To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  “Where do I start?” I sit up, blinking until she’s in focus. “I guess from the beginning. First, Ethan and I broke up.”

  Kyla’s eyes widen with unrestrained excitement and her hand goes to her chest. “Did you break up with him, or did he break up with you? And don’t even think about telling me it was a mutual decision because that is the lamest thing ever.”

  “I broke up with him.”

  “Oh, thank sweet baby Jesus. I won’t say anything bad about him. Just that he owns way too many pairs of boring-ass khakis, he always took you for granted instead of treating you like the goddess you are, and he needs to learn a new way to style his hair because the side part is not his look.”

  “Wow. I thought you weren’t going to say anything bad about him?”

  “I didn’t say bad things. Those were purely unbiased facts and I stand by them.”

  I can’t help but smile. She is unapologetically accurate.

  “What else happened?”

  “What?” I say, thrown off.

  “You said that was first. What’s second?”

  “Oh, I...well after... nothing. Never mind.”

  “What—what was that, what were you just about to say? You were about to say something. Tell me, tell me, tell me!”

  I blow out a breath. “It happened after I broke up with Ethan, but I saw Colin.”

  Kyla presses her hands flat to the mattress. “Shut. Up. How soon after was this?”

  “Well, I actually ran into Logan first, who told Colin where I work. It was later the same day. A really weird coincidence.”

  “That’s not a coincidence. That is what we call kismet.”

  Kyla has an unhealthy obsession with the idea of fate.

  “I think he wants to get back together.” I don’t know why I'm whispering. “I guess, that’s assuming we were ever really together in the first place.”

  “O M F G. Of course you two were together. Anyone who’s seen that video can tell you were both cuckoo for cocoa puffs about each other, and of course he wants to get back with you. You’re fucking delightful. The question is, do you want to be with him?”

  Being with Colin... being his and him being mine, for real... That’s the dream I never allow myself to have.

  “I don’t know. I mean, yes, I want to be with him, but he kind of messed me up last time. I don’t know if I’ll be able to really trust him—trust us—again. And that’s not even considering how he’s suddenly uber famous and leaving on tour in two days. I checked the dates. This tour is nine months long. I don’t know if it’s worth opening this wound just to have him turn around and leave again.”

  Kyla looks at me for a minute with pursed lips. “Well, if you’re asking my opinion, which I think you are—like, that’s what we’re doing here, right?—I would say stop thinking about it so hard. If it works out, great. But if it doesn’t, life will still go on.”

  I nod. “I’ll think about it.”

  She narrows her eyes at me. “Didn’t I just explicitly say to stop thinking about it? At least bone him one more time before he leaves. You deserve a proper fucking because I know Khaki Pants wasn’t doing that for you.”

  “Ky, oh my god.” I’m trying not to smile but I can’t suppress it.

  “Am I wrong?”

  “You’re so bad, but I love you.”

  Kyla springs forward and hugs me tight around the middle. “I love you, too. But I have to warn you, this only seeing each other every couple of months is not doing it for me, and your position as my favorite Gallagher sibling is precarious at best. If we don’t step it up, Eric is going to ascend to the top spot and you know how that will only further inflate his ego.”

  I let out a soft chuckle. “Noted.”

  * * *

  Dinner is chaotic and loud and fun and delicious. Court and Tuck are here along with my older brothers, Jack and Charlie, with their wives and children. Then, of course, my parents and Eric and Kyla. And we somehow all squeeze in around my parents’ old table, which isn’t meant for more than eight.

  Mom serves up roasted chicken with new potatoes and carrots, cinnamon apples and buttered rolls. My nephew, Forrest, is showing everyone the hole in his smile where he’s just lost his third tooth. My three-year-old niece, Rosie, is charming everyone with her bouncy blonde curls and big blue eyes as she sneaks bites off their plates and stuffs fistfuls of smashed rolls into her pockets. Tuck can’t keep his hand off of Court’s belly, rounded with their first child, as they beam at each other and revel in their shared glow.

