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“Yeah, that thing.”
I laugh and move closer to Grayson, who’s seated in one of the Adirondack chairs now. My thigh bumps into his leg. With my back to him, I’m curious if he’s going to reach out and touch me or simply ignore my presence next to him.
As I talk to Frankie, sipping on the sangria wine my momhands me, I feel Grayson’s hand next to my thigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice he’s staring longingly at my ass and if it hadn’t been for his parents near us, I bet he would grab it. His hand moves to mine and he tugs.
I turn to look at him, seeing what he wants. His eyes are on Ethan now, but he reaches out and brings me to a seated position on his lap. This we haven’t done since the day at the lake. Me on his lap. And though I’m afraid of hurting him, I let him because this is everything to me. He’s giving what he can.
I lay my head on his shoulder, relaxing into him. He’s showered since he burned his truck to the ground and now smells like Ivory soap with a hint of lavender. “Does this hurt?”
“Yes,” he breathes, his voice strained.
I tense. “I can move.”
“It’s not physical pain,” he murmurs, his nose running up the side of my neck. It sends goose bumps through my entire body. I think I even squirm.
I want to ask him what he means by that, but I don’t get a chance before Ethan lays it on Grayson. “Hey, so listen.” He bumps his beer to Grayson’s knee. “Will you be my best man,” he says, flat out, no messing around.
Grayson stares at him for the longest time. I almost think he’s not going to answer him, but then he surprises me and mumbles, “Yeah, sure,” seeming uninterested in the wedding planning.
I notice the more they talk about it, the more agitated Grayson becomes, so I smile at him. “I can’t wait to see you in a tux.”
His tone is kept low, only for me when he whispers, “I can’t wait to take your dress off you.” His hand on my thigh inches a little higher but stops when his stomach tightens. I notice the change and wonder if I’ve hurt him by sitting on his lap too long. But then I think, I’m not wearing a dress, I’m wearing shorts and a tank top.
“I’m wearing shorts,” I say, my forehead scrunched. Has his memory gotten so bad he can’t remember what I’m wearing? I mean, yesterday he forgot where he set his hat and then remembered he was wearing it. An hour later, I tried to tell him, but with this guy and his outbursts, you remain quiet when he’s on his rants. His jaw clenches, as if he’s in pain again. “And if I’m hurting you, let me get up.”
“You’re not hurting me.” He refuses my attempt to get up and holds tighter. “I’m not talking about tonight.”
I stare at him, searching the sudden fire in his eyes. I catch onto what he’s implying and smile. I know the exact day Grayson’s appointment with Dr. Nehls is. The Wednesday before the wedding. Which means, potentially, that dress could be taken off.
“Oh,” I say, laughter falling. I slap my hand over my mouth. “I get it.”
For some reason, I think it’s funny and here, on the back patio of his parents’ house, forty-three days later, I get the first laugh. It’s low, but his chest shakes, his eyes crinkle, and the sound of him laughing, smiling at me, gives me hope.
There have been times when I never thought he’d laugh again. And though this day isn’t exactly how I envisioned it going, by his laughter, we’re one step closer. We’re still grieving. I don’t know that we’ll ever stop. Living minute by minute, we’re both waiting for the ability to fall asleep at night and not fear it. We’re learning to live in this new version of our life, our decisions made in the moment, like setting your truck on fire, and they’re scary and unfamiliar. We’re navigating something new, and sadly, we don’t know what forever looks like anymore.
But I feel it deep inside me, like it’s in my bones, that this isn’t the end. As ugly as healing can be, retreating, no matter how scary this journey is, isn’t an option. I don’t know what our future holds, but this guy staring at me, the spark in his eyes is still there.
His arms are open, he’s salty at times, but he’s there, pushing through.
I’m willing to carry his pain and mine, even if I can’t take it away. But we can get stronger. Some of the greatest loves in the world have been shaped from periods of immense pain. So I’m going to embrace it.
61
EVIE
The days seem to slowly fade into one and then the other.
Grayson has physical therapy three times a week, still stumbles more than he’d like, and now suffers from migraines so bad he can’t get out of bed somedays. He vomits a lot, changes medications three times and refuses to go to therapy. We find a different therapist and he starts going again.
I move into his bedroom, with my clothes at least. It’s weird, considering I live next door, but it’s nice to feel more like a couple.
I see a sexual assault counselor and love that she has more insight into relationships and forming healthy bonds than I ever thought she would. She adores Grayson, and it seems he’s nice to her. Probably because she only spends about ten minutes with him in the lobby and he doesn’t have time to be a jerk to her.
His mood swings happen more frequently, but he’s usually quick to apologize, or remove himself from crowds when he knows the stimulation of too many people make it worse.
Wyatt and Julia buy Grayson a new piano to replace the one Shane destroyed, but he doesn’t touch it. He doesn’t seem to findinterest in anything he used to do, but they say that’s normal. And “they” is Google.
Ethan and Frankie find out they’re having a boy. Ethan is ecstatic, Frankie cries.