His Sweet Revenge

Chapter 33.

Maybe he doesn't have it.

I quickly take a snoop through one of his duffel bags and stop. In the corner, by a bunched-up T-shirt, sits a gun. I pull it out with shaky hands. It's heavier than I would have expected it to be. Oh my god. He lied.

"What the fuck, Layla?"

I immediately look up to find Grayson standing in the doorway of his bathroom, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants sitting low on his hips, water running down his torso, glaring at me.

"Hale was right. You lied."

"So you decided to come into my room and invade my privacy? What the hell is wrong with you?"

My hands are still shaking. "Why did you lie? Why do you have this, Grayson?"

The look in his eyes changes, giving me goosebumps. "You don't know anything, Layla."

I know. I know I shouldn't be staring at his body, but oh my god.

He's slowly walking over to me. "It's not Hale's."

I notice his expression and immediately get up from the floor and walk in the opposite direction. He follows me. "Then whose is it?" I ask, slowly backing away from him.

He smiles slightly. "You're afraid."

"That's not fucking funny." I feel the wall press into my back, and I know I have no way out of this now.

He's in front of me now, looking down at me as water drips from his wet hair. "You know the answer, so why are you asking?"

"It's yours."

"It's mine."

"That's illegal, Grayson. You're not even twenty-one yet. I mean ... how did you even get this?"

He pulls the gun out of my shaking hand. "Don't worry about it."

A sudden surge of anger passes through me, and I push his chest. "Fuck you!" I am sick and tired of him telling me not to worry.

I worry. I worry about his safety. I worry about who he will run into every time he leaves the house. I worry about him. I worry about him so much, and it hurts that he doesn't see that.

"It's for you."

"What?" I ask, shocked.

He lets out an aggravated breath. "This gun I have. It's for you. To keep you safe."

"Why?" My voice barely comes out.

He laughs. "Why?"

A knock on the door startles me, making me jump. Grayson strides over to his bag and stuffs the gun deep inside, zipping it closed. The door creaks open, and Grandma stands there, puzzled.

"Is everything okay?"

I clear my throat. "It's fine, Grandma. Please go."

"No. You stay. I'm going," Grayson says, throwing a shirt over his body. "I should have left last night," he mumbles.

Grandma hesitates as Grayson throws his bag over his shoulder, but she leaves us alone again.

"Grayson, wait, I'm sorry. Can we please talk about this?"

He walks across the room with swift, long strides. I hold onto his arm as he walks past me.

"Let me go."

I chew on my cheek before speaking. "Don't you think you owe me an explanation?"

"I don't owe you shit, Layla. Let me go."

I know he's mad. I know I shouldn't have invaded his privacy. I know that what I did was wrong. But don't I also deserve to know the truth? He says this gun is for me, to protect me. Why would I need protection? Who do I need protection from?

Grayson eases slightly, seeing all the thoughts flashing behind my eyes. "Things are fucked right now."

I swallow. "If you don't have Hale's gun, who does?"

"I don't know."

"If you leave ...?" I can't even get myself to ask the question.

Grayson's gaze softens. "Hey, I'm going to take care of you, alright? I'll keep you safe, I promise. But I'm backed into a corner here. Hale left me no choice."

I nod and let him go. "Okay."

"Call me if you need me, okay?"

I nod again, trying to fight an unexpected flow of tears back.

"Bye, Layla."

Grayson leaves, and I'm left alone in the silence of his bedroom. "Bye, Gray," I whisper to myself.

-

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