Grey: The Reconnection (Spectrum Series Book 4)

by Allison White

  I jump and close my eyes when the door slams behind him. The breeze flowing in from the cracked window makes me shiver, and I am very aware that I am practically naked. Flushed, I quickly get dressed in a pair of jeans, a loose white shirt, and a brown leather jacket and run a brush through my hair. I lean against the window after locking it and let out a long breath. I stand here before my knees become too weak, so I sit on the bed and let my face fall in my palms. “Fuck!” I curse as loud as I can and pick up a pillow and throw it at the door.

  I never wanted to hurt Noah like this. He’s a very sweet guy, and I just caused him pain, all because I care too much. I feel as though it will be the death of me. But I can’t just flip a switch and stop caring altogether. And even if there was such a way out, I wouldn’t dare go near it, because my caring for him and overall being compassionate is what makes me me. Without it I’d probably end up like Grey, and he needs me with my switch on, or he’d be drowning in the silent darkness.

  A light knock sounds on the door before it opens.

  “Can I come in?” Mason asks, his head sticking through a tiny crack.

  Wordlessly, I nod.

  I cup my ears, watching his footfalls until the bed sinks a little with his added weight.

  It is silent with the exception of my loud thoughts whirling around my head.

  “You know, you don’t have to go because you feel sorry for him,” he says.

  I guess Noah told him, probably everyone, what’s happening when he stormed out.

  “I do not feel sorry for him.” Maybe I do a tiny bit, but that’s because any normal human would feel bad for someone who lost a loved one. I roll my eyes, annoyed he’s getting on my case too. I just need one person on my side who can see from my perspective. I stand up and begin packing again.

  “Then why are you going, Liv?” He gets up and grabs my wrist, stopping my rapid packing. “Because you know you don’t have to continue to deal with him.”

  “Out of everyone, I thought you would understand.” I sigh.

  “Why would I understand?” he exclaims. “I have been warning you from him from the very beginning, only to protect you. But you didn’t listen, and look at what happened.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop myself from falling in love despite your oh-so-fucking-vague warnings!” I snap. He furrows his brows, and I point an accusing finger at him. “You warned me but didn’t specify why. But even if you told me he hurt your sister in a really fucked-up way or was in a gang or—or he simply was too fucked up to process, I’d probably still be in love with him. I’d still have fallen for him, because I love him! Okay? Can you understand that?”

  He scoffs and looks away, a vile smile hanging on his mouth corners. “You sound insane.”

  “Maybe I am. Maybe that’s why we were so perfect for each other!” I throw my arms out and bite back a sob. “Maybe that’s why I still care for him so damn much. I couldn’t care less about myself unless he is all right.”

  “That’s sick,” he croaks and tries desperately to catch my eyes. “Do you not see how fucking sick you are? How you’re putting your neck on the line for your ex, your fucked-up ex, by the way, who has done so much wrong—”

  “Like I haven’t done any wrong!” I slice through his words, breathless. “Like I haven’t betrayed him in the worst way possible? Mason, I have gotten used to how cruel he can be, only because that was and will always be a huge part of him. That darkness in him that helped hurt your sister is still in him…but I swear, it was gone when we were together. I helped him see some light in himself…but I screwed it up. And I have to find it for him again. It…I wouldn’t be able to move on if I don’t.”

  “You don’t need to fix him—”

  “Yes, I do!”

  Mason stills and slowly shakes his head. “You are so obsessed with him that you don’t even see it.”

  “I am not obsessed with him.”

  “Yes, you are!” he screams, and I close my eyes, holding back a flinch.

  I just shake my head, biting my tongue. This has already turned to shit; I don’t want to hurt him like I’ve hurt Noah. He’s still my best friend. He means well, but he just doesn’t understand I need this to find closure. I finish packing my luggage, and he sighs, his foot tapping impatiently.

  “Why are you really doing this?” he asks.

  “I told you, he needs my help,” I answer with a tired sigh.

