Page 18 of All I Have Left

EVIE

M orning light peeks through the curtains, a flickering dancing on the wall reflecting the sun hitting the pool. In the distance, voices, an argument I can’t make out.

It takes me a minute to realize I’m not alone in the bed and then another when I come to the startling conclusion whose bed I’m in.

Grayson’s.

Shit . I’d fallen asleep here. With a jolt, I sit up. Grayson is flat on his stomach, sound asleep.

I smile. Even in the dim lighting of his room, he looks so peaceful, angelic almost. His breathing’s light and steady with a slight pout to his soft lips. Not wanting to wake him, I carefully lean forward to check the time on his alarm clock.

Holy shit, it’s seven o’clock. Oh my God, I’m late for work. Harper is going to kill me.

“Dude, she’s not here!” Josh yells, his voice carrying down the hall.

Double shit.

“Last time I saw her she was with you. ”

He’s not lying. He didn’t know I’d snuck into Grayson’s room.

Carefully removing myself from the bed, I press my ear to the door and listen to the sound of Shane’s voice. “She’s not at home or at work, so she has to be here,” Shane argues. “She’s with that son of a bitch, isn’t she?”

Pain hits my chest, my throat dry. Of course he thinks that.

A memory hits me. My dad yelling through the phone, calling my mom a liar.

Accusing her of feeding him lies and half-truths even though everything she said was the truth.

When I was younger, I used to get so mad at my mom for staying with my dad.

He used to beat the crap out of her to the point she had to cover it up with makeup, yet stayed with him for years.

Sound familiar? It should because it’s my life now.

So why didn’t she leave? How’d she love him so much that he could hurt her and she stayed?

Didn’t she have enough respect for herself?

Now that I’ve been in her shoes, I have an understanding for that mindset.

The one that compromises to keep peace and protect the ones you love.

Would my dad go so far as to hurt my brother and me?

I don’t think he would have, but he threatened her with it time and time again. She stayed because it was easier.

“Who’s yelling?” Grayson asks, his voice muffled.

I spin around to see him roll onto his back, one leg bent at the knee, his foot on the mattress. With his hands on his face, he drops them to his sides and lifts his head. He smiles, his eyes on my legs. Shit.

“That would be Josh yelling at Shane,” I tell him, yanking at the ends of the dress.

His eyes dart around the room as he breathes in heavy. He sits up, his shoulders hunched forward.

I let my eyes wander over his chest. At some point he’d taken off his shirt leaving him in his jeans from last night. Wow. Army did his body good. Fuck, look at those muscles. He’s no boy anymore. That’s all man! Muscles bulge and pop in all the right places. Damn .

He stands, and it gets better. I honestly fight the urge to fan myself. I mean, they make men like this? Fuuuuuck! Cut V, twelve pack… it’s too much. They don’t make men like that in Alabama. This guy, he’s been sculpted by an artist.

In his haste to reach for his shirt on the floor beside his bed, he knocks over a pill bottle. It hits the wood floor with a thud and rolls under his bed.

I shamelessly watch his every move from retrieving the bottle to him checking his cell phone beside the bed, running his strong hands through his hair, his back muscles flexing with each movement.

“What are those?” I gesture to the bottle he places back on the nightstand, my voice a little dry and croaky like a frog jumped in my throat.

Grayson glances at the bottle in his hand and then back at me. His expression’s indifferent, so distant almost it’s as if he’s in another world. “Muscle pain.” And then he turns around and into the light coming in through his window.

I gasp at the sight before me. Across his back are numerous scars, the marks appearing to be fairly new, still purple and lumpy.

Uneasiness throbs in my gut as I take in the sight of him.

Jagged marks span from his shoulders to the narrow part of his waist and further down.

There’s one near his rib cage, long, deep, the skin around it slightly discolored.

I want to ask him about them, but as I gather the courage, he slides his shirt on and steps in front of me. We lock eyes, his curious, mine, I don’t know. Scared? Confused?

Reaching around me, his grabs the handle of the door, his chest pressing to mine. “No!” I stop him when the door hits my butt. I lean into it and it closes with my weight. It clicks behind me with a thud. “I don’t want him to know I’m here with you.”

Shock hits his face and he steps back a foot. His eyes narrow, his jaw tightening. “Why not?”

Okay, well, now he’s angry. Awesome.

