by Parker Wren
“So I spent my whole life being trained by him. Self-defense, situational awareness, reading cues. He taught me the best ways to lie, to manipulate people, to get what you want. He made sure I could take apart and put together a handgun while blindfolded. No one knew about this training; it was just him and me.”
“Wow,” said Grayson.
I huffed. “But I wasn’t very good at it. And I think my father didn’t want me to be good at it, at least not really. Not deep down. The lying, the manipulating—I could do it when I wanted to—but it wasn’t in my nature. I felt too guilty. And as I got older, I started to think that my dad had been paranoid the whole time, that he gave me this training as a way of chasing after his own demons.
“Yet no matter what I did, I couldn’t break away from it. I would find myself being hyper-aware in certain situations, reminding myself to practice the various techniques he had taught me. The one thing I never stopped training on was self-defense because I figured that it was a practical skill to have either way.”
Grayson continued to listen, but he was stone-still, so I continued.
“I never thought I would try to go into the CIA or anything. I thought the Air Force might be a good way for me to test that kind of life, work in the intelligence field. Do more work on the analyst side. And even though the job in the military was completely different than what my parents did, I realized that it wasn’t for me. Whether it was behind the scenes as an analyst or with ambitions to be a field agent, I didn’t want it. I wouldn’t be happy with any of it.”
“And then Manuel Gonzalez happened,” Grayson said.
I nodded. “Yes. And I know it sounds crazy. But I still have that side of me—from my parents, from my dad’s training, whatever—and I wanted to explore it. In some twisted way, I thought it could make me closer to them.”
“Ariel,” Grayson said softly, “that makes sense. It makes sense to me, anyway.”
“Yeah, well,” I said, sitting up again. “The sad part is how long it took me to figure all of this out. And it still doesn’t excuse any of my actions.”
He nodded.
“Grayson,” I said and looked to him. I could sense my voice turning desperate, but the words tumbled out. “I completely understand if you can never forgive me. I just wish… I just wish you could know how much I hated every second of being dishonest with you, with Henry, with Brit. And that it will never, ever happen again. When I met you, I—I knew you were someone different. I know you have no reason to believe me, I know you don’t, but what I wouldn’t do for a second chance with you.”
Grayson pulled me into his chest, then hugged me tightly. I kept still, breathing in his scent, trying my hardest to memorize it.
“Let me think about it, Ariel,” he finally said. “Let’s just both get a good night’s sleep. Would that be okay?”
He pulled my face away from his chest with his hands, and with his hands on my cheeks, gave me a kiss on the forehead.
I nodded. Without saying anything else, I stood up and walked back to the house. As I opened the door to go inside, I watched Grayson stare at the fire, unmoving.
CHAPTER 38
Knowing that sleep wouldn’t be much of an option that evening, I read in bed until I heard Grayson’s door shut. I knew that if I tried to sleep, my brain would race through everything—through my past, my mistakes, my aching desire to be with Grayson. I needed to keep my brain active until it was forced to shut off.
I crept downstairs. Even though there was no longer a security guard present after Henry, Brit, and Dom left, I felt fairly safe in the house. The security alarm code had been changed, and I doubted anyone would be coming back for me.
I turned on the television and started a crime series marathon. I could focus just enough to follow the story while also allowing my mind to drift into nothingness. I watched the clock pass two, three, four a. m.
I woke up with a startle. It was bright outside, and the television was off. Grayson was in the kitchen on his laptop.
I laid back down and closed my eyes. I was terrified of what Grayson might say. I knew he wouldn’t be cruel; he was also a good man—a good man with high expectations for others around him.
He came over to the couch and kneeled down. He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezed, then asked, “Tough night?”
I gave a small smile. “Yeah.” I didn’t have to say anything else. He understood.
“Come with me,” he said, reaching out his hand. I was still in my pajamas, but at this point, none of that mattered.
He sat me down at the kitchen table ad poured me a glass of orange juice. He made eggs, bacon, and pancakes, then put a bowl of melon in front of me.
“Why are you making all of this?” I asked. “I mean, thank you, but—”
“You should have a good breakfast,” Grayson said.
Before you kick me out, I thought.
As a piece of bacon hung out of my mouth, Grayson spoke.
“I thought about what you said,” he said.
I nodded, unsure how to respond.
“You know that trust is an important thing to me,” he said. “Anyone who is in my life… well, trust has to play a big part of that.”
I looked down at my lap and let shame wash over me.
“But”—he leaned against the table—“what you came here to do, that happened before we met. And, I knew something was going on, but I didn’t confront it. So I’m to blame as well. Plus, in the end, you were trying to help Henry. So we ended up on the same side. And I don’t think this is in your nature. You realize that now more than ever.”
I nodded again. I worried that he was glossing over everything in his mind but would someday see things as he did last night.
He seemed to suspect what I was thinking. “Ariel, my mind is made up. I’m not going to hold this over your head like a gauntlet, waiting for a time to spring it on you. I think I did that with my ex—let past issues creep up later in our relationship—and I’m not doing that again. When I say I forgive you, I mean it. I forgive you. I understand why you did what you did. You are not a bad person. In fact, you might just be the greatest, most beautiful person I have ever met.”
