Page 145
Story: All I Have Left
A wave of nausea hits me and I cover my mouth. “Oh my God, Grayson.” I flinch at the thought of what he’s about to tell me. I know exactly where this is going.
“They forced me to watch as they beat Matt to death with a bat… and he screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore for me to make them stop.”
The irony of it, the similarity, it tears at me and it’s more than I can take. Sitting up, I cry into my hands. For him. For Matt… for me. I can’t even imagine what he must have felt… the complete and utter helplessness, and then to see me…“Watch me fuck her against your truck.”
I look back at him as he reaches for my hand, fear etched in his face.
He swallows a few times and I regret asking. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have forced him to open up to me.
He can barely get the next part out. “I couldn’t do anything.” His words shake around every word. “They had me tied up. All I could do was scream and beg them to stop. But they didn’t. They shot me four times and threw me on the ground next to his body. I was out there for what seemed like days or even weeks. I don’t even fucking know.” Sitting up slowly, he stares down at his hands, tears falling down his cheeks. “The next thing I remember I was in a hospital back inNew Mexico. They told me Matt had died, and I was being honorably discharged.”
“I’m so sorry, Grayson,” I cry, turning to face him. He pulls me into his arms, against his chest. “I had no idea. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“Hey.” He touches my face with both hands. “You didn’t know. How could you have? I couldn’t talk about it.”
“How can you now?” I sob, thinking I’ve destroyed all the healing he’s done by bringing it up again.
“Because I have you. And after what happened with us that night, it’s like my mind replaced one trauma with the next and compounded the two. I dream of both of you, tied together, and I can’t do anything.”
“Do you think Shane knew?”
“No, I don’t think he did. Nobody knew what happened in that desert but me and Matt.” His lashes flicker. “He knew about my shoulder though.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. He got the information from somewhere.”
I’m not surprised. Shane had an obsession with hurting Grayson once I was no longer his concern. “Were you and Matt friends?”
Grayson nods. “You could say that. He was only nineteen years old, Evie.Nineteen.” His body shakes against mine. “He had a wife, and a baby boy back at home in Texas he never got the chance to meet.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “And here I am alive, getting a second chance, or a third chance to do it right.” His voice cracks, and then he clears his voice. “I’m fucking it up, honey, and I know it. I’m sorry. I have a lot to be thankful for and it begins and ends with you.”
My chin shakes, snot running out of my nose. It’s not pretty, but given the circumstances, I don’t think it matters how much of a mess I am because the man beside me is the same. “We’re gonna make it, Grayson. We have to. For all the shitty shit that keeps happening, we deserve this.”
Laughing, he holds my head to his chest. “I guess I better get my shitty shit together then.”
I snort. “You better.”
I didn’t sleeplast night. I closed my eyes, but no, sleep didn’t come for me. And if I had to guess, Grayson didn’t either. He tossed and turned most of the night and then sat outside on the patio for over an hour as the sun came up.
I didn’t bother him and somewhere between then and now, I must have dozed off.
I lie in Grayson’s bed longer than I usually do that morning. I think about the night, the wedding, our argument… Matt. Pain hits my chest at the reminder of everything that was said and not said.
Sunlight slivers of morning dance on the wall with the movement of his curtains. I turn over to find him missing from the bed again. Rolling over, I stare at the ceiling, my hands resting on my stomach. My eyes burn from all the crying I did last night. I think my heart hurts worse. For everything we’ve been through, but most of all, Grayson.
I’m just about to get up and look for Grayson when I hear commotion, footsteps, and then his presence. For a moment, I watch him move through the dimly lit room. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts, hanging low on his hips, no shirt and hair a mess.
He stands next to his piano, lost in thought. My throat tightens, my heart pounding in my ears. I wait, because up until now, he hasn’t touched the piano his parents gave him. He hasn’t even looked at it. With a deep sigh, he sits down on the bench and rests his hands on the keyboard.
He turns his head and looks over at me. There’s no smile, no emotion in his. I have no idea what he’s thinking. Our eyes meetas he starts a slow tune, as if he never stopped the last couple months.
I swallow, my mouth dry, waiting for what might come next, my heart hammering in my chest. Tears sting my eyes. Him sitting at that piano, this is us healing. Something new every day. Baby steps into whatever our future holds.
And then comes his voice, unfamiliar in his low singing tenor. A sound I wasn’t sure I’d hear again because up until now, he hasn’t shown any interest in the things he used to like. Turning his head to look at the keys, he sings an acoustic slow version of Madonna’s “Like A Virgin”.
It’s…everything. The rasp of his voice, the emotion in his every word, all of it together sends a chill through me. And tears. I cry through the entire thing, remembering every detail of the last few months. It’s the perfect song, when played slowed and simple like this.
It reminded me of everything that happened last night. The wedding. His outburst. The truths we gave, and the love we made. A shiver runs up my spine, a tingling between my legs thinking of his weight on me. I swallow, my lashes fluttering closed as I touch my hand to my lips, remembering what his passionate kisses tasted like.
