Grey: The Reconnection (Spectrum Series Book 4)

by Allison White

  “I could use some salad from Panera, and maybe some ice cream from my favorite parlor downtown?” she says sheepishly. “Remember to get extra—”

  “Sprinkles. Yes, I got it,” I cut her normal order off with a laugh. “Anything else? Maybe some plugs?”

  “Plugs…?” she questions.

  “Yeah, to plug up the bloody captain sailing the bitchy ship down south.” I quirk a teasing smile even if she can’t see me. She’s been having her lady-time for a few days now and has been quite a bitch on and off, but I get it completely. It’s her time to be bipolar, I get the rest of the month, it’s just nice that way. Equal, you know?

  She makes a really unattractive sound that could only sound cute on her. “Stop being so insensitive and get me my damn stuff, okay?”

  I am ready with a comeback when I hear a very distinct male voice in the background on her side. I stop walking at the bottom of the hill and grind my teeth.

  “Who the fuck is that?” I boom, giving her no time to defend herself. I listen to her speak as I begin to run back to my car that’s about thirty minutes away. But hearing a guy is with her, I am so fucking pissed I will reach it in twenty. “Liv!”

  “It’s no one!” she squeaks, and I growl impatiently. “Seriously,” she mutters, and I perfectly imagine her biting her lip.

  “That didn’t sound like no one.” I sound as pissed as I feel, maybe even more.

  “Well, it was…just the TV,” she lies. “You left it on that fighting channel.”

  “Do not lie to me, Liv.” I just want her to tell the damn truth. I don’t think she’d ever bring a fucking guy to my—our—kind of—house. Not unless she wanted to see more blood than she has for the past few days on my hands.

  “Don’t forget the sprinkles. ’Kay, bye, drive safe.” She makes a kissy sound in the phone before hanging up.

  I grunt angrily as I shove my phone on my basketball shorts and begin running. All kinds of thoughts of bashing a fucker’s face into the ground and demanding why she brought him to the house in the first place play through my mind like a horror film. I’m pretty sure I knock down a few people here and there as I run harder and faster than I had running, but I couldn’t give less of a massive shit. They are simply in my way.

  When I finally get to the house half an hour later, I storm in, nearly throwing the front door off its hinges. I have not cooled down one fucking bit as I drove like an absolute madman on the road. A cop tried to pull me over a while back, but I lost that fucker easily. Partly because he’s a shitty newbie, and I am a pro when it comes to ditching cops. Don’t ask.

  “Olivia Renee Westerfield!” I belt out her name as I throw open the bedroom door.

  She jumps up a little. She is on the bed in the same clothes I left her in, one of my black shirts and boxers. Her hair is thrown up in a ragged, curly ponytail, and her laptop rests on her thighs.

  “Aw, where’s the food?” she whines when she looks at my empty hands, about to throw a period-bitch fit.

  “Don’t start that period-bitchy shit with me,” I warn her, pointing a finger. I look around for any signs of a boy, and she watches, chewing her lip, basically making it known she is a guilty little adorable shit. “Where is he?”

  “Who?” she tries to play dumb.

  “You know who!” I snap, walking over to her.

  “No, I don’t!” she hisses, shoving her laptop down a little.

  “Yeah, right.” I turn to search the house when I hear the voice again.

  “Olivia, are you there?” The voice is close, really close…

  I look to her laptop, and she does too.

  “Shoot.” She bites her lip.

  I rush over and snatch the laptop out of her small hands before she can close it. I walk over to the door and throw it open fully. I am taken aback, lifting an eyebrow. It’s the dude she spoke to once back in December. You know, the sweater-vest, khaki-wearing motherfucker she clicked with so well? Yeah, that preppy fucker. But he was only talking to her about the program I didn’t really know about then, so why he is talking to her again now? Maybe their friendship runs past the program…?

  “Why the fuck are you talking to this prick?” I make a face, and he laughs like the good guy he is. Asshole.

  She runs over and grabs the laptop from my hands. “Matthew, can I please call you back later?” she asks sickly sweet with a smile and a bat of her eyelashes.

