His chest rose and fell a few times in the silence. “There are broken people in the world, Samantha. But you’re not one of them. Dinged-up maybe, but not broken, and definitely not beyond repair.”
A small, empty laugh burst free. “If you only knew, you wouldn’t say that. You would shove me outside and let the tornado spin me away.”
He pulled back enough to look down at me. The turbulence in his eyes was enough to suck my breath away. “I don’t abandon people.”
It was there in my throat, the secret I’d been holding in for too long, suffocating me in its need to be heard, to quit festering inside my body. But what would he think if he knew? Guys like Grayson didn’t sleep with the wrong people, let alone have their lives ruined by them. Grayson’s choices were so calculated, so deliberate, I doubted he’d ever so much as been late for a class.
“Samantha?” His eyes softened, revealing the give in him, and it cracked my own defenses.
“Have you ever made a mistake, Grayson? And I don’t mean the kind that costs you an apology. I mean one that destroys you? Where you lie awake at night, unable to sleep, because you’re terrified of what’s going to happen the next day, and the one after that? Where you’d give anything, and I do mean anything to go back and make a different choice? Where you’re sick all the time at the thought of what you’ve done? Because I have. I’ve crumbled my entire future, shredded any hope of finishing college, and killed off who I used to be. And I don’t…I don’t know how to come back from something like that.”
“You don’t.”
I jerked back, but he held me immobile against him.
“Stop, and listen to me. I’m not going to belittle you by saying nothing is that bad, because some things are. Things happen that change who we are, and what we’re capable of. So you’re not going to ‘come back’ from that any more than you’re going to erase whatever you did. You have to decide if you’re going to try to keep patching yourself up or if you’re going to tear down and rebuild.”
“I don’t know how to do that.”
“You wade through the pain, and the guilt, and the excuses you make to yourself. Stop drowning in alcohol to numb the fear, and suck up the bitter taste of accountability. You move on with who you are now. It’s not easy. If you think you screwed up that badly, then maybe you did, but you also have to leave room for the chance that you didn’t. Have you talked about it?”
I shook my head. There were two of us who knew the whole truth, and that circle was big enough. “I’m not sure I’m ready to let go of everyone’s vision of who I am. It’s so much prettier than the truth.”
“Not even Ember?”
“Definitely not think-through-everything-twice Ember. She wouldn’t understand, and I’m not sure I could handle her reaction.”
He swallowed and broke our stare like it had become too much because we both knew the truth—it had. “That’s the hardest part, letting someone see who you really are—scars and all. I’m…” He cleared his throat. “You need to trust someone enough to tell them the truth. Make peace with it before it eats you alive. I listen really well if you don’t have anyone else.”
I scrambled to throw up a wall between us. It was safer when he was hurling snotty comments at me. That, I knew how to handle. But this Grayson? The one holding me carefully, keeping me warm while the storm raged outside, offering to help carry the crippling weight destroying me? I didn’t know what the hell to do with that one.
“Why would you even offer? Everything you know about me is a mess. I drink too much, wear too little clothing, dance on bars, and impose on everyone around me because I can’t get my shit together.”
“You can get your shit together, you’ve just chosen not to up until now. You took that first step with Maggie. I’m offering because I’ve made that kind of mistake, Sam, the one you don’t come back from. I look at you, and I see what I went through. It’s too late for me.” He took a deep breath. “But you? You’re going to spring back, so yeah, I’m offering.”
“As friends?” I held my breath, needing to hear it. The push and pull, the attraction, it was all there on my side, but I wasn’t sure about his, and I wasn’t about to make an ass out of myself. We were roommates, and this could get complicated really quickly.
Our eyes locked, and heat skimmed down my limbs, leaving chills in its wake. “We’re both adults—”
“Well, trying to be,” I joked.
