Grey: The Reconnection (Spectrum Series Book 4)

by Allison White

  “And here it is!” Abuela calls out behind me, ruining the moment.

  “To be continued,” I whisper to Liv, watching her reel back to planet Earth. I chuckle a little as I drop my hands and turn to Abuela.

  She walks up to me, holding a wooden box. “What’s this?” I ask her. It has some type of carving around it and a ruby embedded in the middle of the lid.

  “This is…was your grandfather’s,” she says, gulping. I catch her slip up, and I want to hug her to soothe her, but she continues, “He loved this thing because his father gave it to him. It was handed down generation to generation. And since your father is gone…” She pushes it out to me, and I gingerly take it, feeling the pressure in such a little box.

  “It’s mine,” I finish for her and look into her solemn eyes.

  She hums as a reply. “Now, he said you will find something important in here.”

  Curious, I flip the lid open and am met with a bunch of crap. I look at her with skepticism. “Random papers and paper clips are important?”

  She shrugs, expelling a sigh. “He said you’d know what it was when the time came.” I look up and hold her gaze. “You know how weird your abuelo was,” she says.

  “Yeah, I know…” I trail, feeling the memories clog up my mind again. I close the lid and press a finger to one of my temples, rubbing gently.

  She cups my face again and sniffles. “You behave, okay?”

  “Okay, Abuela,” I sigh, and she rubs my cheeks.

  “You need a shave,” she says, and I laugh. I wrap my arms around her and breathe in her scent of cinnamon and dish-soap. “Te extrañaré, bebé.” (I’ll miss you, baby.)

  “Yo también te voy a extrañar,” I tell her honestly, and she makes that weird sound again.

  When she leaves, something she said is stuck in my brain. (I’m going to miss you too.)

  I walk into the bathroom across the hall. “Did you take the pill yet?” I am referring to the morning after pill. I almost forgot about our little “connection” in the very shower behind her yesterday morning. But when Abuela said the word “bebé,” a fire was lit under my ass to remind Liv.

  Liv stands up straight from the sink and wipes her mouth. “Just did,” she says with a sort of sad smile.

  “You okay?” I ask, and she nods. I stand back as she passes me and enters our room. I follow her and watch her carefully as she zips up her luggage and stands it up. “Well, you don’t look it.”

  “I am, Grey,” she says with a sigh.

  “I’m just asking to be nice,” I snap, and she looks confused. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  She shrugs and rubs her palms together, avoiding my gaze. “I just…I was just thinking about our future. I mean, I know we aren’t really anything right now, but I’d still like to know if we can ever take a large step past being a couple.”

  “Seriously?” I tilt my head.

  She nods. “I would still like to have a family in the future.”

  I scoff and bend down to my luggage, zipping it shut after throwing a few shirts in it. “Well, I don’t.”

  “I get that—” she says, closing her eyes again, like she’s fucking tired of me. I don’t like it.

  “Then you may as well go back to Noah because I won’t give you children—don’t want ’em,” I tell her, standing up and catching the brief flicker of hurt cross her face. Her lips tremble, and she looks away, biting them. Fuck. “Sorry, but I’m just telling you the truth.”

  “Is there a reason?” she asks, daring a glance at me.

  I nod. “There’s no point to them.”

  “Not even…marriage?” she suggests lightly, and I grimace.

  “Fucking Christ, Liv.” I hold up my hands. “Do you understand that we aren’t a couple, yet you’re talking about marriage and children?” It’s fucking scaring the crap out of me thinking of mini-mes or mini-hers running around. I actually shudder. Like, Jesus fuck. We aren’t even together and she’s thinking of kids. I’ve already told her I don’t want them. There’s nothing about a slobbering, snot-nosed child that appeals to me.

  Again, she looks hurt and turns her gaze to the ground.

  I don’t like it when she looks like that.

  I walk over to her and cup her face.

