CHAPTER Twenty-Three
I methodically write down notes, hoping not to miss anything I need to know for exams. I’m stressed out to the max, wanting to do well and trying to balance work with some kind of social life as well. And by that I mean spending time with Grayson and Anaya. I see London enough at work, and to be honest, London in small doses is definitely the right way to go if you want to leave with your sanity. It’s been just over a week since Grayson and I decided to start over. We haven’t slept together yet. Although there have been times I wanted to give in, it’s good to take things a little slower and get to connect on a different level again. That doesn’t mean I’m not dying to get him naked—because trust me, I am.
“You do realise you’re the last one left in class,” he says, looking around. Amused eyes land back on me, waiting for my response.
“You’re here too,” I point out.
“Only because I’m waiting for you,” he says, bending down and grabbing my files and notebook to pack them away in my bag for me. “There you go. We can study some more when we get to my house.”
“I thought we were going to mine?” I ask, standing up and pushing the chair back in. Going to my house is usually a little safer, because Anaya is there sometimes, or London will invite herself over. That way we aren’t alone, and it’s a tiny bit easier to avoid temptation. Stupid I know, but true all the same.
“Need to go to mine,” he says, not looking at me. Something is definitely up.
“Why?” I demand.
He grimaces. “I don’t know why. I got this message,” he says, lifting his phone and showing it to me.
London: Take Paris somewhere else after class. Don’t bring her back to her apartment just yet please! It’s important.
My jaw falls open. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know,” he says, taking my hand in his. “I was torn between not wanting to upset you and knowing that if I didn’t tell you the truth you would kill me.”
“You know we have to go there and see what’s going on now, right?” I say, marching out of the room.
“I wouldn’t expect anything else,” Grayson mutters from behind me. I turn and give him a look, which makes him shut his mouth. We park his car and run up to my apartment. I can hear London yelling from out here. I walk inside; the front door’s been left unlocked, and storm into the kitchen where I can hear all the commotion. I freeze in my tracks when I see my brother, Brody, standing there looking back at me.
London’s blue eyes narrow on Grayson. “One thing I asked you to do!” she snaps.
“Don’t yell at him! We’re trying a new thing where we’re completely honest with each other,” I say, my eyes not leaving Brody.
“I get that! But come on, Paris, do you really want to see him?” she asks, looking worried. For the first time in London’s life, she was trying to protect me. I’m speechless. Grayson puts his hand on my lower back, a sign of silent support. I’m grateful and flash him a look that tells him so.
“What are you doing here, Brody?” I ask him. He looks the same, short blond hair, familiar blue eyes and a tall, lanky build.
“I wanted to see how you are,” he says solemnly. “London mentioned she was here when I rang her last week, and I wanted to see you both. I’m so glad you’re both together now.”
My brow furrows, wondering why the change of heart. “You hate me,” I say, the words hurting me even to say.
He shakes his head furiously. “I hated what you were doing. Come on Paris, stripping? Mum and Dad must have been tossing in their grave.” He pauses. “Is this your boyfriend?”
I puff out a breath. “Yes, Brody, this is Grayson. Grayson, this is my brother.” Grayson gives him a chin lift, not saying anything else. I know he’s angry. I can tell by the tension pouring out of his body and his rigid stance. He knows what Brody did to me, and how much it killed me.
“I didn’t know London was in debt, Paris. I didn’t know that’s why you were…” he trails off.
“Where’s Elizabeth?” I ask, referring to his she-devil wife.
“I filed for divorce. It took me some time, but I finally saw her for who she really is,” he says, looking down.
“A f*cking psychotic bitch?” London adds, grinning.
Brody looks tired. Tired and weary. I shouldn’t care, but I do. “I’m sorry,” Brody says, “Both of you.” He looks between London and me. “You’re welcome to come home any time. That house is yours too,” he says, giving me a small smile.
“It’s your house Brody. You paid for everything,” I mumble. “Look, thanks for coming by and putting in the effort. I’m not going to lie—what you did hurt me a lot. You chose your wife over me and judged me instead of being there for me when I needed you the most.”
He drops his head. “I know. I f*cked up.”
“I know you took care of us when we were younger, and I appreciate what you sacrificed for us—you were only young yourself,” I admit, trying to see it from his point of view.
London rolls her eyes. “You’re too nice, Paris! He chose p-ssy over his blood.”
“London!” I admonish, my voice coming out choked at her colourful choice of words.
“I’m sorry,” Brody repeats, looking genuinely remorseful. He looks at Grayson. “London tells me you’ve been looking after the two of them. I can’t thank you enough for doing what I should have.”
“I’ll always look after them,” Grayson says in a deep rumble. “I don’t care for what you did to Paris, especially because she needed you. But it did bring her to me,” he says, flashing me his dimples.
I slap his arm. “What?” he asks, lip twitching.
“Where are you staying?” I ask my brother.
“Got a hotel for two nights, and then I’m going back home. Only got three days off work,” he says.
“Will you stay for dinner?” I ask. Everyone in the room stares at me. They may think I’m a pushover, but I don’t want to live my life with anger and resentment. I want to forgive Brody. For many reasons, but mainly because he took care of me growing up. He brushed my hair; he wiped my tears and got our aunty off our backs. Sure, he was an ass, but I don’t want to hold that against him forever.
“I’d love to,” he says, his eyes filling with unshed tears.
I smile at him, and he gives me a shaky smile back.
It’s easy to give in to hate.
But sometimes, there is strength in forgiveness.