  “Tell me the real reason, Liv,” he demands.

  “I just did!” I snap, growing enraged by this entire conversation. We’ve never spoken so heatedly before, and it’s giving me heart palpitations.

  “No, you didn’t!”

  “Believe what you want.” I finish closing the luggage and drag it off the bed. “I’ve tried to make you all understand that moving on is like trying to swim to the top of the ocean, but you can’t swim. And trust me, I know what that feels like exactly.” He flinches. “And I will get rid of that feeling even if it means I black out a little. As long as I am able to breathe again, I will do anything. Do you understand that?”

  ***

  I leave the house, unable to undergo anymore arguments with the people closest to me. I left everyone else voicemails. I know how much crap I’ll get for not telling them directly, but I honestly can’t deal with any more pain for the day. I’ve taken all I can, and I’m barely standing as it is.

  I chew my bottom lip as I stare at the doorbell. I haven’t thought this through, and the old me is screaming in fear of the unknown. I haven’t planned what to do or say if he says I can’t go with him. But I will never know if I don’t push that damned button.

  I’ve been standing here for about ten minutes, thinking and then overthinking some more.

  Finally, my fingers feel sticky with sweat from standing in the sun for so long. And I push the doorbell. I inhale a deep breath and wiggle my fingers that are clasped around the luggage handle. I pray this goes well, because if it doesn’t, I’m not sure what to do next…

  The door swings open, and I am met with Grey: ruffled black hair, sharp black eyes, and an even darker frown. He is still the same as I left him, but more ragged, shirtless and rocking a pair of low-hanging Levi jeans.

  Silence fills between us like a pestilent force.

  “I hope crying babies don’t freak you out,” I breathe, my throat constricting with each word.

  He eyes me, then shrugs. “Are you pregnant?” His voice is much thicker than the last I heard from him, which was around an hour ago, maybe a little more.

  I feel my skin warm up like an inferno. “No, no—I mean, on the plane. There’s usually a crying baby…” I stop, feeling his eyes seep through my flushed skin.

  “Where are you traveling to?” he asks, tilting his head.

  My lips twitch into a small, awkward smile. “Um, Venezuela?”

  His brows furrow, and he crosses his arms, leaning against the door, but stays silent.

  Bastard…

  I clear my throat and drop the smile, unable to hold up its weight. “Listen, I know you will never forgive me for what I’ve done to you. And still, I am forever apologetic toward you. I want to move onto a fresh page between us. But that doesn’t mean I have forgotten about the way we used to be and the feelings involved, which were pretty damn strong.” I lick my lips nervously at his lack of input. But I’ve come too far to stop now.

  “Anyway, uh…I know how hard your grandfather’s passing is on you.” His fist flexes…well, there is some life in him. I return my gaze to his intense eyes and finally get out, “And I wanted to go with you…you know, for the funeral.” I take another deep breath and avert my eyes to the ground. “Because I don’t want you to be lonely while going through this. I know how—how hard the death of a loved one can be.”

  Tears sting my eyes, and I try my best to suck them back up with a sniffle, but it comes out louder than expected.

  He is still silent.

  I raise my eyes to wipe away my tear, but he beats
me to it.

  I freeze in place and feel steamy goose bumps run along my spine as one of his marred knuckles wipes the warm tear away. Then he cups my cheek and gives me a small slant of his soft pink lips.

  “Help me pack?” He nods inside the house, and I feel my shoulders lighten.

  I beam up at him and nod quickly. “I’d love to.”

  He hitches his lips up one side, then does something that he hasn’t in a very long time. He lets me in.

  Chapter Twelve

  Grey

  I am firmly convinced that Liv is insane. It has to be the only reason that she has stuck around for me even after all I’ve done to her. I have hurt her too many times to count. I have seen her cry, watched her soul break, and put her through every bullshit my dumb ass could think to throw at her. And she caught them all like a fucking professional and came out unscathed. Though I know for a fact that she isn’t completely the same as when I first saw her, freaked the fuck out by the opposite sex breathing the same air as her in a closed-off room.

