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And that’s who she’s in the arms of? That guy? No, I don’t think so.I’m fucking her.God, those words sit and fester inside me to the point my hands shake. I never want to think about someone else inside her.
“How could you—how could Ethan—allow her to date that moron?”
His eyes narrow at me, pain and betrayal sparking in them. “You know what? Fuck you, Grayson. You fucking act as if we had a choice,” Josh shoots back. “You know how she can be. No one is going to tell Evie Brooks who she can date.”
I groan, knowing he’s right. “How long have they been dating?”
“How the hell should I know? I don’t live around here anymore.” He avoids looking at me, and I can’t say I blame him. I wouldn’t want to look in my direction right now either. God knows what kind of lunatic I look like.
Regardless, I need to know some things. “Do you know how they met? Are they serious?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy here.” He meets my gaze for a split second and then focuses out the window as he says, “All I know is that Kathy works for his dad. I assume that’s how they met. But I don’t know. And I couldn’t tell you how serious it is. From what I’ve been told, he’s protective of her.” Josh shrugs, leaning into the door as he runs a hand through his hair.
Why in the world would Evie want to be with him? Doesn’t she have more respect for herself than that? “Where’d they go?” I ask, trying my best to sound inconspicuous. Did it work?
“Ha. I’m not stupid.” He knows me too well. “You need to keep your distance from that.”
I’ll take that as he’s not going to answer me.
“Look, Grayson,” he says slowly, turning to face me. “I’m not going to stop you if you want to go after the guy. You look like you can handle your own these days. That’s your business, but from what I hear, the more we try to persuade her to leave him,the more she turns toward him. She needs to figure this out on her own.” He tips his head, as if he was trying to get me to agree.
I raise an eyebrow at him. I’m still not sure I won’t go after him, but for now, I should probably wait this one out for at least a night.
I can feel the hole that was in my chest gaping open further. If the last year hadn’t been hell enough, it feels like I’m welcomed home to something a lot worse in my eyes. Evie in the arms of another man who has an unexplainable hold over what was mine.
11
GRAYSON
Iwant to, but surprisingly, I don’t follow Evie and Shane. Thought about it, but don’t. I drive back to my parents’ house where everyone is hanging out in the back yard, drinking.
As we discussed earlier, I don’t like drinking. I don’t like the way it makes me feel out of control. But I also know it’s the only way to function somedays. It’s a shitty feeling trying to numb yourself, and something I’m getting pretty fucking good at lately. So with little convincing, I take the beer handed to me. Why not try more alcohol?
Drink in hand, I make my way over to Ethan and Frankie. They’re seated next to the fire pit. A smile curves my lips when I notice what my mom’s done to this place over the years. The back yard at my parents’ is extravagant and way fancier than the modest house they’ve lived in for over twenty years.
The lighting, meticulous landscaping and an outrageous pool make you feel like they are made of money. And they’re not. I guess I should rephrase that. They have money. Mom’s an architect and my dad’s an excavator. So yeah, they do well but more importantly, they’re good at saving for what they want.
Ethan notices me, leaning forward on his chair, one armdraped around Frankie, the other holding a beer. “Shit, man. It’s good to have you back.” Shaking his head, he brings his beer to his lips. “You were amazing out there.” Ethan gets lovey when he’s drunk and insists on hugging everyone. Evie used to be the same way. Get her drunk and she was all over you and confessing I love yous every few minutes.
“I don’t know about that,” I mumble, unsure what else I’m supposed to say to him. I bring the beer bottle to my lips. Frankie throws a condescending frown my way.
“Are you home for good now?” he asks.
I stare at the bottle in my hand, picking at the label. “Yeah.”
“So what, like, ya got discharged?” Ethan asks, his brows pulling together. “I thought your term was for six years.”
I don’t want to be questioned about the real reason I’m home. I hate to be rude toward anyone, but if I keep talking while drinking, it might come out and I’m nowhere near ready for that conversation. Truth be told, I don’t know if I ever will be ready. It’s not one of those topics you can ease into. It comes after years of pushing down anger and regret only to have it surface and demand you deal with it. I know the statistics, but it doesn’t mean I have to talk about it.
“Good behavior, I suppose,” I lie, playing it off with a laugh as I take a long pull from the beer. Good behavior? It makes me sick to think any of what happened over there would be considered good behavior.
“I heard you were in Iraq for a bit. How was that?”
I shrug. “Hot.”
He stares at me as if he can’t decide to press for details or leave me alone. “That’s all?”
“Pretty much.”