Grayson's Vow
Page 70
"After searching through Dad's files, Walter found a map of the maze—of course, I only learned this years later—and gave it to Grayson. Grayson must have been seven or eight. He told him, 'You study this. Go in during the day and learn every single turn, every nook and cranny, and when your father walks you inside, you'll be the one in control. Make sure your father doesn't find out, but know the maze like the back of your hand. Then there will be no fear.' Well, that's just what Gray did." He smiled, suddenly, the shadows fleeing from his handsome face, and I couldn't help smiling, too. Walter. God bless, Walter. "Later, when my dad brought me inside, Grayson snuck in from the back, found me, and led me out without our dad knowing. He'd stay hidden in the maze until we'd gone inside, and then he'd sneak inside, too. I never knew the fear he did because he rescued me. I only knew those brief moments before he came. And, God," his voice broke slightly, but he cleared his throat, "there's nothing on earth like the feel of someone who loves you grasping your hand in the dark when you're lost and afraid."
Bleak heartbreak overwhelmed me. That poor little boy. I didn't know what to say, was at a total loss of words, a lump the size of an orange blocking my throat. No wonder Grayson hated the maze—it had served as a massive torture chamber for him.
"My brother did that for me in a hundred different ways over the years—found me in the dark and grasped my hand."
"Then why?" I whispered, blinking back tears.
Shane turned his head to look at me. "Why Vanessa?" he asked.
I nodded, biting my lip. "Please tell me, Shane. I'm trying to understand. I'm just trying to understand and maybe if I do, in some way, I can help."
He sighed. "Because, all my life, I've loved her." He paused, smiling a small, sad smile. "We grew up together, you know, the three of us. Grayson never seemed to notice her the way I did." He squinted off into space for a moment, probably remembering specific events. "But then he asked her out first, and I thought maybe he'd just been hiding his feelings, and so I . . . stepped back, when I would have thrown my hat in the ring, so to speak. I would have bared my heart, had it been anyone else. But I couldn't. He had always gotten the short end of the stick and had sacrificed for me over and over again. How could I not do the same for him? And so . . . I loved her, but I let her go without ever saying a word."
I pressed my lips together, sadness moving through me as I stared out at the blue sky. "But then he went away . . ."
"Yes," he said softly. "You must think I'm such an awful person."
"No. I'm not your judge," I said softly.
Shane sighed, running his hand through his hair.
I didn't ask him any more. I knew he wanted to explain the rest to his brother, first. But I thought I had a little bit of a better understanding of the situation, from both perspectives. I only wondered how Vanessa felt about Grayson now. What a mess. A mess I needed to step back from and let them figure out, especially in light of my own realizations about where my heart lay. I had been right. There was no place for me in this. And maybe Grayson had been right, too. Perhaps none of it was really my business at all. Sitting there, I felt suddenly lonelier than I'd ever felt before.
"He told me about your mother—his stepmother—that she never accepted him," I said softly.
Shane blew out a breath. "No, she hated him. She hated what he represented. She considered her life perfect before Grayson's mother showed up on her doorstep. I hadn’t even been born at the time, but I heard her remind him enough over the years. And our father . . . he wasn't the most nurturing of fathers anyway, even to me, but he treated Grayson especially coldly as a way to send the message to my mother that he recognized his mistake. There was no atoning for it in her eyes, though. Not that that was the proper way to do it anyway." Shane suddenly turned his head toward me. "I'm surprised he told you anything about that, actually. I've never known him to talk about it, even to me."
I shrugged. "He said it so matter-of-factly, as if explaining the course of the weather."
Shane's smile was wry. "Trust me, Grayson doesn't express himself a whole lot, but he feels anything but matter-of-fact about his father and stepmother. I was there."
I nodded again, not knowing exactly what to say, knowing I shouldn't be delving more deeply into Grayson's hidden torment. It'd only make me love him more. Wasn't that just the way with women? And I was no exception. What was sexier on a man than great abs and a heart full of hidden torment? They should bottle it and sell it by the truckloads. Or perhaps write a book: "Abs and Hidden Torment: A Man's Guide to Bagging Babes." I would have laughed if I didn't feel so much like crying.
And it was clearer to me than ever that he'd never love me, even if he could move past his love for Vanessa. Blocks of ice surrounded his heart, and I'd be a fool if I imagined I'd ever be enough to melt them.
"Hey, don't look so sad. We do have a few good memories here, too. Our childhoods weren't all horror and trauma. We also used to steal cookies from Charlotte, and frequently annoy Walter by trying to get him to break into a smile now and again."
