#15. Fight
1044 Words
The cabin was quiet except for the soft crackle of the fire and the faint rustle of papers. Grayson sat at the wooden desk near the window, sleeves rolled up, eyes scanning through files spread neatly in front of him. Numbers, contracts, shipment schedules, things that demanded focus. Outside, snow clung to the trees, the world muted and still. He liked it this way. Peaceful. Controlled.
He closed one folder and slid it aside, leaning back in his chair. His gaze drifted to his phone resting near the edge of the desk. For a moment, he hesitated, then reached for it. The screen lit up as he dialed.
It rang twice before she answered.
“Hello?”
Her voice was soft, familiar already in a way that surprised him.
“Betty,” he said, his tone calm. “I was calling to check on you. How are you feeling today? And your ankle, how’s it doing?”
There was a small pause, then a gentle laugh. “I’m doing well. The ankle’s healing properly. Still a little sore, but much better than before.”
“That’s good news,” he replied, relief settling easily into his voice. “I’m glad to hear it.”
Another pause, like she was waiting.
“If you’re free,” he continued, “I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee with me. Nothing fancy. Just around town.”
“I’d like that,” Betty said without hesitation. “Sure.”
A smile tugged at his lips. “Good. Just make sure you wear a thick jacket. This snow doesn’t play nice.” His tone shifted, teasing. “I’d rather not rescue you again.”
She laughed this time, warmer. “I will. I promise.”
“I’ll come pick you up,” he said. “I won’t be long.”
“Okay.”
The call ended and Grayson set the phone down, standing to grab his coat. The files were forgotten as he stepped out into the cold, locking the cabin behind him.
⸻
A few minutes later, his truck pulled up outside her place. Betty stepped out carefully, bundled in a thick jacket, scarf wrapped snugly around her neck. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold or maybe from something else. When she looked up and met his eyes, there was a shy smile on her lips.
Grayson leaned against the door for a second, watching her. “Looks like you listened,” he said.
She smiled wider. “I did.”
He opened the passenger door for her, making sure she settled in comfortably before circling to the driver’s side. As they drove through the quiet streets, snow crunching beneath the tires, he caught her glancing his way now and then.
The coffee shop was small and warm, tucked between two old buildings. Inside, the scent of roasted beans filled the air. They took a table near the window, steam curling from their cups as snow continued to fall outside.
Grayson wrapped his hands around his mug. “So,” he said, watching her over the rim, “tell me about your life in the city.”
Betty stirred her coffee slowly, her expression softening. “It was busy. Loud. Everything moved too fast.” She paused, then took a breath. “My parents passed away in a crash a few years ago. After that… everything they owned came to me. Their properties, businesses. I had to step up.”
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
She nodded. “Thank you. Managing all of that became my life. Meetings, paperwork, decisions. I barely had time to breathe.” She looked up at him. “I came here just to stay for a while. To slow down.”
He understood that more than she knew. “I prefer living here too,” he said. “I handle business in the city when I need to, but this town, it keeps me grounded.”
She smiled. “I love it here. It’s more peaceful than the city. It feels… real.”
They talked easily after that, about small things, about snowstorms and quiet mornings. Then Grayson leaned back slightly, studying her.
“Can I ask you something?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
“Are you seeing anyone? A boyfriend? Or… married?”
Betty smiled, shaking her head. “No. I’m not married.”
Something eased in his chest. “Good.”
She raised an eyebrow playfully. “Why good? What about you?”
“I’m not married either.”
She tilted her head. “Why not?” she asked, half joking.
He huffed a soft laugh. “Work kept me busy. Too busy to think about anything else.” He hesitated, then added, “I’m also a biker. I run a club here.”
Her eyes widened slightly, curiosity lighting her face. “Really?”
“If you’re not busy one day,” he said, “I’d like to show you around. Let you meet the group.”
“I’d like that,” she said honestly. “Very much.”
They lingered a while longer before standing to leave, the cold greeting them as they stepped outside. They were almost to the truck when raised voices cut through the quiet.
A woman stood a few feet away, backing up as a man loomed over her, his words sharp, his grip tight on her arm. Fear was written all over her face.
Grayson didn’t hesitate.
“Hey,” he said firmly, stepping forward. “Let her go.”
The man turned, eyes wild. “Mind your business.”
“Your business ends now,” Grayson replied, his voice low. “Back up.”
“She’s my girlfriend,” the man snapped. “You got no right.”
The man face him squarely and swung. The punch landed hard against Grayson’s jaw.
Betty gasped.
Grayson recovered quickly, anger flashing in his eyes as he struck back. He moved with controlled force, driving the man to the ground, ending the fight as fast as it started. The man scrambled up and staggered away, cursing under his breath.
Breathing steady, Grayson turned back and reached out his hand to the shaken woman, helping her to her feet.
- Writer