  From the moment I saw her, I was intrigued. She was so god damn beautiful, and it didn’t just stop on the surface of her silky, flawless skin. It soaked deeper than that, to her very core, but I wouldn’t find that out until I smashed through the obnoxious wall she’d built to keep any distractions out for her future or what-the-fuck-ever. And boy did I have to smash through a thick boundary. But when I finally broke through, I discovered how vulnerable and passionate and frisky she could be. Basically, everything her mother was desperately afraid of: her daughter being human and not a freaky robot who wore buns and dressed like she went to job interviews every single day.

  When she fell for me, she fell hard. Like, face-planted through the earth until she hit hell, hard. And even though I fell even farther than that until I smashed through the center of nothing, I used how hard she fell for me and did as I pleased. I pissed her off, I broke her, I twisted her soul, and I became inhumane. But only because I knew she would come back to me and I loved to test how much she really loved me. My fucked-up self took pleasure in the fact that the one thing I loved more than life itself would always come crawling back to me.

  I know, how fucked up can I be? Apparently, very. I always have been. But when I met Liv and grew to love her so fucking much, it just got so much worse to the point that I sent her to the hospital. To the point that she cried more than she smiled. To the point that she possibly ruined her relationships with her best friend and boy-toy. To the point that she would come with me to a whole other country, just because she wanted to make sure that I was okay.

  So, like I said. She is either really fucking insane…or too damn good for her own good.

  I think it’s a mixture of both. My insanity, that I could easily have passed on to her. I should have warned her to stay away. I’m pretty sure I did. I warned her how dark I was and how I didn’t want her to drown in the darkness of despair with me, but she is the most stubborn person I know. And she’s always been good. I could never rub anything like that onto her. All I ever could rub off on her is being an asshole, which comes quite naturally to me.

  I’m pondering all of this as we’re walking up to the airport. As normal, it’s busy with people coming in, going out, and waiting for their ride. There’s a lot of honking, multiple foreign languages, and a strong smell of musty coffee and cheap perfume. This is why I hate airports. They’re too crowded, loud, and smell.

  We enter the huge building that is built entirely of glass and steel. Checking in our bags cost a little money, but I wordlessly pay for them before she can even say anything. She has spent way too much money on me in the past, for example the five hundred dollars she paid bailing me out of jail. The one hundred and change I just spent is definitely not enough, but I’ll find a way to pay her back in full. I don’t like having debts hanging over my head. Although I don’t think she desperately needs the money back or even wants it, I will give it back. It’s a good thing my abuela paid for our tickets.

  “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she says softly, like she’s afraid I’ll snap at her.

  I sigh, hating she automatically thinks that will be my reaction.

  “Yes, I did,” I whisper back to mock her, and she glares up at me. I just smile down at her, and her own lips pull into a little something. I’ll take it. “Are you hungry?” I ask.

  She nods. “I’m starved. I haven’t eaten all day.”

  “Seriously?” I try my best to sound cool, but I can’t help the little pique in my voice. I meant to give her breakfast when she woke up this morning, but everything turned to shit, and I just threw it away. I wasn’t able to stomach anything. The realization of why we’re here in this pretentious glass building hits me in waves, and I take quick breaths to keep from flipping out in public and becoming one of those stupid viral video stars on Facebook.

  “Yeah, and I’m not sure if the plane will serve quality meals,” she says, looking around for a place to eat.

  “Too bad we didn’t just take your private jet,” I joke when she grabs my hand and pulls me to a café.

  “Yeah, it is too bad.” She looks over her shoulder with the cutest little smile.

  I widen my eyes in surprise and peer down at her. She hides behind her hands to cover a giggle. “I was kidding, but you actually have a private jet?”

