Page 16 of All I Have Left

GRAYSON

S taring at the bed beside my piano, I let my mind wander to Evie again. I think back to the last time she was in my bed. The night before I left. We never talked about what happened two weeks before that in the days that followed. I don’t know why. Maybe we were both scared to bring it up again.

Regardless, I can’t get that night out of my head as my fingers dance over the keys. But I also can’t imagine how much I hurt her by not telling her goodbye.

The reminder sends a rush of memories through me. Ones I don’t want. My head throbs, my breathing coming faster and faster. I know where this is heading.

Needing to calm down, I walk into my bathroom and try running some cold tap water over my face and through my hair. I try to tame the insanity, but my hand sticks immediately. Apparently Frankie added too much of whatever was in that bottle she kept spraying on me earlier.

Pulling my hand back, I stare at my fingertips.

What the hell did Frankie put in there? Glue?

With a grunt of annoyance, I drop my hand to the counter and catch sight of myself in the mirror, squinting at it in the bathroom light.

Most days, I don’t look in the mirror. And if I do, my eyes drift away just as easily.

This time, I stare at my reflection. Who the hell is this guy?

What am I trying to prove coming back here?

Because all I have now is anger and anxiety.

Moving from the bathroom, I make my way back to my room hoping to fall asleep. Although, I don’t know that I’ve slept in months—at least not soundly.

I sit on my bed and stare at my hands again.

The scars, the reminders of a life I wanted to leave behind.

My therapist said there’s a cure for it.

A medication to help numb the pain and the reality you’re forced to accept after going to war.

I don’t see how anyone can accept that kind of ugly.

The carnage of kill or be killed. It’s savage and not a life you can easily separate yourself from once you’ve been exposed to it.

I swallow over the dryness in my throat and lift my head. My bags are on the floor and I think I remember leaving the pills in there. The ones I said I didn’t need but have refilled twice.

Peeling myself off the bed, I dig through the bag.

I’m also careful not to look in the direction of her house.

You didn’t think I noticed her being home, did you?

Well, I did, and I know if I allow myself the faintest peek at her room, I’m going to go over there and beg her to let me into her room and heart.

And that’s not going to solve anything. I have to let her come to me.

When I find the bottle, I hold it up. Take before bed as needed.

Like that’s going to make it all go away. Is that how it’s supposed to work?

I swallow two back dry and then read the side effects. I don’t think I’ve ever read them before. May cause drowsiness, nausea, and headaches .

I’ll take anything over these terrifying thoughts of the walls closing in on me.

Part of me—in the weeks following my return from Iraq—on those sleepless nights, I’d lie awake in that hospital bed fearing the darkness of the night and would wonder what it would be like if they had left me there.

If I hadn’t been rescued. I would have died, I knew that, but would that have been easier than this?

Had the soldiers who died gotten the easier side of this life after war?

Folding my arms behind my head, I lean back on the bed.

After another twenty minutes of staring at the ceiling, sleep still doesn’t come for me so I sit down at the piano.

The grand structure has occupied this room as far back as I can remember.

It’s shiny black, a row of ivory keys reflecting the light from my lamp.

The moment my fingertips dance over the porcelain, I’m reminded of the sound and how much I enjoy playing.

When I was stationed in New Mexico, I was able to play every day until I left for Iraq.

Everyday seemed impossibly more monotonous than the last and it became something I did to pass the time.

I guess in a way, that’s what I’m doing.

Passing time from one moment to the next with no inclination at what any of it means.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I don’t look up. Not right away. I allow myself a second.

My knee bounces, a warmth spreading through my body.

There’s a quick jolt to my chest, my heartbeat quickening as I glance over my shoulder at the window.

My smile happens instantly. She’s like coming up for air.

I know, horribly cheesy and I want to punch myself for it, but until you’ve been where I have, and seen the things I’ve seen, you can’t, nor will you ever understand how it feels to have someone like her.

Twisting around, I see her standing outside the window, frowning with her hand planted on her hip.

Smiling, I make my way over to the window and push it open.

I stand against the wall with my shoulder pressed into my old dresser.

“Took you long enough,” I tease, wondering if she’s going to find humor in my words.

The Evie I used to know, she’s going to punch me in the stomach after saying that.

But then I remember, I don’t know this her anymore.

I know the eighteen-year-old girl I left.

She darts her head up. “Took you three years,” she chides, giving a coy smile.

Knowing I deserve that, I chuckle at her response. As she hikes one leg over the window ledge, I notice she’s still wearing that dress from earlier.

Fuck me.

I sigh and try to ease the tension between us. “Had that coming I guess.” I sweep my hand over the back of my neck, agreeing with her. I back up and take a seat on the bench again. She hesitates to move from her place near the window, her hands tugging at the hem of the dress.

I take her hand and pull her with me, needing to be touching her in some way.

