Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

58. GRAYSON

58

GRAYSON

“Wait.” Hunter’s voice was low and firm, making me stop in my tracks.

I turned back around, studying my brother’s serious expression.

“I have one more question before you go.”

He took a sip of his scotch, shoving his left hand into his pocket as he watched the last light of the setting sun dip over his estate through the window.

“You said Ivy’s your girlfriend?” Hunter pivoted his head toward me, arching a brow.

A surge of warmth filled my chest at the thought of her, followed quickly by a chilling fear of losing her.

I looked down at the tendrils of liquid swirling around the ice cubes, which stubbornly refused to melt quickly. Bringing the glass to my lips, I inhaled the rich aroma of aged oak and subtle hints of vanilla, which coated my tongue with its smooth, silky texture. The initial sweetness gave way to a warm, smoky flavor that lingered in the back of my throat, and the complex blend of flavors—caramel, honey, and a touch of spice—became a welcome distraction from Hunter’s implied question.

“Evidently, I used the term too soon,” I admitted.

“Should have allowed more time to pass after you abducted her and held her hostage?”

I shot a not funny, Hunter glare at him.

“You’ve never called anyone that before.” Hunter studied my face with a blend of curiosity and, dare I say, hope.

I said nothing.

“You like her,” Hunter continued. “A lot.”

Something that felt like barbed wire wrapped around the inside of my chest.

“Maybe I shouldn’t.” I clenched my jaw, my grip tightening on the glass.

I had always prided myself on being in control, my feelings carefully guarded and managed. But with her, it was different. She had a profound effect on me, and I had lost my grip on reason and surrendered to feelings—feelings that were foreign and untested. Like a helpless balloon caught in the wind, I allowed myself to get carried away with the magnetic pull she had on my soul.

Maybe I should have held on to the string more tightly, guiding my emotions with a steady hand, because as much as I cared for Ivy, there was a reason I actively prevented a connection with another human being.

“Remember that conversation you had with me?” Hunter looked back out over the estate. “When I was holding back from Luna?”

“That feels like a lifetime ago.”

“You told me to let go of the past, to not let Dad’s murder prevent me from having a future with Luna.”

“That was different.” I swirled my ice cubes in my glass.

“Was it?” His stare intensified. “Or are you just telling yourself that because it’s easier than facing the truth? You’re letting Dad’s death stop you from having a future.”

“I dealt with my guilt.” For having not said anything about the man in the woods, but the harder thing to navigate was my anger—that a person like him hadn’t been stopped before it was too late.

“I know why you push everyone away,” Hunter said. “Why you never had friends. Never had a girlfriend. If we weren’t brothers, I’d probably never see you.”

I eyed him, silently begging him to get to the point.

“If you don’t let them in,” Hunter said, “they can’t be taken from you. Am I right?”

An ache I’d worked very freaking hard at squashing reared up in my ribs. First Dad. Then Mom.

When we were kids, everything was perfect. Better than perfect. Sundays were filled with the aroma of pancakes and maple syrup while Mom hummed along to the radio. We’d spend hours in the backyard, playing catch with Dad, and when the sun finally dipped below the horizon, Mom’s gentle hand would tuck us in at night after reading us stories of magical adventures.

And then…then different memories assaulted me like a physical blow. Dad’s lifeless face, pale and waxy in the coffin, his eyelids closed so I couldn’t look at him—really look at him—even one last time. The scent of lilies, mixing with the freshly turned earth. Us boys standing there, in our tiny little suits, staring at his coffin through blurry red eyes as it lowered into the ground.

He’ll be all alone down there. Forever, I remember thinking.

Mom’s anguished sobs, each one slicing through my innocence like a knife.

It was that moment that I realized, at any time, everything and everyone could be taken from you. The older I got, the more I understood how love was a double-edged sword—the very thing that brought you immeasurable joy could also become the source of your deepest sorrow.

I vowed to never let myself be that vulnerable again, so I built my walls, pushing everyone away that tried to break through.

Solitude became my shield against the pain of loss.

It had worked for years, until Ivy came along. She was the first woman I ever found myself leaning into our conversations, the simplicity of talking to her making me imagine how nice it might be to come home to it every night.

“Are you falling in love with her?” Hunter’s voice interrupted my thoughts.

Maybe I already have…

I didn’t answer, though. How could I have been so reckless with my heart?

And how could I calm this taming excitement?

“How do you do it?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“Let yourself go all in with someone?”

Hunter seemed to consider this.

“It was Luna,” Hunter mused. “As soon as I realized how hard I was falling for her, I tried to grab the reins and pull back. Convinced myself I had a choice in the matter. And I suppose I did. I could’ve walked away from her physically. But emotionally…” He looked down at his scotch, swirling it in his glass. “I realized I’d rather live an eternity of fear than spend one day without her.” Emotion swirled through his tone as he added, “She was bigger than my fears. And walking away from Luna would have meant losing her anyway.”

I pursed my lips.

“Ivy deserves better.” I was a stealth executioner, for crying out loud.

“Told myself the same thing about Luna, but look at us now.”

They did look happy. In fact, Hunter was happier than I had ever seen him. So was Luna. They found a way through the dark storm of suffering and agony and now stood in the light.

Was it possible Ivy and I had a chance at the same thing?

What shocked me more than asking myself that question was realizing how badly I wanted it.

“When you fell in love with Luna, I remember you called it something like poetic,” I said. “Now, I get that.”

“Why’s that?”

I paused, my voice tightening. “You’re not wrong; I’ve spent my entire life keeping people at arm’s length. I couldn’t bear the thought of falling for someone and then losing them.”

Hunter studied my face, his expression a mix of concern and understanding.

“And now, the one woman I’ve finally let myself feel something for is in mortal danger.” My fists clenched at my side, my knuckles turning white. “I’m scared, terrified, that I won’t be able to protect her, that I’ll fail her when she needs me most.”

And that she’ll be ripped from me.

Just like Dad was.

My brother paused, seeming to consider this. “You have a choice, Grayson. Letting her in makes you vulnerable. That’s the price tag of love—the risk of losing it.”

A deep sigh escaped me.

“And if I can’t?” I wondered aloud.

Hunter offered me a look of pity. “Then, you need to let her go.”

As I stared into my glass, watching the play of light on the amber liquid, I realized Hunter was right. I had a choice to make. I could continue to hide behind my walls, safe but alone. Or I could take a chance—risk the pain for the possibility of something real, something lasting. Something worth fighting for and something worth the risk of losing.

I drained the remnants of my glass in one swallow, the burn of the scotch mirroring the fire in my heart.

I knew what I had to do.