  “Let’s take this one step at a time, yeah?” I lamely suggest, and she frowns. I kiss her forehead and rush out of the door, luggage in hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Liv

  I am nervous the entire plane ride back. I haven’t spoken to the girls or any of my friends since I spontaneously went to Venezuela with Grey. I know I shouldn’t have alienated them, but I was afraid of what they would have said. I expect them to be angry at me for not telling them or answering their calls or responding to their texts. I was and still am not prepared to know how they really feel about me. I lost nearly two major people in the span of ten minutes.

  Just before I left, both Noah and Mason chewed me out for my decision to be there for Grey. I knew Mason would be confused but thought he would still be there for me. I mean, he’s my best friend. At least that’s what I thought. He of all people knew how much Grey meant to me and how I wasn’t one hundred percent over him. I expected him to be a little pissy but supportive of me doing what I thought was best. And I had expected Noah to be upset; I was leaving with my ex-boyfriend. The very man I was so in love with.

  I understand how I lost Noah. I can’t lie and say I was hurt that he didn’t trust me, because look at what happened. I fell right back in step with being so caught up in all things Grey. We reconnected like he thought we would. I betrayed him and broke his heart by ending things between us. So I get that he hates me right now. I saw the resentment coming the moment Grey and I were in that shower together. Because I knew, and even he did, that I wouldn’t be able to resist the temptation of both the physical and soulful need of Grey, my first and, I believe, my forever love.

  However, when I left, I hadn’t expected Grey and me to sort of make up with the high possibility of us getting back together. And although I am ecstatic, I know there will be consequences, some big and some small, because of it. My friends may think I’m stupid for going with him in the first place. Or weak-willed for sleeping with him twice before even identifying what we are. And I know on some plane they could be right, because I didn’t think before bending to his will and giving in to this desperate need to have him and be with him again.

  There was no way I could have detested him enough to step out of that shower or ignore his breakdown on the roof. I could not have pushed his head off of my shoulder on the way to Venezuela. I could not have found the strength within me to hold back the smile or laughter that always came so easily when around him. I just couldn’t have. He brings out the wildly compassionate side of me. The side that doesn’t question his shoulder on me, or step back from his touch, or keep from joining him in a stream. He brings out the absolute best and worst of me, and I freaking love it because he makes me feel so…so alive.

  I don’t know I am smiling at him until he glances over at me from the driver seat, laughing that laugh that makes his eyes crinkle and his dimpled cheeks redden.

  “Why are you smiling at me, creep?” he asks in a playful tone.

  I bite my lip and shrug. “I’m just happy.”

  He hums and leans over the center console to rub my thigh unconsciously, at least I think it is… “Why are you happy?”

  “Because of you,” I say before I can stop myself. But it’s true.

  His slight smile falters, and he looks at me again, forehead creased. “What’d I do?”

  “Nothing.” I slink my fingers through his cautiously and watch for a negative reaction. When he doesn’t pull away or make a face, I quietly sigh in relief. “I just like the way you make me feel.”

  His face does twist up a little with a smile as he looks at me. “Really?”

  “You asked why I was smiling. That’s the reason.” I laugh with a little shrug.

&n
bsp; “Yeah, but I thought you would answer with: my massive co—”

  “Do not finish that,” I warn, my hand over his mouth.

  He bites my hand, and I let go. “It’s just a word.” He bursts out into laughter, making me redden and regret even saying anything in the first place.

  “One that I really dislike.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I hate the way it sounds and just bleh.”

  He’s snorting up a storm now. “You are such a little wuss.”

  “I am not!” I cross my arms.

  “Oh, you so are!” He bops my nose, and I swat his hand away. More laughter.

  Bastard.

  “Am not,” I mumble.

  “So, you wouldn’t mind me screaming the word ‘cock!’” he screams, and I jump. He is basically cracking himself up now, hitting the wheel, face redder than a firetruck.

  “No,” I say through gritted teeth, chin up as I face him head on.

  He holds my gaze before looking back at the road. “Co—” I raise a brow, and he grins as he finishes, “—ck.”

