Gravity: A Salvation Society Novel

by K. L. Jessop

  “And that’s why everyone loves a Dixon girl.”

  “Are you all right, darling? You haven’t been yourself since you got back from Makenna’s,” Mom asks, coming into the living room and sitting on the couch with a coffee.

  I’m watching a documentary on National Geographic about sharks while I wait for a response from Grayson. I’d texted him earlier asking what time he finished work but not yet had a reply.

  “You’re not worried about your father, are you? Because you do know he will be okay. We’re just going to have to adjust to a few things that’s all.”

  “Yeah, I know.” After a restless night, Dr. Newman had decided to keep him in hospital one more night. He is due to come home tomorrow, and excitement and anxiety have both hit me in equal measures. I’ve not seen him since yesterday, and I can’t wait to have him home, but right now, that’s not what’s on my mind.

  “I mean, I’m anxious, but with everyone around, I know he’ll be in good hands.”

  “So, what’s up?”

  I look at her, unsure why she thinks there’s something wrong when there isn’t. “Nothing. I’m fine. I’m just waiting to hear back from Grayson about when I’m working next. I asked him to switch some of my shifts around this week.”

  “Why don’t you pop over and ask him?”

  “Because he’s at work.”

  “Nope. His truck is in his drive. I saw it when I came home.”

  I frown, sitting myself up. “He’s home? But he’s on a late shift.”

  “Well, clearly he has finished early. Why don’t you go over and spend some time with him?”

  I want to jump out of my seat and head to the door to find out why he’s home so early and if everything is all right, but then I think better of it because I don’t want to look to eager, especially with the look in my mother’s eyes that is now making me question what she is truly thinking.

  “No. You’ll be on your own.”

  “Nora, I spent many nights on my own when your father was a SEAL. Go. I’ll be fine. I have a few things to get prepared before your dad comes home.”

  I stand, tucking my phone into the back pocket of my shorts. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. Now go. Take as long as you need. That man needs to start smiling more.”

  Kissing her on the cheek, I head out the door and over to Grayson’s, still unsure why I’ve not heard from him. Maybe Asher is there, but then he would have called in to say that he was.

  A low hum of music is coming from his living room and I see one of his cat’s jump down from the couch when I walk up the steps of his porch. His door is ajar, and I head in through the screen, picking up Soda who is now crying at my feet.

  “Hey, girl. Where is your daddy, huh?” I murmur, stroking her.

  I’ve not been here in so long; it will be interesting to see what Grayson has done with the place. “Grayson. Are you in here?”

  When I reach the living room door, I halt and my breath catches.

  On the floor, leaning against the couch, Grayson sits with his head bowed and his arm resting on his knees, a photo hanging from his fingertips. The atmosphere in the room makes my chest tight and my heart pound and I’m unsure whether to stay put or to go to him.

  But that pull between us makes the decision for me.

  “Grayson?” I say softly, taking a step closer.

  Looking around the room, my eyes latch on to more items and my heart becomes pained with what I uncover. A shiver runs down my spine.

  They’re still here.

  All his mom’s personal belongings are still here, decorating his home as if she’s never left.

  Taking another step, I let my fingers trail over Sandie’s soft, rose blanket that is draped over her chair. Her sandals still sit at the side of the fireplace while her bookcase in the corner—now covered in a layer of dust—remains untouched. Everywhere I look, the ghost of Sandie Bennett is still very much alive.

  “Oh, Grayson,” I whisper, placing my hand on my chest as tears now prickle my eyes. All this time he’s not only been hiding from the world, he’s been too afraid to let her go.

  Needing to comfort him, I go over and kneel in front of him without a word. The ache in my chest is excruciating, and I can’t bear the thought of knowing that this is quite possibly how he’s spent his nights alone since her death if he wasn’t working himself to the ground at the bar to stop himself from truly breaking.

  “Hey,” I whisper, gently placing my hand on his arm. “Look at me. It’s just me.”

  When he lifts his head, I have to fight to keep it together. His glassy eyes, haunted and torn, stare back at me. The agony in his blues is heavy, and the anguish in his features is too much.

  “I advised your brother to seek help today, yet I’m no better because here I am, stuck in a world I’m desperate to get out of but don’t know how.” His lip quivers, and the vulnerability in him cuts me in two. “She’s everywhere I look, Nora, and as much as I dislike that, I don’t know how to let her go either. Some days, I loathe her for what she’d become. Other days, I have so much love for her its unbearable because she’s not here for me to tell her. And now I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do.”

  “Grayson...”

  He welcomes me into his arms, and I hold him like my life depends on it. His grip on me is desperate as he buries his head in my neck, holding me with just as much power as if he needs my strength to find his own.

  “Tell me what to do,” he whispers.

  “Shh, I’m here now.”

  I hold him close, tracing my fingers down his back to reassure and calm him as the rapid beat of his heart vibrates against me. The loss of his mom has always been in his eyes every time I’ve looked at him, but tonight his demons have defeated him. When I feel his body start to relax, I shift myself to the floor and sit beside him, taking his hand in mine.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispers, looking at me with a half-hearted smile and glossy eyes. “A slight change in my mood from yesterday, huh?”