His lips quirked up at the corners. Almost a smile. “Right. I’m not going to say that I’m not insanely attracted to you. I don’t lie. Ever. Plus, I’d have to be dead not to realize the way you affect me. But I’m also not in any position to act on it, and let’s be honest—you’re not, either. But I think we can stop picking each other apart and be friends.”
“Friends that are insanely attracted to each other?”
He inhaled sharply, like my attraction to him had been some secret. Yeah right. I’m pretty sure my body threw out “screw me now” signals the minute he walked into a room, even when I was angry with him. Hell, perversely, especially when I was angry with him.
The siren wailed again, and I jumped, despite the exhaustion pummeling me.
“An hour to go,” I muttered, looking at my iPad.
“Relax and try to get some sleep.”
“Like there’s a chance of that.” But he tucked the comforter up to my chin and drew me closer, so my head rested on his chest.
“Just try. Some of us have to get up for work in the morning.” His tone was light and teasing, so I didn’t jump his case about giving me shit.
I yawned, feeling my body betray me and start to shut down like he’d flipped some magic Sam-sleep button. “I’m glad we can be friends.” Sleep slurred my words.
“Me, too.”
Sleep claimed me quickly, my body and emotions both run into the ground with exhaustion. His heartbeat filled my head and kept the nightmares at bay, but not the weird dreams. No, because I dreamed he kissed my forehead and lingered.
Chapter Seven
Grayson
My heart pounded time with the ticking on my watch. Thirty-seven questions to go, and thirteen minutes to do them in.
Stop thinking about time and concentrate on the questions.
I took a deep breath and pushed it out slowly while I read the next question.
If it becomes apparent that TGT will exceed _____°C (701) or _____°C (701C) before NG idle speed (______% ____ ______) is attained.
I read it twice, slowing down and willing the question to make sense and the answer to come to mind. I made it through Primary, I could do this. 869, 851, 63, or more. I filled in the answers and moved on, taking only as much time as physically necessary to fill out the blanks. You’re not moving fast enough.
My grip on the pen was almost painful, and my throat closed with every minute that ticked by, until my quick math told me there was no way I’d finish in time.
Fuck! The timer blared on my cell phone, and I silenced it with a quick swipe. I slammed the edge of my fist onto the wooden table, and my phone fell over from where I’d had it balanced against my coffee cup. Sixty-seven questions answered. Thirteen more to go. Those thirteen meant the difference between flying the Apache and getting kicked out of flight school in ten days on the first day of Apache training.
I set the timer to zero and hit start, then went back to the questions. I stuck to method, reading each question twice, making sure I understood what it really said and not just what my brain translated, and then answered.
“Hey, you okay? I heard something that sounded suspiciously like a temper tantrum.” Jagger checked in as he opened the door to the tiny private office where I was working.
“Yep. Studying.” This was all so easy for him and his photographic memory. If I didn’t really care about the guy I’d fucking hate him.
“We still have two weeks until the course starts. You know that, right? You don’t have to hide in the janitor’s closet to take practice tests.”
“Ten days. A mop bucket does not make it a janitor’s closet. And yes, I do.”
“Stop harassing Masters,” Josh called from the hallway. “He’s got more work ethic in his finger than you have in your whole body, Jagger.”
Jagger smirked. “True story. Half day, you up for lunch?”
I looked at the time on my phone. 11:30. Shit, I’d been in here for two hours already on three different tests. “Yeah, give me a couple minutes.”
“Mind if I tag along?” Second-choice Carter called out. He’d been our class leader through Primary, and as much of a West Point douche bag as he’d been, he ended up giving his Apache slot to Jagger, so I couldn’t hate him, either. As long as he kept a healthy distance from Sam, we’d keep the arrangement.
I was getting really sick of having to like people lately.
“Sure,” Jagger answered with a fake smile. Given the fact that the dude was Paisley’s ex, he handled it pretty well. Her grace was rubbing off on him.
“Right. Lunch settled. If we only have a half day today, then I’m studying. Get out,” I said, turning the timer back on and settling into the rest of the test.