  They all seem so happy and content in their lives, their careers, their relationships. And as all of these conversations are going on around me, in my childhood home, surrounded by family, I can’t help but think that I don’t quite fit here anymore. Whatever I’m looking for, it isn’t here. Something is missing. Someone is missing.

  * * *

  I make it back into the city Friday afternoon just in time for my double shift at the bar.

  He’s leaving tomorrow. This is it. The last chance.

  Is he going to show up tonight?

  I’m on edge, fidgety and frazzled all afternoon, constantly playing with the hem of my little black dress.

  Until I turn around and I see them.

  Logan barges over the counter to squeeze my shoulders and I run around to greet them, only to be immediately squished in a Dean and Joey sandwich. Dean has a couple new piercings in his face and Joey has grown out a fluffy red beard. I let them know how happy I am to see them, but I can’t help but look around, over their shoulders and toward the door.

  “He’s not with us,” Dean says.

  “We don’t know where he is,” Joey adds.

  “But we fly out in the morning and we wanted to see you before we left,” Logan says.

  And so they stay. By some miracle, the Friday evening rush starts hours later than usual and Logan takes every opportunity to regale Mila with stories about that summer. Jumping a fence to go skinny-dipping, running from the cops, getting me my first tattoo, playing strip poker. Mila is doing a good job of hiding how high-key freaking out she is about them right now. At one point, I even see her running a hand up Joey’s arm as he tells her about some of his artwork.

  After a couple of hours, Dean corners me over by the register and slips me a card. It appears to be a business card for a recording studio.

  “What’s this?”

  “His number.”

  I turn it over and on the back is a handwritten phone number.

  “Call him.”

  “You think I should?”

  “You should have seen his face last week when Logan told him he ran into you. I haven’t seen him that happy since—since before Logan’s overdose. Since the last time he was with you.”

  A few minutes later, Joey pulls me aside. “So, uh, does your friend Mila... Is she single?”

  I nod with a smile. “Yep.”

  “Okay. Cool. Cool cool cool cool.” Then he leans in a little closer and lowers his voice. “We’re all rooting for you, you know. Not just for you and Colin, but you.”

  “Thanks, Joey.”

  I give him a hug and the pink in his cheeks deepens as he goes back to the table.

  Later, as I’m standing between Logan and Dean as they argue over who’s going to pay the tab, I see Mila and Joey canoodling in the corner, her fingers fully immersed in his beard.

  Logan and Dean finally decide to split it but then start bickering over how much to leave for a tip. They leave me way too much, but instead of arguing, I decide to accept the gift and split it with Mila.

  It’s getting later in the evening and as the bar starts to really fill up, the guys head out, giving me hugs on their way. Logan slips something into my hand as we embrace.

  I glance at it. It’s a hotel room keycard. I raise my eyebrow at him.

  “That’s his room.”

  “You think I’m just going to barge into his hotel room?”

  Joey smiles sheepishly. “He w
ouldn’t be disappointed if you did.”

  The thought of being alone with Colin in a hotel room again sends a jolt of excitement through me and my skin starts to heat and simmer as I remember Kyla’s words. At least bone him one more time before he leaves. I know Logan sees me blushing.

  He runs his fingers through his wavy hair. “Hey, who knows where we’d all be if I hadn’t fucked up two years ago? If this is another shot for you two, I want to help you take it.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  It’s open mic night and one of the first truly warm weekends of the year and the restaurant and bar are packed. I’m keenly aware of both of the cards in my pocket—their weight, their size and shape—every time I move. My heart thumps wildly knowing that I could have him on the other end of a phone or the other side of a door.

  Every spare second I get, I stare at my phone. I put his number in and have the text screen open. But I don’t know how to start. What am I supposed to say?

  I wish he was here.

  Maybe I can start with that. I’m watching the blinking cursor when Mila starts jabbing me in the side with her elbow.

