by Anne Jolin
You know how, in horror movies, the people always split up or go towards the scary sound? Yeah, well, that is not fucking happening here. No way, Jose, was I ending up on the receiving end of some ‘It puts the lotion on the skin’ bullshit.
We stand in the middle of the living room, frozen in place. “Maybe we should call the cops,” Lennon says, her skin as pale as a ghost. I nod my head and we make our way into the kitchen.
We have a house phone in there and it’s closer than retreating back to our bedrooms. I pick up the phone, click the button, and wait to hear a dial tone before I start to enter… 9 – 1… But I stop dead when a voice comes through the door.
“Hannah. Please. Open the door.” Slam, slam, slam. Greyson.
I hang up the phone and make my way towards the front door when Lennon grabs me by the elbow.
“He sounds drunk, Han. Maybe you shouldn’t open the door.” She’s just looking out for me, but the painful way my heart constricted when I heard his voice had me going for the door anyway.
I slide open the deadbolt and turn the handle. Standing there, bracing himself on the edges of my doorframe was Greyson. His fist is still hovering in the air. He must have been bashing it against the door because it is bloody and red. Jesus Christ. He looks like shit and he smells like whiskey. I quickly poke my head out the door and am relieved when I don’t see Bagheera anywhere. At least he didn’t drive here. Thank God. I let myself feel a moment of pity for the broken man in front of me when I remember who got screwed here and put some steel in my backbone.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Greyson? It’s the middle of the night.”
“I wanted to see you,” he slurs. His drunk eyes are roaming up and down my body, taking in my boy shorts and cotton tank top. Cold air is coming through the door, and just being this close to him has my nipples pebbling. There is no doubt that he notices.
“Well, you didn’t want to see me or even so much as answer a goddamn text all week. So I don’t really give a shit if you want to see me,.” I snap and start to close the door.
He shoves his foot inside the door and effectively stops me from slamming it in his face. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he says, reaching for me.
I swat his hand away and cross my arms over my chest. “Don’t sweetheart me, asshole. I didn’t know if you were alive or fucking dead. What kind of coward ends things with someone without even giving them the courtesy of a, ‘Hey, I’m done fucking, you now. We’re done!’” I’m shouting now, my chest heaving with anger.
His eyes shine with sadness and I have to look away from him so I don’t lose my strength. This is so not going to be fixed with a drunken apology. I deserve more than that. At the very least, I deserve a goddamn explanation.
He moves closer to me, and with the deep breaths I’m taking, my breasts are grazing his chest. I still won’t look at him. He puts a finger under my chin, lifting it and I close my eyes. I won’t stand a chance if I see that look in his eyes again. I can already feel my anger dissipating just from being able to smell him, from having him so close. It’s impossible to deny it now. I missed him so much it hurt—and like any addiction, when it’s right in front of you, it’s a hell of a lot harder to pretend it doesn’t exist.
Keeping my eyes closed, I push him with the palms of my hands. “You need to go, Greyson. I can’t do this. I don’t know what happened and I don’t care. I can’t do complicated again.” I start to pull away from him when he drops to his knees in front of me, wrapping his arms around my waist. It all happens so fast that I don’t have time to move and he starts to speak.
“I’m just like him, Hannah.” His body is starting to shake, and I can’t tell if he’s crying because his face is buried in my shirt. I don’t say anything because I want him to continue and I’m afraid he’ll stop if I start talking. “I’m a terrible person. I’ll break you. I’ll break you just like he broke her. I tried to walk away. I tried to walk away after the night at the lake, after I realized I’m in love with you.”
He loves me. I can’t stop my heart from doing that stupid pitter-patter thing it does around him, but I try to remember that he’s drunk and probably won’t remember saying it.
There’s no mistaking it now. His broad shoulders are heaving as he sobs into my stomach. My resolve cracks. I lower my hands, stroking his head.
“It almost killed me. I can’t be without you. I’m selfish, and I need you. Please, Hannah.” He’s begging me, and although I’m not really sure what it is he’s begging me for, I know that, whatever it is, I will give it to him. I don’t have a choice.
Maybe I’m a weak person, and maybe I should have made him leave. But the fact is that I love him, and being away from him has almost killed me too. I reach down and cup his face in my hands, turning it up so he can look me in the eyes. My heart breaks at seeing his handsome face so lost. We are going to talk about this is the morning, when he’s sober. But for now, I think he just needs to hold me, and I can give him that.
I wipe his tears with the pads of my thumbs. “Let’s go to bed,” I say.
He stands, slowly unwrapping himself from my body. I take his hand and lead him down the hall. I help him undress and get him into bed before running back out to lock the front door and turn off the lights. He looks like he’s already passed out when I come back to the room, so I crawl into bed on the opposite side, my back to him and close my eyes. I’m startled when his arm reaches around my waist and draws me back into his chest.
I can feel his stubble on my neck, and when he speaks, it’s so quiet that I could have easily missed it. “I’m home, Hannah. I came home to you.”
I have to bite back the tears threatening to spill over, and although he won’t remember, I whisper back, saying it for the first time out loud, “I love you.”
