Page 148 of The Holiday Clause

Greyson stilled, startled by her question. Setting down the thermos, he looked straight ahead and frowned. “Where did that come from? Oh, wait, let me guess. My brother.”

“This isn’t about Logan.”

“Yes, it is. He’s putting stuff in your head.”

“It would have crossed my mind eventually.”

He sighed. “He just couldn’t resist throwing that out there.”

“Well, do you?”

He stood. “I forgot napkins.”

“Greyson.”

He stilled. “For all we know, my dad’s got another ten years in him.”

But he didn’t. “Grey, you know what the reality is. The doctors said?—”

“They don’t know my dad.”

So much vulnerability flashed in his eyes, she didn’t push the subject. “Okay.” She glanced at the bowl. “What kind of soup did you?—”

“That clause has nothing to do with my feelings for you, Wren.”

Was he trying to convince her or himself? “Are you sure?”

He met her stare and a cold silence drifted through the room. Finally, he turned away and said, “Fire needs wood. I’ll be back.”

The door slammed behind him. It wasn’t total abandonment, but it also wasn’t what she’d call an affirmation. For the next hour, she listened to him chop wood by the shed, despite the piles of already cut wood stacked neatly on the porch.

His frustration didn’t scare her. What terrified her was his impulse to run away the moment she brought up something emotionally challenging. Magnus was going to die. His demise would undoubtedly stir up a lot painful feelings for his three sons, whether they were willing to face them or not.

Greyson might be willing to discuss his love for her, but how would he handle the excruciating love he harbored for his difficult dad?

CHAPTER 22

“Baby, Let’s Just Light the Fire”

Wren and Greysoncircled each other like wary predators, choosing to avoid eye contact or conversation at all costs. After an evening of aggressive wood chopping and restless home repairs, Wren spent the evening dozing on and off on Greyson’s couch. She awoke at three a.m. with a full bladder and found him snoring softly in his bed. Alone.

He’d put another blanket on her, refreshed her water, and checked the fire while she slept, but he wasn’t sleeping with her anymore. Now, it could have been due to the endless sneezing, obnoxious coughing, and stuffiness that made her snore like a lumberjack. But more likely—according to her inner critic—he was mad about the reference to his dad’s will. And when Greyson got upset, it took him years to confront his feelings and get over it.

In other words, she fucked up.

She pushed for too much from him too fast, and her desire to help him confront his father’s health might have truly crosseda line. But what if the clause in Magnus’s will was actually the catalyst to Greyson’s sudden interest in her?

This thought, and many other worries, kept her up until four a.m. That was when she decided to drive home—just before dawn.

She questioned if skipping out on him was the mature response to an argument, all the while knowing in the back of her mind it was the cowardly thing to do. But by that afternoon, when Greyson hadn’t stopped by or even texted to ask why she left, she spiraled into a whirlwind of doubts and realized—where relationships were concerned—she knew nothing at all.

She hated when her inner critic was right. But not as much as she hated that she questioned his motives. Why had she done that?

She’d been under the weather and exhausted. Logan got in her head. She should have never listened to him.

Glancing at her phone again, she suffered another wave of anxiety.

What if she’d ruined everything?