Page 14 of All I Have Left

GRAYSON

I want 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 arm draped 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.”

“Did you find an Arabian princess to keep you company?” someone asks behind me, squeezing my shoulders with their hands. I jump, drop the beer in my hand and then turn around, knocking his hands off me.

Fuck. My heart jumps into my throat and I can feel the tops of my ears turn red. “Sorry about that,” Josh mumbles, reaching down to pick up the bottle that fell.

I look to Frankie. Her eyes widen and she immediately asks if I’m okay.

Blowing out a shaky breath through my nostrils, I work my jaw back and forth. I avoid the questioning glances and take the beer back. “Thanks.” Twisting in the chair, I lean back like I’m not bothered by anything. “And it was Iraq, not Saudi Arabia.”

“My bad.” Laughing, Josh sits next to me, nudges my ribs. We laugh it off and while I attempt to lighten the mood and change the subject, I know everyone noticed my reaction to him touching me.

The conversations flow and thankfully, it’s away from me for a while or until Ethan and Frankie disappear. Then I’m left alone with Josh. “What’s up?”

I stare at him and the shadows dancing across his face. I search his eyes wondering where he’s going with this. “What?”

“What’s up with you? You’re jumpy and more aggravated than you used to be.”

I want to scream in his face. Here this guy went to college and got a degree. I went off to a war that wasn’t mine to fight. I mean, what the fuck did he think I’d come back like? Happy to have served my country? No. Fuck no. But I don’t say any of that to him. Instead, I blow it off. “Just tired.”

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about why you’re back.” He shifts in the chair, his face lit up by the string lights above us. “But why’d you leave in the first place? I wouldn’t have pegged you for joining the military. Baseball, yeah, but the Army? That’s not you.”

I squint into the darkness at nothing in particular. The lights blur and look like tiny fireflies dancing around the sky. Maybe this is me avoiding the truth. Who wants to admit they were fucked up over a girl and bailed on everyone?

Not me. I’d love to go as far to say I joined the military because it was the honorable thing to do.

After 9/11, I wanted to serve my country.

That’s the right answer. But it’s not mine.

I didn’t do it for that. I did it because it seemed logical.

And in fact, enlisting wasn’t a logical one.

It was a spur of the moment plea I made with myself to disappear. One that nearly ended my life.

But this is Josh. He’s been a big brother to me since I was eight. There’s no talking my way out of this one. He’ll call bullshit on me.

Drawing in a breath, I blow it out carefully, watchful of Frankie in the distance. “I don’t know. I guess I was scared I wouldn’t be what she needed.”

Josh shakes his head, side-eyeing me. “I don’t think that’s it at all. I think you were scared she wasn’t what you needed right then.”

Well, maybe.

Sometimes we do shit, and at the time, it seems like a good idea. The right decision. Then days later, months, years, we look at what we did and think, “Well, that was a fucking stupid decision.”

That’s where I’m at. I was a jackass. I slept with her and then bailed.

I’ll be fucking lucky if she ever talks to me again.

I certainly don’t deserve it. But I had to see what, if anything, is salvageable of my relationship with her…

and get this douche Shane out of the picture before I kick his cocky ass.

I have my work cut out for me. And if I thought the past few months were hell, I have a feeling I haven’t seen anything yet.