“Because.” I snort, as if he should know. But he doesn’t and he’s looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “He remembers you from high school.” That’s not entirely the truth. I don’t fear him knowing Grayson. I fear the reaction to him knowing I was here, in Grayson’s bed last night.

“I don’t give a shit if he remembers me or not. Why does it matter if you’re here?”

“Because, Grayson, it’s really complicated.

” One look at him and I know that answer isn’t going to cut it.

My voice shakes, my fear of him seeing why this is so hard for me weigh heavily on my words.

“I just don’t want him to see you, or rather me here,” I insist, my eyes on his chest again. He’s breathing heavy.

He’s quiet, much too quiet, nodding while staring at the floor, his jaw rigid and set.

And then he looks up, a quick snap of his eyes to mine, his mouth opens as though he’s about to say something, but he pauses.

Swallowing hard, he shrugs one shoulder.

“Do you think I care what he thinks? I saw his reaction last night to us.”

“I know you saw his reaction. All the more reason for him not to see us together.”

Grayson shakes his head as if he’s disgusted. He folds his arms over his chest. “Tell me, ’cause I’m really fucking curious, what is that you see in him?”

At first, I don’t say anything. I’m too surprised by the ink crawling across Grayson’s forearms. I would have never expected him to get a tattoo, let alone a few of them.

I want to search every inch of his skin for more and beg him to tell me all the details as to why he got each one.

But I don’t do that. Instead I’m more focused on why he’s making a big deal out of this.

I let out a huffed breath, rolling my eyes. “It’s complicated, Grayson.”

Complicated doesn’t even do this situation justice. More like insanity. Grayson backs up another step, his retreat finding residence on his bed. Another moment passes and his hand finds his hair. Tugging once, he lets out an annoyed sigh but doesn’t say anything.

In the distance, I can hear Shane’s car as he leaves .

Grayson’s eyes remain downcast on the floor.

I watch him, wishing I knew what he was thinking, and then again, I probably don’t want to know.

Slowly, he looks up at me. I fidget as I wait for his words.

“All right, un-complicate it then, Evie,” he challenges, his words short and holding annoyance with every syllable.

Before I can answer him, you and I both know I wasn’t going to, but Josh knocks on the door. “Grayson, you up?”

My eyes widen. “Fuck, don’t let him know I’m here,” I whisper and hide in the only thing I can think to hide in. His closet.

I’ve sunk to a new level of pathetic.

Even without seeing his face, I can hear the smile in Josh’s voice when he says, “Evie, you can get out of Grayson’s closet. I know you’re in there.”

Well, that didn’t exactly work in my favor, did it?

I open the door with a grunt. “How’d you know I was in here?”

“That’s where you always hide.”

“Not true. I used to hide under his bed. But I’m afraid I’d rip this stupid dress.”

Josh winks at me, leaning into the wall. “It’s definitely not stupid.”

I roll my eyes. “Shut up.” Taking a seat on the bed next to Grayson, we exchange a look, but there’s no smile on Grayson’s face now. Hurt, maybe, but no amusement.

“How’d you piss off lover boy last night? He’s all kinds of fucked up this morning,” Josh tells me, his shoulder pressed into the doorframe. “I have to tell you, he’s dreamy.”

He’s being sarcastic. Beside me, Grayson says something under his breath but then looks over at me, as if he’s waiting for me to finally say something that makes sense to him.

He’s going to be waiting a long time.

“You’re not really going to go after him, are you?” he asks, bumping his shoulder into mine. He reaches for my hand, placing his own over mine.

I jerk my hand away quickly before I forget why I need to leave and why I should go call Shane. “I’m going to call him. Believe me, if I don’t, it will be a very long day for everyone.”

Without waiting for Grayson or Josh to say any more, I run down the hall only to come face-to-face with my brother in their kitchen helping himself to their food.

“Well, good morning, sunshine,” Ethan greets me with a smirk. How on earth he’s so chipper with so little sleep is beyond me and actually rather annoying. He’s always been a morning person.

Without returning the smile, I reach for the coffee pot, pour a cup into a mug next to the muffins Mrs. Gomez made. “I’m late for work,” I grunt, scorching my throat from the hot coffee, but continuing to swallow it before I make my way to the back door.

