“Oh, hush,” she says as we follow the large crowd down to the ground floor. “Don’t act like you didn’t see it coming.”
“I didn’t, truly.” I stuff my hands in my jeans pockets and nudge her shoulder, smirking. “So how’d it happen? And where? And why? And how? And when’s the wedding?”
“I was helping him cook dinner at his house, and we bumped into each other. He held onto me really closely, and we just got lost into each other’s eyes—screw you. Laugh all you want. We’d just watched a cheesy rom-com ’cause he loves them—and it just sort of happened.” She’s burning bright red, and she looks so happy, I can’t even tease her. I sigh and side-hug her. She side-hugs back. “And no wedding, we just kissed, Speedy Gonzalez.”
“Excuse me, but what am I supposed to expect after my two good friends made out and made love?” Okay, maybe a little teasing. Just a tad bit.
She blushes and pinches my side, I pinch her back, and we laugh. We’re turning the corner to leave the stadium when I bump into a tall guy wearing a black hoodie, stepping away from another guy who’s slunk in the shadows ominously.
“Sorry,” he and I both say at the same time and stop walking, because we both know each other’s voice so well. We hear it every day, though, not so recently…
I turn around, Lily still linked in my arm. I walk up to the boy and grab his wrist before he can run away from me. I reach up and push his hoodie back.
Black meets blue.
“Grey?” I breathe, eyeing the small Zip-Loc bag he’s stuffing into his hoodie pocket, not missing the green stuff stuffed in it. His eyes widen, and he looks at Lily, then bows his head, throws his hoodie back over his head, and speeds away before I can even see it coming. “Wait, Grey!”
But it’s too late. He’s gone.
Chapter Ten
I am dreaming of Grey and me at the stream when we were in Venezuela. The day was so perfect. The birds were chirping in the evergreen trees, and the sun licked my skin while the water cooled me down. We splashed around and swam with me on his back and acted as if we were the only people alive. And it felt that way. We didn’t know what we were restarting, but we knew, in that little paradise, we could be whatever and do whatever we wanted. We were so happy and in love, and…and I miss him.
I begin to writhe in sleep, consciousness slowly dragging me out of my dark paradise. But I want to stay. I want to stay there, where his mother didn’t commit suicide, where he doesn’t hate himself, where he doesn’t come home late at night, where the only contact I really get from him is a chaste, dry kiss. I want to stay in the little bubble of perfection. Where his lips are warm and wet and wide open as he laughs while he splashes me from behind, like the little deviant he is.
“I’m here, princess.” His voice hits me in waves. I can’t decide if it’s real or in the dream. In a very far distance, his arms are around me, lips pressed to my forehead as I listen to his erratic heartbeat.
The soft brush of his thumb against my cheek, rough and gentle, tells me this is real.
He’s really here.
I slowly open my eyes, just as he’s removing his lips and pulling his hand back. “Don’t,” I say, voice muffled with sleep and grogginess. Quickly grabbing his hand, I tug at him, and he gives me an unreadable expression before succumbing and sitting beside me. I sit up and put my head on his shoulder. I don’t move, and we don’t speak. I just sit and breathe in his scent while his hand cups my lower back, twirling a piece of my too-long hair.
“What were you doing at the game last night?” I ask him, scared to hear the answer. I can’t get the image of him discreetly pushing those…herbs in his pocket before storming away. Is he doing drugs again? If so, how long has it been going on?
“I was meeting up with a…a friend,” is his response.
I sigh heavily, tiredly. “You mean a drug dealer?”
He doesn’t respond.
I lift my head and make him look me in the eyes. His eyes are a soft shade of red, black rings hung under his eyes. “Oh, Grey. What are you doing?”
He shakes his head and looks away from me. “They help me…”
“How?”
He shrugs, eyes widening. “They’re helping me…cope. I guess. I don’t know. They’re just better than those fucking pills I’m supposed to take.”
“I don’t want you to feel like you have to take drugs to cope,” I say. “You should be able to talk to me, so I can help you cope.”
He merely mumbles. Then adds, “I’ll stop taking them.”
