Grayson's Vow

by Mia Sheridan

  Before I'd had time to sink into the kiss, Kira pushed at my chest, stumbling back several steps, her lips bruised, her eyes filled with renewed hurt. "Kira," I said, noting the pleading tone in my own voice, "come here."

  Her chin went up, and she took several more steps backward. "No."

  I hesitated. What did she want? "Meet in the middle." I nodded my head toward a spot on the grass between where we stood facing each other.

  "No," she spit out mutinously.

  A swell of anger came over me. I wasn't going to keep my hands off her. My gut churned with desire, and my blood buzzed with the need to possess her. I'd never wanted another woman this much. Damn the little witch to hell. What did she want from me? I went to grab for her again, but she suddenly scooped something off the ground and flung it, the loud splat of a mushy apricot exploding on my forehead to drip down my face. I was momentarily stunned. I reached my hand up and took a finger full of apricot off my forehead and brought my finger down to look at it, disbelievingly. "You defiant, little she-devil," I said, my eyes meeting hers. With one quick movement, I scooped up a soft apricot and hurled it at her. She squeaked as it made contact with the small bit of skin showing at the V-neck of her blouse, breaking apart in a splatter of juice and pulp and sliding down her shirt. Her mouth dropped open and she looked at me as if in shock that I had done as she'd done.

  "You self-serving, slimy monster," she hissed.

  We both started scooping up the fruit and chucking it at each other in a burst of a hundred emotions I couldn't identify in myself, much less in her. My blood felt hot in my veins, and it was as if the cold indifference in which I'd wrapped myself recently was melting down my skin. Squishy fruit flew at me again and again, most making contact, sticky wetness matting my hair, and dripping down every part of my body. Our wills clashed as the sweet, pungent smell of apricots scented the air. Kira looked about the same as I imagined I looked—like she'd rolled in a vat of fruit. When she paused for a breath, glaring at me, I lunged for her, both of us rolling onto the soft grass, her body coming to rest under mine. Lust surged through me, sharp and almost painful. I had no idea who initiated that kiss, but I thought it might have been her. We licked at each other's mouths wildly, greedily, groaning and grasping. I slid my hand up her shirt, feeling soft, smooth skin, and she bucked beneath me. I felt the strong rhythm of her pulse as I brought my other hand to her throat, rubbing my thumb in circles over it, glorying in the feel of her lifeblood right beneath my fingers. My desire for her burned, scalding my heart. Beautiful, willful, tender, stubborn, compassionate, infuriating little witch.

  "Oh, please, Gray," she panted, pulling at my shirt.

  "Yes," I managed, rolling my hips against hers. "Tell me you want me, Kira, please say it," I begged shamelessly.

  "I do, I want you. I want you so much."

  Relief exploded in my gut, sudden and fierce. Oh God, I was ridiculously and hopelessly enchanted with her. I couldn't wait a second longer. My cock throbbed eagerly between my thighs. She was going to be mine. I didn't care if we were rolling in the grass—

  "Oh my God," came a woman's voice from above us.

  "What the—?" came another voice.

  "For the love of—"

  "Well, I've never seen anything—"

  We both froze, blinking at each other, fog clearing from Kira's expression as we both looked up. I squinted into the sunshine, but could only see the dark outlines of six figures hovering over us. I felt stunned and it took me several long moments to get my bearings and for my blood to cool, Kira pulling away from me as if I were fire and she'd been burned. When I realized she was standing, I pulled myself up, too, gelatinous apricot goo sliding down my face and bare arms.

  When I was finally able to make out the faces before me, my eyes roamed from Charlotte to Walter, to Shane, Vanessa, a woman with pink hair I didn't recognize, and to a new face, but one I did recognize immediately. "Harley," I said with surprised wonder.

  Harley, as big and rough-looking as I remembered him, a big bear of a man covered in tattoos, stepped forward, his eyes raking over Kira and me. "Well, I'll be damned."

  "What? How?" I sputtered, stepping forward to grab his hand, my mind grasping to make sense of this situation. I forced myself to pull my focus from Kira long enough to gain some mental footing. "How are you here?" I wiped my sticky hand on my pants but only came away with more sticky fruit pulp.

