IGNITE

forty-seven.

੭୧ 𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 ੭୧

The days after Grey's mom called flew by in a blur of activity, the hours spent between reminding Grey that I was there for him—always—and working overtime for Mr. Beaurigard so that I could get time off to join Grey at his mothers' Thanksgiving dinner.

Grey was quieter than usual, he hadn't slept more than three hours a night in the days following the call from his mom. Every time that I tried to ask if he wanted to talk, Grey would shoot me a half–smile that didn't quite meet his eyes and pull me against him, his fingers sliding between mine and he laid soft, featherlight kisses against the curve of my shoulder.

And despite how badly I wanted to help Grey work through the hurricane of emotions that he was feeling, he was intent on pretending that he wasn't as worried and anxious about it all as he was.

So, instead, I found myself on my fifth consecutive night of making his favourite food while he packed for our trip the next morning and we fell into a strange sort of domestic rhythm that felt surprisingly natural and easy to slip into. My mind drifted as I made our plates of pasta, my hands running down the soft cotton of my sweater that was starting to pill from use as my eyes wandered towards the dining room, to the sight of Grey carrying our bags to the front door, his back shifting beneath his tight fitting grey shirt.

His eyes flicked over his shoulder at me as he dropped the last bag, his head tilting in the most adorable way that had a smile curling at the corner of my lips as he pulled me into a tight hug, his face pressing to my neck, "are you sure you want to go to my moms with me? Because, if you change your mind at any time, I would understand. No questions asked," his voice was soft against my neck.

My fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, and my other arm wrapped around his waist, squeezing softly as I rested my head against his chest. "Of course, I am. I wouldn't let you go on your own, not for something like this."

He exhaled against my neck as his arms tightened around my waist, "thank you," he said, pressing his lips to my hair, the tension in his shoulders seeming to lessen at my touch. "I know I've been kind of distant these last few days—I'm just thinking, you know? I mean...what am I even supposed to do here, Piper? What can I say to her? And going back to the place where I lived with my dad, where I grew up? It just doesn't feel right without him. Nothing about any of this feels right."

My heart ached for him as I squeezed his hand and stepped back to meet his gaze. "We can just...take things day by day. One foot in front of the other until we make it through to the end of this weekend. And I'm here for you the entire time, alright? For whatever you need."

Grey's eyes seemed to lighten at my words and the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his face as he brushed a strand of hair back from my face. "One day at a time," he repeated.

"Exactly," I smiled, pressing onto my tip-toes and capturing his lips in a soft kiss. "I made dinner."

His arms tightened around my waist. "Again?" He raised an eyebrow and pressed his lips to the curve of my cheek, his fingers brushing against my sides in the same tickling manner that made me jump in his arms, a small squeal leaving my lips. "You made my favourite."

My teeth tugged on the corner of my bottom lip, "I did. It seemed like the sort of day where we should indulge a little, you know?" I tugged on his hand. "Come on, we can talk while we eat."

Greyson let me tug him towards the dining room where our dinner sat carefully plated and surrounded by candles, and his smile widened as he glanced down at me. "What would I do without you, Piper?"

"Oh, I don't know, eat some generic, crappy food, and sulk about it, probably."

He snorted as he pulled the chair out for me, his hand resting on the back of my seat. "I guess you aren't wrong," he sat across from me and grabbed my hand across the table as he held my gaze, his thumb tracing the back of my palm gently. He smiled softly at me—a look that was becoming more common for him, and one I adored. The flickering of the candle light illuminated the shadows of his face and the warmth in his eyes.