Wait For Me

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Wait For Me Page 9

by K. L. Grayson


  “Okay, sweetie, I’m going to clean the blood off.”

  “Is it gonna hurt?”

  “No. And if it does, just tell me and I’ll stop, okay?”

  Emma nods and continues to wipe her hands as I wet a cotton ball and gently dab at the blood. It comes off easily and when a small cut becomes visible, I breathe a sigh of relief. She’s got a nice-sized goose egg and a small cut. It looks like a surface wound that will probably heal in a couple of days.

  “You’re doing great,” I say, tossing the cotton ball in the trash. I grab another, pour some peroxide on it, and dab the area. As soon as the peroxide hits the small cut, Emma winces.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Oh, Emma.” I keep dabbing until all of the blood is off of her skin. She’ll still need her hair scrubbed later, but I’ll let Grayson take care of that. “I’m so sorry you fell.”

  “I wetted go.”

  “I know you did. That’s why you always have to hold on tight. You can’t let go because then you might fall.”

  “I won’t wet go again.”

  “I know you won’t.” I kiss her forehead and reach for the triple antibiotic ointment. “One more thing and then we’ll get an ice pack for your head.”

  I squeeze a small amount ointment onto a Q-tip and apply it to the cut.

  “Okay. All done.” And it only took five years off of my life.

  Emma climbs off the toilet. She and Henry follow me into the kitchen, where I put some ice into a bag. I wrap the bag in a washcloth and after getting Emma situated on the couch, I instruct her to hold it on her head.

  “Can I watch Mickey Mouse?” she asks.

  You can have whatever you want, kid.

  “Absolutely.” I turn the TV on, get to the right channel, and fall into the recliner.

  Holy cow, that was intense. I survived my first kid injury—something I hope doesn’t ever happen again. I should probably text Grayson. Thank God we swapped numbers before he left this morning.

  I pull my phone out of my pocket and send off a quick text.

  Emma fell off the swing and hit her head.

  A second later my phone vibrates in my hand and Grayson’s name flashes across the screen, but it isn’t a text. I slide the circle to the right and raise the phone.

  “Hello.”

  “Is she okay? What happened?” he says, his words coming out in a rush.

  “She’s fine. She was swinging and let go to clap at Henry, and she fell backward. She landed pretty hard and hit her head on the ground, but—”

  “I’m on my way home. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “No, you don’t have to do that,” I say, not wanting to ruin Jack’s time with his dad. “It’s only a small scratch and a goose egg. I got her right inside, cleaned the area with peroxide, put some triple antibiotic ointment on the cut, and now she’s happy as a clam, sitting on the couch with an icepack and watching Mickey Mouse.”

  There’s a pause. I pull the phone away and look at it to make sure he’s still on the line, and then he talks.

  “You did all of that?”

  “Yep. And now I’m going to make them pizza for lunch and give them ice cream for a snack because I feel like the worst babysitter in the world.”

  Grayson laughs. “Thank God I stocked the fridge this morning before you came over.”

  “No kidding,” I say, relieved he isn’t yelling at me.

  “And you aren’t the worst babysitter in the world. Stuff like this happens all the time.”

  “To you, maybe, but not to me. I was scared to death. There was so much blood when it first happened.”

  “Head wounds tend to bleed a lot. Are you okay?”

  Me? Surely, he means Emma. “Yes, Emma is fine. She’s smiling and laughing with Henry. Dare I suggest she’s already forgotten about it?”

  “You already told me Emma was fine. I’m asking about you.”

  No one ever asks about me, except for Nick, but he’s family, so he doesn’t count.

  “Oh. I’m fine too. A little shaken up, but I feel like that’s par for the course.”

  “It is. Hey, hold on a sec. Jack is trying to talk to me.”

  The phone muffles. I hear Grayson and Jack talking, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. When he comes back on the phone he says, “Are you there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Jack and I are going to come home. We’ll have pizza and ice cream with you.”

  “Oh no. No, don’t do that. I don’t want you to cut your time together short.”

  “It’s his idea. In fact, Jack has asked about you several times since we left, wondering what you’re doing with Emma and Henry today.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Uh-huh. My kid is having a severe case of FOMO. I think he wants to spend time with you.”

  What about you? Do you want to spend time with me too?

  “Ask him if he wants a meat lover’s pizza or just cheese.”

  “Cheese!” Jack yells.

  “He heard you.”

  I laugh. “Cheese it is.”

  With Grayson’s promise to be home in ten minutes, I hang up the phone and preheat the oven. Since we’re all eating, I go ahead and put both pizzas in.

  By the time the boys arrive, the pizzas are almost done. Jack barrels through the front door, excited to tell me about the time he spent with his dad. It wasn’t much time, but enough for him to have some stories.

  “We went to the batting cages. Dad rented it for a whole forty-five minutes.”

  “Wow. That sounds like fun. I didn’t know you played baseball.”

  “I love baseball. Do you like baseball?”

  “I do. Can you grab some paper plates?”

  Jack nods and walks to the opposite side of the kitchen. “What’s your favorite team.”

  “I like the Cardinals.”