I laughed despite myself, creasing my brow at the same time. "Thank you for sharing what you did with me, Shane. It means a lot that you trust me enough to confide in me."
He studied me for just a second, his face breaking into a smile. Without thinking, I leaned forward and hugged him, picturing the small boy he once was, alone in the dark as his brave older brother took his hand. He laughed, hugging me back. When I pulled away, he started to say, "I'm mostly—" but was cut short.
Bleak heartbreak overwhelmed me. That poor little boy. I didn't know what to say, was at a total loss of words, a lump the size of an orange blocking my throat. No wonder Grayson hated the maze—it had served as a massive torture chamber for him.
"My brother did that for me in a hundred different ways over the years—found me in the dark and grasped my hand."
"Then why?" I whispered, blinking back tears.
Shane turned his head to look at me. "Why Vanessa?" he asked.
I nodded, biting my lip. "Please tell me, Shane. I'm trying to understand. I'm just trying to understand and maybe if I do, in some way, I can help."
He sighed. "Because, all my life, I've loved her." He paused, smiling a small, sad smile. "We grew up together, you know, the three of us. Grayson never seemed to notice her the way I did." He squinted off into space for a moment, probably remembering specific events. "But then he asked her out first, and I thought maybe he'd just been hiding his feelings, and so I . . . stepped back, when I would have thrown my hat in the ring, so to speak. I would have bared my heart, had it been anyone else. But I couldn't. He had always gotten the short end of the stick and had sacrificed for me over and over again. How could I not do the same for him? And so . . . I loved her, but I let her go without ever saying a word."
I pressed my lips together, sadness moving through me as I stared out at the blue sky. "But then he went away . . ."
"Yes," he said softly. "You must think I'm such an awful person."
"No. I'm not your judge," I said softly.
Shane sighed, running his hand through his hair.
I didn't ask him any more. I knew he wanted to explain the rest to his brother, first. But I thought I had a little bit of a better understanding of the situation, from both perspectives. I only wondered how Vanessa felt about Grayson now. What a mess. A mess I needed to step back from and let them figure out, especially in light of my own realizations about where my heart lay. I had been right. There was no place for me in this. And maybe Grayson had been right, too. Perhaps none of it was really my business at all. Sitting there, I felt suddenly lonelier than I'd ever felt before.
"He told me about your mother—his stepmother—that she never accepted him," I said softly.
Shane blew out a breath. "No, she hated him. She hated what he represented. She considered her life perfect before Grayson's mother showed up on her doorstep. I hadn’t even been born at the time, but I heard her remind him enough over the years. And our father . . . he wasn't the most nurturing of fathers anyway, even to me, but he treated Grayson especially coldly as a way to send the message to my mother that he recognized his mistake. There was no atoning for it in her eyes, though. Not that that was the proper way to do it anyway." Shane suddenly turned his head toward me. "I'm surprised he told you anything about that, actually. I've never known him to talk about it, even to me."
I shrugged. "He said it so matter-of-factly, as if explaining the course of the weather."
Shane's smile was wry. "Trust me, Grayson doesn't express himself a whole lot, but he feels anything but matter-of-fact about his father and stepmother. I was there."
I nodded again, not knowing exactly what to say, knowing I shouldn't be delving more deeply into Grayson's hidden torment. It'd only make me love him more. Wasn't that just the way with women? And I was no exception. What was sexier on a man than great abs and a heart full of hidden torment? They should bottle it and sell it by the truckloads. Or perhaps write a book: "Abs and Hidden Torment: A Man's Guide to Bagging Babes." I would have laughed if I didn't feel so much like crying.
And it was clearer to me than ever that he'd never love me, even if he could move past his love for Vanessa. Blocks of ice surrounded his heart, and I'd be a fool if I imagined I'd ever be enough to melt them.
"Hey, don't look so sad. We do have a few good memories here, too. Our childhoods weren't all horror and trauma. We also used to steal cookies from Charlotte, and frequently annoy Walter by trying to get him to break into a smile now and again."
I laughed despite myself, creasing my brow at the same time. "Thank you for sharing what you did with me, Shane. It means a lot that you trust me enough to confide in me."
He studied me for just a second, his face breaking into a smile. Without thinking, I leaned forward and hugged him, picturing the small boy he once was, alone in the dark as his brave older brother took his hand. He laughed, hugging me back. When I pulled away, he started to say, "I'm mostly—" but was cut short.