“Always a pleasure chatting, Grayson.” Jagger laughed and shut the door.
Seventeen minutes later, I finished with a 93% score. I was getting faster, but not fast enough. I was seventeen minutes and seven percent away from getting my ass kicked out of flight school.
I rethought lunch. Maybe I needed to skip today, grab something from the chow hall, and get back in here for another test. I could easily sneak in another few rounds at failing my future before I caught my flight home. Yeah. That was a way better plan than sitting with the guys and getting nothing accomplished. Or the gym. I could definitely use that release. No lunch, it was settled.
“Hey, let’s go, Einstein. Sam said she’d meet us there, and I’m not keeping that little hurricane waiting.”
Hurricane? At least you saw those coming. Sam was more like a squall, coming out of nowhere and knocking you on your ass. On second thought, lunch sounded great. My brain was close to shut-down from the workout I’d put it through, and unless I could fit in a few hours at the gym, I could use lunch to refocus.
Liar. You want to see her.
I crumpled up that thought with the last three tests I’d taken and tossed it into the trash can.
We all filed into our cars and headed off-post toward the restaurant. The temperature in my F150 was enough to cook an egg, not that I was going to experiment. I was used to Southern summers, but not in full, long-sleeved uniform, and not without the ocean breeze. Pretty sure I could pull some Wizard of Oz shit, because I was fucking melting today. We pulled up to Firehouse, and I was the first through the door. My eyes searched for her before I even realized I was doing it, but we must have beaten her there.
I flexed my jaw and attempted to relax. It wasn’t like I wasn’t going to see her at home. I lived with the damn girl, but my brain craved more. Four damn weeks, and if I wasn’t with her, I was thinking about her, wondering what she was doing and what ridiculous prank she was pulling. It was getting more than a little out of hand. What trouble was she going to get into this weekend while I was gone?
It was my turn up to the counter, and when I heard Jagger on the phone with Sam, saying back her order to get it right, I placed it, putting it on my tab. Apparently having her as a roommate meant I needed to either curb my irrational infatuation or make a new line-item on the budget that read “For misogynistic displays of illogical possession.”
We took the booth nearest the door, and the guys started talking about their plans for the Fourth of July. I heard them, but their voices took a backseat to the white noise in my head. Failing three tests. One more week.
Flying home tonight so I could spend the weekend at home. Again.
“Not sure. I have to check with Paisley,” Jagger said, “and I’ll answer for Josh and say that he’s headed to Nashville.”
“Ha.” Josh threw a fry at Jagger’s head. “Not like you’re not just as whipped.”
“Ouch, yet true,” Jagger answered.
The bell sounded as the door opened, and my head whipped toward it as a few soldiers walked in. I bit into my chicken-parm hoagie like it would fill the pit that was slowly growing in my stomach.
“Little anxious over there?” Jagger asked, smirking like an asshole.
I didn’t bother answering, sending a death glare across the booth. The bell sounded again, and this time Sam swept in, dressed in a flowy skirt that ended right above her knees and a strappy top that left her collarbone bare. I swallowed, my food suddenly a lot thicker. Or maybe that was my tongue.
“Hi!” She grinned and waved, skipping over to our table. “Scooch over.” She nudged my shoulder, and I slid toward Carter, more than happy to be the barrier between them.
“You look happy,” Josh said.
“Friday payday! So I picked up some groceries and swung by the library to ask Paisley if they need any volunteers. Oh, is that mine?” She raised her eyebrows at me, and I slid her sandwich toward her. “Thank you!”
“Sam, you didn’t have to grocery shop,” Jagger said, a French fry hanging out of his mouth. How he got by dating the Commanding General’s daughter with those manners, I’d never know.
“I wanted to. But I wish I’d been warned that they didn’t stock peppermint-mocha coffee creamer down here. I would have stocked up in Nashville.” She took a bite of her food and moaned. “Ohmygodsogood,” she mumbled through her chewing.
