"What are you naming the bear?" Grayson asks after picking up his phone from my bedside table.
"I don't know," I answer and click my TV off. My eyes wander to my bear, sitting on the floor beside my dresser. "Do you have any suggestions?"
He smiles, a bit of mischief in his eyes. "Bartholomew."
I laugh, pushing his shoulder. "How about we compromise and go with Bart?"
"Bart," he says, testing it out. "That's perfect. I like it."
"Do you want some food now? I heard your stomach grumble at least four times throughout Finding Nemo. I thought you might say something, but then you didn't."
"I wasn't going to say anything. Not when I had you in my arms like that."
I blush and get up from my bed. "Come on, Grayson."
He frowns and grabs me by my arm, pulling me down onto his lap. I let out a yelp. "What did you just call me?"
I laugh and pull out of his grip, running toward my door. He chases after me, down the stairs, out the door, and across the lawn.
At some point, he catches up to me, grabbing my waist and pulling me down onto the grass.
"I got you," he says by my ear, breathless. Then he stares into my eyes, slowing his breathing down. "Say you're sorry."
I smile, looking up at him. "Sorry for what, Grayson?"
He tilts his head, eyes traveling to my lips. "You know for what."
I bring my hand up to his face. "I'm sorry, Gray."
He closes his eyes and smiles. "Layla," he whispers my name, giving me goosebumps all over my arms.
The sound of faint laughter travels over from the backyard of my Uncle's house. I sit up, and Grayson reluctantly pulls himself off of me.
I clear my throat. "We should ... we should join them."
I get up off the grass and dust off my clothes. Grayson silently follows behind me. I lead him to the kitchen and make him a plate with the leftovers.
No one is inside. It seems like everyone is out back.
I warm up the food in the microwave and set it in front of him on the kitchen island. "Thank you, Layla," he smiles.
I raise my hands to his head, running my fingers through his hair. I could get used to this. At the same time, the back door opens. Mom walks through.
I pull away from Grayson and return to the counter to put the food in the fridge.
"Oh, Grayson. There you are. We've been waiting for you all day."
"Here I am," he says, setting his fork down.
Hale walks in after my mom.
"He's here," Mom tells him.
"Layla, will you go outside for a while, please?" Hale asks.
I nod and begin walking to the back door.
"No." Grayson's voice stops me. "Layla can stay."
A confused look passes over my mom's face, but Hale remains impassive. Though I do notice his jaw is slightly clenched.
"Fine. If that's what you want. Did you or did you not take my gun from our bedroom closet?"
Grayson pushes his plate away, his food half eaten. "I did not."
Hale puts his hands on his hips, letting out a quick frustrated breath. "You see, the only other people who have been inside that house since it went missing are me, Macy, David, Margaret, Nate, Iris, and Layla. And you. You can see that this looks bad for you."
"Yeah," Grayson nods, getting up from the stool. "Yeah, I can see that this looks bad for me. But that doesn't mean I took it."
Hale steps closer to us in the kitchen. "So, here are your options. You either tell me the truth and return the gun to me. Or I want you gone in the morning. And if you can't leave, I'll have the police come here with a search warrant."
"Are you fucking serious?" Grayson asks, his voice calm.
"Yes. I am fucking serious."
Grayson laughs. "Fine." Then he storms off. The front door slams shut a few minutes later.
Hale turns his head around to look at my mom.
"Maybe he doesn't have it, Hale."
"Then who does? Layla? Nate? Iris?"
Mom lets out a deep breath.
"I'm ... gonna go. I still have some job searching to do."
Mom nods, crossing her arms. It feels like they have a conversation to get through, and I definitely don't want to be around to hear it.
I rush back home and up the stairs to Grayson's room. He's already packing his stuff.
"What are you doing, Grayson?" I ask from the doorway, out of breath.
"I'm leaving."
"No, please," I say, walking into his room and closing the door behind me.
He stands up straight, tossing his duffel bag onto his bed angrily. "What the fuck else am I supposed to do? Let him humiliate me by calling the police here? No fucking way. I'm done. I'm gone."
Tears threaten my eyes, and my throat burns. I don't want him to go. My chest aches at the thought of him leaving me.
He huffs and sits down on his bed. I cross the room and sit beside him, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Not right now, Layla," he says, pushing me away lightly.
I draw back and rest my hands on my thighs. "Will you please just stay the night? Just one more night? Maybe we can talk this out in the morning."
"Fine." He pauses. "I'll stay for tonight, but I'm not talking this out. I'll be gone tomorrow."
I remain seated next to him and let out a sigh of relief.
"I'm sorry," he says softly, pushing my hair out of my face.
I shake my head. "It's okay. You're allowed to want space."
"I never want space from you, okay? Even if I make it seem like I do, I don't."
"Where are you going to go?" I ask.
"Kade's. For now. For as long as Jenny and Patrick will have me."
I nod and give him a quick small hug. "Get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
— — —
When I wake up, I head straight for Grayson's room. It's early enough that he should still be sleeping, but when I open his door, I'm surprised to see his bed is empty. The bathroom door is closed, and I can hear the water running.
He said he didn't have the gun, but would it hurt if I just took a quick look?
I start with the drawers of his nightstand. Empty. I move on to his dresser, scanning each drawer and finding nothing. He hasn't even bothered to put his clothes away.
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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