I jumped out of my seat. Relief flooded through my veins. I sat on his lap, kissed his mouth, his cheeks, his neck.
“I hope you don’t mind smelling like bacon,” I said.
“Not at all,” Grayson said with a smile. “I like all my kisses bacon-flavored.”
Despite Grayson’s admission that he could move past everything, we didn’t—and couldn’t—immediately jump back into the passionate romance that had been building the day prior.
“Would you like to go do something fun today?” Grayson asked me after we had cleaned up our breakfast. “You mentioned some places that you liked to go with your dad. A carousel, I think?”
“Yes,” I said. “Good memory.” I appreciated the way that Grayson remembered what I told him. That he had really been listening and remembered.
I told Grayson about the carousel on our way to Oak Bluffs. “It’s called The Flying Horses Carousel. And, well, there are these rings… It’s hard to explain. It’s pretty much the coolest thing ever.”
Grayson raised his eyebrows in response to my childish glee. “Wow. At this rate I’m expecting for these horses to actually take off flying in the air.”
Once we were there, I ran up the hill from the parking lot. “Come on!” I said, taking in the gorgeous view of the nearby water. “I know it looks a bit rinky dink, but it’s so much fun.”
“What’s the deal with the rings?” Grayson asked.
“Well,” I said, “I guess it’s more for kids, but as you go around the carousal there is this dispenser thing. Sometimes there is a brass ring in the dispenser. If you’re able to get the brass ring, you win a free ride. It’s harder than it looks.”
“Okay,” Grayson said, “let’s go for it.”
The carousal was pretty empty that day, and we went around a few t
imes. Grayson was more competitive than I expected, and when he finally grabbed a brass ring, he whooped in excitement.
We were both still grinning as we walked back towards the car.
“See? Didn’t I tell you?” I said to Grayson.
He grabbed my hand. “Your excitement is contagious.”
I shrugged. “Guess there is something about childhood nostalgia,” I said. “It can bring back the magic.”
“What to do next then, Miss Oak Bluffs Tour Guide?”
I thought for a moment. “Bikes!” I exclaimed.
We went to rent bikes and laughed as we struggled to find a helmet big enough for Grayson’s large head. “It’s why you’re so smart,” I assured him.
We biked past the famous gingerbread cottages, discussed which ones we would like to live in. We argued over whether a brighter cottage would be a better investment or one that was a little more neutral.
Next, we went to get ice cream.
“Let me guess,” Grayson said. “You’re getting chocolate.”
“Man, you know me too well already,” I said. I went up to the counter and placed my order. “Strawberry, please?”
“What?” Grayson said suspiciously as he placed his order. “Rocky Road, please.” He turned back to me after he paid. “I could have sworn you liked chocolate best.”
I smiled, then licked the ice cream as soon as the attendant handed me the cone. “I like a lot of things. I’ve got to keep you on your toes, Foster.”
“Oh, so we’re on a last name basis now, are we?” Grayson teased, taking a cheeky lick of my ice cream. “The strawberry is good. I’ll give you credit for that.”
We left our bikes locked up and walked down towards the beach. We sat on a bench while we quickly ate our ice cream, trying to devour them before they melted.
As we ate our ice cream, I saw a bee hover in front of us, tittering above the flower plant display.
“Crap,” I said, leaning my body into the bench.
To my surprise, Grayson reached out towards the bee.
“What are you doing!” I shouted at him.
He smiled at me. “Do you know what that is? I’m surprised to see one here.”
“It looks like something that will sting you,” I said.
Grayson shook his head. “No. It’s a hoverfly.”
“Never heard of that,” I said.
“Most people haven’t.” The hoverfly, annoyed with Grayson reaching out to it, flew off in the direction of the sun.
Grayson continued. “They look a lot like bees or wasps. But they are really just flower flies. They can’t sting you. Of course, other animals think they can, so they stay away.”
“Interesting. Good camouflage,” I said.
“Yeah. I went through a phase as a kid. I was crazy about insects,” Grayson said.
“A budding… er… bug-ologist?” I asked.
Grayson laughed. “Entomologist. But close! Anyway, yeah, I guess so. Bugs. Math. My passions in life.”
I smiled. “Well, there are worse things.”
We sat in silence for a few moments, watching the boats out in the water.
“This is another reason you wanted to do the job, isn’t it?” Grayson asked. “This summer, I mean. It was the Vineyard.”
I nodded, not sure how much to share. “Yes,” I said. “That was one of the main reasons. Well, in the beginning, I mean. That’s what I told myself.”
“I understand why,” Grayson said. “It’s a beautiful place. You’re lucky your dad was able to take you here every summer.”
“Yes.” I was glad that Grayson didn’t tiptoe around my family situation, the way many people tended to do. I still had a good life, had been lucky in many ways, and liked that Grayson understood that.
“I went looking for him,” I suddenly said after finishing my ice cream.
Grayson’s arm was behind me on the bench, and he looked over at my face. I was staring ahead.
