Page 5 of All I Have Left

GRAYSON

T here’s an old dirt road in a small town in Alabama that time hasn’t touched. It’s paved now, so I guess some things have changed. The memories, they haven’t.

It’s funny when you think about it, but growing up, I thought this place was the worst. Too small town for me, and I couldn’t wait to leave home.

Then I left and experienced the world at its worst. Now these small towns mean everything. They’re a way to remember that despite what’s out there and everything that’s wrong with the world, there’s still a small piece that remains untouched by the harshness or the rest of the world.

As I pull off the highway, I nod to the sheriff when passing through town.

He politely smiles, returning the wave, but I can tell by the set frown, he’s not happy seeing this truck back or the too cocky kid who thought he never had to do the speed limit driving it.

I also once set the police station on fire. By accident. I swear.

It’s down another long country road before my childhood home comes into view, and I’m careful not to look over at her house. Afraid actually. If I do sneak a glance, I’ll probably just run over there and bang down her door and beg her like a fool to drop whatever life she has now for me.

I can’t ask her to do that. I won’t.

Shutting the engine off, the sticky southern air blows through the window.

Frankie catches me before I reach the front door, wrapping her scrawny arms around my neck and hugging me tightly.

At first, I don’t know what to do. My heart thuds wildly in my chest. It’s strange to hug someone, awkward even. I can’t remember the last time I wrapped my arms around someone and expressed affection.

Staring at the house behind her, I gently tangle my arms around her, returning the hug. She squeezes me tighter, drawing a laugh from deep within when she wraps her legs around my waist.

Dropping her legs, she stands before me, both her hands on my cheeks. “You’re just as pretty as I remember, little boy.”

Hardly little. I’m twice the size of her.

She used to put makeup on me and tell me I was too pretty to be a boy.

I guess that hasn’t changed much over the years.

“Come on!” Frankie pushes me along the stone path leading to the house, her hands on my shoulders.

“We have so much to do before tonight and I have to get back over and help Evie.”

Evie? Fuck, there’s that pain. It hits my chest with a jolt and makes my stomach drop to my knees. If I had any doubt that my feelings for her might have changed, I know the answer now.

Dragging me down the hall, Frankie catches onto my expression. She offers a cheerful smile, like she already knows what’s up with me. My sisters, they always know.

“Here, wear these.” She tosses an armful of clothes toward me once we’re in my old room. “You’ll look great.”

“What’s wrong with my current attire?” I run my hand over my wrinkled black T-shirt I’ve been wearing for the last two days. Okay, maybe I do need to change.

She stares at me, her brow pulled together in confusion. Her eyes move from mine, to my chest and the tattoos I’ve accumulated on my forearms. “Where have you been? We thought you were dead.”

There was a time when I wanted to be dead. Tightness works its way from my chest to my throat. I shrug and pat my chest with my hands, winking at her. “Clearly I’m alive.”

“Mom is going to freak when she sees you’re home.”

Home? Why does that word sound so unfamiliar?

Frankie gives me a cynical look—one she’s perfected over the years. “Seriously, Grayson. Oh God. You fucking stink. How long have you been wearing that shirt?” Her nose scrunches, waving her hand in front of her face. “You need a shower.”

She’s right on that. I haven’t stopped since I left New Mexico and I do stink.

“Listen. You can’t just look good tonight, Grayson.

You need to be mind-numbingly gorgeous. You have to…

well—” Her eyes narrow at me. “You’ll see.

Clearly, you need my help on this one. Trust me.

” Frankie shrugs carelessly and dances out of the room, adding a pirouette before she makes it out the door.

Trust is never a word you want to hear coming from Frankie Gomez. Ever. You’ll fucking regret it before you even hear the last inflection of the letter “t” flowing out of her mouth.

The last time I trusted Frankie, I ended up modeling a clothing line she designed in front of a bunch of Catholic school girls while they checked out my junk, and Evie and Kelly laughed hysterically in the back of the room.

I can’t tell you how thankful I am that she didn’t go to design school like she had originally planned and became a nurse instead.

Sighing in defeat, I know there’s no stopping her when she gets like this.

It’s probably no surprise that Frankie used to dress me up in princess dresses and crowns.

At the time, I didn’t care what my sisters did to me.

I enjoyed the attention as a kid. And I can’t say I’m disappointed by it today either.

It’s good to see her smiling face again.

“It’s good to be home,” I mutter to myself as I head to the shower.

Once I’m in there, I have to admit, it’s refreshing to take a shower after the long drive.

Steam rolls through the room. The hot water burns my skin a little, as sensitive as it still is on my back.

