Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

  And I just wish that he’d pick one thought in that frazzled brain of his and tell me, so I can decide what to do from now on. Because right now, I am more confused than ever. Do I fight for him and risk everything I am just now stabilizing, like my friendship with Noah and the program? Or do I give up, accepting that he will forever wish I was dead, and move on with the little charred piece of my heart that survived his lively touch?

  Until he makes up his mind, I’ll be trapped in this limbo of uncertainty.

  I sigh as I peel back the skin of a banana.

  The screen of my laptop is suddenly Jaimie’s eye as she flicks mascara on her eyelashes. She is so focused on perfectly coating her lengthy lashes that she doesn’t even register that I’m here.

  “Did the pizza arrive yet? I’m starving.” She makes a guttural sound, annoyed.

  I don’t think she knows I can see her, even though she was the one who texted me to Skype with her.

  “Not yet, but the app said it’s on the way,” is Julia’s grumbled response. “But I have another pizza-shaped thing in mind you can devour…” The innuendo and naughty rattle of her tongue and Jaimie’s hungry licking of her lips snaps me into action.

  “Hey, hey—please don’t have sex while I’m watching,” I plead. “I can only see so much before my innocence is smashed to bits.”

  “Honey, your innocence is long gone,” Jaimie sasses as she rifles through her makeup bag. “Has been ever since Grey went stroking his card through your slot.”

  “Ew, Jaimie. No need to be graphic.” I shudder.

  “More like the second she laid eyes on him.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far—” I begin to say, even though she does kind of have a point.

  “She was ready to suck his ding-a-ling.” Jaimie chuckles and looks back at her girlfriend, who is laughing as she eats a red macaroon on their hotel bed. “Especially when I caught her on her knees in front of him. Considering how freaky these two were, I wouldn’t be surprised if they did do a little sha-bang sha-bang before I walked in.”

  She and Julia burst into an uncontrollable series of belly-gut laughter that spikes my blood pressure and causes my cheeks to blossom red, like I’ve been pinched by my grandmother repeatedly.

  “For your information, we did not do any ‘sha-bang, sha-bang,’” I tell them pointedly, and they laugh harder. “Did you think that’s what happened all this time?”

  Jaimie shrugs and plops a blue macaroon in her mouth. “Like I said, you two were freaky.”

  Her use of the past tense strikes a chord in me, but I try not to let it show.

  “Did you call just to talk about your freaky tendencies with your ex?” Julia asks, sitting on her girl’s lap. I watch her flick a yellow one in her mouth and raise her brows questioningly.

  I sigh. “No…I’m confused, and I don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, Grey swore off me, but then he showed up last night to ‘save me’ and acted like how we were before…you know what happened. And my feelings for him, feelings that I’ve tried so hard to keep under wraps, are resurfacing again, but I feel like there may be something between Noah and I—and I just…” I take a deep breath and lick my lips nervously. “And I just don’t know what I am supposed to do. Do I fight for Grey or take the small moments and his actions to protect me as a ploy to hurt me worse than I’ve hurt him?”

  When I say it out loud, it sounds even more crazy and complex. I am stuck between two men: one shows me a life of light and happiness, while the other represents darkness, as his eyes and passion and danger and pain and tears and everything that could break me over and over. Both sides intrigue me, but one is attainable, while the other is near impossible without the sting of my past.

  I just wish I could see the future, to be able to see which path I am supposed to stroll down. Without that ability to foresee anything, I risk losing everything. Either the chance for a clean future without heart-splitting pain or the utter feeling of euphoria with every chance of pain that’d make it worth it.

  “What do you want, Liv?” Jaimie asks, looking pained as her eyes take in my stressed state.

  “Can she even have what she wants?” Julia interjects seriously. “She did betray Grey.”

  “But she didn’t mean to,” Jaimie defends.

  “But I did it anyway.” I slice through her girlfriend’s words, and they both look at me as I rub my nose bridge, growing frustrated.