  The fuck!

  “Of course, good—” he begins, but I am tired of his polite voice.

  I slam the screen shut, and she screams, but I cut her off. “Are you cheating on me with him?”

  Her eyes blow open and she mouths for words, but finally squeaks out, “There is nothing to cheat on. We haven’t discussed what we are officially.”

  “So?” I shrug my shoulders violently. “You’re saying it’s okay for me to go out and fuck a random girl?”

  She looks so hurt, she bites her lip and shakes her head. “Of course it isn’t, but he and I aren’t doing anything wrong.”

  “Then what the fuck are you doing?” I scream.

  “Can you please not scream at me?” she pleads in a small voice, hands drawn up. “All it does is give me headaches and scares me a little. So, please, inside voices.”

  I rub my palm over my lip roughly in agitation and sit on the edge of the bed. “Talk,” I demand, and she sighs.

  She sits next to me, fiddling with her thumbs. “You have to promise not to get mad at me.”

  I scoff and tug at my hair. “Can’t promise that.”

  “Fine, but just…don’t walk out. Do not assume and let me speak. Please, I will only tell you if you promise me that.”

  Whatever it is must be worse than I thought. Fuck.

  “Talk,” I demand again, and she nods.

  A few tense seconds pass before she finally says, “I got accepted into the…into the Psych Program…again.”

  I snap my head toward her, but she is staring at the floor. “That’s good…right?” I rub my neck, and she finally looks at me, tears bundled up in her eyes.

  Oh no, here comes the tears.

  I grab the tissue box on her side of the bed and hand it to her. She’s been crying non-stop ever since her lady-time began. She mumbles “thank you” and begins to sniffle as she wipes her face religiously. It hurts my heart to see her this upset over something so amazing. I help her dry her tears and cup her red, puffy face.

  “You’re not mad?” she mumbles, bottom lip trembling.

  I smile but shake my head no. “Of course not, silly.”

  “But…w-why not?” she stutters, sucking her bottom lip.

  “Because you’ve wanted that spot for a long time.”

  “But it’s what ruined us the first time,” she points out, voice scratchy. I make a mental note to make her some tea for her throat. “Aren’t you even a little upset?”

  I take a deep breath and look away. “I…I think I should be…but no. It doesn’t make me upset,” I say honestly, ignoring my pride and grudge that’s fighting to break through.

  The thing did tear us apart, but it wasn’t just that. It was also her, and I am already working on building my trust for her. But she was willing to go so far for the thing; it means that it means a lot to her. And I love her so much it physically hurts, so who am I to step in the way a second time? I know for a fact that I will not let it rip me away from her again. I almost didn’t survive the last time. And I’m not going through the misery again.

  “Really?” she croaks.

  “Yes,” I laugh.

  “Yay,” she says softly, cheeks glistening with warmth. I crack up in laughter, and she gets hotter and hotter. But then she pouts and whimpers, “But the food…?”

  “I’ll get it for you.” I wink at her, and she launches her arms around me, sniffling back tears.

  “You’re the best in the world.” She kisses my neck, and I grow slack in her arms and accidentally fall into the bed. She giggles, and I laugh so hard my
stomach is in pain, but it doesn’t matter. Because she is to me the very air I breathe and the flicker of warmth I’ve craved so desperately for months. But now that I know I can’t live without her, I will never let go of this little light. Never.

  ***

  After getting her food, which she practically inhaled, blaming her lady-time, she had me take her to this store called Nerdstrom, or some geeky shit like that. The place looked like Micah’s nerdy ass and Liv threw up all over it. Khaki-everything dripped down the walls and plaid socks littered the rows and ugh, the sweater vests. I am surprised I didn’t die of boredom and disgust. But I barely bit back my tongue as she shopped for clothes for the program.

  I am seriously surprised I’m not super upset about it. I mean, it is kind of the reason we split the first time around. But then I just had to admire her drive, however fucked up it was. Plus, she really has to be really fucking destined for it or extremely talented if they are taking her again. By the way she was gushing to me about it, I could tell she’s very excited, so I will keep quiet about the wrong it has done to us and focus on how genuinely happy she is, because her happiness overrules everything. And I mean everything.

