Page 59 of From Coast to Coast

“Troy thinks so, too,” Grayson agrees. His voice is so soft, I can barely hear him. I want to bring the conversation back to him being asked out by that bartender. I want to tell him not to go out with anyone else, because I think I want to have him to myself. I want to tell him that the thought of him being with another man makes me feel like my chest cavity is too small to contain my heart and lungs.

“Gray, do you think?—”

“I’d better go?—”

Both of us stop and wait for the other to continue. This entire conversation feels…wrong. Like we got off on the wrong foot and haven’t found our way back. A sliver of fear lodges itself in my gut.

“We’ve got an early skate tomorrow morning, so I’d better call it a night,” he continues apologetically. I can’t tell if his tone speaks of exhaustion or sadness, but something tells me it’s the latter.Why the fuck did you tell him you didn’t care if he went out with that bartender, you damn fool?

“All right. Talk tomorrow, though, right?” I ask a little desperately.

“Sure. Talk tomorrow, Remy.”

I feel a little sick to my stomach after we hang up, gut churning uncomfortably. Maybe I should stop thinking about whether or not I’m ready for a relationship and start thinking about how it would feel if Grayson found somebody else. Would it be worth it to me, to have this time as a single man, if at the end of it, Grayson wasn’t there? My head is confused, but my heart is not.

My heart wants Grayson Brody.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Grayson

I missmy crooked house and hearing Zolkov’s snarky comments. I miss my local coffee shop and the way the barista always spelled my name with an E instead of an A. There are a surprising number of things I’m homesick for, but the worst of all is Remy Stone. And how foolish is that—missing a man who wasn’t mine while I was in Calgary, and is even less mine now.

And now, standing in front of my mirror, I miss him with a ferocity that feels like an actual physical weight on my shoulders. For the dozenth time tonight, I tell myself I shouldn’t be doing this. But I can hardly cancel less than an hour before I’m supposed to meet him at the restaurant, and it’s not like I have a very good excuse anyway.Sorry, Matt, I can’t actually go out with you because I wish you were Remy Stone—absolutely ridiculous.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I try to shake off mysour mood. I have to go because I agreed to go. One date with a stranger won’t kill me, even if it feels like a betrayal.

As though I’ve summoned him, my phone buzzes with a text message from Remy. He wants to know when I’ll be free for our phone call tonight, and I want so badly to tell him now, and then spend the night chatting with him.

Grayson

Hey, maybe 10, my time?

Remy

Why so late?? Hot date with a bartender?

Grayson

Yeah.

I stare at my phone, waiting for a reply and almost wishing he wouldn’t. When Matt had given me his number the other night, I hadn’t even entertained the thought of calling him. Why waste both of our times when I am clearly hung up on a sexy blond surfer? But then Remy had said I should go out with him, and the utter indifference in his voice had been an unwelcome wake-up call.

Our friends-with-benefits situation had been exclusive while we were in the same country, but that no longer applied with so much distance between us. Message received, loud and clear.

Even so, I hadn’t wanted to go out with Matt. I still don’t. But I can’t take another two years alone, and if Remy isn’t a long-term option, I need to try and move on. The only way to do that is to date.

Remy

You don’t have to call me if you’re busy tonight. We can catch up tomorrow.

Maybe I’m a fool, but I can’t give upallof him just yet. I like knowing I’ll hear his voice once a day, and sometimes even see his face. He feels that much closer and it’s a closeness I’m selfish enough to want to keep for a little while more. If phone calls are all he can offer right now, I’m going to squeeze all the enjoyment out of them that I can.

Grayson

I’ll call you tonight, okay? 10. I won’t be late.

I stare at the screen, waiting, but there is no indication a reply is forthcoming. It isn’t until I’m parking my car at the restaurant that my phone buzzes. I shouldn’t check it before going inside, not when I know it’s Remy, but before I can even make the conscious decision to do so, my fingers swipe open my lock screen.