My heart skips a beat; I didn’t really expect that. “Thank you.” I beam up at him, and his eyes move all over my face before he finally gives me a soft nod of his head, then he looks away again. I lay my head against his shoulder and bask in the silence that wraps gently around our relaxed embrace, like a silk blanket covering two souls that have detached.
“I miss you, Grey.” I disturb our time of re-acquainting ourselves with each other. But we shouldn’t have to re-acquaint ourselves. We should be able to memorize each other’s palm lines and misplaced freckles. Not remembering how his nose bridge is slightly crooked from fighting and how my right eye is slightly bigger than my left.
His shoulders rise high, then droop low as he inhales deeply. “I miss you too,” he admits, voice low and kind of crackly, probably from not talking for so long. It’s weird. I am so used to hearing him be mean and loud and funny. I don’t like not remembering how he does this little low-drawl as he’s rude to someone or how his eyes snap shut if he’s laughing too rowdy.
I pull my head back and tuck my fingers in the hair right above the back of his neck. “Then why don’t you talk to me? I hate being alone all the time. I get what you’re going through. Death…death is especially hard on someone who doesn’t have much of a close family. But Grey, I am your closest family.” I rub his neck, and he just stares at the floor. “Even David is your closest family. Either of us would be more than open to hearing you speak. I need your voice…without it, I’m going a little insane.” I laugh a little, but he doesn’t react.
He finally looks at me, and his expression is haunting. His cheeks are lighter; he has shadows underneath his soulful black eyes and a thicker beard. He looks like a mess, but he’s my mess. One I am more than glad to clean up until he’s shining like a damn trophy. He is my trophy, my victory of love I admire with all of my heart. I’d show him off to the entire world if I could.
“You don’t have to say anything right now,” I assure him, gently tugging on his hair. “Just lay down with me, please?” I bat my eyelashes and pout my lips, and he cracks the tiniest smile. I break into a beaming grin that rivals the sun above. I love that I can evoke at least this in him.
I lay down and watch as he shrugs off his jacket, kicking off his boots. His eyes pore through me the entire time. My heart grows thrice the size as he slides under the sheets, arms wrapped securely around me. I wiggle in his arms until I face his chest. He hums low, a smile on his cracked lips. He feels it too. The undeniable connection, the pull of attraction between our souls, hearts, and bodies. This man is my compass. Without him, I’d be lost in the world.
I cannot lose this man. Losing him would be like thinking too hard about how a word is spelled—weird and mind-baffling. I will do anything to get him back. Anything.
***
“Girl, you look like shit,” Lily says after taking one look at my messy hair, crumpled clothes, and droopy eyes.
“I know,” I agree, grimacing at the spot of vomit on my shirt. “I think I’m sick.” My voice is thick and scratchy. I don’t get it. Just a few hours ago, I was completely fine. I guess sickness just loves to creep up on you when you least expect it.
“Yeah, without a doubt.” She scrunches up her face in disgust, and I roll my eyes. “Since you’re obviously staying home, mind watching Max for me? He’s still asleep, but he won’t even be a bother. He’s like a plant. Just water him and he’ll grow silently. I’ll pay you when I get back—”
<
br /> “No, no—that’s fine. I’d love to watch him; the money isn’t necessary if you’re a friend.” I smile as I walk over to her but stop when she takes a hesitant step back.
“Sorry, I just don’t wanna get sick,” she apologizes sheepishly.
“Oh, is that so?” I say playfully, taking tiny steps forward. Her eyes grow wider and, before she knows it, I’m chasing after her. Squealing and throwing a banana at me, she rounds the counter and runs into the open elevator. Her screaming in horror is the last I see of her. I chuckle.
“Good morning,” a tiny voice says behind me.
“Oh my goodness!” I jump and turn around, finding Max staring up at me. He’s wearing Spiderman pajamas, his green eyes bright, his head of hair curlier than the last I saw it. He’s looking at me blankly, a pair of glasses pushed up on his button-nose. He’s like a bunny with a sharp-edge carrot: cute but frightening.
