"Grayson," Mailah called out softly.
Grayson turned his head to look up at her. "Yes, Mailah?"
Mailah leaned forward slightly, her gaze tender and serious. "You still haven't told me everything. Why did you really leave four weeks ago?"
Grayson stilled. His dark eyes flicked down toward the fire, the orange flames reflecting in his pupils.
For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the crackle of the burning wood and the gentle patter of rain outside.
Grayson slowly raised his hand, placing his large, warm palm over hers where it rested on his shoulder. He turned around so he was kneeling beside her sofa. His posture remained tall and solid, but his gaze was heavy with deep, quiet seriousness.