  “It’s a change I needed to witness, Grayson. It’s okay to break. No matter when that time is. We never apologize for being sad, remember.”

  “I thought I was doing okay, or at least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself, but after today…”

  I stroke his arm with the tips of my fingers.

  Thinking back to when I first found him, I question what Asher has to do with this and what’s happened to lead Grayson down this path. Or maybe he has no clue himself and it’s the grief taking all his control. Either way, living in a house of haunted memories is not going to help him heal.

  Picking the photo back up, he studies it for a moment, drawing his finger over his mother’s face. The faded image is of Sandie and Grayson when he was a young boy. The smile on their faces is priceless as they each stand holding a balloon. Sandie was always a beautiful, flawless woman with hair as soft as silk.

  “She was beautiful,” I whisper.

  “She was. Her smile was one of my favorite things about her. The way it made her eyes sparkle. The way her face lit up. The summers when school was out, and Dad was overseas were the best. Cotton candy, days at the beach, and rollerblading were just a few of the things we did when I was a kid. I swear, half the time she looked forward to those days more than I did. She’d bounce her way across the house in excitement, loving that it was a new day for adventure and fun. I guess those were the times she’d felt more alive and free than any other.” He exhales. “Life changed the second Dad would land back on Virginia soil, and her smile would be pretty much non-existent until he was deployed again.”

  “He wasn’t a nice man,” I whisper, remembering the times Grayson had looked so sad when he’d come over to ours. I’d been just a little girl then, and Mom used to say that it was just his young adult mood whenever I questioned her about it. But I’d known different. I’d been able to see it in his eyes, and the times he’d come over with bruises on him, the sadness in them had been even more pr
ominent.

  “I remember the times you’d come over to ours and tell me you’d been in a fight. You never once told me it was your dad, but over time I’d learned the truth without the words falling from you.”

  He nods. “Children should be seen and not heard in his eyes. Everything I did was wrong. Everything Mom did was even worse, and the day I stood up to him to protect her, I become his human punching bag. I guess at that point, I was the easier option for his excuses. It was easier to explain to people that my bruises were because I’d been in a brawl because I was young and stupid. He could hit me anywhere he wanted. With Mom, he had to hide the marks he inflicted on her. And as the years went on, her beautiful smile faded faster when she saw what he did to me. To us both.”

  “Have you heard anything from him since?”

  He shakes his head, the tension in his shoulders now back. “Nothing. I’ve no idea where he is, and I don’t care. He ripped this family apart in more ways than one. I never want to see him again because I won’t be able to hold myself responsible for my actions. He made her feel worthless while she was with him and made her believe she’d never cope without him. And she did believe that.”

  “So, after he left, she drank to stop the demons he had created in her thoughts,” I murmur, closing my eyes at the thought, now with a better understanding about why Sandie had turned to alcohol.

  “Yep. He was gone physically, but mentally he was still in her head. Before long, she was out of control while I was out of my depth regarding knowing what to do with her.”

  "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed someone, even though it was your choice not to have anyone."

  He lets out a heavy breath, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling. "I honestly thought that locking myself away was what I needed, Nora. Now I realize I was wrong because I’m no further forward with no escape."

  “Can you tell me what happened that day?” I whisper, looking up at him.

  He’s never spoken of the day Sandie died—I don’t think even Asher knows what happened—and keeping this close to his chest is part of the reason why he’s still drowning in grief. His jaw tightens and tears threaten to fall as he struggles to keep it together.

  He swallows hard, shaking his head. “I was tired. Tired of trying to stop her from falling apart. Tired of watching her poison herself. Tired of being that care giver. So exhausted that I failed to see she had hit rock bottom. We argued. I told her I hated what she’d become and that she wasn’t thinking about anyone but herself. I knew it was wrong and that I was playing a pretty selfish game, but I just wanted her to realize what was more important... So I gave her a choice.”

  I close my eyes, already knowing the outcome.

  “I produced a bottle of vodka in front of us and told her to choose which was more important to her. The booze or her son. I waited and waited as she stared at the bottle, and when she looked at me with tears in her eyes, for a moment I felt relief. I felt pride because I thought she’d do the right thing and choose her son… But then she swiped the bottle from right in front of me and told me to leave. So, I did.” His eyes slam shut and his jaw muscles tense. “I left, disgusted with myself that I had done something so low because she was sick, but I left broken-hearted because it wasn’t me she needed. Hours later, I shattered completely when I was rushing her to the hospital after I found her laying on the floor in a pool of her own vomit. But it was too late.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the lump in the back of my throat thick as I try and stay strong for a man that’s falling apart.

  “I wanted her to stop, Nora.” His voice breaks as a single tear slips down his cheek. “I wanted to save her from killing herself, but I went and killed her anyway by making her choose.”

  “Don’t say that; this is not your fault.” I cup his cheek, needing him to know that he can’t hold himself responsible for a death he had no control over. Sandie had been an alcoholic, and regardless of those around her desperate to help, she’d refused it.

