Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

  “Liv?” She gently touches my shoulder and frowns, seemingly genuinely concerned. “Are you okay?” Her touch brings a sedated smile to my face. No wonder Grey loved her.

  “Yes, I’m fine,” I tell her, and she removes her hand but doesn’t change her facial expression. “I just got lost up here for a bit.” I laugh almost too hard, awkwardly, of course, while gesturing to my head. Being the sweet girl she is, she cracks a smile so I don’t seem totally insane. “To answer your question: I am…well, I’m not going to lie. I’m not the best I can be right now. But that’s just considering…” I take a large gulp and widen my smile; her brows pinch in increasing worry. But I shake my head and promise her, “But I know I’ll get better. It just takes time.” I nearly choke on the last word, but luckily, I keep it together and steel my smile for her.

  She nods her head proudly and widens her own smile. “That’s great to hear, Liv.”

  There is a beat of a pause, and I feel my skin flush and watch her glance around the boutique. I never knew what it was like to be around your ex’s current partner. In the movies, the ex would always act like he/she was still theirs and get irritated and try to get between the new couple. I never understood nor liked the ex.

  But now that I am the ex…I get it, but I’m not any of those things. I don’t desire to plot to destroy them or try to get back with Grey or anything like that. I just want—I just want to be okay again. But I do share one thing with those from the movies…resignation. At least, I want to be resentful, because then it’d be easier to have a reason to hate Rose and maybe break them up to save Grey.

  But that isn’t the case. She’s kind and sweet and amazing and doesn’t deserve any reckoning by me. He truly does…deserve her.

  It hurts to even think that, but I do anyway, and I let it sink in. And geez, does it pain me as it settles in my mind. But I know it’s for the best. He and I just didn’t work out. Maybe we were never fated to work out. Maybe I’m cursed to forever ruin everything that is good to me…if so, then I’m fated for nothing but loneliness.

  “So, what are you shopping for? Business or pleasure?” Rose’s soft voice snaps me out of my depressing thoughts.

  I smile, hoping I didn’t look as gloomy as my thoughts. “Oh, um, business, I think. I just have this charity gala I’m required to attend at the end of the month.” I save myself from rolling my eyes, so I just wave a dismissive hand. “It’s always fancy, and I’m expected to look presentable…but I haven’t found anything in here that I think fits the event.”

  She chews on her full bottom lip. “That does seem like you’re in a pickle…” She trails off, then snaps her fingers suddenly. I jump a little, and she giggles, blushing. “Sorry, but I was thinking maybe I could help you…unless you’d rather decide on your own…”

  “No, no, I’d love your help,” I say, trying to not sound so relieved. But I can’t help but be relieved. Based on her stylish fashion sense, I think she’ll be a great help. I, on the other hand, am on my way to progressing from the tragic “khaki era,” as Jaimie so lightly put it. And again, according to her, it’s going to take a while for me to recover. She can be too dramatic for her own good sometimes.

  For the next twenty minutes, with my little input because—let’s be honest, I would have drug her over to the muted colored dresses that were more of an older woman’s style—she helps me pick out dresses. Some are just below the knee, some way up, others just above, and the rest floor length, but they were gorgeous: silk, daring colors, and all around amazing.

  As she taps her chin and her deep, ocean blue eyes scan over each fabric and she reaches out to touch it, I wonder if she wants to do this for a living, be a stylist or a designer, just something in the fashion industry.

  I ask her while changing in and out of dresses in the dressing room.

  “Yes, I’ve always dreamed of being a fashion designer,” she answers, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I’d put on my mother’s dresses and model them but find I wanted to style it completely different. I remember shredding fabric, sewing them back in new designs, making patterns—just about making a mess out of everything I could possibly get my little hands on. But I got my message across—I wanted to make new designs that would wow people and make them look…in my little girl vocabulary ‘fantabulous.’” She laughs, and I do too.

  “That is so cute,” I say and step into the shorter dress. I step out, and her jaw drops.