  Harley stared at me for a moment and then burst out laughing, his chuckle deep and warm. "Man, got out a month ago." He looked me up and down, an expression on his face between disgust and hilarity. "I think I'm more interested in hearing about what's been going on with you, though. Looks like it's been . . . sticky."

  Kira suddenly stepped forward, her face mostly unrecognizable beneath gobs of apricot innards. "Wait, Harley? Harley?" she asked, her voice breathless.

  Harley turned toward her, squinting. "Kira?" he asked.

  My head moved back and forth between them. "You two know each other?" I asked, my voice filled with the shock I felt. I could see everyone else in my peripheral vision, their heads swinging back and forth from person to person as well. The only thing missing was popcorn.

  "Oh my God!" Kira said excitedly, rushing toward Harley, heedless of the fact that she was about to cover him in the same sticky muck she was covered in. He didn't stop her, though, when she threw herself at him, hugging him tightly. I might have had another moment of jealousy, but the hug was brief and Harley was smiling at Kira with friendly affection. "I can't believe you're here."

  "How do you know each other?" I asked again.

  "From the drop-in center," she said, not even glancing at me. My head was swimming, not only from this strange blast from my past, but from the transition between what had been happening with Kira and me to what was happening now. If the silence of everyone else watching this exchange was any indication, they were shocked, too. "How do you two know each other?"

  "From prison," I said.

  "Oh," she breathed, finally looking at me. She looked back to Harley. "Harley, you served time?"

  "Yeah, Kira, I did, I'm sorry to say. Turned out to be one of the best things that could have happened to me, actually. Life is good. Although," he turned back to me, "I'm hoping there might be an employment opportunity here."

  "You need a job?" I asked. "Yeah, of course you can have a job. Man, whatever you need."

  Harley's beefy face broke into a grin. "Was hoping you'd say that." He turned to the woman with pink hair wearing a skimpy leather skirt and an even skimpier tank top next to him. "By the way, this is Priscilla."

  I showed her my sticky hand as explanation as to why I wasn't offering it. She laughed softly and said, "Nice to meet you, Grayson. Harley's told me a lot about you. I can see he might have left out some." She looked between Kira and me, but her look was amused, without mocking. She grinned up at Harley.

  Charlotte stepped forward. "Maybe, Gray, you and Kira can get yourself cleaned up from . . . well, from . . . well, cleaned up, and we can all get acquainted up at the house?" She looked hopeful. I assumed they had all rushed down here thinking Kira and I were in some kind of physical showdown after what had happened near the maze. I guess that was actually pretty accurate—although it hadn't been violent. Mostly.

  "That's a good idea. Kira?" She looked at me, seeming like she couldn't decide what she wanted to do.

  "Yes, okay," she said finally.

  I pulled on her sleeve and she halted, looking down at where my hand was touching her. "Kira—"

  "Let's just get cleaned up, Grayson," she said quietly, not meeting my eyes, not allowing me to attempt to read her expression. I nodded, releasing her.

  We all started for the house, Kira walking ahead, Harley telling me how he'd located me here in Napa and about the small place Priscilla had in Vallejo, a nearby town. "I remembered you were in Napa Valley and I looked you up and knew this had to be the place. Man, I can't believe it's been so long."

&nbs
p; I looked at Harley regretfully. "I know I wasn't great about keeping in touch. I'm sorry about that. Once I got here and realized how much work I had cut out for me, I kinda got tunnel vision."

  "It's understandable. No apologies. This place, though, wow, I know you said it was beautiful here, but I didn't imagine this," he said, sweeping his hand in the direction of the hills of bright green vineyards in the distance, and in the other direction where the majestic mountain vistas created a breathtaking silhouette.

  "It's on the way to being what it once was," I said, distractedly, glancing ahead at Kira as we approached the house. She turned back quickly, seeming to consider something before she went inside.

  She kissed Harley on his cheek and squeezed his hand. "I'm so glad to see you looking so well," she said, sounding like she was going to cry. I frowned, but she didn't glance my way and didn't wait for Harley to answer. She turned and disappeared inside the house, leaving me to stare at the empty place where she'd just been.

