To Be More (Slate/Gray Book #2)

The next day, Gray goes to Sara’s house early in the morning to heal her like usual, also hoping to see Slate. She is rewarded on one count and disappointed on the other.

“He’s not here,” is the first thing Sara says when Gray walks through the door. “He went home.”

“Home?” Gray asks, wondering if she means back to the Atwood family house.

“To his house,” Sara amends, looking disappointed. “I tried to make him stay, but he put his foot down. I even cried a little and he wouldn’t budge.”

Gray’s brows shoot up. “Really?”

Sara nods, lips downturned. “Really. That’s how I know he really needed it. I’m sure he’s beating himself up over it now, but if he needed to be alone then…” she trails off, gesturing abstractly.

“But do you think he needed it?” Gray asks, sensing some unvoiced thoughts.

Sara sighs and settles back on the couch where she’d been sitting before she got up to greet Gray. Gray sits next to her and takes her hand, drawing the ache from her bones as she does. “I don’t know,” Sara admits. “Most of the time, I feel like I know him like the back of my hand, but there have always been times, even before the incredibly isolating experience he’s just had, where he feels a million miles away. Even from himself.”

“What do you mean?”

Sara purses her lips to one side. “It’s like…there are some ways that Slate knows himself better than anyone has any right to, but that’s all related to capability and how much he can produce. He places a lot of value in what he contributes rather than in himself. He might know exactly how many monsters he could keep at bay if it meant keeping me safe, but he has no idea how to express himself.”

Gray turns this over in her mind. “Has he ever?”

Sara snorts. “What, expressed himself?”

Gray swats at her. “He is capable of emotion and expression, I am aware. But,” she hesitates, wondering if this will cross a sibling-boundary, “does he ever really get vulnerable with you?”

Sara closes her eyes and sinks into the couch. “Sometimes I think he does. But rarely. The thing is, his version of self care is often–aside from time alone, that is–just being in the presence of someone he loves and he thinks that’s it.”

She opens her eyes and sees Gray’s confused look. “He thinks that fixes it,” Sara clarifies. “That no external processing has to happen at all to help him cope or care for himself.”

Gray frowns at the ceiling. “Where does that leave us?”

Sara huffs a laugh that shakes the cushions. “That, my friend, is the question. What are we supposed to do with Slate.” Then she lifts her head and opens her eyes again, looking brightly at Gray. “Actually, you are the perfect person for this job.”

“Job?”

“To pry Slate open like an oyster,” Sara grins.

Gray looks at her like she’s crazy. “And how exactly do you expect me to do that?”

Sara shrugs and pats Gray’s hand both patronizingly and encouragingly. “He listens to you. You’ll know what to do.” When Gray remains skeptical, she reaffirms, “Just try. He trusts you.”

That, Gray thinks, is precisely the problem. She doesn’t think he does trust her any more. She’d seen it all crumbling down in that half a second in Emily and Kellan Freeman’s living room when his eyes had caught on her flash of relief.

At least she knows where to start.

:::::

Gray gives Slate the rest of that day to recover and be alone, but the following day happens to be their usual running day. She’s vehemently opposed to the idea of making him run with her in his current state, but she would also, frankly, like to retain claims to this day. If he’s willing to give her his undivided attention for two or three hours every Monday night, she’s going to snatch it and hang on tight.

Around six-thirty, she heads over to his house to propose a plan. When she knocks on his door, the only feeling in her body is determination. She won’t be pushy, but she’s prepared to push him just enough that he’ll listen.

When she hears footsteps, she takes a deep breath and steels her spine, ready for battle. I can do this. I will do this.

“Gray?” He asks when the door is fully open. He looks the same as he did the other day, which is…rough. He looks even more tired, which she wouldn’t have thought conceivable.

Still, she can’t help but smile at the sight of him. He’s here. He’s broken and damaged, but he’s home. “Hi, Slate. Do you mind if I come in for a bit?”

He doesn’t say anything, but doesn’t hesitate for a second to open the door for her. She goes to step past him, but he surprises her by snagging her around the waist with one arm and drawing her in close. Gray melts. She was coming to crave this even before he was taken, and it’s true what they say about distance and the heart. She misses his warmth more than ever and it’s like medicine to be in his arms.

She holds him gently around the waist, arms resting more against his body than cradling it, ever so careful, but rests her head on his shoulder and buries her face where his neck meets his shoulder.

She feels him rumble in his chest what might be a laugh or a sigh, she can’t be sure. When he pulls back slightly, she pouts, but meets his gaze anyway. He’s…smiling. The first real smile she has seen from him since he’s come home. His smile shows teeth and his eyes are crinkled in fond joy. Gray smiles back. “What?”

He starts to say something, then seems to think better of it and shakes his head. “Thank you, but you don’t have to be gentle.”

Gray’s smile fades some. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

His smile drops into something more pensive. “Here,” he murmurs, removing her arms from his waist and making Gray frown. “Don’t pout,” he teases, releasing one of her arms in favor of taking her chin gently in one hand and brushing her cheek gently with his thumb. “I’ve got you.”