  “And so are you,” she gushes and stands from the pink couch she was sitting on. She helps me down the few steps from the room and walks me to the mirror in between rooms. “I am good at my non-existent job. Boy, do I have a good eye or what?” she jokes and chuckles. I look back at her and roll my eyes. Then I look back into the mirror and agree with her. She is really good. I know for a fact that I would have looked over this dress and went straight for the older woman’s section.

  The dress is quite short, but it doesn’t rise too far up so you could see my butt or anything like that. It is of lacy material and has fine prints scattered in the fabric, like roses, but I can’t really tell. All I know is that it feels and looks breathtaking. The bodice has a sweetheart neckline and is bedazzled in fine crystals and diamonds. Below, there are a few layers that have the same crystals on the bodice, across the hems.

  “This is…wow.” I stare at myself and imagine a little blush on my cheeks, my hair up, and a pop of lip gloss. Then I’d be set and good to go. I look wonderful, and this girl behind me helped me find it. The girl I am supposed to hate and wish nothing but bad stuff on, but how could I possibly do that when she’s done…this? I turn around, and I don’t know if I should hug her or not.

  She throws her arms around me, making the choice for me.

  “You look gorge, girl,” she says with a smile.

  “Thank you for helping me.” I pull back, and she shrugs.

  “There was nothing to it.”

  There’s a slight pause before I shake my head. “Why are you so nice?”

  She furrows her brows and laughs unsurely. “What did you expect me to be like?” She sounds genuinely curious.

  “Nothing, sorry.” I look away, ashamed. I sound disappointed that she actually turned out to be nice. What a bitch I would be seen as. “I just didn’t think you’d be so nice. I mean, helping your boyfriend’s recent ex buy a dress is nice. Almost more weird than nice, but it runs along the same line, you know.”

  She snickers, and I blush even further. “Grey isn’t my boyfriend,” she says, and I swear I feel my heart stop working for a split second.

  “Oh…?” I gulp back the lump forming in my throat, and she shrugs. “I just assumed…” Why am I getting so excited? Like her being out of the way will give me an extra edge? Like I’ll be able to win him back. It’s clear he doesn’t want anything to do with me, and Rose or no Rose will change that. My mood plummets just as fast as it rises.

  “I don’t know what we are…” She sighs. “It’s complicated, but I would help you regardless. You’re pretty nice too, Liv.”

  “If you aren’t with him, then why are you hanging with him?” I blurt out without thinking. But I couldn’t help it; I’ve been thinking and wondering ever since I saw them together back at the club. There has to be a logical explanation behind it. If I’m being honest, after what he did, I’d never give Grey the time of day. Not after he ruined my life for good. So the fact that she’s here with him now is mind boggling. And even though it’s none of my business, I just have to know why, or my brain will explode. Even though I broke his damn heart myself.

  She takes a deep breath before answering, “I was angry when he left town, after everything that had happened. And I lived every day hating him, so much that it consumed me…” She takes another breath and forces a smile, but I can see the past hurt in her deep blue eyes. “And I didn’t want to live like that anymore, in hatred. So when I saw him out of the blue, I took it as an opportunity to finally breathe again.”

  “Do you
think I’ll be able to do the same?” I ask in a quiet voice. I look at the ground and take a crumbling breath. “You know, breathe? ’Cause right now, it feels like I’m stuck in place and everything’s crashing down around me…” I feel so vulnerable telling this to her, but I know she understands me. She was in the same place as me six years ago.

  “I know you will, because you’re strong.” She steps forward and jokingly whispers, “And Grey isn’t all that. You’ll get over him.” She winks, and I laugh. “How about we go grab something to eat? I could use an iced tea right now.”

  She’s wrong about one thing: Grey is everything. And I don’t think I’ll get over him, not so easily, at least…

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When I return home, I feel lighter. I left with such a weight on my chest I felt suffocated. I was belting out my frustrations and exhaustion through an instrument, when really, I should have been doing that with a human being. I would have liked to let it all out to Mason, but he was out with his boyfriend, and I didn’t want to interrupt their date any further than I already did. And Noah, Noah was out doing God knows what. Knowing him, he was probably out picking up girls or hanging out with his friends. And I didn’t want to bother him either with my woes. Friends or not, they deserve to be happy without my interference.