She releases what sounds like a pained laugh. “By the way,” she whispers, sitting down next to me. Sighing, she lays her head on my shoulder. “You were great out there tonight. You definitely didn’t lose your touch, did you?”

I don’t look at her. I’m not sure I can. And then I think, I lost it with you though . Because I had, hadn’t I? She wouldn’t have left with Shane if I had.

I wrap my arm around her waist and draw her closer so our bodies are touching.

It’s then I finally work up the courage to meet her eyes.

Has she always been this way? So consuming in her beauty.

Without looking at the keys, I press down on them and begin a soft melody she knows well. Her smile is instant.

When I’m finished, her tender smile fades and she moves away from me. Fear hits my chest that she’s going to leave. Her touch on my shoulder lingers and sweeps over the curve of my bicep.

To my surprise, she curls up on my bed, staring at me expectantly and pats the side next to her. “Come over here.”

Weariness lodges in my throat and if I had to guess, there’s probably a flush to my cheeks at the way my body heats up.

The mattress dips and creaks as I lie next to her, unsure what this means.

The last time we were on this bed, well, you know how that played out.

If it came to that again, would I act on it?

It’s been three years. What do you think?

My heart pounds in my chest, my eyes heavy, trying to fight through the medication I now regret taking.

On her side, Evie curls one hand under her cheek and watches me. “You’re still so pretty,” she says with a laugh, touching my face with the other hand. She knows how often my sisters used to say that to me and it’s become a joke over the years.

Blinking slowly, a smile quirks my lips, momentarily distracted by the way her breasts are practically hanging out of the top of her dress. “I could say the same about you.”

Her grin forms, but she fights it off, trying to pretend she doesn’t find it funny. “Could or would?”

“I think you know the answer.” I reach forward, my thumb tracing her lips.

I’ve had a tremendous void in my life without her in it and now that she’s this close, I don’t know how to react to her.

After a few minutes, I have to ask the question that’s burning a hole in my gut and head.

“Shane Lawson?” I ask. “Come on, Evie. You can do better than him.”

“Yeah, I thought so too, but then you left so I guess I chose whatever came around.”

Fuck, that one hurts worse than I thought it would. I deserve that, I do, but it doesn’t make it any easier. Anger rushes through me and turns my tone bitter. “The Evie I knew wouldn’t settle on someone who treats her like shit.”

Emotion floods her eyes and sadly, I don’t know what that means either. I drop my hand from her face, the flush of her cheeks evident even in the dimness of the room. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

“You’re probably right,” I admit, swallowing over the annoyance. “I don’t know you anymore.” Rolling onto my back, I rest my hands on my stomach and stare at the ceiling. As a distraction, I count the knots in the pine ceiling grain.

Evie sighs beside me, the bed dipping as she shifts her position.

Her warmth moves closer, our bodies touching.

“Can you hold me like we used to? Just this once, please. We don’t have to talk.

” She doesn’t wait for me to say anything before she’s lifting my arm and curling into my side.

“I know things are seriously fucked up right now, but this is what I want.”

What she wants? What about what I want? Does that matter?

No, probably not. I lost the chance to dictate anything when I left. And if this is what I’m left with, her in my arms in the confines of my room, I’ll take that.

I turn my head toward her. My lips press to the top of her head.

“I’m sorry.” And I leave the words at that.

A blanket apology for so much more than I can ever explain.

Her body shakes against mine, and I imagine she’s cold, but maybe it’s more.

Maybe she’s just as affected by my presence as I am in hers.

Sucking in a jagged breath, my eyes burn.

Evie’s hand on my stomach moves higher to my chest. The touch of her hand, her body next to mine, it’s almost too much.

And if I didn’t think we could get any closer than we are, somehow we do.

Feeling every inch of her warm body is better than I could have dreamed about these last three years.

The problem with all this? Her leg is draped over mine and unfortunately, my male hormones kick in, and all I can think about is what she’s wearing and how much skin she’s showing. She’s practically naked and wrapped around me. Evie has always been attractive but this dress, it should be illegal.

She shifts her position to look up at me, her hips grinding into my thigh in the process.

Fuck… think of something else!

Do I do that?

No. Fuck no. Instead, my body has other reactions and my breathing kicks up. I could roll her over and show her how wrong he is for her and how right I am.

Unfortunately for me, I’m sporting a semi already and I don’t have to look down to know that it’s noticeable.

Believe me, three years of celibacy and one touch by her and my dick is ready to go.

I want to act on it. I want to cover her body with mine, press myself against her and show her how much I love her.

I try like hell to get those visuals out of my head, but it’s not easy. It’s never been with Evie.

I don’t want this. I don’t want to feel her skin against mine. I don’t want to hold her like this because now, right now, I know I won’t ever let go again.

I don’t think I have a choice anymore though, because as much as I want this, she’s not mine anymore. Maybe she’s never been.