  A ball of pain is whirling in my brain, and I feel like succumbing to it and taking a little dip in the pool, but I know I shouldn’t. I am turning into a masochist, and although I do not particularly love it, the pain reminds me to stay in reality. To remember what I did, to remind me that getting him back is near to impossible.

  “That doesn’t matter, though. Liv, listen to me,” Jaimie says firmly, almost rushed, almost frantic. I face her and hold my breath as her brows cave and her lips are moistened. “You can choose whatever you want, despite what happened in the past. Grey hurt Rose much worse than you’ve hurt him. And she’s forgiven him. Meaning he can forgive you.”

  “No, you haven’t seen him.” I cry and wipe away the tear. “He hates my guts. This is different somehow. He—I struck a chord in him. I completely broke him, like he didn’t matter. Only he doesn’t know that. He thinks I didn’t love him—”

  “Then correct his thinking,” Jaimie cuts me off. “Make him see that you loved him, and you still do—”

  “I can’t!” I snap and ball my hands in fists and bite my knuckles.

  “Why not?”

  “Because he doesn’t want me,” I breathe, eyes screwed shut to avoid their reactions. “And there’s just no point…I’ve lost—I have lost him. And I have to suck it up and accept it.”

  “But you’re not well, at least try talking to him about what you’re feeling,” Julia suggests.

  I shake my head and don’t even bother to wipe away the tears.

  “There’s no use. He just doesn’t care.” I drag out the word and feel my entire being crumble with each syllable. I feel my soul detach from my body, and I go numb from my fingertips down to my toes. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you guys later.” I give them a quick smile, shut the laptop, and close my eyes.

  I couldn’t bear to gauge their saddened faces anymore. Pity etched into their eyes and creased behind their lips. I just can’t see what I feel be reflected back to me, only ten times magnified.

  My hand is taken in a pair of wrinkled ones. I’ve grown up with these hands rubbing my back and stroking my cheek, so I know who it is before I even lift my head or open my eyes.

  “What’s wrong, bebé?” Louise asks softly, rubbing her thumbs on my skin.

  “Nothing.” I take in a deep breath and glide my thumbs under my eyelids. “I’m fine, okay. I—I’m okay, but thanks for asking.”

  There is a beat of silence.

  “Want to tell me what’s wrong now, or shall I go withhold all of your precious books until you do?” She shrugs her shoulders and aimlessly runs her frail hands across her apron that is tied around her waist. “Well? Make a decision right now, young lady.” Her tone is stern, and I actually laugh lightly because I didn’t know I missed her prying until now. I think I’ve really needed it. And boy is she excited to pry away.

  “I—it’s nothing you can help me with, I promise,” I reassure her and begin to get up when she grips my hand and lifts an eyebrow. I know that gesture; it means “sit down and listen to me.”

  She takes a deep breath, her eyes roaming my face, analyzing me. “It’s about that Grey boy…isn’t it?”

  My heart squeezes.

  “No…” That look again, and I smile nervously and nod, tears pricking my eyes. “Fine, yes, but there is nothing you can—”

  “Did he hurt you again?” She spots a rolling pin and holds it up with a scowl. “Le golpearé la cabeza como si fuera pasta. Nadie se mete con mi niña.” (I will batter his head like it is dough
. No one messes with my little girl.)

  “Puedes calmar a Louise,” I reassure her, but she doesn’t lower the pin. “I’m serious. Please, put it down.” I wait for her to put it down, and she hesitates before doing so. “I am just…dealing with my feelings for him. They’re taking longer than I wanted to go away. I want to move on, I do…but he just keeps popping up, smiling and laughing, and he saves me from myself and gets too, too close to me and—and I maybe like Noah, but Grey…Grey, he is just there all the time, and I am just in love with him. I am still in—in love with him.” I’m tearing up again. Can I not cry for a second? Geez.

  “Oh, bebé,” she coos and brings me into her chest. “It’s okay, it’s ooookay.” She rubs my back soothingly, and her voice grows softer with each sweet croon in her native language. She even begins singing one of her nursery rhymes she’d sing to me when I was little whenever there was a big storm and sitting by the window and drinking tea wouldn’t calm me. I sink into her embrace and wrap my arms around her, too. It feels so perfect, I don’t want to let go.