I WAKE UP early and sneak out of bed to call work. I reschedule all the appointments I had for today and cancel the rest. Greyson and I are going to talk about what happened, whether he likes it or not. I’m not giving him an excuse to put it off. Not a chance in hell. After finishing my phone calls, I climb back into bed. It is still early and I am going to need my energy for however this conversation plays out.
When I wake a few hours later, I’m pressed back up against his chest, his arm around my waist. He must have pulled me to him in his sleep again. I slowly spin around in his arms, startled to find that he is awake.
“Good morning,” he says sheepishly. No Hannah. No sweetheart. Just good morning.
My stomach instantly drops. It was just because he was drunk. Self-preservation instincts kick in and I start to pull away before he tightens his hold on me.
“Where are you going?”
“To the bathroom,” I lie, looking away from him.
“You’re lying to me,” he says.
No shit, Sherlock. I’m about to bolt and everything about my body language confirms that.
“I remember everything from last night,” he admits.
I stall in my attempt to get away. I never expected him to remember any of what happened last night. I expected that he’d been too drunk.
He puts a finger under my chin and lifts my gaze to meet his. “And I meant every word of it, Hannah. I love you. I’m not good for you, but I love you and I’m too selfish not to have you.”
I know that there’s still so much for us to talk about, still so many balls up in the air, but my heart melts at his words. “I love you too, Greyson.”
He puts his forehead to mine and whispers, “Like coming home, sweetheart.”
“Like coming home,” I whisper back to him before he takes my lips in a deep and hungry kiss.
My body comes alive under his touch. My skin is on fire instantly. I was too angry to get myself off in the last week, and I had more than one dirty dream about him that all ended with me getting no relief. I was wound tight with sexual tension.
His hand runs down my back, grabbing a handful of my ass as he rolls onto his back, taking me with him. My legs are
on either side of his hips, straddling him. The only things separating us are my thin boy shorts and his black boxer briefs. I grab the hem of my shirt, pulling it over my head and palming my tits. He groans, reaching up to grab me by the back of the neck, dragging my lips to his again. There is nothing slow or soft in our kiss. It’s demanding and punishing. I bite his bottom lip between by teeth and he growls, bucking his hips of the bed. The friction feels amazing, and I start to ride him with our clothes still on.
“Fuck, Hannah,” he says before slamming me onto my back. He moves to stand, hooking his fingers in the sides of my shorts, sliding them down and off my legs. “I can’t go slow, sweetheart. I need that pussy. I’ve missed it too much to go slow.” He pulls down his briefs and starts to slowly pump his hand over his cock. I whimper at the sight of him, my knees falling to the sides. “That’s a good girl, Hannah. Show me that perfect cunt,” he says, biting his lip.
I spread my legs wider, loving the look of pure lust in his eyes. He’s trying to harness it but I want him to snap.
“Touch yourself,” he demands. I obey immediately, running my hand down my stomach and over my wet folds. “Mmm. Just like that.” He groans, stroking his length harder.
I can see the pre-come beading on the tip of his cock, and I unconsciously lick my lips. I want to suck him in my mouth. I want to feel him at the back of my throat. I want to taste him.
“Put two fingers inside your pussy, Hannah. Fuck yourself for me.”
Once my fingers are inside, I start to fuck myself hard, at the same pace he’s jerking off to. I wish it were his fingers inside me, but watching him get off by looking at me has me on a high like no other.
He stalks over to the bed, kneeling beside me, his dick almost touching my stomach. “Rub your clit with your other hand, baby. Make yourself come,” he says.
Within seconds, my orgasm is ripping through my body. It’s not as good as the ones he gives me, but it still feels amazing. Greyson’s head falls back as he groans, furiously pumping his cock before he releases, covering my tits in his come.
He collapses on the bed beside me and grins. “I fucking love seeing you covered in me.” I love this possessive side of him, the side that loves to mark me.
“That was hot as hell, Greyson,” I gasp, still trying to catch my breath. I’ve never let a guy come on me before, and I never imagined it would be that fucking hot.
“It’s always hot with us.” He gives me a cocky smile and stands from the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up sweetheart, and then we can talk.”
With that, he leads me into the bathroom to shower. It takes us forever to finish in the bathroom because every time he washes my body, I end up getting fucked against the shower tile. At one point, we even make it out of the shower, only for him to end up eating me out on the sink counter. We’ve officially fucked on almost every surface in the bathroom. Now I am clean, satisfied, and I barely have enough energy to get dressed. I wonder if he planned it that way, I snicker to myself.
“Was that your plan?” I ask, and he cocks an eyebrow at me in question. “Was your plan to fuck me until I was sated enough that hopefully I wouldn’t remember how royally pissed off I was, I mean am, at you?”
He laughs and the sound makes my heart swell. “I’ll never tell.” He winks and scoops me up, carrying me into the kitchen.
He sits me down on the kitchen island and goes about making coffee for himself and an orange juice for me. He leans on the counter opposite me and sips his black coffee, eyeing me over the rim of his cup.