I’d never really thought a girl eating was hot, but damn. Stop it. You’re going home today. “Do you want my muffin, too?” I motioned to the banana walnut one I’d added to my tray.
“Thanks, but I’m allergic to nuts. I’ll stick with this masterpiece,” she said to her sandwich. “So, are you flying straight into Nags Head?” she asked, her eyes on me.
Jagger dropped his fry. “Nags Head?”
Sam nodded, her eyebrows knitting together. “Yeah. It’s where he’s from. Right, Grayson?”
Their stares burned holes through my uniform, but I nodded anyway. “Yep.”
Jagger leaned forward on his elbows. “What else do you know?”
She looked up at me for permission, her eyes wide, inquisitive. They broke me down like nothing else could, and I gave her a short nod.
“His father builds racing sailboats, and his mother believes in old-fashioned manners,” she stated, then sipped sweet tea through her straw. Those lips.
“I didn’t tell you that last part,” I said softly.
“I’ve lived with you for the last four weeks. You didn’t have to.” She tipped her chin and smiled up at me.
Her lips demanded all of my attention, and I tightened every muscle in my body to keep from kissing her. Her face would fit perfectly between my hands, her skin would be soft under my fingers, and her mouth would be sweet and warm until it was hot and demanding. I wanted her needy, her hips in my hands, my name a gasp on her lips. Snap the fuck out of it.
I blinked and fought to picture Grace’s face. The way her brown eyes softened after I kissed her, the gentle touch of her hands all seemed so far away. Too long ago. Grace was my moon, my constant, but Sam…she shone like the sun, fiery, a little temperamental, and she was burning away the darkness I’d lived in for so long.
Problem was, I didn’t deserve sunlight.
“Shit, that’s why you have the degree in Marine engineering?” Jagger asked.
“Yeah.” I sat up straight and shoved food into my mouth.
“Huh,” Jagger said with a shit-eating grin that I wanted to punch off his face. “So who’s up for the Outer Banks over the Fourth of July?”
“I wish,” Josh answered.
“I’m game…if you’re inviting me,” Carter replied. “I mean, are you?”
“No,” I answered, and he scoffed. “No one is inviting anyone.”
The conversation died swiftly and turned to the sounds of chewing while they lo
oked at one another with the whole “fucking Grayson” look I’d become accustomed to.
“Well, I’m up for it. Grouchy-pants-Grayson, you don’t have to visit or anything. You stay on your side, and we’ll stay on ours.” Sam broke the tension with a giggle, nudging me with her shoulder.
I shook my head and sighed. “There are no words for you, Samantha.”
She shrugged, then stole one of my French fries with a grin. “You’re going to miss me this weekend.”
Damn it, she was right.
The smell of the ocean hit me the moment they opened the airplane door. Home. I descended the steps out of the aircraft, the warm breeze washing over me better than any welcome-home banner could have.
I waited on the tarmac until my carry-on made its appearance and then walked into the tiny airport I’d seen far too much of this last year.
“Gray!” Mia shrieked, racing past the small crowd to fly into my arms in a skinny tangle of dark curls.
“Hey, Mia.” She weighed next to nothing as I leaned back, bringing her feet off the ground. “You need a cheeseburger, little sis.”
“Ugh. Shut up. My prom dress barely fit as it was!” She let go and led me through the living-room-size waiting room to where Parker leaned against the doorframe.
“Welcome home, Gray,” she said with a Parker-like half smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She was an older version of Mia, but she’d clipped her curls to pixie-length and wore her skirts about four inches higher.
“Did you draw the short straw, Parker?”
She snorted. “Dad is busy with The Alibi, and Mom is pulling double duty on the accounting books. Besides, I’m not sure you’d make it anywhere alive if we let Mia drive you.”
I nearly blanched. “No. Mia will not be driving.”
“I’m not that bad,” she protested, but climbed into the back of Parker’s Jeep Liberty.
Beyond What is Given Page 6