Ethan stops me as I open it. “Evie.” He sighs, and I know by the tone, this is his brother warning coming.

“I’m only going to lie to Grayson for so long.

You need to tell everyone the truth, including yourself.

” His tips his head to the side. “I swear to God, Evie. I fucking find out that he’s hit you, or he’s the one behind all these freak accidents you keep telling me are causing bruises, I will fuck him up,” Ethan warns, his voice low.

His eyes drift to my stomach and the bruises he knew about, and argued weren’t from falling down stairs.

Deep down, Ethan knows Shane gave them to me when I told him I’d had a miscarriage.

He knows because he took me to the hospital when I miscarried.

It wasn’t Shane that was there for me. It was my brother. My blood who always has my back.

I don’t know what to say to him. How do you even start that conversation? I can’t blurt out that I’m in trouble. Or can I? How does it end? Who wins? Who does Shane hurt because of it ?

“Hey, babes.” Frankie stumbles down the hall, a robe on, her voice less than chipper.

Ethan winks at her and hands her a cup of coffee. “Floor still moving?”

“Ugh, yes.”

Apparently, my little friend had a little too much to drink last night. “Maybe you should have gotten more sleep last night,” I point out, glaring at them. “And why are you over here? I left because you two kept me up.”

Ethan shrugs. “There’s food over here.”

He has a point.

When I make it back to my house, I grab my cell phone off my nightstand and call Shane. While I wait for him to answer, I notice Grayson walking over to our house.

Awesome. And the good times just keep on coming, don’t they?

“Where have you been?” Shane’s furious voice hisses through the line. I sit down on the bed half-paying attention to what he’s screaming about, still swearing.

“Shane, I have to get to work,” I tell him, trying to be calm but so tired of his endless fucking ranting.

He sighs. “Were you with him last night?”

Something inside me snaps and I tell him the truth. We’re not together and I shouldn’t have to lie to anyone. “I went over there to say hi.”

“You mean fuck him?”

“Will you stop?” I groan. “I have to go.”

“Fine. Fuck you, ya dumb bitch.” And then he hangs up on me. I’d love to say he won’t call back, but he will.

I change out of that ridiculous dress into my favorite jean shorts and a tank top, throw on some flip-flops, and pull my hair into a messy bun. Harper doesn’t care what I wear to work, as long as I show up.

Reaching for my keys, Grayson knocks on my door. I know avoiding everything isn’t the answer but is it so bad of me to want a little less drama in my life?

I don’t think so.

“Who is it?” I ask, stalling.

What kind of lame ass question is that? Who else would it be?

I expect a sarcastic comment from him, but I don’t get that. Instead I get the softness of “Let me in, Evie.”

“No,” I reply, backing up and sitting on the edge of my bed. “Can you just go away?”

“I can’t do that,” Grayson says. “Let me in. We need to talk.”

“No. I’m late for work. Go away.” And then I add, “You’re good at that.”

I hear him let out a frustrated sigh. “Stop being a drama queen and let me in before I knock this damn door down.”

I glare at my closed door. “I swear to God, Grayson, if you break the door, I’m going to make you pay for it.” Before I even finish my threat, my door comes down.

Grayson stands there, half pissed, and maybe a little in disbelief that he actually got the door down.

I fight off a smile. “Was that really necessary? You’re paying for that.”

“Apparently it was because you weren’t going to open the damn door,” he says, a familiar smirk working its way to his lips.

Goddamn him.

He did that grin on purpose. Part of me hoped he’d lost that grin over time. The other prays I’m the only one who ever sees it.

I point to the door. “You’re gonna fix that.”

He nods. “I promise. I will.”

Neither of us say anything until my ringing cell phone brings me back to reality. With a heavy breath I walk toward him, brush past him and down the hall with my phone in hand. Naturally, Grayson follows me.

When we get to the front door, my hands land on his shoulders, angling him out the door. “You better leave. Shane might be on his way over here and if he sees you , that will only set him off more.” I push him out the front door, the one he didn’t break down.

“Evie,” he pleads, disappointment plastered on his face.

“Grayson, I—” I can’t finish when my eyes meet his, the sadness now so evident.

Grayson reaches for my hand, his fingers gracing my knuckles. That touch is why I can’t be mad at him. Why I don’t want to.

“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry. I’m late for work.” I pull my hand away and close the door.