  She shakes her head and stands on her tippy toes to look over the guy who’s in front of her shoulder. “Not me, my parents. They use it for business trips, but mostly my mother.” Her voice is clipped toward the end, and I shift on my feet. Her relationship with her mother is completely destroyed, and I am the sole reason behind it. I kinda can’t help but feel bad, but the witch was a witch before I came into the picture. She would have likely ruined it whether I was in the picture or not, so…

  We don’t talk for the rest of the time she orders food: a bacon, egg, and cheese, and a large black coffee.

  “No sugar or milk, just black?” I make conversation as we exit the busy café, and she’s sipping her steaming coffee.

  She nods and shoots me the wicked smile she swiped from me. “Just like your soul.”

  “Hey!” I nudge her with my shoulder, and she bursts into my kind of laughter: eyes squeezed shut, nose scrunched up, cheeks flushed pink, and a light aura around her that draws my dark side to her instantly. “And here I thought you were the nice one.”

  “I am nice!” she defends as we snag two seats by the window.

  “Yeah, right.” I roll my eyes, and she giggles some more. I smile at her at the moment my pants buzz. I hold up a finger, and she nods and turns her attention outside the window at the large planes moving around as I dig my phone out of my pocket. I look at the screen and roll my eyes, shoving it in my jacket pocket. I stare out the window, my leg shaking.

  “Everything okay?” she hesitantly asks.

  “Yep,” I answer, voice clipped.

  She exhales and taps my shoulder. “Grey?” She sing-songs my name.

  “Hmmm?” I don’t feel like talking.

  “Was that…was that David?” Her voice is fragile, her lips pressed together.

  “Mm-hmmm.” I give a brief nod. I haven’t talked to him since he announced he’s staying here, in Miami. I know it’s incredibly childish, but I don’t give a fuck. He promised to always be there and have my back. How is he supposed to do that when he’s almost twenty hours away?

  “There’s a plane called Antonov An-225 that weighs one million, two hundred, eighty thousand pounds,” she blurts out.

  “What?”

  She shrugs and takes a sip of her coffee. “Sorry, it just got weird, and I know an awful a lot about airplanes.”

  “Why?” I tilt my head in fascination with this weirdly amazing girl.

  She takes a nervous chew and shrugs again. “I like to know things?”

  “Kinda forgot, because of how obsessed you were with me,” I joke, and she grows tense and looks out the window, taking another big bite. “What’s wrong?”r />
  She shakes her head and takes a large gulp from her cup. “Nothing,” she says with a smile. I know she’s lying, but I don’t want to push it, like she isn’t pushing to talk about David.

  “So, you and David haven’t talked since the party?” she asks, and I let out a little laugh.

  She still pries. How could I ever forget that?

  I shake my head no. “Tell me more about planes.”

  Her eyes light up, and I swear it is the cutest thing. And then she goes on and on about planes, about how they are lightning proof, and what they are made of, how they are made, and so much more. A human should not know so much about one topic, and so vividly and accurately, but of course she does. She’s Liv.

  About an hour later, it is finally time to go on.

  “Ah, shit,” I murmur when the buckle is attached.

  I fucking despise airplanes. The idea of them, the concept—just everything. Who wants to be thousands of feet in the air, cooped up in a tin box, with loads of people you don’t care for? Not me. That’s for fucking sure.

  “Everything okay?” Liv asks with a small pout. “We can switch seats…” she suggests.

  I look out the window past her and quickly shake my head. “No thanks, the middle is good.”

  “Excuse me, is this seat—” A man with a huge stomach, a thick beard, and beady eyes asks, pointing to the end seat with my leather jacket in it.

  “Taken. Move along, Dirty Santa,” I snap, and he grumbles a nasty reply before waddling down the aisle with the rest of the passengers.

  “Don’t be so rude, Grey.” Liv pinches my arm.

  I turn to face her. “Excuse me if I don’t want some sick guy hacking up his lungs beside me on a six-hour plane ride.”

  “How do you know he’s sick?”

  There is a loud-ass cough behind us, and no doubt it is the guy who was clutching a wad of tissues in his grubby hands.