I feel bad for not texting Grayson all weekend, but I needed time to think. And that's all I did, too. Think. Obsess. Change my mind. Pray. Think some more. I'm sick of my own thoughts, but at least I know now what I need to do. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to approach Grayson. He just parked his bike and is hanging his helmet on the handlebar. My heart is in my throat, and my legs tremble with a mix of nerves and sadness.

"Hey, can we talk?"

He turns to ...