“Who?” Grayson asked. “Your dad?”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “My brother. Oli.”
Grayson blinked, surprised. “You did? How?”
I don’t know why the words started pouring out, but it was as if Grayson had ripped me open, and I couldn’t keep anything inside anymore.
“The year after I got out of the military,” I said. “I basically disappeared. Well, not really. My Aunt Sarah always had a way of getting in touch with me. I had a P.O. box in London if she ever needed me. But I didn’t travel on my regular passport. I found another way into the country, ended up using another identity, just burner phones. A whole other skill set taught to me by my dad, obviously. Anyway, it wasn’t easy, but I did it. Even though I thought my father was, maybe, being paranoid my whole life growing up, there were still the facts, like my parents were actually field agents, my brother and mother were actually kidnapped. All of those things happened, and I couldn’t risk my name being associated with my search.”
“Geez, Ariel,” Grayson said. “You really did all that?”
“I had to,” I said. “I had to see if I could find Oli. I just never believed—I’m sure he’s out there. That he’s alive.”
“What happened?” Grayson said.
I viscerally remembered the burning sensation of anger, frustration, and fear that had engrossed my life for that year. The stress had kept me from eating, and I had lost nearly 20 pounds. Sarah told me that I looked like a skeleton when I had returned.
“Not much,” I said to Grayson. “Some leads. A lot of dead ends. I was all by myself, so I had to be careful. I had to work to make money, so I could only make a little bit of progress at a time. It constantly felt like one step forward, two steps back.”
“Are the police doing anything?” Grayson asked.
“No. They don’t even know about it. All of it was handled by MI-6. Not that they are actually doing shit anymore,” I said, throwing away my napkin in the nearby trash can.
“I did manage to get a meeting with someone who used to work in the agency with my dad, though,” I said. “They weren’t very helpful, but they did tell me that the agency really had done everything to find Oli and my mother. I’m just not sure that I believe it.”
Grayson nodded, his face grim. “That’s awful,” he said. “To not have any closure like that and to not be able to do anything to find closure.”
I shrugged. “Yeah, it sucks,” I said. I knew that it was why I carried a constant ball of anger around in my chest. Talking to Grayson though—the first person I had ever told about that year—made the ball of anger feel somehow less heavy. I hadn’t realized how heavy it had been until that moment.
“I know it’s not the same thing,” Grayson said, “but I was just a live wire for years after Gemma’s botched surgery. Someone would say the wrong thing, and I would snap at them. I’m not sure when I finally accepted it and things got better. Maybe it was when we got older and had the settlement, when nothing more could be done. But you’ve never had that.”
I nodded. I knew he understood. Not just sympathized but also empathized. It was strong piece of rope that I could hold onto.
“In fact, given your past, you’re stronger than I think I could ever be,” Grayson said, pushing strands of dark hair that had fallen in front of my eyes back into place. “I wish there was something I could do to fix things for you.”
I looked up at him. He put his thumb on my bottom lip and searched my eyes.
“You’ve already done so much,” I whispered.
He kissed me, then grabbed my face. I wrapped my fingers in his thick hair. I pulled at his shirt and belt loops, inching his body closer to me on the bench.
“Should we go back to the house?” he asked breathlessly.
I grabbed his hand, and we walked back over to our bikes. We pedaled as fast as we could, smiles crossing our faces in the wind, feeling like impatient teenagers. I drove Grayson’s car back to Vineyard Haven and probably made too many quick turns.
As we
parked the car in front of the house, our faces flush with excitement, Grayson leaned over to the driver’s side and kissed me.
“I want to have you right here,” he murmured.
I laughed as he kissed my neck. “Watch out for the stick shift,” I said.
He pulled away from me and pushed open the car door. “Good point,” he said.
We held hands and ran inside the house. As soon as the door was shut, we kissed aggressively—up against the wall, against the stair bannister. He pulled my shirt off, and I slid his easily over his head. I traced my fingers over his well-defined chest, down the center of his stomach.
We couldn’t be bothered to go upstairs. He picked me up and pulled my legs over his hips, holding me steady with one arm while he cupped my face with his other hand, continuing to kiss me as he carried me over to the couch.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he said softly in my ear as he threw me on the couch.
I didn’t answer. I let him undress me, kiss me, touch me everywhere while I muffled the sound of my voice with a pillow. There were no awkward moments or missed attempts; it was as if he knew my body better than I did. I let myself go through the waves, again and again, feeling the high sensation of opening my eyes afterwards and seeing Grayson.
I wanted him—all of him—and I was as generous with him as he had been with me. I loved watching his face, the way he concentrated with a frown that brought out his laugh lines. And then he opened his eyes and kissed me, wherever he could, whatever skin was closest to his mouth.
As we faced each other, his face burrowed in my neck, I could feel his heart beating against my chest. He lifted his face up to look at mine. He looked like he was in exquisite pain, and he had never looked more handsome and vulnerable; I felt as though I could see miles into his eyes. When he he finally clenched down his jaw and pulled my body into his, I held on tight to him, lost in the world that we had created for ourselves.