  "Grayson," Shane said, approaching me, "after you get cleaned up and get a chance to chat with Harley and Priscilla, we should talk." Vanessa stood behind him, nervously biting her lip. God, that was right. I'd blurted out that Kira and I had a marriage of convenience for money. And now I needed to explain. Only, how could I begin to do that when I barely understood the situation myself anymore? It had seemed clear-cut once upon a time . . . Now, it was about as sticky and sludgy as I currently was.

  "Sure," I mumbled, heading inside. "Charlotte, will you get Harley and Priscilla something to eat and drink? I'll be downstairs shortly."

  "Of course," Charlotte said, leading them both toward the kitchen.

  I tried the door to the room Kira was staying in, but she had locked it and when I knocked, she didn't answer. She was probably in the shower. I'd shower, too, and then come back. I needed to talk to her first and foremost. We had unfinished business. And I wanted to make sure she was okay. I wanted to make sure we were okay.

  I showered, balling my sticky clothes into a heap and wrapping them in a towel to bring to the laundry room. God, what in the hell had come over us? What was that? After dressing in clean jeans and a T-shirt, I walked barefoot to Kira's room and knocked on the door again. When there was still no answer, I tried the doorknob and found it unlocked. Had she already gone downstairs? I peeked inside the room and noticed immediately that her suitcase was gone. Panic swirled in my gut and I entered the room, calling her name. The closet was open, but there was nothing inside except for a few garment bags that held some of my stepmother's old clothes. I spotted the note on the dresser as I turned to leave, the ring I'd given to Kira for the sake of our ceremony—the one she'd been wearing ever since our first dinner date—sitting on top. The light caught the diamonds as I lifted it. What had I been thinking giving her this ring? I wasn't sure I wanted to read the note.

  Grayson,

  I think it's obvious after today we require some space from one another—and you need time to work things out with Shane and Vanessa without me in the way. I'll be at the party next week to perform my final act as your wife, and then I'll be moving out for good.

  Kira

  P.S. I think this ring belongs to Vanessa, not to me. Not that it ever really did.

  I dropped the piece of paper, a lump forming in my throat, coldness creeping up my spine. She said she wanted me and then she left. I turned and descended the stairs, the ice moving swiftly up my spine to fill my chest and surround my heart. I took comfort in the frigid feeling. It was what I knew, what I deserved, and how I would survive the hurt.

  Following the voices to the kitchen, I joined Harley, Priscilla, and Charlotte at the table. Charlotte started to cut me a piece of her sour cream coffee cake, but I held up my hand, declining her silent offer. She frowned.

  "Harley was telling me how you saved his life." Charlotte studied me, a look of both tenderness and sadness in her expression.

  I ran my hand through my hair. I'd never spoken to anyone about my time in prison. I wasn’t necessarily willing to now, but I also couldn't exactly throw Harley out. I owed him so much. He'd been there with me—he'd lived it. "More like he saved mine," I said.

  "Naw, that's not the way I remember it," he said, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his bald head.

  "I did one thing just by luck—you had my back for the next five years," I said, something catching in my throat. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have survived that place." And it was true. When we'd first arrived, I'd been in shock, numb with disbelief that I'd been sentenced to a five-year term after my lawyer had assured me I'd get community service at best, six months at worst. I'd been in the yard with Harley—who I didn't even know at the time—when something shiny had caught my eye. Instinctively, I'd pushed him away and it'd given him time to turn and disarm the man who otherwise would have gutted him with the makeshift knife. From that day forward, Harley—who had done several prison stints and understood how the system worked with inside connections—had protected me from any number of horrors I might have experienced had it not been for him.

  "Well, you're family then," Charlotte said before she looked away, her eyes bright with what looked like unshed tears.

  Harley nodded at Charlotte, giving her a warm smile before he looked back to me. "And now," he said, leaning forward, "to come here and find you married to Kira Dallaire. Life is full of surprises."

