He’s there, but he’s not with me—and it’s killing me. Each time it happens, a little hope sparks within me that this may be our chance to build our connection, but then it fizzles out when our awkward engagement comes to nothing. My cats have stopped sleeping in the bed with me at night, for all my restlessness over Tripp Grady Tripp—he truly befuddles me.

Befuddles and beguiles me. He has no idea how much I long for him—longing that’s left me stranded in a strange, unfamiliar place. I loved and enjoyed Ashe, but he never kept me up at night, pining over him, or inspired me to peek around corners to catch glimpses of him. It makes me uneasy how quickly I jump out of bed in the morning, excited to see Grady, only for our disappointing encounters to keep me up at night, wishing and wondering. Is my desire rooted in something real? Or do I want him because he makes it clear I can’t have him? It’s hard to tell.

I try to engage him, but it’s all fluff-talk. Once, we got into a slightly interesting conversation about our favorite chips. He prefers plain, ruffled chips, better for dipping, whereas I’m more of a nacho cheese or sour cream and onion fan. Otherwise, it’s crickets.

He won’t make plans with me but shows up at my side. He’s there but doesn’t talk. The man who promised to always catch me avoids real connection with me—not that I need catching or should require more from him. Even so, whenever I see Grady, questions dangle between us, begging for takers like baited hooks. He wants to talk to me—that’s clear. Why he doesn’t is a mystery.

I asked Marigold for insight into her aloof brother, and she shrugged and said, “Shadow man.”

“That’s it!” I gasped. “He’s my shadow.”

Perhaps this is just Grady—the man with the soul-penetrating stare who prefers living in the shadows. I bet it’s safer there.

I should be relieved that he’s pulled back since our pier conversation. His intensity and concern overwhelm me and inspire feelings I shouldn’t be having, especially for a man who doesn’t want to spend real time with me. I wonder if that’ll ever change or if we’re cursed the same way that day is and always will be for me.

Besides that, he’s done so much for me. Spending more time together might reveal my future housing problem, something I don’t want him tackling for me. The distance between us seems to alleviate his guilt, allowing him to get on with his life—I desperately want that for him.

So, perhaps it’s better to let those words hang there, unsaid. No matter how much I want to be in his arms again.