Beyond What is Given

by Rebecca Yarros

  “I’m glad to hear that, Miss Fitzgerald.” His smile was tight.

  “However, that’s not why we’re here today.” I stepped forward and placed my clipped collection of emails, my original report cards, and the newest transcript on his desk.

  “What are these?” he asked as he started to thumb through.

  “For the last ten months, I have tried to apply to other schools. I was too embarrassed to come back here after my behavior toward Professor Proctor. No matter what led up to it, I never should have struck him. However, what you have in front of you is evidence of the way I have been systematically bullied and harassed since last year. These include taunting emails as well as my transcript being altered by the registrar’s office.”

  His eyebrows drew together as he scanned the pages.

  I barreled ahead, needing the momentum to push me through. “If you flip through to the end, my technical investigator printed out the evidence that these email addresses are owned by a member of the UCCS staff in the registrar’s office.”

  “Michelle?” He shook his head. “She’s not the kind of woman who would do this, even for hitting Professor Proctor.”

  One of the girls placed her hand on my back, and it gave me the little boost I desperately needed. My stomach nearly rebelled, but the truth crept up my throat until I knew it would no longer stay there. “Not because I hit him, but why I hit him. It wasn’t a bad grade.”

  “Okay?”

  “I was sleeping with him.”

  He froze but showed no other outward emotion.

  “I didn’t know he was married. That’s why I hit him. I’d just found his wedding ring. None of us knew.” Why was my throat so dry? I couldn’t move past the lump growing there.

  Dean Miller looked at each girl in turn as they stepped forward to hand him their own packets of damning proof, laying a collegiate sex scandal on his desk.

  “Michelle Proctor is bullying us because we all slept with her husband.”

  His hand shook a barely discernable fraction as he hit his intercom. Was he going to throw us out? Label us whores?

  “Mary? I’m going to need you to cancel the rest of my day. Oh, and I’ll need about four more chairs in here so these ladies can sit. Thank you.”

  My chin dropped to my chest, and my shoulders shook once, twice, before I sucked in a breath and got control of my overwhelming emotions. He was going to listen. And at that second, I wanted nothing more than Grayson waiting outside the doors to hold me, to tell me he was proud of me. But I’d said I needed to do this on my own, and I would.

  The chairs were brought in by a couple older classmen I recognized, and by the looks on their faces, it was mutual. I raised my chin and smiled. No more making assumptions about me.

  “Please have a seat, ladies,” Dean Miller said once they’d left. He cleared his throat. “I assume you’d like to keep this investigation private and behind closed doors?”

  “Oh no,” Carrie said, gripping the arms of her chair next to me. “We’d like it out in the open.”

  “But given the delicate nature of the situation…” he urged.

  “We’ve all spoken,” I said, confirming with a few looks to the girls beside me, “and our pride and that of the University, which I assume you’re trying to protect, isn’t as important as identifying other potential victims. We want it out there, so if another girl is enduring the same hellhole we have been, she’ll have the strength to come forward.”

  “This isn’t going to be easy for you girls.”

  I sat up a little straighter and thought of Grayson, his dyslexia, his determination to stand by Grace, even if in friendship only, and still maintaining that number one spot.

  “Nothing that’s right ever is.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Grayson

  “Nothing like Thanksgiving dinner at the hospital,” Grace said with a tired smile from her bed. “They promised this was the last round of testing, but at least they let me stay here for it.”

  “Actually”—I placed the plate Mom had made for her on the rolling table—“this would be the sixth Thanksgiving dinner I’ve brought to you while in a hospital bed, so I like to think of it as tradition.”

  “How about we not repeat it next year, or ever. I’ve had enough of hospitals for the next three lifetimes.”

  My eyes narrowed as I spotted my book on her dresser. “Is that my Odyssey?”

  “Yeah. You left it after your last visit. I’ve been reading, I hope you don’t mind.”

  When I came home after the tornado. Images flashed through my mind, laying under Sam, catching her limp body as I dislodged it from the lockers, praying I wasn’t doing further damage. “No, go ahead.”

  “So…” She glanced sideways at me a few times, her telltale sign for working up the courage to say something unpleasant.

  “Are you about to harp on me about Sam?” I asked. “It’s been all of twenty-four hours since your last lecture.”

  She blinked. “No, actually, but while the subject is open…”

  “Ugh.” I leaned my head on the back of the chair. “Nothing’s changed. She wants to finish school in Colorado, and see that all through.”

  “Go be with her,” she urged.

  “And if by some army miracle, I find a loophole and move out there? Not that one even exists, but let’s say I do, and she still wants nothing to do with me? Keeps insisting that she’s second choice? What then?” I’d be crushed.

  “Take a chance. Call her, send a carrier pigeon, or use Morse code. I don’t know, but do something besides mope. I lay here for five years, and life just kind of kept going, except for you. Sure, you went to college, joined the army, went to be all bad-boy pilot, but you still had one foot stuck here. I know it was because of me, and I’m cutting that tether. Go. Move. Live.”

  “It’s not that easy.” I closed my eyes, wishing it was.

  “Why? I know you feel like you need to protect me, but you don’t. Gray, I was aware of what was going on for most of the last three years of that coma.”

