by K. L. Jessop
With each step I take, my heart pounds in my chest and my palms begin to sweat, wondering which personality I’m going to be faced with once I invade the privacy of his office.
The door is ajar, and for a moment I watch him through the gap. He stands with his hands resting on either side of the window as he looks out. The moonlight catches his features and the look of distress that shadows his face makes my chest tighten with anxiety. Not for me but for him. I’ve never seen him this way, and it just confirms how much he fights in silence.
I came back here to find out about his behavior toward me, but now I don’t care for that: I just want to know what I can do to help him out of whatever world he’s swallowed up in.
“Grayson?” I murmur, pushing the door open a little more.
Lifting his head to look at me, his eyes scan down my body before they find mine again. “What are you doing back here, Nora?” he turns back to look out of the window, and I take the opportunity to step inside.
“I’ve come to talk with you.”
“I’m busy.”
That word alone ignites something inside of me. It’s his latest excuse—his reason that is more important than friendship.
“Busy. Right. Seems like you’re always busy these days. So busy that you’ve forgotten what you deemed as important in life.”
He remains in position but turns his head to look at me, the expression on his face telling me I’ve hit a nerve, but I don’t care. I have alcohol to thank for that.
“Meaning?”
“I don’t believe this ‘I’m tired’ or ‘I have too much work’ bullshit. That’s just an easy excuse that you hide behind. There’s more going on here, and you know it, and it’s about time you explained yourself rather than making me feel like I’m the one constantly in the fucking wrong.”
“That’s no way to talk to your boss in his office.”
“You’re not officially my boss until Monday, so right now, I’m your Shortcake—the one you claim you take care of, but we all know that’s crap, Grayson. So, I’ll speak to you how I like. What’s the problem here? Like everyone else, are you pissed with the fact Ryan gave me a job?”
He pushes off the wall and steps around the desk, his body language making it evident that he’s trying to control his temper. “I’m not pissed with the fact he’s given you a job, Nora. I rang you, didn’t I? It just would have been nice if he’d consulted with me first that it was you he was hiring.”
“Why, so you could have told him no—have him hire someone else that isn’t me?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“But is it what you’re thinking?”
He drags his eyes away from me and shakes his head, but it’s not in disagreement. In that expression alone, he’s told me that what I’ve said was right. And that makes my body rage with both disappointment and annoyance.
“Jesus, Gray. What have I done that is so wrong here?”
“Nothing. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Bullshit!” I yell.
His blue eyes smolder, his words low and heated. “You’re drunk, Nora. I suggest you leave.”
That’s all it takes for anger to skyrocket. Slamming the door behind me, I take two steps toward him, hoping he sees the hurt brought on by his constant roller coaster persona; hoping he can hear in my tone that I’m tired of the unknown; praying this will not be the end of us and that he will drop these damn barriers and let me in.
“I’m not drunk, Grayson. I’m damn fucking angry, and I am not leaving here until you explain why you’ve suddenly gone from looking out for me to hating me without a reason. It’s the least I deserve for being your precious Shortcake.”
Chapter Ten
Grayson
Her body heat ricochets against mine, but it’s the rage in her tiny frame that has me fighting to not pull her against me. This little pocket rocket is a lot stronger than I ever gave her credit for; or maybe I’ve just pushed her to the point where she can’t take anymore.
I know I’ve upset her, and she has every right to want and need answers, but how can I tell her that the one true reason I’ve stayed away is because she’s all I’ve thought about. All I think about. Add that to the fact the last bottle of vodka my mother drank before she died was the very one I bought her. That shit is enough to fuck a guy over.
I’m a mess. I don’t know which way to turn anymore without coming up against my past or a future that’s impossible to have. And she’s only gone and got a job in my bar where I’ll see her every. Fucking. Day. But I can’t have her thinking I hate her. I could never feel that toward her.
“I don’t hate you, Nora,” I correct her, my voice low as I try to ease the sudden tension that has caught alight between us. Her blue eyes darken when she’s angry, and that alone makes me want to push her against the wall and kiss the hell out of her. Her 5ft frame is a bundle of sass when she’s like this. Whoever said that short girls come with an attitude was not wrong.
“You don’t hate me? But I’ve clearly pissed you off somehow, right?” She raises a brow, hands on her hips, goading me for more information because it’s clear as fuck she’s not leaving here without it.
“No, you haven’t pissed me off.”
“Then what, Grayson?”
Stepping away to try and gain distance, I return to the window and look out across the parking lot, trying to rationalize my thoughts and work out how I can explain myself. I’d known she’d see through my bullshit: she’s too good at shit like that, and it’s an excuse I shouldn’t have used.
Nothing seems right anymore—nothing seems real—and I’ve tried so damn hard to find whatever normal I can. But it’s never there. Not until she’s within touching distance. That’s when my life begins to make sense. However, the freedom I’ve been searching for has now suddenly become a battle, too.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. It’s all that falls from my lips, and even that isn’t good enough. I’m tired. I’ve fucked up. I’m still fucking things up, and the frustration inside is starting to bubble because I can’t get out what I’m trying to say.