“Oh, I didn’t see you there. Good morning to you too, Max.” I wave at him, but he just looks at my hand like it’s a foreign object. I swallow thickly, forcing on a smile. “What would you like to eat? I can make waffles, or pancakes, or cere—”
“Cereal,” he says before I can finish my sentence.
“Cereal it is.” I walk into the kitchen, and he follows behind. “Would you like Frosted Flakes, Lucky Cha—”
“Lucky Charms.” He’s like The Flash, quick as a bullet.
I can’t help but laugh this time. I just shake my head and take one of the many boxes down. I try to talk to him, try being the operative word, as I make him a bowl of cereal. But he is quiet the entire time. I make another bowl for myself and settle his in front of him.
As he and I eat, him sitting on one of the kitchen stools, me standing behind the counter, I wonder why he’s so quiet. I hope to God it’s a natural thing and not a cause of his disgusting father. No child should ever suffer abuse from a parent.
Speaking of which, after I stop eating because I feel too nauseous, I break my silence with my father and call him to ask for a favor. I ask if he can lend a good lawyer he knows and help Lily out with her situation. He tells me that Roger, a lawyer friend of his, will meet with Lily at her convenience, and then they’ll be able to protect her from her ex legally.
My father attempted to veer from the topic and tried to explain himself to me. I hung up before he could spew any lies to me. He fell out of love with my mother; I already know that. But did he have to lead her on for a decade, when he could have saved them both, and me, from the pain? He was so selfish, and he’s continuing to be that way with squeezing in his little tales of deceit. Lying is lying, and cheating is cheating. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
I just get up when Max shoves a book in my abdomen, using his little child strength, a mere tap. The Great Gatsby.
“Do you want me to read this to you?” I ask, trying to coax some words out of him. All I get is a head nod and a repeated shove. “Okay. You know the drill.” I lay down on the couch with a blanket covering my legs, my back resting against the armrest.
His eyes brighten, and he begins to jump on me, but then I remember I’m sick, and I don’t want to get him sick as well.
“Wait…sit on the ground. I’m sick, and I don’t want to make you sick too,” I tell him, and his eyes dim a little, like he was expecting to cozy up next to me, but he doesn’t make a fuss at all. I set a throw pillow on the floor next to the couch, and he plops himself on it, looking up at me with those big green eyes. I am taken aback for a moment. Only for a moment, though.
Smiling, I clear my throat and begin at the start.
I delve so deep into the story that, fifty pages later, I almost don’t notice the black pair of eyes on me. I slowly trail off in the reading of Nick finding Gatsby’s house lit with light and look up to find Grey staring at me. He is fully dressed in his normal attire—black shirt, leather jacket, black pants, and boots—but he doesn’t look like he has any direction. No point of being dressed for the outside world.
He doesn’t say anything but questions Max sitting in front of me with a glance.
“I was just doing some light reading for him. But I guess he should shower now—”
“No shower,” Max whines, throwing his head back.
“Don’t protest. You kinda stink, little man.” I ruffle his hair, and he giggles, thrusting his chin down so little rolls appear, teeth scattered and small. I laugh as well and tip his chin back, gesturing for him to get up.
Reluctantly, with a frown, he gets up and walks past Grey into the bathroom.
Grey’s still looking at me with a glazed-over look.
“I stayed because I think I’m sick.” I set the book down and sit up, folding the blanket. “Haven’t been able to keep anything down, and I have a fever. Do you…do you have plans today?” I want to badly for him to say no, to stay with me and just be here. He nods his head and stares at me, but right past me at the same time. It’s like he’s looking into my soul, but his mind is busy elsewhere.
“Maybe you can stay just for this one time…” I say, aware of how pathetic I sound. But I miss him, and I’m worried about him. So worried. It keeps me up most nights, hell, all nights. I just wish I could reach inside those black eyes of his and flip his usual Grey-switch on, get him laughing and making crude remarks. I don’t like this zombie who won’t talk to me…but I guess I get it. His mother died. They may not have had the best relationship, but she was still the woman who baked him birthday cakes and tucked him in at night when he was little.