  My eyes jerked to hers. “You what?”

  Her cheeks flushed crimson. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to feel guilty, or think about me being aware, trapped here.”

  “You were? How did—? How much do you remember?” An edge of desperation crept into my tone, and her smile was sad. Shit.

  “A lot. Enough that I knew who Sam was when Mia left her in here. She talked to me, and I instantly knew she was it for you. I mean, I honestly knew the first, well, maybe the second time you talked about her.”

  “And before that?”

  Her forehead puckered. “Umm. I think I remember right around your junior year at The Citadel? When that physics class was giving you a hard time?”

  My eyes widened. “You do remember.”

  She nodded and tears welled in her eyes. “And that’s not all. A couple weeks ago I started to remember everything…before.”

  The hairs on my neck tingled. “How much of before?”

  “You mean, do I remember enough to know that we broke up before your birthday party? That we were fighting when we went off the bridge?”

  The air was sucked from my chest. “Grace, I’m so sorry.”

  “Stop. Stop now. I have heard enough.” Her hands slammed onto the table, and her plate jumped. “We broke up, Gray, for very good reasons.”

  “We wanted different things. Ironic, right? That’s why Sam won’t try.”

  “I wanted you to go out and discover your dreams, and maybe I wanted that for me, too. We’d been best friends since we could walk, and loved each other all through high school, and when I looked around, my entire life wasn’t just built around you, it was built on you. I had no idea who I really was unless it was in relation to you. Breaking up was the right move to make, despite that love we felt. You and I both know it wasn’t the kind of love we crave—the kind of love we both need.”

  “That’s not true. I loved you.”


  “I know, but you staying here all these years? There was love, but there was way more guilt than you needed to bear. You were driving. We argued. Owen’s truck came up on our left side. I remember…seeing him flip us off with a grin, his finger pressed up against the window, but you were too busy concentrating on the road. He cut us off, hit the guardrail. We…went over.”

  “Do you remember anything after?” I cringed. Please don’t.

  She stared off into space for a second. “No. We hit the water. Then I woke up here…and then they took me home, but I’d be back here pretty often. Knowing that despite your right to walk away, you never even told anyone we’d broken up.”

  “It seemed wrong. Like I’d be using your accident as some kind of excuse, and I couldn’t abandon you like that. Owen was going to jail, and there was just me.”

  “Humor me. How do you love Sam?”

  My eyes narrowed. “Really? You want to go there?”

  She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Really. I was your best friend long before we started throwing the boyfriend/girlfriend thing in the mix. Now, talk.”

  I raked my hands over my hair, but gave in.

  “She frustrates the shit out of me, pushes me past my comfort zone. She breaks down every wall I have with no permission or apologies. She turns me into a lunatic just to get my hands on her, and when I do…” I closed my eyes. “She owns me. It’s not that I’m not capable of being me without her, but I’m better with her. Because of her. She’s the only possible future I see for myself, and that’s what scares the shit out of me.”

  My eyes closed, and I swallowed back the fear I’d lived with since the moment I saw Grace awake. The moment I knew Sam would walk away.

  And if the roles were reversed? I would have kicked, clawed, beat the shit out of anyone to keep by her side, to prove I was the better choice.

  But Sam never thought she was in the running, and I’d fucked up, chosen North Carolina and confirmed her worst fears—that I’d never be able to put her first.

  “That’s the kind of love you deserve, Gray. We all do.” She sighed. “There was no part of that accident that you’re at fault for. You saved me. This moving back to North Carolina so you can be close to family? Save Joey’s place? That’s you continuing to pay penance for a sin you didn’t commit. That’s you suffering by choice, and it has to stop. I know it. Sam knows it. You want her, then you have to admit that you’re not fighting to be here for your family, or even for me, but because you can’t bear to forgive yourself. You’re Odysseus, Gray, winning your sorrow beyond what is given, blaming fate, blaming the accident, blaming everything but your own inability to let go. Fate handed you Sam by literally shoving her into your arms. She wants to live in Colorado? Live there. It doesn’t affect your career, so go. Stop clinging to your notion of penance, because you’re ruining your only chance at happiness.”

  She let that sink in for a second. “Don’t let her get away. She’s your match in every way.”

  “I don’t know how to keep her.” My voice was strangled.

  “Prove to her that she’s your first choice. Take all your other priorities and give them the second-place ribbon for once.”

  She was right, and I knew just where to start.

  “And you’re sure this is what you want to do?” Mom asked as I packed my bags the next morning.

  “It’s what I want to try. I don’t know how she’ll feel about it, but I have to try.” I zipped my suitcase and lifted it off the bed.

  “You need to stop by the shop and say good-bye to your dad and your sisters,” she said, following me down the stairs.

  “I will.”

  “Your father loves you, Grayson,” she said once we’d stopped on the porch.

  “Love has never been the issue, Mom. Trust? That’s the issue. He nearly ended my flight career before it even started. I don’t know how to forgive him for that.”

  “We do strange things when we fear for the ones we love. It makes him human.”

  I kissed her cheek. “I love you, and I’ll see you at graduation?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it. Here, take my car and have Mia bring it home.”

