Page 33 of All I Have Left

EVIE

I used to think to myself that no one can take from you what you don’t give them. I guess that can be true, to a certain extent. And then I lost Grayson.

And met Shane.

Shane took what I didn’t give him and he ripped it to fucking shreds right before my eyes. Now here I am, my heart in pieces and wondering if it will ever be whole again.

We all have emotional scars. Scars you can’t see but ones you feel deep, as if they’re soul deep and carried for lifetimes to come.

With any scar, they say you have to rip off a bandage and let it heal naturally, with time, but what they don’t tell you is the level of pain you have to endure when it hits air and begins the process of healing. It can be unbearable.

Sometime Wednesday morning, four days after the incident with Shane, I wake up next to Grayson.

I haven’t left his room much. Here I feel safe, protected and loved.

It takes a certain kind of man, a tenderness, to know when a woman needs them.

I’m not talking about being protective or fighting for them.

I’m talking about the ones that know when all they need is to be held.

And to have the patience to do that. To get her through those times in her life when she’s afraid of being alone and when the tears come so easily.

When she can’t ask you for anything yet needs everything.

That guy is Grayson Wyatt Gomez.

He’s also practically on top of me with something poking me in the leg while his hand is on my boob. Yep, cradling it like it’s a precious gift he can’t let go of.

I have to admit, it’s kind of nice. And for a moment, I leave it there. Enjoying that his touch will never come with conditions. Not Grayson. Never. His love, his touch, it’s unconditional and forever.

Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time Grayson’s hands have ended up on my boobs, or the first time he’s lying on top of me come morning.

When we were about fifteen or sixteen, it seemed every morning we woke up he was on top of me with one hand on my boob.

Once, he dry-humped me in his sleep and I’m not positive, but I think he came.

It was the hottest, most erotic experience of my life.

Don’t you dare say anything to him. It’s my treasured secret memory that I will hold forever.

Heat rushes through me at the memory and I squirm unintentionally underneath him.

My movement wakes him and he quickly moves to the side, turning away from me, noticing he has a problem. He reaches for the pillow behind his head and covers his hips with it.

“Someone is happy this morning,” I tease. I can’t help myself as I giggle. And then I realize how unfamiliar the sound feels on my lips. I’ve been so emotionally drained these last few days I had no idea how good it’d feel to laugh again.

Grayson grumbles, dragging himself off the bed and into the bathroom.

Sitting up, a lump rises in my throat when reality returns. I have a life outside this room and it’s fucked up beyond repair at this point. I look over at my phone on his nightstand to see if I have any messages. Nothing. There’s no messages or voicemails.

I stare at my phone, relief washing through me .

Hmmm… this could be a good thing. Maybe Shane finally got the point.

I know better than that though.

I glance up when I realize Grayson’s bedroom door is opening. He comes back in, no shirt and in a pair of shorts. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he reaches for the shirt on the floor and slides it over his shoulders.

“So…” I pause, and he looks over his shoulder, waiting. I drag my eyes down his body, suggestively. “Less worked up?”

“Stop doing that,” he replies, flopping back onto my legs.

“Doing what?”

“Looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He swallows, his beautiful eyes finding mine. “Like you would have acted on it.”

I rest my hand on his chest. “I wasn’t the one who got up and walked away,” I state simply, adding a shrug. Part of me registers that given our last few days, maybe I shouldn’t be joking around with him like this. But damn it, after everything, don’t I deserve a little light heartedness?

His smoldering eyes lock on mine. “You’re telling me that if I would have acted on it, you would have let me?

” he asks, his pitch a little more southern than I’ve heard recently.

Reaching his hand up to my neck, he touches my collarbone, his eyes following the motion, his fingers dancing along my bare skin, causing me to shiver.

He certainly hasn’t lost his touch with me. In fact, it sends a familiar rush of hormones through me that make me want to dry-hump him.

“I guess you’ll never know. You left.” I peel myself off the bed, pulling on a pair of his shorts.

“Fuck.” Grayson groans and curls into a ball on the bed. “I’ll never live it down.”

Once I’m off the bed, I realize how hungry I am. “I’m starving. ”

Grayson lifts his head, his eyes heavy on my legs. “Yeah, me too.”