  My smile when thinking about my brilliant, foodie girl drops when I pull up at The Spot around the time Dean said I should be here. I just want to get whatever this is over with so I can go back home to my girl and tuck her in. Fuck! I am becoming so fucking whipped again! I told myself I’d stay tough this time, but how can I when she’s all pouty faces and cute smiles? I catch myself falling into a daydream about her and clear my throat.

  I stare into the rearview mirror and point at myself. “You are a tough motherfucker. You’re about to walk into a gang meeting. Act like it.”

  I get out of the car, popping the collar of my leather jacket just to prove my douche-thoughts. I head inside and ignore the stares as I walk straight into the back and down the stairs, where I expect I am needed. A lot of bad shit happens down here. Fuck that. If word got out to the PD, I would let my girl and—fuck it—David down too. But Dean has a pretty tight relationship with a few corrupt cops and knows to keep everything low-key. I kind of know what to expect. It’s the reason I’m wearing my MMA gloves right now.

  I’m not surprised when I find a few members lounging around smoking, Dean in front of a tied-up guy. He looks pretty fucked up as I stand in front of him. Blood gushes from his broken nose, bruises all over his collarbones and cheeks, and eyes so bloodshot, I can’t even tell what color his eyes are. And the lovely boss beside me has a baseball bat in his hands. You do the math as to what happened here.

  “Ask away,” I tell Dean with a sigh as I crack my knuckles, eyeing the prisoner. I bet he’ll spill once I get a few punches in. I pop a gum into my mouth and throw the wrapper away as I near the guy, but Dean pulls me back.

  “After I ask you…why didn’t you answer my calls?” Dean asks, head lolling to the side, toothpick slowly rolling in his mouth.

  I hold his intense gaze and shrug. “I was busy with training. You know how the big fight’s coming up.”

  He nods thoughtfully, rolling my answer in his mind. “Get to it,” he says, turning his back, bat propped on the floor, almost black-blood shining in the single dim light in the dusty basement. I watch him for a moment before turning to the poor fuck. I don’t know what he did or what Dean wants to know, but I know I can’t test Dean. He is the most menacing man in Miami, one who could hunt you down and show you hell at its finest.

  I throw my fist at the man’s face without any hesitation. I do it over and over, taking small breaks for him to beg, then go back at it. My boot collides with his jaw, and he cries out. After a while, I look back at Dean, who has the bat behind his neck, toothpick rolling, rolling…

  “When do I stop?” I ask.

  He picks his gaze from the man to me, then shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t…”

  I look to the man, my bloody glove…then continue bashing his face in without any hesitation.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Liv

  Something is wrong with Grey. He’s been ignoring me for the past few days, and I don’t know why. He was okay a couple of days ago. The night he left to spar with some friend, for training purposes. But ever since he got back that night, I’ve noticed a hostile, cold shift in him. So I’ve been keeping my distance. I noticed blood on his clothes and face, and when I asked about it, he just told me sparring got out of hand. I didn’t buy it, but he promised me not to worry. Obviously, I was right to worry because ever since then, he hasn’t talked to me really or been at the house. He’s just been out training, but I have a bad feeling it’s not all he’s doing.

  I want to ask what he’s up to and if it has to do with the gang, but I know him, and I know he won’t just up and tell me. He is an expert at building up walls to keep me out and his dirty little secrets in. I broke them down before, and I could do it again. Only problem is, I got so hurt with every swing I took.

  However, I would do anything to get inside that crooked mind of his. Especially if he’s hiding something dangerous. I just wish he would understand how much I love and care for him and how I would do anything to protect him. Though, also knowing him, whatever he’s hiding is to protect me. We are such a mess for each other. It’s both romantic and fucked up.

  “So, how’s married life going?” Charlotte teases, referring to me and Grey.

  I roll my eyes at her smile. “We are not married.”

  “Okay, but when it does happen, I want to be HBIC,” Jaimie says, throwing an arm around me.

