“Up the stairs to the third floor. It’s the one on the left,” his mom answered, her voice low and a little defeated.

I squeezed her hand. “He’ll be okay.” Not that I had any right to make a promise like that. Were people ever okay after they went through what Grayson did?

I walked inside the house and found the stairs, following them to the second floor and then taking the spiral staircase to the third until I located his door. I knocked once and opened without waiting for an invitation I knew I wasn’t going to get.

He sat on the queen-size bed, his back to me as he stared out at the water. Every line on his body was tense, sharp, as if he might explode at any second.

The bed sank under my weight as I sat next to him, but he didn’t speak, or even look at me, so I simply waited. Gone was the teasing demeanor he’d grown into over the last few months. This was the Grayson I’d met in the kitchen—aloof, hard, and cold.

But I could be warm enough for both of us. I reached out my hand, letting it rest between us without touching him, and waited. Sixty-seven breaths later, he slid his hand over mine and wove our fingers together. Relief streaked through me, and I squeezed his fingers gently.

“It was your birthday party five years ago.”

He nodded.

“I’m so sorry.” I scooted toward him until our hips touched, and then I rested my head on his shoulder. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-three last Friday. I figured we’d be safe coming tonight.” He cleared his throat. “For a math major, I figured you could add better than that.”

At least he was trying to tease me. That was something, right?

“Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice.”

He turned his head and kissed my hairline. “It worked.”

“Friday as in the night we stayed in?”

“Being with you was the closest to a celebration as I’ve wanted to be. You made it perfect, and you didn’t even know.”

But I wish I’d known. I would have baked him a cake, or bought him one. But maybe he’d known that.

I let the minutes pass without speaking, content to just be there. This wasn’t about words, or even comfort, but simple presence, and I could give him that.

Without moving my head from his shoulder, I surveyed his room. The walls were dark navy with white trim and covered in sailing pictures, but they weren’t like the ones downstairs, professional and staged. These were candid shots of Grayson sailing, beautifully intense as he handled a boat. They were taken close up, by someone who obviously knew the value of the moment, watching him firmly grow into developing the control he was so known for now.

I knew without asking that Grace had taken them.

I reached over to his nightstand, where a picture sat framed of a gorgeous blonde. Her smile was effortless, her hair blowing in the wind with the full sail behind her. She radiated warmth, kindness from her brown eyes, and the way she looked at the photographer…it was love. For Grayson.

“What was she like…before?” I asked, my voice soft.

He took the picture from my hands and stroked his thumb over the line of her cheek. “Kind, slow to temper, completely selfless. She was pretty perfect as best friends go.”

The opposite of me. How could I even compete with that?

He reached across and put the picture back on his nightstand.

An uncomfortable chill crawled up my spine. You’re trespassing. Like this Grayson belonged to Grace, and I had no right to kiss him or hold his hand.

Would he always be haunted by her ghost like this? Would he ever be able to celebrate a birthday with happiness? Or would it always be a date he avoided, tucked away? Did I even have the right to question it?

“We should probably head down,” he said, his eyes still locked on her picture.

“We can do whatever you want,” I offered. If he wanted to leave, I’d steal the keys from Jagger and strand the rest of them here.

“No, they went to a lot of trouble for this. I can’t hurt Mom’s feelings.”

He stood, stiff and guarded. He’d blocked me out, thrown up the walls he was so well-known for, and it hurt. But this wasn’t about me.

“Okay,” I answered, then followed him downstairs.

He never let go of my hand, even when we descended the porch steps to where the party was in full swing. “Do you know all these people?” I asked before we hit the crowd.

“Yes. Some family, mostly friends of family, or friends from high school. Everyone is home for the holiday weekend.” Tension rolled off him, reminding me of the waves that struck the beach.

“Gray!” Mia called out from the bar area, and Grayson led us over. He acknowledged everyone we passed with a nod, but his fake smile looked more like a closed-lip grimace.

We found Mia next to three other women, who by their similar looks must have been Grayson’s sisters. “I’m so sorry!” Mia said as she hugged him. He looped an arm around her waist briefly.

“It’s okay,” he replied. But it’s not.

“I had no clue what they were planning until this afternoon, I swear.”

“Let it go, Mia.” He gently pulled me forward, then looked left to right as he introduced us. “Sam, you know Mia. This is Joey, Connie, and Parker, my other three sisters.”

I flashed a nervous smile. Joey was older by a few years with a tomboy look and a quick grin. Connie was the oldest and resembled Grayson’s mother the closest. She smiled back at me with the same warmth, and then smacked Parker in the arm lightly. That didn’t stop Grayson’s younger sister from glaring daggers into me.