  “Ugh!” I hold my ears, but I can clearly hear him roaring in laughter. “You are such an asshole!”

  “Your asshole,” he croons with a cocky smirk. I open my mouth to respond, but he cuts me off with a sharp, “And the owner of your beloved cock.”

  “Jesus—Grey!” I can’t be any redder from embarrassment. And he can’t be any more of an asshole as he laughs and teases me with a word that is so displeasing in my ears.

  He does this the entire way home, and I fall a little bit more in love with this annoying bastard who has my eternal love and doesn’t even know.

  ***

  I arrive home about fifteen minutes later. I stand at the front door for maybe five minutes with sweaty palms. I know what everyone’s reactions will be when I walk in. It is what I’m scared of. I’m just not ready to go in yet. I prep myself and drill it into my head that they just care for me and want what’s best for me. But I will have to drill it into their heads that Grey is what’s best for me. I know he is. And they will have to put their feelings toward him to the side and focus on how he makes me feel.

  With a few deep breaths, I finally unlock the door and open it.

  “Hello?” I call out, closing the door behind me and staring up at the marble staircase. “Char? Jaim’? Julia? Anyone here?” I anxiously stuff my hands in the back pockets of my jeans. I crane my neck back and slide my tongue through my lips, humming. They aren’t here. I don’t know if I should be even more on edge that they will jump out and pummel some sense into me now or relieved that I don’t have to deal with them right now.

  “Olivia, is that you?” I hear Louise say, and I freeze.

  Oh, I did not prepare for her yelling. Welp, I am in for it now.

  “Hey,” I say nervously when she rounds the corner from the kitchen.

  She gasps as her hands fly to her mouth. “Olivia! You are not dead!” she exclaims, rushing over to me. I’m crushed by a constricting hug that literally takes my breath away. But soon enough, I wrap my arms around her and hug her back.

  “Of course I’m not dead,” I say and pull back, staring into her teary hazel eyes. “You thought I was dead?”

  She shrugs, wiping away a tear. “Kidnapped, actually.”

  I gasp and put a hand to my heart. “Kidnapped?” I choke out, then pause. “Did you have the police look for me?” I am seriously regretting not leaving a note.

  “I prayed.”

  Well, yeah.

  I grin and rub her shoulders. “I have missed you, Louise.”

  She pulls me into another bone-crushing hug. And I do not pull away this time. I deserve to have her feel my warm flesh and not cold bones. God, I could never imagine putting her through this again. She rambles on and on about how worried she was and how she couldn’t sleep at night knowing I was missing, probably dead in her mind. I hug her back even harder, promising to tell her when I am abruptly leaving the country. After all she has done for me, she deserves that much.

  “Olivia, is that you?” I hear my mother’s shrill voice and freeze, as does Louise.

  “Oh no…” Louise and I both whisper as we hear her heels click against the stairs.

  “It is you! Do not move, little girl!” she demands.

  Louise pulls back and caresses my cheeks. “Good luck,” she teases, and I laugh nervously. She kisses my cheek and stalks off to the kitchen.

  “Olivia Renee Westerfield!” my mother shouts as she storms over to me. She looks just as terrifying as I last saw her. Dark brown hair pinned up in a beehive hairstyle, pearls glimmering under the crystal chandelier. Her loose, sheer red dress flows behind her and, with her matching Louise Vuittons, she looks like a really glamorous but horrifying she-devil.

  “Mother.” I grin at her. “It’s great to see you a—”

  “Where did you go without my permission?” she barks.

  I wait a few seconds to make sure she is serous. But then again, when is she never not serious?

  “I went to Venezuela with a friend to support them. Their grandfather had just passed a—”

  “Venezuela?” she exclaims, blue eyes sparking with anger. “Who is this friend you’d leave the country for, so abruptly without my say?”

  “First, I do not need your say so or permission—I am nineteen, an adult,” I state firmly. “And, not that it is any of your business…Grey.”