“Oh no,” I say, shaking my head. “If you’re looking for me to drive this conversation, you’re out of your damn mind. This was your colossal fuck-up, not mine. You talk, I’ll listen.”
He sighs and sets his cup down, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his bare chest. “It’s a long story.”
“Well you’re in luck, Hunnam, because I’ve called into work and I’ve got all day.” I give myself a mental high five for being smart enough to have done that. He doesn’t have any cards left to play but to tell me the truth.
“You’ve probably noticed I don’t even talk about my dad.” I nod. We’ve been together for over two months and he’s never once mentioned the man who gave him life. “My sperm donor is a bastard.” He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes tightly. After a few seconds, he opens them again and the hate behind them is startling. “My mother loved him more than life itself, and the day he left us, it broke her. I was only twelve and I didn’t know what to do. It killed me to watch her suffer. That’s what it was, you know—suffering. I spent years prying the bottles out of her hands and flushing her pills down the toilet. I did everything I could to make her smile, but she was too far gone. She couldn’t see past the loss of that piece of shit. It may have been the alcohol that finally took her from this world, but she’d died of a broken heart long before that.”
I move off the counter to wrap my arms around his waist, laying my head over his lion heart. “I’m so sorry, Greyson.” I don’t know what else to say. Having grown up in such a loving, happy home, I can’t even imagine what he must have gone through.
“The day she died, I made a promise to myself that I would never do that to another person. I would never break someone who loved me.” I try to hold back tears and be strong for him. My crying won’t help. He hangs his head, resting it on top of mine. “I’m just like him. His blood runs in my veins. I’ve never allowed myself to love anyone, but with you, I couldn’t help it. I’m going to try, Hannah. You make me want to try, but I’m terrified. I’m terrified I’ll do to do what he did to her, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if that happened.”
I grab his face in my hands to make sure he’s looking at me because I want him to know that I mean what I’m saying. “You are nothing like that man, Greyson. You are loving and kind. I hate him for doing that to your family and I hate that he stole your mother from you. But you hear me when I tell you, you are nothing like him. Nothing.” I tried to hold it back, but sometime during my speech, I started to cry and he did too.
He picks me up and kisses me on the lips with so much love that I feel like my heart is going to burst. “You’re like coming home to me, Hannah. I’m going to fuck up, but I need you to remember that I love you. I always will. Please don’t give up on me.”
“I love you too,” I whisper back.
“Promise me you won’t. Promise me that you won’t give up on me even when you want to. Please don’t,” he pleads.
“You’re like coming home for me too, Greyson. I won’t give up on you. I’m willing to fight for this if you are too,” I tell him, placing my forehead on his like he always does to me. I find it comforting when he does it, and I’m hoping he feels that way too.
“Only for you, sweetheart. Only for you.” He picks me up and carries me off to the bedroom.
We spend the rest of that day naked, tangled in each other. It feels amazing to be in his arms again. My heart feels like it is whole. When the girls get home from work, we all go to dinner. Surprisingly with both Jami and Jay in tow. It seems as though my girls have some spilling of their own to do.
It takes me a while to get to sleep that night. Greyson is lying with his head on my chest, arms and legs wrapped around me as I think about everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours.
Now, I don’t know much about boxing, aside from being an avid fan of the Rocky movies, but although this round has beaten us both up pretty badly, I am ready to get back in the ring and go again. I meant it when I said that I’d be willing to fight for him. Everything that happened with Jackson made me crave stability in my life, but I hope with every fiber of my being that, with time, Greyson can overcome his demons.
WE SEEM TO have grown even closer since that day, the day he told me about his past. We hardly spend any nights apart after that. Even when he works, I stay the night at his house. I went out for lunch with the girls the next day and explained to them what happened. They were happy a
bout our reconciliation, and since then, we’ve been making more of an effort to do things as a group, Jami and Jay included. We went snowboarding, played hockey on the lake, and even tried a few games nights at our place. If you’ve never seen three burly, tattooed guys play charades, you should try it because it’s hilarious.
Work has been steady, and the days are passing by quickly. I am happy again. Before we know it, it is almost Easter. Easter is great, right? Chocolate, bunnies, etc. Right? Wrong. I am an absolute nervous wreck. My parents called to ask if I was bringing Greyson to Easter dinner. I haven’t told them what happened the first time we tried to play this ‘meet the parents’ game, but I am sure they didn’t buy my line that he had been working late either.
I gave my mom a definite maybe and told her I’d let her know by Thursday night. Dinner is on Friday. I know most people do their dinners on Easter Sunday, but not us. Every year, we have ours on the Friday before, and on Saturday morning for as long as I can remember, my dad has whisked my mom away for a romantic overnight trip somewhere. It is absolutely adorable. My dad is the type of man every woman would be lucky to marry. He buys my mom flowers once a week and loves her with his entire heart. There is nothing my dad wouldn’t do for his family. Unfortunately for me, that also includes grilling my boyfriend about how he stood us up for dinner last month. There is no pulling the wool over Daddy’s eyes.
Beth and I are sitting on the couch Monday night, chatting about where we thought Dad would be taking mom this year, when Greyson comes in the front door.