“They forced me to watch as they beat Matt to death with a bat… and he screamed until he couldn’t scream anymore for me to make them stop.”
The irony of it, the similarity, it tears at me and it’s more than I can take. Sitting up, I cry into my hands. For him. For Matt… for me. I can’t even imagine what he must have felt… the complete and utter helplessness, and then to see me…“Watch me fuck her against your truck.”
I look back at him as he reaches for my hand, fear etched in his face.
He swallows a few times and I regret asking. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have forced him to open up to me.
He can barely get the next part out. “I couldn’t do anything.” His words shake around every word. “They had me tied up. All I could do was scream and beg them to stop. But they didn’t. They shot me four times and threw me on the ground next to his body. I was out there for what seemed like days or even weeks. I don’t even fucking know.” Sitting up slowly, he stares down at his hands, tears falling down his cheeks. “The next thing I remember I was in a hospital back inNew Mexico. They told me Matt had died, and I was being honorably discharged.”
“I’m so sorry, Grayson,” I cry, turning to face him. He pulls me into his arms, against his chest. “I had no idea. I shouldn’t have said anything. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“Hey.” He touches my face with both hands. “You didn’t know. How could you have? I couldn’t talk about it.”
“How can you now?” I sob, thinking I’ve destroyed all the healing he’s done by bringing it up again.
“Because I have you. And after what happened with us that night, it’s like my mind replaced one trauma with the next and compounded the two. I dream of both of you, tied together, and I can’t do anything.”
“Do you think Shane knew?”
“No, I don’t think he did. Nobody knew what happened in that desert but me and Matt.” His lashes flicker. “He knew about my shoulder though.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. He got the information from somewhere.”
I’m not surprised. Shane had an obsession with hurting Grayson once I was no longer his concern. “Were you and Matt friends?”
Grayson nods. “You could say that. He was only nineteen years old, Evie.Nineteen.” His body shakes against mine. “He had a wife, and a baby boy back at home in Texas he never got the chance to meet.” He lifts his eyes to mine. “And here I am alive, getting a second chance, or a third chance to do it right.” His voice cracks, and then he clears his voice. “I’m fucking it up, honey, and I know it. I’m sorry. I have a lot to be thankful for and it begins and ends with you.”
My chin shakes, snot running out of my nose. It’s not pretty, but given the circumstances, I don’t think it matters how much of a mess I am because the man beside me is the same. “We’re gonna make it, Grayson. We have to. For all the shitty shit that keeps happening, we deserve this.”
Laughing, he holds my head to his chest. “I guess I better get my shitty shit together then.”
I snort. “You better.”
I didn’t sleeplast night. I closed my eyes, but no, sleep didn’t come for me. And if I had to guess, Grayson didn’t either. He tossed and turned most of the night and then sat outside on the patio for over an hour as the sun came up.
I didn’t bother him and somewhere between then and now, I must have dozed off.
I lie in Grayson’s bed longer than I usually do that morning. I think about the night, the wedding, our argument… Matt. Pain hits my chest at the reminder of everything that was said and not said.
Sunlight slivers of morning dance on the wall with the movement of his curtains. I turn over to find him missing from the bed again. Rolling over, I stare at the ceiling, my hands resting on my stomach. My eyes burn from all the crying I did last night. I think my heart hurts worse. For everything we’ve been through, but most of all, Grayson.
I’m just about to get up and look for Grayson when I hear commotion, footsteps, and then his presence. For a moment, I watch him move through the dimly lit room. He’s wearing a pair of basketball shorts, hanging low on his hips, no shirt and hair a mess.
He stands next to his piano, lost in thought. My throat tightens, my heart pounding in my ears. I wait, because up until now, he hasn’t touched the piano his parents gave him. He hasn’t even looked at it. With a deep sigh, he sits down on the bench and rests his hands on the keyboard.
He turns his head and looks over at me. There’s no smile, no emotion in his. I have no idea what he’s thinking. Our eyes meetas he starts a slow tune, as if he never stopped the last couple months.
I swallow, my mouth dry, waiting for what might come next, my heart hammering in my chest. Tears sting my eyes. Him sitting at that piano, this is us healing. Something new every day. Baby steps into whatever our future holds.
And then comes his voice, unfamiliar in his low singing tenor. A sound I wasn’t sure I’d hear again because up until now, he hasn’t shown any interest in the things he used to like. Turning his head to look at the keys, he sings an acoustic slow version of Madonna’s “Like A Virgin”.
It’s…everything. The rasp of his voice, the emotion in his every word, all of it together sends a chill through me. And tears. I cry through the entire thing, remembering every detail of the last few months. It’s the perfect song, when played slowed and simple like this.
It reminded me of everything that happened last night. The wedding. His outburst. The truths we gave, and the love we made. A shiver runs up my spine, a tingling between my legs thinking of his weight on me. I swallow, my lashes fluttering closed as I touch my hand to my lips, remembering what his passionate kisses tasted like.
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