“You don’t know if I’ve pissed you off, or how?”
“I just said you hadn’t.”
“So what then? Did you wake up one day and just think you’d treat me like dirt?”
“No, I—”
“You’re more puzzling than a hormonal teenager, Grayson. I just don’t understand.”
She needs to stop. The more she bites back at me the more my patience is running thin. It’s hard enough to even begin to describe life right now, but she’s not helping when she’s going all batshit on me and not giving me a chance to try and explain.
“You stopped contact. You practically ran away every time I was home from college. And now that I’m back, you’re even more confusing because one minute you can barely be in the same room as me then next you’re saying you’ll never let anything happen to me. What’s happened to those good old times we all once had?”
Old times. For fucks sake.
“Jesus, Christ,” I scoff, slamming my hands against the wall in frustration and turning to look at her. Old times was when people didn’t get hurt and lives were never taken. Old times was when I had a mother who didn’t depend on booze and a father-figure in Pete who I could sit and have a conversation with at ease. Old times was when Nora was just my best friends’ kid sister and not a sexual fantasy, someone I couldn’t breathe without. It was when Asher would open up to me more instead of me having to watch him head down a slippery slope of his own with a beer in hand. “What is it with you and the old fucking times? You wanna know why I’ve been absent from you, why I stopped my calls? It’s because of that alone. Those old days are gone, Nora, and we’ll never get them back. And sitting doing puzzles or blowing fucking bubbles to re-enact what we all did when you were younger doesn’t change anything for us now. We’ve changed. I’ve changed. Move the fuck on!”
She gasps, stepping back as if I’ve wounded h
er, and I despise myself when tears form in her eyes. It’s not the fact I loathe the good old days, it’s the fact that in those times I’d felt happy. I’d felt free. Now, I’m just broken and missing a mother I loved dearly despite everything, and they’re a reminder of exactly what I’ve lost.
Stepping toward me, Nora seethes, and her verbal come back feels like a slap across the face when I realize her intentions. “I don’t do it for you. I don’t even do it for myself. I do it for Dad, and if re-enacting what we used to do puts a smile on his face then I’ll stay stuck in the good old days every second of every fucking day. It’s all he has left. It’s the only time I’m not wondering when his next stroke will be in case that one kills him. It’s the only time I get to see him forget about all the things he can no longer do. It’s the only time I feel like my family is normal, even though I know it never will be again. That is why I do it. That’s why I don’t move the fuck on! But you are certainly right about one thing, Grayson. You have changed. And you’ve become the asshole I never thought you would. We’re done here.”
Fuck.
“Nora, wait.”
“Fuck you.”
Taking two strides, I grab her upper arm to hold her back when she opens the door. Pushing it closed, I press myself up against her back so she can’t move. Caged between the door and my body, her forehead presses against the wood, her small frame trembling with fury and distress. Any words that I wanted to speak have been stripped from me as every nerve ending inside me comes to life having her this close. Her body heat, the smell of her hair and the same sweet perfume she’s worn since her eighteenth birthday. Everything about the woman drives me crazy in the best and worst way.
Needing to see her, I gently pull her hair over her shoulder and down her back, letting my fingers trace down her arms. Chills cover her, and her chest rises and falls fast as my fingers draw circles over her skin.
For a moment, I question if she, too, feels the longing I do when we are together. But now is not the time to walk down that road. I have to make right what I’ve just shattered, but the question is how?
This is where I need her dad.
Times like this is where I’d go to him and ask him for guidance—help to ensure I do right. To make me a better man. But I’ve failed with both of those, and I’ve pushed him aside, too.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her ear.
“For what? For when?”
“For everything.”
“Then why behave the way you do?”
“Because… I don’t know who I am anymore, Nora,” I admit. “I don’t like this person you see me as, and I don’t like being him either.”
Slowly she turns around to face me, and my chest burns with remorse when her tears fall. Not being able to resist, I reach out and cup her face, wiping them away with my thumb as she holds my stare.
Fuck, she is beautiful, and I’ve been such an idiot.
“I don’t hate you, Shortcake,” I murmur, the weight of my truth laying heavy on my shoulders. “I could never feel that toward you.”
“Then help me understand what’s going on.”
“But that’s just it: how can I do that when I don’t even know myself?” That saying, ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’, is lost on me. After everything that’s happened, I don’t feel stronger. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
Her blue eyes search mine, and it takes seconds until they flood with a sympathy I usually despise seeing from others. I don’t want sympathy because that only makes me remember what I’ve lost. I want peace.
“Start anywhere. But you need to try, Gray. If not for me to understand then for yourself to find some form of clarity. I can see the anguish in your eyes. It’s been there too long, and I can’t bear it.”