  I made a small sound of agreement in my throat, deciding not to mention the circumstances of our marriage or the fact that it'd be over soon anyway.

  Harley was eyeing me in that way of his. Harley might look big and mean, but he was about the best judge of people I'd ever known. He'd told me it was necessary growing up on the streets of San Francisco—it was either anticipate a person's next move, or become their victim. "Can I tell you a story about Kira?" he asked.

  "Sure," I said warily.

  Harley nodded. "About six years ago, I was in a real bad place." He paused, glancing at Priscilla who was looking at him sympathetically, and then took her hand in his. "I couldn't figure out how to get myself sober, had lost everything, alienated everyone who cared about me. I planned to end my life. Got a gun and everything. It was loaded, ready to go."

  "Jesus, Harley," I muttered. "I didn't know."

  He nodded. "It's difficult to admit how low I was, how little I valued my life back then. But it's the truth of my story. I went to the drop-in center for what I intended to be my last meal, and that's where I met Kira. She must have been just a teenager at the time."

  A teenager. Teenagers weren't typically known for their selflessness. But Kira had been kind, even then . . .

  I focused back in on what Harley was saying. "She served me some food, sat down with me, and we chatted for a while. She had brought this magic kit to entertain the kids and she did a few tricks for me—completely amateur. She was all animated about it, though, full of life, you know?" Yes, I did know. "And it was the first time I remembered smiling for a long time. She told me if I came back the next day, she'd show me how she'd done them. Well, I probably would’ve been able to figure them out on my own—they weren't very complicated. But just the fact that someone asked me to return, and seemed to want it enough to try to bribe me with the answers to some silly tricks," he chuckled softly, "well, I did come back that next day. And then she did something else to spark my interest, and it was the first time I realized I had any interest left. That one simple thing gave me the hope I needed. So I kept going back, and I guess you could say I got distracted from ending my life. That's the truth."

  God, that sounded like Kira—sounded just like her. I felt my heart thumping in my chest, the ice that had started to rebuild around my heart began to melt and slide away. I couldn't decide if I was angry about it or not. Damn little witch. Where was she?

  Harley continued, "I wasn't ready quite yet to turn my life around, made some mistakes, ended up serving time with you. But I'll tell you this, as God is my witness, if it hadn't been for Kira s
aving my life, I wouldn't have been around to be saved again by you, and then to do what I could to make your time inside a little easier. Funny how it worked out like that, isn't it? Funny how one life can affect another, and then that life affects the one after it and on and on."

  "Funny," I breathed. "Random."

  Harley winked. "If you're a believer in random." He paused, a smile appearing, "Well, listen, my man, we'll have lots of time to reminisce. But if I'm going to be at my best for work tomorrow morning, I better get home so I can rest up. Plus, Priscilla has to work tonight."

  "Oh," Charlotte said. "What do you do, dear?"

  "I'm an exotic dancer," she said, smiling.

  "Oh, a dancer! How lovely," Charlotte answered, bringing her hands together as if Priscilla had just told her she was the lead on Broadway.

  I cleared my throat and smiled at Harley and Priscilla as I stood up. "I can't tell you how glad I am you looked me up. It's good to see you."

  "You too, brother." We shook, bumping fists like we'd always done in prison. Charlotte gave both Harley and Priscilla a hug and walked them to the door. After they'd left, but before anyone had a chance to seek me out, I grabbed my keys and left out the back door, circling around to the front and getting in my truck. I drove toward town—I had a wife to look for, and some errands to do.

  **********

  "Oh, you're back," Charlotte said, holding the laundry bin from my bathroom and two shirts she’d obviously just ironed. I was staring out the window and I barely spared her a glance. I'd been ignoring her, too, for the past week—mostly for the stunt she'd pulled in luring Shane and Vanessa here under false pretenses and forcing me to contend with their presence.

  I'd just gotten home from driving around Napa looking for Kira's car. Harley's story had convinced me to go out searching for her, but maybe I shouldn't have been looking for her at all. She'd said she wanted me. Heat of the moment? Or she'd meant it in a purely physical sense. Or she'd lied. Or . . . who cared what? She wasn't here, that was the bottom line.