  “Gracie, ohmygod.”

  “What?” I look at her in confusion.

  But her eyes are locked forward. “Gracie, look.”

  I follow her gaze to the stage where the next performer is sitting down with his guitar. He’s in black jeans and a black T-shirt that shows off his sleeves and I watch the tattooed fingers as he places them along the strings. His face is lowered but I can just make out the slope of his nose. And when he lifts his face to the light to speak into the mic, I lose my breath.

  “I’m going to play a few songs tonight, if you’ll let me,” Colin says to the crowd, most of whom aren’t paying that close of attention. He quirks a little smile to himself, like he’s amused at being ignored.

  But then he starts in with some chords and the second he starts to sing, something lurches inside of me, urging me forward, the pull, the connection. He sings the last song on The Gray Album. The one just called “Gray”. The whole song is an apology. His apology to me. And while I already know the lyrics, hearing him sing them, stripped down to just vocals and a guitar, in front of me raw and vulnerable, moves me to tears.

  As he continues, people start to take notice. They’re watching. They’re recognizing. They’re whispering amongst themselves. They’re moving closer to the stage and taking out their phones. They clap when he finishes and he looks up, his eyes alive with the rush of performing.

  “I don’t do a lot of covers but this one has a special place in my heart, if you’ll indulge me.”

  The whispering grows to murmuring and more people start to file in, joining friends already watching, gathering around the stage, filling in the gaps.

  And then he starts to play and sing “Time After Time.” His gaze instantly zeros in on me, as if he knew my exact position this whole time. I guess he has. I haven’t moved and I can’t possibly move now, our eyes focused on one another, him singing only for me, just like the first time I saw him.

  It takes me seconds to blink, to breathe again when the song is over.

  He leans forward to address the crowd again. “I’m going to play a very special song for you tonight. I haven’t sung it in a long time, but I think you might know it.”

  With the first strum I know he’s playing the song. The song. A hush sweeps through the room as he starts to sing.

  I untie my apron, letting it fall to the floor. “I'm taking my break.”

  I don’t wait for Mila’s response. I just walk out from behind the bar, toward him.

  CHAPTER 26

  His eyes follow me as I weave through the crowd. He keeps playing, keeps singing, keeps watching as I get closer. I duck behind a tight pack of guys and when I emerge near the side of the stage, Colin is scanning the crowd, having lost sight of me.

  I step up to the stage just as he’s about to sing the first chorus. And then he sees me and he smiles. His real, big, beautiful, earth-shattering, sun-stealing smile. I join in on the chorus, our voices harmonizing effortlessly like always.

  I’m vaguely aware of a shift in the crowd. They get louder, their energy heightening. Someone shouts, “It’s her!”

  But I’m focusing on only him. He stands as I meet him center stage and we sing louder, our eyes locked. We’re so close. My body hums with excitement. And he looks at me with more intensity than I can describe as he sings the lyrics.

  So here is my heart

  Ugly and bruised

  Broken and abused

  But it pumps just for you

  If you want it to

  Only for you

  If you want me too

  I nod, breathing heavily. He looks at my lips and we continue singing. He steps closer and I can barely hold the last note.

  As soon as he finishes playing the last chord, he swings the guitar behind his back. We each take a step and then his hand is cupping my face.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

  I can barely make out the words as the audience erupts in noise standing from their seats.

  I lift my face just as he bends toward me and our lips crash together.

  It’s not soft or gentle—the kiss is explosive. It’s needy, barely-bridled desire. He pulls my body flush with his and I wrap my arms around his neck.

  We separate to catch our breath, our foreheads pressed together. I register the hoots and whistles coming from all around.

  “Come on,” I say breathily.

  I grab Colin’s hand and pull him off the stage. Our fingers are intertwined and I can feel the heat of his body at my back. I lead him through the “Employees Only” door.

  He pushes me up against the other side of the door instantly as our mouths meet again. Lips and tongues devouring, sucking, licking, stroking, thrusting.