  “But what am I going to do?” I croak, tears clogging up my throat.

  “You just…you just…” She breathes heavily; she’s just as confused as I am. I told her she couldn’t help me, but she didn’t want to believe me. She pulls back, and I barely whimper at the loss of her comforting hold. “You just follow your heart.”

  “But what if I can’t have what my heart wants?” I question. “What if the affection of my heart hates me?”

  “Then you do what is right.”

  What is right…

  I nod and stay silent.

  That means that I leave everything that’s ever made me truly feel like I’m alive behind and follow what will make me feel safe.

  I don’t think I can feel any more ripped apart inside than right now…

  “Now, tell me about him ‘saving’ you.” She puts up air quotes with her fingers.

  “Oh…” I feel hot all over and wave a dismissive hand. I am not telling her about getting high and falling into the pool, however accidental it was. “That was nothing. I just drank too much.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She taps my forehead, clicking her tongue. “¿Crees que nací ayer? Habla niño.” (Do you think I was born yesterday? Speak, child.)

  “I may have accidentally…gotten high?” I say it more like a question.

  She slowly narrows her eyes and goes silent as she grabs a cup from the cupboard and fills it with water. I see it coming a million miles away.

  She walks back up to me and begins flashing some of the cold water on my face, all over, while berating me, “¿No te dije que te mantuvieras lejos de cosas tontas así? Sé que te crié mejor, tonta y tonta. Nunca vuelvas a probar la hierba del diablo. ¿Tu me entiendes? ¡Que el Señor bendiga a esta estúpida muchacha! (Haven’t I told you to stay away from foolish things like that? I know I raised you better, you silly, silly girl. Don’t you ever try any of the devil’s herb again. You understand me? Lord bless this foolish girl!)

  “Louise, Louise—it got in my eye—Louise!” I grab her wrists and laugh genuinely because I have really missed her motherly tendencies to watch out for me and lecture me like there is no tomorrow. I haven’t experienced the same with my own mother, and it breaks my heart thinking that, but it’s true. So I do the only thing my body knows to do whenever I realize she is the only one who cares about me in a way only she could: I throw my arms around her, and I whisper, “Te amo, Louise…te amo.”

  She is stiff for a brief moment before sighing and hugging me back even harder, like she’s missed this too, maybe even more, which I find impossible.

  “Yo también te amo,” she whispers with a ghost of a laugh. “Yo también te amo…” (I love you too.)

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The insatiable sound of one of Bach’s concertos bounces all around the room. The moonlight pours in through the sky-high windows, sparkling like a crystal pond in the dark wood. Everyone else is asleep, but I can’t, and I can’t leave this seat. It’s warm and inviting and is laced with super-glue, keeping me firmly in place. And I don’t mind one bit.

  I roll the wooden pencil between my teeth as I bounce my fingers off the keys, making my own musical variations. I keep track of the differences and return the taste of bark on my tongue, repeatedly. I begin humming a nonsensical tune and rock back and forth as my fingers run along the white keys, nudging the black keys and creating music that wraps around me with a delicate grip.

  “I haven’t seen Noah around today…” My mother’s voice seeps through the room like cold venom.

  I stop playing instantly.

  I remove the pencil from my lips, then tell her, “He left earlier, haven’t seen him since.” I move my fingers to the keys and barely press down, instead listening to her heels click-clacking on the wooden floor. Even at night, she wears sky-high heels. I wonder if her ankles ever ache. I wonder if she even feels pain anymore…

  “Why is that?” She is persistent, as usual.

  I sigh. “Mother…”

  “Don’t mother me,” she gasps.

  “Why shouldn’t I when you’re so driven to set me up with another, without my thoughts on the matter?” I question her.

  “Because it is what’s right.” She turns to me and forces me to face her, clutching my hands. “You were once so determined, so focused—you had your entire future laid out, but that damned boy…” She takes a breath before she could lose her façade of being calm, collected, her usual persona. “I just want to help get you…back on track. There is nothing wrong with that, is there?” She smiles, flashing me her great white teeth, like they are thirty-two advocates for her.

