Page 125 of Piggy

Thump.Bump.

“What’s that?” I ask, startled by the noise.

“Your surprise.” Grayson leans over the bed of the truck and retrieves a small, wiggly creature.

A pig.

A baby pig.

Wee! Wee!

He hands it to me.

My mouth opens. “Oh my gosh! He’s squealing!”

Grayson chuckles low in his throat, a rare and handsome sound. “Left outside the slaughterhouse in a box. Too small for bacon. Just loud. Cute. Scrappy.”

His eyes soften as I cradle it.

“Reminded me of you.”

For a moment, I melt. But then Ashleigh’s elbow finds my ribs. She leans in and whispers under her breath, “He just compared you to a farm animal.”

Grayson doesn’t even glance at her.

“Look, if you don’t want him,” he says, brushing the piglet’s black fur, “I’ll find another home. Figured you missed taking care of Atticus.”

My heart stings.

“No! I—”

But I trail off.

Because I’m not sure. And that’s the worst part.

Grayson watches me carefully, then returns the piglet to the crate with a gentleness that makes me ache. The gentleness he only shows me.

Abruptly, his hand pinches a lock of my sleek blonde hair, giving it a firm tug. The wig clips pull at my roots painfully.

“What the fuck is this?” he growls.

Shoot!I forgot I was wearing it. I always hide it in my bag before Grayson picks me up.

“Uh. It’s just something Keysha let me borrow.”

His face darkens. “I told you to wear it natural. Who the fuck are you trying to impress? This tattooed soy boy?”

He points at Matt, who looks a bit lost by Grayson’s aggressiveness, making him take the slightest step back.

But Ashleigh, on the other hand, laughs sharply. “Told her? Charlotte, hetold younot to wear a damn wig? This man’s a controlling psycho. Say it. Out loud. Come on!”

Grayson’s fists curl. He still won’t look at her, won’t dignify her, but the fury simmering under his skin radiates off him in waves. I feel it, just like I can feel his soul in our most special moments. Why does this have to besohard? Why can’t he be... a little less... Grayson?

He lifts my chin with one knuckle, hard and demanding.

“Controlling psycho, huh?” he murmurs. “That what you think, Piggy?”

I choke on my breath.