I hate to even see what my back actually looks like, but I know it’s not good. I refuse to face the mirror.

Once I’m done with the shower, I run one of my dad’s razors over my face but leave some scrub, Evie always liked that on me.

Nice one, asshole. You know nothing about her and now you’re looking to impress her. Idiot.

One can have hope, right?

Back in my room, my thoughts drift to her again when I make the mistake of glancing toward my window.

You knew this wasn’t going to be easy.

Frankie bounces back into the room. Thankfully, I have my pants on as she barges in like she lives here. Well, she does I suppose. Privacy isn’t something you have with two older sisters.

Frankie eyes me, her body rigid with shock when she notices my chest and the scars scattered over it. “Grayson!” she gasps. “What happened?”

I don’t look at her and twist away as I shoulder into the shirt, buttoning it as fast as I can. “Nothing.”

“That is not nothing.” Her hands are on my chest now, trying to force me back around. “Jesus Christ. How did that even happen? It looks like you were stabbed with knifes.”

These scars, they certainly didn’t come from knifes. Maybe that would have been easier. She takes hold of my arm. “Grayson, seriously, what the fuck happened?” she demands, stomping her foot on the hardwood floor with her heel.

The thud bounces off the walls and through my head.

I jump unintentionally. Pressure builds in my head, my stomach.

My fists clench and I release a quick breath, then drag in another.

Not now, man. Over a fucking stomp? Pinching the bridge of my nose, I let out a dramatic sigh.

“Goddamn it, Frankie,” I seethe, scowling at her. “Drop it.”

There’s a few seconds when I think she contemplates ignoring my request. With her hands planted on her hips, she backs down and steps away. “Don’t touch your hair. I already know what I’m going to do with it.”

“What the fuck for?” I follow her toward her bedroom. “It’s my first night back. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

And I’m fucking certain I don’t want to go anywhere Frankie wants me to go. Knowing her, it’d be some nightclub by the way she’s dressed. Skintight jeans and an all too revealing top, it’s definitely not what you’d wear to the local Cracker Barrel.

Fuck, what if Evie is a stripper or something?

Now there’s a sight I want to see.

Not at all what I need to be thinking.

To understand how long Evie has plagued my dreams, you have to understand my obsession with her first. If you saw Evie Brooks you’d understand. She has this beautiful wavy blonde hair. Freckles cover her face and she has the brightest green eyes I’ve ever fucking seen.

You know, pretty doesn’t do her justice. Gorgeous doesn’t either.

“Ethan’s band is playing at The Point tonight so everyone is meeting over there. Josh and Kelly will be there. Mom and Dad are stopping by later when they get back from Birmingham.” She looks at her phone in her hand. “Which should be any time.”

“Is Ev—?” I begin, but like a pussy, I can’t finish her name.

Truth is, I haven’t spoken her name aloud since I left.

I carried a picture of her in my wallet, the one of us on sitting on the tailgate of my truck, and a few years ago when I was paying for dinner when the waitress asked her name as she pointed at the picture, I couldn’t even manage to say it.

All that came out was “That’s… my girl.”

But, she wasn’t. God, she is so much more than that.

Frankie glances back at me as she yanks me down the hall with her, giving me another cheerful smile I can’t return. “Of course she’ll be there. Our girl’s singing tonight.” Frankie smiles when she notices my smirk .

“Evie’s singing?” I gasp, my eyes widening. “You have to be kidding me. She’s not nervous?” I mean, I’m not surprised. She has a beautiful voice but usually only sang in front of Ethan and me when we were younger. Never in public. The Evie I know—she was too introverted for that.

“Not by choice,” Frankie adds. “I got her drunk first. You know Evie.”

Pride fills my chest that yeah, I know exactly what she means.

At least I remember something about her.

Evie always cares too much for everyone’s feelings but her own, which is part of the reason why I left.

I wanted to give her a chance to fall in love if she wanted to without feeling as if she had to pick me because everyone thought we should be together.

Or because we foolishly slept together one night.

Don’t get me wrong, I desperately wanted Evie to pick me, and as far as I’m concerned, us sleeping together wasn’t a mistake, but I didn’t want her to ever feel she had to—if that makes any sense at all.

“No time to talk about this now though. I have to go make sure Evie doesn’t back out on us but Ethan could use your help, you know.” Frankie smiles, her bag hanging off her shoulder. “He missed you. We all did.”

I nod as we walk out the door.

“I gotta go meet Evie. You remember where The Point is, right?”

Nodding, I run my hand over my face. “Yeah. I remember.”

I remember more than I care to, that’s for sure.