  Rose was nicer than I assumed she’d be. She was helpful, and kind, and patient, and extremely beautiful. She was her name in every sense of it. I couldn’t even act hateful because she is friends with Grey—they’re close, even though it’s “complicated,” because she just made it so hard. It’s like hating flowers because they trigger allergies, but you can’t get rid of your admiration for the vibrancy and the sweet aroma.

  I am putting away the dress in my closet when there’s a knock on the bedroom door. I turn around and find Louise leaning against the frame, her watchful eyes taking in the dress behind me.

  “It’s beautiful,” she says.

  “I know…” I slowly shut the door and face her. “Rose helped me choose it.”

  Her mouth drops, but she tries to cough, like she’s not freaking out. “You mean Rose, Rose?”

  I laugh a pathetic laugh and nod. “Yes, that Rose.” I plop onto the edge of my bed and anxiously run my fingers along my knees. I eye his charm on my wrist and let my fingers slip through each other. “She’s really, really nice, Louise. Like, creepily nice.” She laughs, and I laugh a little too, but tears prick my eyes. She sits beside me and takes my joined hands in hers. “She and Grey aren’t a thing, but even so, I think she’s right for him. I just—if I can’t be the one to make him happy again, then I want it to be her. Not that I’m entitled to decide something like that, but she’s really nice, Louise,” I emphasize, and I have to stop talking before I end up crying.

  I don’t like that I cry every day, but it’s what happens when you’re depressed. And you’ve lost the best thing you’ve ever had. And that stolen thing shows up everywhere you go. And there is something making that thing happier than it ever was when it was with you. It feels like your heart’s been yanked out of your chest, leaving absolute chaos: loose, electric wires, people running around, organs shutting down, tears overflowing, flooding.

  “Oh, honey. C’mere.” Her voice is gentle as she wraps her arms around me and presses me into her chest. I feel like a big baby, crying for something she can’t have. But she doesn’t seem to mind; she has comforted me like my mother more times than my actual mother, more times than I can possibly count. The thought saddens me even more. I just wrap my arms around her and let her whisper sweet words in her native language in my ear. Throw a blanket around me and a mug of lavender tea, and I’m back in our home in New York, stressing about some quiz or debate.

  Sometimes I wish I could go back and have homework and piano practices to worry about instead of all of…this. This pain, the tears, the heartache—everything.

  But if I didn’t experience all of this, I wouldn’t have felt the laughs, the adrenaline, the love, the feeling of infinity—everything that made me feel alive.

  And I know for a fact I would never be able to live knowing what I gave up just to feel “safe.”

  “You’ll get over him, sweetie,” she promises, her voice soft.

  I sniffle and sit up. She brushes away my tears. “But what if I don’t?”

  “Oh, you will.” She smiles a toothy smile, cradling my cheeks, making my lips squish together. “You will get over this. It may feel infinite right now, because of that everlasting teenage heart of yours, but trust me when I say you’ll forget the color of his eyes in a snap.” She snaps her fingers for emphasis.

  “His are pitch black. They’re ultra-rare,” I whimper.

  “Oh, bebé.” She cradles my head, laughing lightly. “I remember when Charlotte’s father broke up with me the first time of many. We were in a, what you gente joven’s call, ‘off again-on again’ relationship. He was a hot shit, and the cabrón knew it.”

  “Louise.” I gasp but laugh because she just called him an asshole, and I’ve never heard her swear before.

  “Sorry, sorry. Hush, you didn’t hear anything.” She rubs my forehead like it’s a lamp and a genie would smoke out of me and then she’d be able to wish the fact that she just cursed away. “Anyway, long story short, I felt like he ripped me apart with his bare hands. It was like the world collapsed on me, like I would never get better. But you know what happened after all my ugly crying and endless hours of telenovela marathons?”