  “I…” I look away from her wide, manic eyes and tap a random key. “I guess not.”

  “Good, you should let your mother help you.” She cups my chin and jerks my head to the side to meet her narrowed eyes. “Because Mother knows best.” She runs the tips of her fingers round my ear, pushing hair behind it, with a knowing smile that spelled cruel intentions. “Okay?” Her grip becomes a tad tighter, and I grimace inwardly but remain kept together on the exterior. I can’t let her see that on the inside…I am absolutely terrified of her.

  “Okay.” I smile through the pain of her nails in my skin, and she stares at me…until she smiles again like a saint and pats my cheek.

  “Good girl. Goodnight, sweetheart.” Her voice is soft and makes me feel unguarded. And I am an ice sculpture, frozen, when she leans forward and plants her lips on my cheek. Her rosy perfume brings a tear to my eye, but she doesn’t seem to mind or care. She backs away and leaves the room.

  I turn to the keys and tap another random note…then I begin playing like I was before she walked in.

  An hour later, I return to my bed after brushing my teeth. I change out of my dress for a pair of purple plaid shorts and a gray tank top. I grab a hair band from atop my dresser and bunch my hair up into a ponytail and flick off the lights in the room. The moonlight still pours through the blinds and washes over the white Persian rug in the middle of the large room. It resembles a pool, and I have an urge to sit down in the middle of it and let my frazzled heart wade in the water, but I bypass it and head for the canopy bed with rose-gold sheets and golden trims.

  Just as I slide under the sheets, there is a small pinging sound. I freeze, the thin sheet clutched in my hands. Who or what could that be? The only other time I heard that sound was when…

  “Grey?” My heart skips a beat, and I chalk it up to being shocked. I walk over to the windows, unlatch them, prop them open, and lean out. I am just in time, because Noah holds his hand back over his shoulder, ready to throw, but he stops when he sees me.

  “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” he yells, then chuckles.

  I laugh and shake my head, confused. “What are you doing?”

  “Asking a girl named Rapunzel to let down her hair so I can climb it like a ladder. Duh.” He rolls his eyes as if I am the crazy one. Me, not him!

>   “Please tell me that’s not the only reason why you came back.” I lean on the window pane, suppressing a smile and raising an eyebrow to mock him.

  “No, that is not the only reason.” He puts up a finger. “Though climbing a girl’s hair is the funnest activity to do. Fun killer.” He coughs, and I can’t hold back a laugh.

  “Then what’s the reason?” I question, playing with my hair nervously. I don’t like the way he’s silently staring at me, head cocked, tongue sweeping across his lips. I take a giant gulp and tug my hair a little when he shrugs, and his eyes seem to glow under the luminescent light.

  “I’ll tell you when I get up there,” he says vaguely.

  “What are you—um, what are you doing?” I hiss, watching as he suddenly begins climbing along the intricate mandevilla vines that run along the side of the house. Mother thought it would be a gentle yet elegant touch to the house. If only she knew it’d help a, most likely, high boy sneak into my room.

  I step back and anxiously pace the room, chucking my arms under my chest, before I finally settle at the foot of my bed, on the trunk that holds my treasured books.

  He finally stumbles in, plays it cool, then sits next to me.

  Silence fills the room. I brush stray locks of my hair behind my ear too many times to count.

  “I’m sorry,” he says, quiet.

  I frown and turn my head to face him, but his eyes are drawn to the floor. “For what?”

  He runs his long fingers through his hair. “For ditching you today.”

  “That…that’s okay. I don’t expect you to stay with me every single second of every single day.” I laugh.

  “But still, I shouldn’t have just left like an asshole.” His voice dives deeper, and I shrug.

  “You weren’t one, though.” Why is he pushing this so much, that he’s wrong for leaving me? “I was wrong for walking off on you earlier.”

  “No, I was bashing your ex. That wasn’t cool of me.”

  I laugh again. “We can go back and forth about who’s in the wrong, but we’ll be up all night.”