Page 25 of Safe (King’s Heart #1)

Landon

I killed that conversation as soon as I could.

I never really felt good or bad about Mr. Nate back then—he was always just kind of there.

Every so often he’d ask me if I wanted to see his rare coin collection.

Each time I said no and looked at him like a fucking maniac because, no, my ten-year-old self didn’t want to look at his old-ass coins.

Other than that, we didn’t interact much.

But when I looked over in the locker room and saw Grant and him speaking, something called for me to interrupt them.

Grant was standing completely still, almost like someone had put him on pause, but the rest of the world was moving normally. His eyes were wide and… scared. It didn’t sit well with me.

So, I just stepped in between them. I’m not sure why, but I couldn’t let him talk to Grant.

And then I felt his little touch—a ghost of one, really—but it told me everything. All the things I knew Grant would never say out loud.

Keep going.

I need this.

So I did, scrambling my brain to talk about anything related to his uncle’s house.

By the time I was done and turned around, Grant was gone.

I got dressed quickly, needing to get back to the room to… I don’t know, honestly.

Even now, as I stand in front of my door, I’m unsure of what I’m going to walk in on. Is he going to thank me? Is he going to attack me again? Is he going to ignore me and pretend like nothing happened?

Swiping my card, I open the door and walk in.

I stand by the entrance, looking for signs of life, but I don’t immediately see or hear him.

The room is mostly dark and still. I lean in and tune my ears to the silence.

A faint sound drifts from the bathroom.

The door is slightly ajar, spilling light on the floor, carving my path as I inch toward it.

I knock softly. “Grant?”

There’s no answer, but now that I’m closer, I can hear the sound more clearly. It’s Grant. He’s talking. But it’s low and mumbled enough that I can’t quite make out what he’s saying.

I speak a little louder this time. “Grant. Listen, I’m coming in. I’m just gonna check on you.”

I push the door open and see him. He’s pacing in front of the toilet. It’s not a particularly big space, but he makes the trek with furious steps.

“Grant?” I try again, but he still hasn’t noticed me. He’s in a trance. He goes back and forth, periodically bringing his hands up to his face and then slamming them back down, flexing his hand with the barbed wire tattoo against his thigh.

I take a tentative step toward him and wait. But he doesn’t acknowledge me. He’s so lost in whatever is happening. And now that I’m near him, I can understand what he’s murmuring to himself.

“You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe. You’re safe.”

Repeating. Forever and ever. Each syllable a desperate sound.

I take another step, reaching my hand out and gently touching his arm when his pacing passes me again.

He startles, looking down at the contact and then around the room like he forgot where he was.

“Grant,” I say quietly again.

He looks over at me, and that’s when I realize he’s crying.

I don’t know if I’m tired or hallucinating, but his tears look like they fucking sparkle. A glittering image against his rough, despondent face.

“It’s okay,” I tell him.

He shakes his head, making his sadness even more prismatic when it bounces off the light. “It’s not. I’m not—I need?—”

I cut him off, slowly raising my hands and placing them on his face, staring intently into his eyes. “You’re safe.”

More tears spill out of his eyes. Diamonds running down his cheeks. He looks back at me, those bright green eyes breaking everything down in me. Making me forget how terrible he’s been. Making me feel sad for him.

“Please,” he whispers for the second time to me, but this time, it unlocks something inside of me. A beast. A protector. I will unpack later how fucked I am for wanting to protect my bully.

“What do you need, Grant?” I ask quietly.

He stays silent, slowly leaning in until his lips are mere millimeters away from mine.

“I want you to make it stop,” he says, his breath fanning against my mouth with each word.

“Make what?—”

He moves the rest of the way, stealing my last word and swallowing it as he grabs ahold of my head and kisses me.