
I’m reaching for my drawing pad before I even realize what I’m doing. My hand grips the pencil, and in the next breath, it’s flying across the paper.
My head lifts every now and then at the pair that inspired it all.
T he sense of peace and serenity that was accompanying my body is halted as a shrill ring startles me. Leaning over, I turn the timer off on my phone that I set for the lasagna I placed in the oven.
It only felt like I set the timer five minutes ago, not forty-five.
Turning in my seat, I freeze at Grayson leaning against the sliding glass door, hair wet from a shower, his gaze set on me.
How long has he been there?
I can’t help but state the obvious. “You’re staring.”
His gravelly, rough reply has a flame igniting in my belly.
“I can’t stop.”
The confession isn’t paired with a blush like I’d expect. Instead, his eyes bore into mine as if he’s soaking up every minuscule detail of the moment.
The kiss on this very deck slams into my mind, fueling that spark of heat in my belly, and by the slight widening of his eyes, I have no doubt Grayson is remembering the same memory.
I wish someone was around so I’d have an excuse to kiss him .
His brow quirks, a knowing smirk dancing along his lips. “Burning something, Blaze?”
My eyes widen a moment before I’m leaping from my seat and rushing into the kitchen. The lasagna is slightly crisp by the time I quickly place mittens on my hands and pull it out, serving up two plates.
“I hope you’re serving one for yourself,” Grayson drawls behind me.
“Invite or not, I’m too famished to wait until I’m home to eat.” Grabbing a salad from the fridge, I add, “I’ve been drawing since I got here in the morning and haven’t looked up. Unfortunately, my body doesn’t interrupt when I’m drawing to tell me what it needs.”
Grayson’s patting Bambi, his head lowered as he casually throws out, “Maybe I should get you drawing every day if it means you’ll eat dinner with me.”
My steps falter as I’m rounding the bench. Grayson doesn’t miss a thing.
Straightening, he steps into my space, grabbing the plates from me, his fingers brushing mine and making electricity spark throughout my body. “Allow me.”
I pause, watching him trail out onto the deck, Bambi close behind him on his heels because hello, she’s a golden retriever. Once there’s food around, that’s their only loyalty.
But something’s changed within Grayson. He’s more…
I wish I could put my finger on it. Blunt isn’t the right word. Perhaps assertive?
“I thought you said you were hungry?” he calls from the deck.
Scoffing, I emerge seconds later. “Impatient today, are we?”
“On the contrary, I’m a very patient man.”
Taking a seat across from him, I pick up my fork. “You’re being cryptic, Crawford.” I bark with laughter. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you inhaled too much mulch.”
Grayson rolls his eyes, shoveling in mouthfuls of lasagna. He’s already halfway through his serving while I take my first bite. That man eats like no other. His body needs the fuel as an athlete, but knowing something and witnessing it are two separate things.
Wiping his mouth on a napkin, he leans back. “We have a home game next week. Are you able to come?”
That makes me pause. “Of course I can. It’s part of our agreement.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw.
Bambi lays her head on my lap, leaving a small trail of drool, but even that can’t distract me from the pitiful eyes she uses to beg.
“Just one,” I whisper, sliding a piece of lettuce onto the floor.
But by the way she sniffs the piece of lettuce, gingerly eating it and then flicking those little dots for eyebrows in the direction of my plate, she was hoping for some lasagna.
“We should go on another date,” Grayson suddenly declares, making me choke on my mouthful of food.
Once I find my breath again, the piece of lasagna finding the right hole to go down, I sip my water, my eyes never leaving Grayson’s as they spark with humor.
“I see I’m not the only one prone to choking,” he teases.
“At least I tried to save you. You just sat there like a buffoon smirking at me.”
Grayson throws his head back on a laugh, the cords in his neck straining.
Glowering, I snap, “What’s so funny? You want me to choke and die?”
He shakes with laughter until he finally lifts his eyes. “God no, Bella.” He clicks his tongue. “If you want to know the truth, if I got up and touched you, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Figured you’d like me right where I am with that being the case.”
My lips part.
Did he…?
He’s not even blushing. Where has this side come from?
Grayson goes on as if his sudden declaration hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. “Let me take you on a date next week when I’m home for a two-day stretch.
” He winks. “For the arrangement, of course. That’s part of the deal, isn’t it?
I get a date once a week, and it’s been nearly a week since the last one. ”
“Y-you do,” I stutter, wondering what the hell has gotten into Grayson Crawford and yet loving it all the same.
It’s as if that kiss snapped the shy man out of him and all that’s left is a cocky hockey player who knows what he wants. I should be disturbed and yet I can feel heat coiling throughout my body.
If he keeps going like this, he’ll find my lips against his by the end of the night.
Grayson stands, taking his finished plate—which, when the hell did he get the time to scoff that down while making my stomach flip?—and coming to stand above me. He bends low, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear, making me shiver.
“We have a lot of catching up to do, Blaze.”
Before I can respond he’s walking back into the kitchen, leaving me sitting out here breathless, turned on and wanting to mount him.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I’m rising, rushing for the kitchen. “Grayson, I?—”
My words die as I find him white-knuckling his plate in front of the whiteboard calendar. Tension fills his body. If I touched him, I’d be surprised if I found anything other than a rock.
“Grayson, are you all right?” I whisper, the newfound confidence to go after him vanishing at the sight.
He doesn’t hear me.
Doesn’t flinch.
I don’t think he’s even breathing.
Slowly stepping toward him, his gaze remains locked on the calendar, his eyes hard as steel. I gently take the plate from him, and I’m surprised he lets me. Placing it in the sink quickly, I turn back to ask what’s wrong, only to find him looking down at me with a mask over his face.
The sight stuns me.
The man who blushes when he flirts is as cold as ice, his expression impenetrable.
He clears his throat, and hearing how soft his voice is compared to the hardness of his body is jarring. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to go lie down for the night.”
I blink in surprise, taking a step back. “O-okay, I can?—”
“You can hang out with Bambi if you want. I’ll see you next week.”
My head is spinning as he steps past me, not giving Bambi or me so much as a second glance. The pad of his heavy feet rings throughout the house as he walks upstairs.
Next week?
I work tomorrow.
I face the whiteboard, wishing to scream at the thing. What the fuck is on it that just made that man turn into a shell of who he is? That completely eradicated the goofy, flirting man that was no doubt working up to kissing me again?
Bambi looks off in the direction he left, a whine tumbling from her.
I’m not the only one who feels it.
Something is wrong.
G rayson goes silent for two days.
No texts.
No calls.
No emails.
Nothing.
And when I go to his house to check on him and Bambi, I find he’s changed the gate code and locked me out of not only his house but his life.