  Grayson laughs, and Jack curls his nose. “We can’t be friends.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because the Cardinals suck.”

  “Jack,” Grayson warns.

  “Sorry.” Jack’s cheeks turn pink, but he manages a smile when he looks at me. “I’m not a fan of the Cardinals.”

  “I can tell. What team do you like?”

  “The Cubs.”

  “Oh my gosh.” I set the oven mitt down and shake my head. “Now we really can’t be friends. Get out!” I point to the front door.

  “It’s my house!” Jack says, laughing.

  I smile.

  “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could go to a Cards-Cubs game together?” he asks.

  “That would be fun. Now go get your sister and brother and tell them it’s time to eat.”

  “You’re good with him.” Grayson takes the oven mitt from my hand, pulls the first pizza out, and puts it on the stove.

  “He’s a good kid.”

  “You’re good with all of them,” he says, pulling the second one out.

  “So, you don’t mind if I take one home with me? You’ll still have two.”

  Grayson laughs. “Depends. Do I get to pick which one you take?”

  I open my mouth to tell him I’d take any of them when Jack runs back into the room. “Are you staying to eat with us?” he asks.

  “If you don’t mind.”

  He shakes his head. “Can you stay after we eat?”

  “Oh…Uh…”

  “She probably has plans, buddy,” Grayson says.

  “I don’t.”

  His eyes find mine. A slow smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Well, okay then. You’ll stay.”

  “Come sit down.” Jack takes my hand and drags me to a seat. “I want to tell you all about the birthday party dad is letting me have. You’re going to come, right?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  We eat pizza and ice cream while Jack talks about slip-n-slides and a Harry Potter-themed party.

  It’s the best family dinner I’ve had in,
well, ever.

  13

  Nora

  When the front door opens, I lean my head back and smile at Grayson.

  “Beer?” he asks, sitting beside me on the porch swing. “I’d offer you wine, but this is all I have.”

  “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  It’s nine o’clock. After lunch we played a game of hide and seek, which turned into a game of whiffle ball, followed by four-wheeler rides, and ended with grilled burgers for dinner. The kids talked me into watching a movie, and then Emma asked me to read her a book before bed, and I can’t tell her no.

  So, here I am. Still at Grayson’s house. When I called Nick earlier to tell him I wouldn’t be home until late, he was silent at first.

  And then he said, “Okay.”

  “You’re not mad?” I asked.

  “You’re a grown woman. It’s good for you to have friends. That is all you two are, right? Just friends? Because if you’re screwing around with Gray, I might have to kill him.”

  I laughed. As much as I wish we were screwing around, we’re not.

  “We’re friends.”

  “Good.”

  Nick was happy with that, though I’m sure Jessa has some thoughts of her own, which is why I didn’t call her. I figure Nick can pass the memo on and she can corner me sometime tomorrow.

  I take a swig of the beer and curl my nose up at the stale, bitter taste.

  Grayson laughs. “You could’ve just told me you don’t like beer.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like it; I’ve never had it.”

  His jaw drops. “You’ve never had beer?”

  I shake my head.

  “Your brother is going to kill me,” he says, reaching for the bottle.

  I evade his grabby hands. “Oh, no. My brother is not my keeper. If I want to have a beer, I’ll have a beer.”

  “Fair enough.” Grayson digs a toe into the porch and gives the swing a push.

  “It’s beautiful out.” There’s a nice, warm breeze and tons of stars in the sky. “We don’t see stars like this where I live.”

  “Where exactly do you live?”

  “I have a place in Calabasas, but I’m hardly there.”

  “So, what exactly brought you to Rock Springs, Nora? Or should I call you Slugger?”

  My head whips to the left, my eyes wide. Grayson has the beer bottle pressed to his lips, but I can still see his smile.

  “You did not just call me Slugger.”

  He shrugs and takes a drink. “If the shoe fits.”

  I thump him in the chest, which only makes him laugh harder, and when I go to thump him again, he catches my hand. “I’m sorry. I can’t help it.”

  I give him my best fake scowl. “I bet you can’t.”

  He finally stops laughing and lets go of my hand. I wish he’d keep holding it. His hands are warm and big and callused.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “I’m sure you heard about it all on TV.”

  “Give me your version.”

  I take another drink of my beer. Oddly enough, it’s going down a little smoother. “I caught my boyfriend cheating on me, so I bashed his Porsche in with a bat and took off in his BMW.”

  God, that sounds awful when I say it out loud. Tears burn my eyes, and Grayson puts a finger under my chin and turns my face toward his.

  “Hey, don’t cry. I wasn’t trying to upset you.”

  “You didn’t.” I blink the tears away and shake my head. “I just realized how psycho it makes me sound, but I promise you I’m not. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was upset and heartbroken, and I reacted first.”

  “Give yourself a break. You’re human. You should’ve seen me when I got the call that Jack found Lorelei on our bathroom floor with a needle sticking out of her arm.”

  I gasp and cover my mouth. “No.”

  He nods and takes another pull from his beer. “I wanted to murder someone. I’m sure your brother told you.”

  “Actually, he didn’t say much. Will you tell me what happened? Or, you know, don’t, if it’s too personal.”