Needing to gain a little distance in order to find the words, I step away from her, my body now cold from my escape. Walking over to the mini bar at the other side of my office, I take two glasses and pour us both a whiskey, hoping it will take the edge of the anxiety that is gripping my chest. Handing Nora a drink, I sit on the couch. Taking a large mouthful, I let the burn of the whiskey coat my insides as I look to the floor.
“When I was a kid, my dad told me that one day my world would come crashing down around me and there’d be no one there to help me out because I was nothing more than a hindrance. Thankfully, I knew he was talking bullshit because the man was nothing more than a bully. I saw through him the first time he raised his fist to me. But that doubt—regardless as to whether I knew different—remained in the back of my mind and I never realized it was festering until Mom died. And at the point everything was already blown up in the air with what happened to your dad.” Swallowing the lump in my throat, I try and regain my composure as my body fights with so many emotions.
“I believed putting barriers up after she’d gone and shutting everyone out was the right thing to do. At the time, it was all I could do in order to cope. But in doing that, it changed things between us. I hated that look in your eyes whenever you came home; the one I put there. The longer it went on, the harder it got, yet it was somehow easier to walk away than to admit I was struggling. Asher was hardly here, and I didn’t feel I could turn to your parents and be a burden.” I look up at her, fighting the tears as I speak the truth that has been a constant battle ever since I hid myself away. “And now that those barriers are up, I don’t know how to bring them back down.”
Leaving her spot from the door, Nora comes over, sitting herself on the coffee table in front of me. She reaches out for my glass, placing it with hers on the table beside her before taking hold of my hands, looking at me with tears of her own.
“You didn’t have to hide away, Grayson. You didn’t have to conceal your pain. I’m your friend. At least I thought I was.”
“You are.” I grip her hands tighter to reassure her.
“Then don’t shut me out. For the last couple of years, this back and forth connection with you has been exhausting, and each time you avoid me it hurts more. All you had to say was that you needed time—that you needed space in order to deal with the situation—and I would have respected that. I wouldn’t have judged you for struggling with losing your mom because people deal with grief differently.”
I shake my head, knowing what she just said would never have happened. “If I’d told you I needed those things, you’d never have given me them. I know you, Nora, and you make everyone else’s troubles your own and help them any way you can because you are a good person. And I admire that about you so much, but I couldn’t let you do that when you already had so much going on with your dad and your studies.”
“So you fought it alone.”
“It was only fair.”
“But not for you.” Her voice cracks. “What’s the one thing you’ve always told me to never be ashamed of or apologize for?”
I smile knowing I’ve contradicted myself. “For being sad.”
“Exactly. So, don’t fight this on your own, okay? You’re stuck in a place that no one wants to see you in—that I don’t want to see you in. Let us help you. There’s no shame in asking for it.”
I nod, knowing she is right. I can’t keep putting myself through this torture because it’s driving me crazy, and now that the air between us has been cleared and I’ve confided in her, the tightness in my chest begins to ease. I’ve underestimated her strength. Maybe she would have been able to handle more than I gave her credit for. It might not have come to this if I’d have opened up to her sooner. I had Asher, I had Mark and Ryan, but even their friendship was different to what we share.
“When did you become so wise?”
She scrunches her nose up. “It’s surprising what time away from a protective brother can do.”
I chuckle softly, looking down at our joined hands. “True.”
Dipping her head to look at me, her eyes glisten as a soft smile tugs her lips. “My mom always said that when someone is sad all they need is a cuddle. Do you need a c
uddle, Grayson?”
I’ve lost count how many times I’ve heard that over the years. And right now, I’d love nothing more than to have her in my arms. “I’d love a cuddle.”
Kneeling between my legs, she enters my embrace and wraps her arms around me. My body instantly relaxes as I kiss the top of her hair and rest my chin on her head. “I’ve treated you wrong for too long when I should have been honest with you. I’m sorry.”
“You’re forgiven. Just don’t do it again.”
Lost in her comfort, I pull her closer. The feel of her against me and her breath that hits my neck heats my skin. But when I leisurely trail my hand down her body and my palm makes contact with the soft skin on her lower back my heartrate picks up, and those damn tingles cascade down my spine, indicating to me that, although I’ve solved one battle, I’m yet to fight the other.
I should move away.
I need to move away, but my fingertips do the opposite and trace along her skin in little circles as I fight the desire that’s now working its way through my veins.
This. This is what I’ve been hiding from. This is my true reality, and I know I can’t escape it. This is everything I want but know I’ll never be able to have.
“Your heart is racing,” she breathes, tilting her head up to look at me as her fingers trail up the nape of my neck.
Finding her eyes, it’s clear to me that she feels this, too.
Tucking the hair behind her ear, I hold her gaze and whisper my honesty. “I’ve missed you so much. I’m glad I’ve got my little lady back.”
“She never left. She’s just been waiting for you to find your way back to her.”
I brush the pad of my thumb over her chin and her eyes turn liquid. Her lips part, awakening the desire inside me.
I want to kiss her.
I’d give anything to kiss her, but she’s Asher’s sister, and that alone makes kissing her one forbidden step too far. That and the fact she’s been drinking.