The first comment elicits an eye roll, but the second one gives her lips a gentle curve. It only grows when he takes her arms again and drapes them over his shoulders. “Now,” he says, satisfied, “you don’t have to be gentle.”

Gray isn’t sure which of them pulls the other in this time, but she knows they’re both squeezing by the way she can feel his heartbeat against her own. The feeling she gets reminds her a bit of Miss Audra’s embrace as a child. She’d always felt so taken care of, so noticed, so valued, so loved. She feels all that now, but more. Because when the going got tough, Audra betrayed Gray, and when it got tougher, Slate protected her.

I love you. She wants to say it so badly, but knows it’s not the time. After eons, Gray reluctantly loosens her hold such that her hands drag down his shoulders and biceps until she’s holding his forearms and his hands are on her waist. “I have a proposition for you,” she tells him.

He quirks an eyebrow.

“Let’s go on a walk. I want to take you somewhere.”

He nods and presses a lingering kiss to her hairline before disappearing down the hall to find his shoes and a jacket and meeting her back at the front door.

“Ready?” Gray asks.

He opens the door and gestures for her to precede him in answer.

Once they’re side by side again, Gray takes his hand in theirs like they’ve done this a million times. She flinches slightly at the surprise feeling of the bandages, but Slate shows no sign of pain, just holds her tighter.

“If I ask you something, will you answer honestly?” She watches him, but can find no hints in his expression.

He cuts a look sideways at her, thinking. “If it betrays someone’s trust, I won’t.”

“But anything else?”

He waits another moment, still expressionless, before finally relenting. “Anything else.”

Gray squeezes his hand in thanks. “How are you?”

He purses his lips, meets her gaze as though trying to make a point of not evading it. “As good as can be expected.”

Gray shakes her head, giving him a look, before he even finishes. “That doesn’t tell me how you are.”

“I’m okay,” he tells her impossibly. At her incredulous look, he doubles down. “Really, I’m okay. The injuries hurt and it’s hard not sleeping well, but I’ve been hurt and sleep deprived before. I’ll be okay.”

“So are we just ignoring the mountain of trauma you have?”

Slate shrugs. “Some things can’t be helped.”

“I disagree,” Gray argues.

“So what’s your prescription, doctor?”

Gray literally misses a step, because that was…that was rude. He’d snapped at her. He’d never said or done anything like that before. Gray doesn’t think she’s seen him snap at anyone ever. That might be a byproduct of only spending time with his family members, whom he seems incapable of saying or doing anything hurtful to, but she’d thought she was part of that group, who he’d hurt himself before hurting.

Slate pulls her to a stop almost immediately, taking both her hands, but she won’t look at him. “Gray, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was rude and I’m sorry.”

Gray says nothing. Frankly, she’s still processing how she’s supposed to feel about this.

“I just…” When he says nothing else, Gray takes a deep breath and finally looks up. His mouth is parted like he wants to speak but has no words left in his body and he’s staring at her openly worriedly. His shoulders are tensed and his hands grip hers tightly, head ducked to meet her gaze.

“What?” Gray whispers.

“I…” His mouth snaps shut and a muscle in his jaw jumps as he looks to this side. He takes three deep breaths and seems to have gathered himself when he looks back at her. His body has fully relaxed, but he lets his facial expression morph into something like shame. She knows he’s letting her see it on purpose both because of how easily he’d erased his bodily projections and because she doesn’t think she’s ever seen this combination of looks on his face.

“I won’t give you any excuses,” he finally says. “There’s no excuse for being mean and I am so sorry that I was to you. I promised that I’d never hurt you and I did and I promise I will never do it again. Will you let me explain why?”

Gray takes a turn looking off to the side lips compressed. She mirrors him, taking a deep breath and meeting his gaze again. “Slate, you don’t need to apologize. What you said wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t like you were trying to hurt me. Aria has said much worse things to me in one of her moods and not apologized and it hardly fazed me. I’m being sensitive.”

Slate shakes his head and takes her face in his hands. Gray loosely grips his wrists. “But this is me,” he tells her in a low voice.

Gray closes her eyes and exhales. He understands. Of course he understands. Gray still thinks she was being a bit sensitive, but it was just…shocking. He knows the weight of words, knows how what he said would cut like a knife. Maybe a shallow cut, but she’d never known him to even carry one.

Gray knows he would never hurt her on purpose, knows that to her bones and still knows it. Her mistake was in assuming his patience to be endless. He’s only human, of course he loses his patience sometimes. And especially now, when he’s had a harrowing five weeks of pain and torture, she should expect him to be acting out of the ordinary.

When she exhales, she lets her hurt and shock bleed out as quickly as it came. Still, he offered to open himself up to her and she would never shut that down, so she nods slightly in his hands. “It is you. Will you tell me why now?”