I snort and reach for his T-shirt to cover my tank top. “You’re such a boy.”

“Why are you wearing all my clothes? Frankie brought you over a bunch.” He sits up and gestures to the bag on the floor next to his piano.

I sniff the sleeve of his hoodie. “These smell better.”

His brow quirks but he doesn’t say anything.

“Seriously. I’m really hungry.” Reaching for the door handle, I open it, wondering if he’s going to follow me.

He does, and I smile that lately, wherever I go, he’s close by, a reminder of the way it used to be between us. A familiarity I’ve missed so much.

In the hall, I stop him. He backs up against the wall, his hands on my hips. “Are you okay?”

I bite my lip nervously and then regret it because it’s still sore. “Do you think they’re going to fuss over everything that happened?”

His expression softens. “No, they won’t. They’re concerned, but they won’t ask you about it.”

We make our way to the breakfast nook at his parents’ house that overlooks the backyard. Ever since I can remember, the Gomez residence has been the local hangout for us. That much hasn’t changed over the years.

Ethan is next to Frankie as we walk toward the table, Grayson close behind me. With a smile in my direction, Ethan licks syrup off Frankie’s elbow. She’s dressed in light pink scrubs, and judging by her tired eyes, I’d guess she’s just gotten off her shift at the hospital.

I appreciate that there’s no extreme reaction from anyone. No rushing toward me and asking constantly how I’m feeling. It’s… nice. Normal. And exactly what I want.

“Morning, sunshine,” Josh says, stuffing his mouth with pancakes .

Julia, Grayson’s mom, slaps the back of his head for talking with his mouth full. “Have some respect. You’re spitting it all over the place.”

At least someone can keep Josh in line. She isn’t his mother, but she never hesitates to keep him in check.

Grayson moves past me to the coffee pot where he pours two cups. Without having to ask, he reaches for the creamer and adds a splash to one, and then hands it to me.

“You need to let me look at your hands,” Frankie points out, eyeing Grayson’s hands when he takes a seat at the table. “You ripped the stitches open and it looks infected.”

“They’re fine,” he mumbles.

Even days later, his hands are red and slightly swollen.

Looking at his hands up close, I notice he has the same scars on his hands and forearms as he does on his back—new deep purple scars.

When he realizes I’m looking at them, he drops his hands to his lap underneath the table, his focus on his coffee cup.

I wonder where all those scars came from. They almost look similar to burns.

Though he hasn’t come out and said it, I know something horrible happened to Grayson in Iraq. The condition of his body, the pills, the lack of sleep, I can’t imagine what he’s witnessed.

Just like he hasn’t asked about the things Shane has done to me, or the baby I briefly mentioned and I know he heard. There are some things we don’t talk about and might never discuss.

Julia hands me a plate of pancakes. “Eat something,” she urges.

I smile at her. “Thank you.”

Her eyes linger on my face, a sadness flashing in her eyes. I quickly look away.

Conversations are flowing around us, but I can’t focus on any one in particular. Other than when Wyatt stands from his place at the table.

“Try to stay out of trouble today,” he teases, ruffling Grayson’s hair as he walks toward the back door, his coffee mug in hand.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Grayson mocks with a sarcastic laugh, smiling at me.

My lips quirk into a small smile, relieved he’s joking around.

Awkward small talk is made around the room when Ethan looks to Grayson, saying, “Ready?” and nods to the door.

My heart flutters in my chest. He’s leaving? He didn’t say anything earlier. Why not? “You’re leaving?” I ask, a sudden frantic edge noticeable in my words.

Grayson shifts beside me, leaning in. “I have a job interview with Coleman Construction. I need a job.”

Since they were sixteen, Ethan and Grayson worked for Coleman Construction.

When Grayson left, Ethan stayed there. Now he’s a dry wall finisher and loves it.

He constantly has white dust in his hair, but he loves his job.

“Oh.” And then my heart bursts with happiness.

If Grayson’s interviewing for jobs that means he’s staying, right? “That’s cool.”

He chuckles, standing up. “I’ll be back later. Frankie is gonna stay with you.”

I nod but don’t say anything. I knew they were going to make me have a babysitter for some time. “You need to go down to the sheriff’s office and file a restraining order,” Ethan adds, tucking his cell phone into his back pocket of his jeans.