  “Head bitch in charge?” Julia laughs, glancing at her girlfriend.

  “You’ve already earned that title,” Charlotte jokes, and Jaimie glares at her.

  I laugh and gain a few odd looks from people, but I focus on my best friends. We are currently at the mall because I needed to get out of Grey central and see the rest of the world. Their words, of course. But so far, we’ve been wandering around talking about nonsense and how school is starting in a few weeks. Something these girls are not the least bit happy about. I, on the other hand, am ecstatic. What’s not to love about learning?

  “I meant head bridesmaid in charge,” Jaimie clarifies with an annoyed eye roll. I rub her shoulder, and she flashes a kinky little smile at me. Oh no. “It is happening, then?”

  “No, it is not happening.” I drop my hands, and she pouts. “I’m just nineteen, guys. Marriage isn’t even remotely on my radar.”

  “So? Jules and I are twenty, and we’re getting married,” Jaimie says casually, and I almost have a heart attack.

  “When the hell did you propose?” Charlotte screeches before I can. I mean, we are very close. I find it very insulting they wouldn’t tell me they’re getting married! And so young, at that. Not that I didn’t see it coming. Their love is extraordinary.

  “I second that.” I raise a hand, and they laugh.

  “Kidding. No one popped any question,” Julia wheezes through laughter.

  “But we sure did pop something last night, if you get what I mean.” Jaimie bounces her eyebrows suggestively.

  “Gross, I didn’t need to hear that.” I twist up my face in disgust, and they just shrug.

  “I definitely second that.” Charlotte mirrors my facial expression.

  A few minutes later, we end up in Victoria’s Secret. While the girls browse, I stand off in the corner. I open up a text from Grey, replying to my last concerned text. Apparently, he’s at the gym training with some of his friends. I text him asking when he’ll be home, but it goes unanswered. I sigh and text him that I’ll be waiting patiently and wish him good luck in his training. He very well could have been busy all week with training since the big tournament is coming up soon. But that doesn’t cancel out the gut feeling that there’s more to it.

  “Hey, Liv. How does this look?” one of the girls calls out.

  I laugh, finding a slinky black lingerie piece hung over Charlotte’s head, draped against her ripped tee. “I do
n’t think it’s your color. Try blue?” I playfully suggest, and her eyes lighten up.

  “You know, I think you’re right.” She winks at me and waltzes over to the lingerie section. I smile and walk into the section, feeling naughty as I gaze over the skimpy outfits. There is lace over everything and barely any actual fabric material. I feel a red one that’s lace and holes and just very…sexy. My mind wanders to Christmas time, when I wore something similar for Grey. I let the lingerie go and clear my voice. That was the first time I had ever worn or done something so risqué. But I can’t deny how sexy I felt wearing it.

  A buzz in my shorts stops me from looking around some more. I pull it out and sigh out loud.

  The text from Grey reads,

  Thanks.

  “Everything okay?” Jaimie asks, rubbing my shoulder.

  “No,” I say honestly. I can’t lie anymore; it’s exhausting.

  “What’s the problem?” she asks.

  I just show her Grey and my’s texts.

  “Oh…cold Grey’s making a comeback.”

  “Yup.” I shove my phone back in my pocket and rub my face. “He’s been so distant lately, and I don’t know why. I want to make things right and get him to let me in, but he’s being protective over me again…which I appreciate; it’s sweet. But it’s tiring and isn’t fair to me because he shuts me out.”

  “Then show him you have control too. Be controlling.”

  I remove my hands and see she is smirking with trouble. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She glances to her right, and I glance around at the lingerie. “What do you think I mean?”

  ***

  “This is so stupid,” I mutter to myself, cinching the brown trench coat. I feel like an inexperienced hooker. And it doesn’t help that the only thing I have under this ridiculous coat is lingerie. Only I’m not going to sell my body to random men but show Grey that I have control. Stupid, but it wasn’t my idea. It was Jaimie’s. She says doing this will portray my ultra-sexy side and showcase that I am a strong, independent girl who doesn’t need no cold mother-effer. Her words, not mine.