His Sweet Revenge

Chapter 28.

Dear Grayson,

I sometimes dream about revenge.

It's so interesting how you like the darkness of the night. Fascinating, truly. I've found to like that about you. And I am intrigued by your appeal for it.

Be alert. I'm always watching you. And remember, everything comes with a price, even this so-called revenge.

I see the scrawled words in my sleep all night and even have nightmares about the whole thing. Flash, the raccoon. Flash, the note with the bloodstain on it. Flash, the cop cars, and the six police officers. What the hell does it all mean?

I wake up in a cold sweat. The clock on my bedside table reads six-thirty-two.

The water in my shower is cold, and I can't be bothered to turn the handle to make the stream warmer. I step out onto the shower rug, dry myself off, and put my beach clothes on. Although, I don't think I'll even end up swimming. I slip shorts over my bikini bottoms and throw on a button-up.

I'm doing up the buttons of my shirt as I head downstairs. I set my beach bag with all my essentials by the front door and walk to the kitchen. It already smells like Grandma is cooking breakfast.

"Morning, Layla. Would you like some bacon and eggs?" She asks, standing in front of the stove with a pan in her hand.

I want to gag at the thought of food, especially if it came from an animal. "No, thanks. I'm not hungry."

Grayson enters the kitchen with Hale hot on his heels. "I was trying to talk to you. What the hell happened to your face? Are you getting into fights?"

Mom walks in a few seconds later and shoots me a look. Grayson has his back turned to us, standing in front of the coffee machine.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Don't. Don't do that. I'm not stupid, Grayson, and I don't like it when you treat me like I am."

I feel like we're intruding on an argument right now. Mom starts to pack her beach bag, but I know she's listening intently.

Grayson turns around to look at his uncle. "I'm not getting into fights. You can relax."

Hale looks unimpressed with that answer. "Then what the hell happened to your face?"

Grayson shrugs, sipping from his coffee mug. His hair is tousled from sleeping. He looks adorable, and I really should stop looking at him.  "I fell."

Hale laughs, but it's humorless. "Really? Did a grizzly bear break your fall?"

Grandpa and Nate walk into the kitchen, dressed and ready to go.

"We should hit the road," Nate says.

Grandpa eyes Grayson. "Why are you not dressed, Gray?"

"Because my fucking uncle hasn't given me a minute alone since I opened my eyes this morning."

"Grayson." Hale's voice is more stern than I've ever heard it. That only makes the look of anger on Grayson's face worse. "Watch yourself right now."

Grayson sets the coffee mug down roughly, drops of coffee splashing onto the counter. "Stop pretending like you care about me and leave me the fuck alone," he says before storming away. I watch his back as he leaves, his shoulders slightly tense.

Hale lets out a long breath. "Sorry," he says into the room.

"Don't be sorry," Mom says, walking over to him and rubbing his shoulder. "If anyone should be sorry, it's Grayson."