  My fingers are in his hair, holding his face to mine. I can barely breathe or think as my hands roam down his back and around his stomach, up to his chest. Having him this close, touching his body, feeling his warmth, breathing in his scent—I didn’t think I’d experience any of it again and it’s intoxicating.

  He’s gripping my hips, my thighs, squeezing my butt and pulling me close. His thigh is between my legs, in just the right spot, pressing against where I’m aching with need. He grinds his pelvis against my hip, his erection painfully conspicuous.

  “This way,” I pant between kisses. I lead him down the dark corridor, around a corner to where it’s pitch black and away from everyone else. This is where we load shipments from the alley on Mondays and Thursdays. No one will be coming back here.

  We stumble in the dark but don’t stop kissing or groping or grinding and I’m up against the wall again. I reach down and rub the length of him over his jeans.

  “Gray. Fuck.” He sucks in a breath. “Come home with me,” he begs between kisses.

  “I—”

  He starts kissing and sucking my neck and, oh god, that feels good.

  “I still have to... Oh... Ah... I have to finish my shift.”

  His hand slides up the outside of my thigh and under the fabric of my dress. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad. Tell me you want this too.”

  Warm fingers knead at the apex of my thigh and hip, playing with the strap of my thong.

  I moan as he kisses me again. “Yes. Yes yes yes yes. I want you.”

  His voice is hoarse. “When are you off?”

  I shake my head. “I don’t want to wait.” I grip his cock through his jeans and pull at the snap.

  He puts his hand over mine as I feel for his zipper. “Here? Are you sure?”

  I yank the zipper down. “Yes. I need you. Please. Right now.”

  Colin bites his lip in an effort to hide the guttural groan that escapes. He drops to his knees in front of me, roughly hiking my skirt up to my hips and burying his face between my thighs.

  His mouth is hot against my mound, kissing and sucking through my panties. He lifts m
y leg, spreading me wider and resting my knee over his shoulder. He slides my soaked panties over and licks me in earnest. Wet. Warm. Swirling and licking and sucking and fucking me with his tongue.

  “Shit. Holy fuck. Colin—” I brace myself with one hand against the wall while the other is on top of his head, fisting his hair. I love that it’s long enough to hold on to. Just the sight of Colin’s head between my legs is enough to do me in but he’s eating me out. So. Good.

  I’m going to come soon. Pleasure pulsates through my body and coils low in my abdomen. My clit throbs with heat, growing more sensitive with every lick. And then he stays on it, licking hard and sucking in pulses.

  I bite my lips to stay quiet. My knees weaken as my orgasm starts to unravel.

  He groans with his own enjoyment.

  “I’m...oh god...I’m—” My legs almost give out as it hits.

  Colin holds me up as I come, still buried in my pussy as I rock shamelessly against his face.

  Once I stop shuddering, he stands. His lips are dark, swollen and wet with my arousal. His pupils are completely dilated, eyes black. He kisses me hard, pinning me to the wall as I reach between us. I put my hand down his boxers to grip his cock, finding it huge and hard and ready for me. I pull it out and stroke it as I suck on his tongue at the same time.

  He breaks our kiss, out of breath, our chests heaving in rhythm.

  “I don’t have a condom.”

  “I’m on the pill.” I squeeze him harder and his eyes roll back. “I want you inside me now. Please, Colin.”

  He hooks my leg in his elbow, my other foot on tiptoes and with my panties still pushed to the side, he runs the blunt head of his dick through my wet folds and enters me in one quick thrust. I let out a gasp as I cling to his neck.

  He fills me up and I’m consumed with relief. Relief with how good it feels, how right it feels. Relief that this is exactly what I need and exactly who I want.

  “Christ, Gray. You feel so fucking good,” he breathes shakily in my ear. He moves slowly out and presses back in. “Is this what you want?”

  I shake my head. “No. Harder. And don’t stop.”