  She freezes like a glitch, then breaks into a frightening smile. “Grey?” she asks through gritted white teeth. “You are back with…him?” she spits out like he is pure poison.

  “Not officially, but we’ve realized we are much better together than apart,” I tell her, and she scoffs, shaking her head at me like I am the ultimate disappointment.

  “You’re just a little girl obsessed with the thought of love, but that is not this.” She gestures me up and down with a disgusted snarl. “This is a crazy obsession. A fad. This is a phase of bad boys you will get over in a month’s time.”

  “That is not what this is,” I argue. “I truly do love him, Mother. Why can’t you see that?”

  “Love does not make someone lose their minds and try to kill themselves!” she screams at me, and I flinch.

  “I did not try to kill myself!” I snap, feeling my cool steadily melting away.

  She laughs a haunting laugh whilst nodding at me. “Oh, yes, you did, dear. Because he has twisted your once intelligent mind into believing whatever he’s feeding you is love. Trust me, it is nothing of the sort. It’s just a trick. He’s using you to get off on whatever goes on in that insane mind of his.”

  “He has not twisted anything, Mother. What I feel for him is real!” I scream, and she laughs coldly.

  “He is a mere distraction for the time being. But he will stop being one when I get you the right help—”

  “I do not need help, Mother!” Why doesn’t she understand this?

  “You are not well, Olivia!” she snaps, stepping closer, glaring down at me from the tower of her high heels. “You are obsessed with that toxic boy, and I will not allow it anymore…” She pauses and looks me up and down like she truly resents the sight of me. “And here I thought you were more than a stupid slut for any boy who lays a hand on her and tells her she’s pretty.”

  I gasp loudly and literally reel back, feeling as though she’s stabbed me straight in the heart. Hot tears blur my eyes. I can’t believe she just said that.

  “What kind of mother says something like that?” I can’t help but whimper, holding my chest.

  “The kind of mother who wants the best for her child and won’t let her screw up her life over some boy,” she spits out.

  “He is not just some boy, Mother. He is the love of my life!” I croak, frustrated.

  “You do not get to raise your voice at me!” She points a finger at me.

  “But you get to call me stupid and a slut?” That hardly seems fair!

  “Yes, because you’re acting lik
e both of those things!”

  “I can’t change how I feel about him.”

  “Yes, you can, with the right treatment.”

  “You cannot treat love, Mother! Even though you don’t feel it anymore because Dad stopped loving you the minute you turned into this—this insensitive monster doesn’t mean you can decide who I can and cannot love!” I scream, instantly regretting it, knowing their rocky marriage is an extremely sensitive subject.

  Before I can take my words back, her hand collides with my cheek.

  I reel back and trip over my feet in shock. I cannot believe she just slapped me! Her daughter, her only child! And she doesn’t even look sorry. I hold my cheek and listen to the ring in my right ear, staring up at her with wide eyes and a breaking heart. She clenches her fists but says nothing as she glares down at me.

  “How dare you speak to your mother that way?” she hisses, and I grimace.

  Tears run down my face unapologetically as I scramble to my feet. “You aren’t my mother,” I whisper, and she looks slightly taken aback. I turn around and run to the front door. I grab my luggage and run down the driveway without looking back.

  ***

  A little under an hour later, I am dragging my luggage up the first place I thought to come to. My feet are on fire and my knuckles are white from lugging the heavy weight for so long, but they don’t outweigh the war going on in my mind and the breaking of my heart with each step. I’m still reeling back from the fact that my own mother slapped me for loving someone. It isn’t even the slap, but more so the fact that she hated me so much she did it.

  I press the doorbell and wait numbly.

  The door swings open.

  Grey tilts his head, confused. “Liv…what are you doing here?” He eyes my luggage.

  I gasp as an overwhelming sob ripples through my mouth. I drop the suitcase and barely hear the metal handle collide with the ground. I drop to the cement steps and let the emotions pour. He falls after me and pulls me into his chest. I wrap my arms around him and cry harder than I have ever cried before. Because I have just lost another family member. I have just lost my mother.