  “You figured he wasn’t worth it and moved on?” I question, voice low.

  “I had Charlotte,” she says, and I break out in laughter. She rubs my cheeks affectionately, then adds, “And I moved on.” She raises my head, and I sit up. “And I realized that the world hadn’t stopped moving. Flowers were still blooming, Annie José was still a bitch—sorry, a bad person—and life didn’t stop revolving. The earth didn’t stop revolving. Honey.” She looks me square in the eyes, cupping my face, cheeks puffed, lips pursed. “The world moves on, and you can and will too.”

  “But what if—what if I can’t?” I breathe, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “Don’t give me that.” She squishes my cheeks harder and gets closer, narrowing her eyes to get her point across. “You. Will. Move. On. And you will get better, and you will live the wonderful, bright life you were meant to live. I once knew a little girl with dreams bigger than the universe. A girl who had an extended vocabulary that baffled even me.” I laugh, and she broadens her smile. “Where is that girl?” Her voice grows soft, and I furrow my brows.

  “I—I don’t know…” I tell her honestly.

  Where is that girl…?

  Before I can contemplate anymore on my missing self, the door opens.

  Mother sticks her head in.

  “Olivia,” is all she says in a firm voice. She doesn’t have to say anything more for me to know she wants me. She shuts the door, and I listen to the faint sound of her high heels click-clacking away.

  “The warden calls,” Louise jokes.

  I wipe away my tears. “Thank you for the talk, Louise. It was very helpful.” I stand up and anxiously rub my wrist, creating friction with the hospital band. I really should take it off…but it helps remind me that I’m broken and that it will take a lot to fix me. But then my finger brushes against the cool metal of his charm, and my heart wavers a little. I should take them both off, but I’m a masochist. One who is deathly afraid of a future without him.

  She takes my hands when I stand and rubs gently. “Find that girl, Olivia. She’s in there somewhere; you just need to remind her that you were looking at better things before that boy came along—before you even knew he existed. You remember that, and you’ll find her…”

  ***

  Mother ambushed me with Dr. Drew in the piano room, the only place in the house that was supposed to be my safe haven. Other than that area, she had the power to reign over me. In there, I was able to disappear, or at least check out from the world for a little
while. But she’s tainted even that.

  “One vanilla sprinkle for the lady,” Noah coos, walking up behind me. He slings an arm around me, and I am much too tired to move it.

  “Thanks,” I say tiredly, accepting the cone. After the therapy session I just had, I can use some sugar. I take a long lick and lean into his side.

  He laughs, uncertainly, and rubs my shoulder. “Are you all right? You’re a little…”

  “Tired? Zombie-like? Take your pick. You’re right.” Another sad lick.

  “But why are you like this? Didn’t get any sleep last night? Sneak out and take the town by storm?” He makes a silly pose, and I shake my head. Noticing my gloom, he turns serious and stops me from walking. He stands close to me so our chests are barely touching, and he bends his head down. “What’s wrong, Livvy?” He sounds genuinely worried.

  I sigh. “I didn’t get any sleep last night.”

  “How come?” He curves his hand around my air, pushing back a lock. I face his large palm, feeling warmth spike in my cheeks, letting it cradle me. “You shouldn’t be exhausting yourself like this, Liv. Why aren’t you sleeping? I’m worried about you.”

  “I—” I take a step back, and his hand drops. I ignore his fallen face. “I can’t sleep, period. If I do…let’s just say my nightmares tend to take on more of the realistic approach.”

  He stares at me, then closes the gap between us, tips my head back, and whispers, “Then let me at least help make the daytime bearable. Let me help you, Livvy…I promise I won’t let anything haunt you.”

  “N-Noah,” I nervously breathe. I want to say more, but my tongue feels heavy, and I feel extremely hot and freezing cold at the same time.

  “Shhh.” He places a finger on my lips and tugs lightly on my lower lip, scooping ice cream onto his finger. I suck in a deep breath as he pops his thumb in his mouth and sucks, eyes glistening. “You’re dripping…”