  “Thank you, Mom. For everything.”

  “You’re still not getting the brownie recipe.” She laughed.

  I shrugged. “One day…”

  “Maybe when you grow up and realize what’s good for you,” she teased. “Go, get out of here.” With a smacking kiss on my cheek, she shoved me out the door.

  “Hey, Joey,” I said to my sister as I walked in the front door of the shop.

  “Gray!” Her smile was contagious. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just stopped in to say good-bye. I’m headed back to Alabama a little early.” I leaned over the counter and looked through the glass. “Is she ready for Miami?”

  “Go take a look. The boat show is in two-and-a-half months, but I think after the navigation system upgrade is installed she’ll be ready. Then we might have a shot at the Pineapple Cup if the design goes over well and we can find a crew to race her.”

  “I think I will.” The workroom was cool but not too cold as I closed the door behind me. The Alibi sat on her trailer, ready to be taken to water.

  I put my foot on the first rung, and my memory flashed with Sam standing on the captain’s chair. The second rung, and I felt her mouth on mine, opening, trusting. The third and she was beneath me, writhing as I ran my tongue over her nipple. By the fourth rung I was inside her, losing every shred of control with her gasps, the way she said my name. My phone was in my hand by the time I hit the deck, my finger grazing over her contact. I hesitated for a second before I typed out a message.

  Grayson: Standing on The Alibi and thinking about you.

  Grayson: Not that I’m not always thinking about you.

  Grayson: Because I am.

  Grayson: And now I’m texting like a stalker.

  Parker’s laugh caught my attention as I stood on the deck. She laughed so little lately, and I missed that easy attitude she used to have before she morphed into my personal grief-giver.

  She was sitting up on one of the workbenches, flirting with the new hand. Dad was going to kill her if another one quit on him.

  But something about the way he tilted his head, tilted his baseball hat up to see her better…

  “Son of a bitch!” I jumped off the boat, not bothering with the ladder, my knees screaming about landing on the concrete floor below.

  “Gray!” Parker yelped.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” I shouted at Owen as he turned around with his hands up.

  “Your dad hired me. No one else would, not with the criminal record.”

  I had him pinned against the wall by his shoulders before my sister could so much as squeak. “You’re lying, as usual. No one in this family would hire you after what you’ve done.”

  “Gray!” Dad shouted, flying out of the back room. “Let him go, son.”

  “Name one good reason.”

  “He’s not lying. I hired him.” Dad’s hand landed on my shoulder.

  I shrugged him off and backed away, my chest heaving. “Why the hell would you do that?”

  “Because he was a kid who made a mistake. Grace is awake, pulling her life together, and he served his time for what he did. There comes a point where the punishment isn’t necessary.”

  I didn’t stop until I was ten feet away, far enough that I couldn’t kill him easily. “So it’s okay to call me out to my commanding officer, but you’ll hand over a job to Owen. He nearly killed us!”

  “The risks you take every time you climb into that cockpit aren’t the same. You knowingly risk lives on a daily basis. Owen’s been one of your best friends since you were little, a part of this family. His mistake was in the past. You continue to make yours every day.”

  “You are unbelievable. What do I have to do to prove it to you? I’ve been in one car accident. One, because he nearly drove me off
the road”—I pointed my finger toward Owen—“and don’t you dare lie. I was there, and so you can spin your story, but between the two of us, we know what happened. Unless you were too drunk to remember it.”

  “That’s not fair,” Dad fired back. “You have to learn to accept your mistakes, Gray.”

  “And you have to learn to trust me! I’m the number one pilot in my class, Dad. I work my ass off to the point that even if I do have dyslexia, they would waiver me because it doesn’t affect how I fly. What do you say to that?”

  “Maybe I should have let the doctors test you! Maybe I shouldn’t have let you deal with it on your own, so that no one laughed at you. Maybe I should have put you with all the specialists and the labels so this never happened in the first place.”

  “Well, you didn’t. You couldn’t have your perfect boy not-so-perfect, could you? If I was marred, unable to accurately read calculations, your dreams of Masters & Son were doomed. Well guess what, Dad, all you did was push me so far that I’ll never come back here. I hope Joey grows a penis, or you learn to accept that she’s better for this business than I ever will be.”

  “Gray—” Joey protested, standing in the office doorway.

  “Don’t, Joey. I only came to say good-bye. I’m going back to Fort Rucker to endanger some more lives in that helicopter I love so much.” I headed toward Joey.

  “You’re leaving?” Parker asked.

  “Yes, and it seems like it’s about damn time.”

  “You can’t walk out on this family, Grayson,” Dad yelled.

  “Walk out? Fuck, Dad!”

  “Language!” Parker shouted, which we all ignored.

  “You’re shoving me out by inviting him in!”

  “He’s not continuously making asinine decisions!” Dad responded. “That one car accident you were in could have been avoided if not for your…confusion!”

  “Fuck. You. I have had it with you blaming me for something I had no control over on that bridge. You weren’t there! You want to blame me for something? Fine, blame me for not fighting him harder for his keys, but you taking this asshole’s word over mine is the last straw.”