  “Grayson, you can’t blame yourself for something that was way out of your control. Your mom was ill, and nothing you could have done would have stopped her if she didn’t want to. This isn’t down to you; you have to understand that.”

  “I miss her so much. I just wish she was here so I can tell her that I love her.”

  “I know.” I rest my forehead against his. “But she would have known that you loved her. She knew you loved her. And I also believe that she wouldn’t want to see you this way. She wouldn’t want you still living in a home that has her belongings right where she left them. It’s not healthy, Grayson. You need to try and move on.”

  He pulls back, holding my gaze, his eyes less haunted than when I first arrived. However, the sparkle in them that I’m longing to see, isn’t quite there.

  As he tucks the hair behind my ear, a sad smile tugs at his lips. “I know I need to pack them up, but in the beginning it somehow felt like she’d never left. All these things and all these memories reminded me of the times when she hadn’t been sick—when alcohol hadn’t been her purpose or her reason. I just want to remember those times. Only now, I don't think I have the strength to move forward."

  “Pop once said that for someone to grow as a person, they need to find the courage. Finding that gives you the strength in order to change.”

  “He’s a wise man your dad,” he smiles.

  “He is.” I stroke my thumb over his cheek. “You’re stuck, Gray. You need to find your bravery in order to change, and while you do that I’ll be right beside you. Let me help you.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” he whispers.

  “I want to.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t deserve to feel this way, and I can’t bear the thought of knowing you carry this guilt each day when you’ve nothing to be guilty for.”

  He studies me for a moment, cupping the nape of my neck, pulling me closer so our lips are a breath apart. “I don’t think you have any idea how special you are, Shortcake. Your heart is pure gold and should never be broken.”

  When he presses his lips to mine, I fall into his touch. Our tongues dance, teasing and tasting as my fingers grip the back of his neck. His hand trails down my stomach before he grabs my hip and moves me to straddle him. When his arms circle my waist, he breaks the kiss and holds me tight, kissing my neck as whispers of his gratitude decorate my skin. I hold him in return, hating the vulnerability I’ve seen in him tonight but pleased he has finally let his guard down.

  Grayson may believe my heart is pure gold, but his is platinum and, if he’ll let me, I’ll hold it in my hands forever.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Grayson

  “Are we okay?” Asher asks, standing in front of me as I sit at the patio table of the Nelsons’ backyard. His hands are in the pockets of his jeans, apprehension and remorse clouding his features, while the dark shadows under his eyes tell me that he has had another night of drinking.

  We’ve not spoken since yesterday, and the only reason we are together now—at his parents’—is because he’s due to fly out soon. I’m still mad at him for the things he said. However, for the sake of those around me, I push that frustration down for another time.

  A part of me is glad the heated discussion took place because it has enabled me to sort my head out, confess my troubles and seek the direction I need to go in order to get out of the war I’m trapped in. Opening up to Nora like I did made me realize I can’t keep walking down the same road because nothing I do will change the past or bring Mom back.

  Her things—not her favorite blanket, nor the books she’d not touched in years—haven’t filled my thoughts with the memories I hoped they’d create. They’ve just loaded me with more torture and suffering because she’s not here to use them like she once did. I’d known part of my prolonged grief was because of this, and each time I walked into my house, the weight of her memory had got harder to carry.

  But what was
I to do?

  I wanted the mother I once knew: the one before the drink, the one I’d loved seeing in her rocking chair on a morning. I’d got lost in those haunted dreams, and they’d filled me with grief that had taken over faster than I’d known how to control. Now, I’ve admitted and accepted my past, even though I have a little while to go before I can truly breathe again.

  But as I look up at my friend, I feel he’s oblivious to the demons that rest over him—the ones he believes he should face each day. Denial is one of the many symptoms of PTSD, and I believe Asher is engulfed in that right now. The only form of control he has over those torments are booze and war. However, no matter the things that have been said and done, I can’t let him head off knowing that we weren’t talking. I’m not that much of an asshole.

  I exhale, exhausted with the events from the last twenty-four hours. “We are,” I state, sitting forward. “But it doesn’t mean it’s forgotten.”

  “Somehow I didn’t think it would be.”

  “You were a prick on every level, and regardless of your mindset, Asher I’m with Mark on this one. Running away isn’t going to change what’s happening at home. I just hope you realize that.”

  He falls quiet for a moment, and I let the silence between us settle—knowing he’s absorbing my words—hoping he will change his mind and stay but knowing he won’t because he’s too goddamn stubborn.

  “I’m sorry for what I said about your mom. It was wrong of me,” he says sensitively.

  “It was.”

  “I just need to sort my head out, Gray.”

  There’s no point even arguing with him on this—he’s blind to the fact that being out there will only mess with his head more because he’s not here—so all I can do is agree.

  “I know.”

  “Thanks, man. I appreciate your loyalty.”

  “And speaking of that, when are you going to tell everyone that you’re out for longer than a couple of days?”

  He closes his eyes for a second and releases a heavy breath, one that tells me so much when he’s said so little, and a burst of frustration over the whole situation hits me once more.