He shakes his head and looks to the elevator, then the stack of Post-It notes on the kitchen counter, then back at me. He wants to leave a note, his signature for when I look up, to know he isn’t…like what his mother…I feel sick. And not just because of the possible flu I’ve caught.
“You’re not going anywhere until you promise me you’ll talk to me,” I say riskily.
His eyes widen, and I know I blew it. He turns away from me and strides to the elevator.
I run after him and grab his hand, pulling him to face me. A Grey move played by Liv…did not see that coming. I cup his face and force him to look at me. “At least tell me you’ll be okay. That you won’t do anything stupid. It’s taking everything in me not to hug you all day without any break. Just…just assure me you will be fine, Grey. Please.” My voice wavers, and he frowns.
He does me one better.
He kisses me, slowly and tenderly. I hold him close, not wanting to let go. Ever. Not until I am sure he’s okay and knows he’s loved so dearly. I revel in how tightly, snuggly he holds my body flush against his. How his tongue grazes mine, dances with mine, claims me altogether.
“Time, just a little bit more…” he utters, lips hovering warmly over mine.
“Hugging forever, that is my threat if you don’t hold to your promise,” I whisper.
He smiles just the slightest and kisses my nose. Then, just as fast as I fell in love with him, he is gone.
And I feel sick for the third time today.
***
“I remember the portrait of him in Gatsby’s bedroom, a gray, florid man with a hard, empty face—” I read in a low voice, very aware of Max’s curious wide eyes on me. Despite my reading this book to him the last time I babysat him. Despite him knowing what’s coming next. Despite everything.
“Honey, I’m home,” a voice bellows.
Max and I look to the elevator. My heart sinks a little as Lily runs over to us, remarkably bouncing on her heels without breaking her knee-caps.
“Why are you so excited?” I ask curiously, gently placing my vintage golden bookmark in between pages. Max groans as I do, but I ruffle his hair a little, and he practically melts into my touch. Apparently, it’s the only way to soothe the kid. He’s adorable.
“Matthew said we could stay with him as I search for a new apartment.” She claps her hands excitedly, but I frown.
“Why are you looking for a new apartment? Why not call the police and report your ex for basically t
aking over?”
“Because he smashed it to pieces when he found out about the lawyer I got against him. He’s already got into so much trouble, he’d go to prison if he keeps up his act, which he will by the looks of it,” she says. “Thanks for texting about the lawyer. You really are the biggest help and greatest friend. For his sake, he better stay away to avoid the sharing a cell mate who thinks ‘he’s too pretty for the big house.’” She throws out her hands and makes grabby hands. I laugh.
“Anytime.” I get up and walk into her hug. She hugs me like she’s trying to kill me, but I hug her back and appreciate it anyway. “And you don’t have to leave here to go to Matthew’s.”
“I can tell we’re in the middle of something tense,” she says. I guiltily look away. “It’s no problem, honestly. Anyway, how was the little squirt?” She bends down and pinches her son’s cheek, causing him to groan and glare at her. I laugh and rub my raging stomach.
“He was amazing, as usual. Isn’t that right, Maxxie?” I wink at him playfully, and he blinks at me. We both laugh at his inability to wink.
My phone rings, and I quickly excuse myself. “Hello?” I answer.
“Hello, is this Olivia Westerfield? The first emergency contact of Grey Wyler?” a woman’s voice asks.
My stomach shrivels up, and I choke out, “Y-yes…why? What’s wrong?”
She sucks in a sharp, deep breath, then informs me, “Your boyfriend’s been in a car accident…”
I fall to my knees and wail like a banshee.
Chapter Eleven
Memories flood me, consume me as I rush into the hospital. Of me and my parents being wheeled in through the emergency wing. Of pain filling every nerve in my body, nerves I didn’t even know about. Of being so scared, so confused about everything, I couldn’t even breathe properly. I remember screaming for my mommy and daddy, for my little brother who went to sleep before the nice people in blue could help him out of the car. The blood pouring onto the pavement was like a red sea, and I felt like I was drowning in it.
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