  “Life,” he breathes, looking up at the stars. “Life happened.”

  I wouldn’t know much about that. My life has been a series of tour dates, various hotels, and lonely nights spent on the tour bus.

  “I know she was your high school sweetheart.”

  He nods and looks at me. “Did you have one of those?”

  I bark out a laugh. “No.”

  “I find that hard to believe.”

  “I didn’t go to high school. I got my diploma by studying with a tutor between shows.”

  “Well, you didn’t miss out on much, trust me. The high-school-sweetheart thing wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

  He pauses, looking out into the night. Crickets chirp, leaves rustle in the soft breeze, and the moon casts a dull light across the yard.

  He finishes his beer and sets it on the porch rail. “Lorelei and I started dating in junior high. We were your typical wild-and-crazy teenagers in love. She ended up pregnant while we were in college, so we both dropped out. I started restoring cars, and she was waitressing. We got lucky because my business took off almost instantly, and it was good money—enough that she was able to quit her job. When Jack was two, we got married, and shortly after that she got pregnant with Emma. She had some complications with that pregnancy and ended up on pain killers.”

  Grayson pauses, and I rest my hand on his. I hold my breath when he looks at our hands. Will he push me away? Did I do the wrong thing? The breath whooshes out of my lungs when he flips his hand over to curl his fingers around mine.

  “You don’t have to tell me any more if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s okay.” He shakes his head and continues. “The start of her addiction is when our marriage started to fall apart. I gave her an ultimatum: she either had to get clean or I was going to take the kids and ask for a divorce.”

  “What did she do?”

  “She got clean. Or so I thought. And during the short period where we were trying to work things out, she ended up pregnant with Henry. I didn’t realize she had stopped taking her birth controls pills.”

  “Henry is great,” I say, trying to be reassuring.

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t give him up for the world.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “We stopped talking. She moved out when she was twelve weeks pregnant. Henry was born. She kept the kids every other weekend for the first few months, and then one day I got a call from a police officer. He said Jack found Lorelei in the bathroom, unconscious, with a needle sticking out of her arm, and he called 911.”

  I close my eyes. I can’t even imagine how hard that must’ve been for Jack and Grayson. I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes mine in return.

  Grayson closes his eyes and takes a breath. “I didn’t know she’d escalated from pain pills to actual drugs. Luckily the ambulance arrived in time to administer Narcan. She survived. I filed for divorce and got custody of the kids, and I haven’t heard a word from her since.”

  “I don’t even know what to say.”

  “I’ve never had enough hate in my heart to consider hurting someone, but I’m not going to lie, I wanted to murder Lorelei for putting our kids through that, especially Jack.”

  “Do her parents know where she is?”

  “I don’t ask, and they haven’t said. They still see the kids from time to time, but it’s hit and miss. And they never bring her up. I think they’re embarrassed.”

  “Probably. And poor Jack.”

  “He’s had a hard time with it,” Grayson acknowledges. “He remembers everything. He went to a counselor for over a year, and he still goes from time to time. The counselor says he’s going to be a work in progress.”

  “I hate that for him.” I know how helpless I felt today when Emma fell out of the swing. I can’t imagine how helpless Grayson must feel when it comes to Jack.

  “Yeah, me too. Bu
t I’m here. I’ll support him and get him whatever help he needs along the way. I’ll talk when he’s ready to talk, and I’ll always be here.”

  “That’s all you can do.”

  Grayson takes a deep breath and blows it out. “That’s my sad story. Let’s hear more about yours.”

  “Hah! You mean besides the destruction of property and grand theft auto?”

  “Are you really being charged with all of that?”

  “Nah. I paid to have his car fixed and agreed to a few other things. He dropped the charges, but I still feel bad, because that’s not me, you know? I’m not irrational and crazy, and that’s not how I want my fans to see me.”

  “Most of them were probably ready to go to bat for you after they heard he cheated.”

  “You’re probably right. My fans are loyal to a fault.”

  “So…are you still heartbroken?”

  “Over Todd?” I don’t even have to think about it. I shake my head. “No. I didn’t love him.”

  Grayson looks pleased with my answer. When I glance at our hands, I see that he’s rubbing my wrist with his thumb. It feels so good, so natural, I hadn’t even noticed it.

  “Nick says you’re in town for the summer.”

  “Yep. I just hired a new manager, and we’re going to figure out how I can shed my innocent, little-girl persona.”

  “The last thing I think of when I look at you is a little girl.”

  “Oh yeah? What do you think of when you look at me?”

  “It’s not what I think of, but what I see: a beautiful, strong, independent woman.”

  “Yes!” I turn in my seat to face him, but still keep my hand in his. “That’s how I want my fans to see me. That’s how I want the world to see me. But they don’t. To them I’m still Nora Jo Mitchell.”

  “That was your character on that television show? Sorry, I didn’t watch it.”

  “Oh, I don’t care. And yes, that was my character. I’ve struggled to let go of my past.”

  “I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

  “I hope so. Because I don’t know how much longer I can keep going on the way I am,” I say, my words morphing into a yawn.

 

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