He releases her and takes her hand again. “While we walk?” Gray nods and leads him down the road again. After a moment, he begins, “I wasn’t lying when I said I was okay, I am. In context, I’m doing fine, but I’ve been stripped of my independence recently and that has been…trying. I spent five weeks under someone else’s thumb and then I came home and spent another week being constantly supervised by my family. I love them and I wanted to spend time with them, but it was…hard not being able to have a moment to myself.

“And,” he continues, sighing guiltily, “it was especially hard having Sage and Raven around constantly. They haven’t ever known me to break down and I know it shook them in the beginning to see me so hurt and helpless so I made an extra effort to show a strong front for them. I want them to trust me to protect and love them always. After five weeks of not having me around and then seeing me like I was…I can’t do that to them again. I have to be okay, for them.”

“Did I make you feel like I was trying to take your independence?” Gray asks with furrowed brows.

He shakes his head. “No. It’s just the compounding stress.”

Gray hums. “Well I have something that could help, if you let it.”

She can see him eye her from the corner of her vision. “And that is?”

She smiles at him. “You’ll see.” Then, to lighten the mood and also because she’s been dying to tell him about this, she says, “Can I tell you about my five weeks?”

He quirks half a smile and bumps her shoulder with his as they approach and make their way through the forest. “I would love nothing more.”

She bumps him back and reports excitedly, “I applied to some colleges.” He makes an enthusiastic-for-Slate noise, so she continues, “I don’t want anything connecting me back to Canada, so I’m starting as a Freshman, but I’m so excited I don’t even care. I’m hoping to take a couple classes at a community college this January to fulfill some requirements before starting at a university in the fall.”

“I’m really happy for you, you deserve this.”

She beams into the night. “I know.”

They talk more about the lighter things that happened while Slate was gone, like all the times Raven (cheated) beat them all at Go-Fish and how Sage aced his big mid-year math test and how they still need to do a big Thanksgiving dinner and how they haven’t prepared much for Christmas (in two weeks!) but about how excited Gray is to have a real Christmas after three years without any holiday celebrations.

And finally, they reach their destination. Gray’s den.

When she pulls her companion to a stop, he looks at her questioningly. In answer, she turns him around slowly, saying, “Look at our surroundings. No predators nearby, no unusual smells, only the sounds of the forest.” She turns him to the cave opening. “Now look at our home for the night. One opening, easily defensible, hidden by foliage and trees, still within earshot of anything major with the pack. This is somewhere I come to be at peace, to rest, to let my worries fade away and the forest fill my mind instead. You need this, Slate. You love this land, I know you do. Let it fill your mind.”

Slate seems to be…considering. His brows are lowered just slightly, but his mouth is relaxed, scarred side equal with the smooth side. “Are you willing to try?” Gray asks, turning fully toward him to touch his bicep with the hand not already encased in his larger one.

He looks down at her with that same inscrutable face. “For you.”

Gray kisses his cheek in thanks. She wants to kiss his mouth, but the goal is to quiet his mind, not overwhelm it with new stimuli.

So she leads him over to the den and sits against the wall, guiding him gently until he’s lying with his head on her thigh, her hand gently caressing the side of his face, thumb sweeping in gently motions across his cheekbone. “Sleep,” she whispers.

He looks up at her, face blank but eyes full of unnamed emotion. “I can’t,” he rumbles from his chest more than his throat.

“You can,” Gray tells him surely. “I’ll keep watch while you do.”

He looks at her skeptically, but closes his eyes and turns his head into her hip, saying lowly, almost too quiet to hear, “For you.”

He stays quiet and his breathing is even, but Gray can tell he doesn’t sleep for a long time. The moon rises more and more until it’s almost at its height, and Gray looks down at her charge, watching him breathe, feeling immense emotions. Bigger than she’s ever felt about anyone before.

I love this man, she thinks again. Unbidden, the words, “I love you,” slip out of her mouth as though the feelings were so strong, so intense, so big, that her heart couldn’t contain it all. She holds her breath for long moments, watching his face, but he stays still and calm.

Just when she thinks she’s safe, he turns his head minutely and opens one eye. “You’re not in love with me.” The statement is said in a whisper, just as quiet as Gray’s confession.

Instead of immediately balking or taking offense, she realizes as she says, “Maybe I can’t be before we’ve tried to be more than what we are. But I still love you, Slate Atwood. You can still be the love of my life even if I’m not in love with you yet.”

He watches her closely as she says it, looking for…something. Not quite sincerity, but…maybe whether or not she believes herself. And she does. When he sees the truth of it, he nods and lets his head rest fully against her leg and kisses her jean clad hip, saying, “I love you too, Grace Holt.”

Gray smiles and looks back up at the moon, her ever present guide, the one who brought her to this land, this pack, this family, this man. She thanks it quietly and asks for a peaceful night for herself and her True Mate. They deserve it.

Just before he falls deep into sleep for many hours, Slate whispers, “Let’s try.”

“Hm?” Gray hums, having dozed herself.

To be more, echoes inside her head all night as she falls in and out of light sleep, ever watchful.

To be more.