Page 50 of All I Have Left

EVIE

A fter breakfast, we dig out the rafts and spend most of the afternoon on the water. It’s a good distraction for me because Shane will have been served the protection order by now, and it’s the last thing I want to think about.

Grayson’s mood is completely off and borderline annoyed most of the morning. I can’t place if it’s me, him, Shane, or a combination of all of it. Whatever the reason, he refuses the boat ride with the others and we take off by ourselves on the rafts.

Kissing, a few more beers, more kissing, more touching, you can imagine what most of our day is filled with. We were like a couple of teenagers again.

It’s sometime after lunch that we’re floating on one of those inflatable flat rafts that looks like a foam pad. They’re super comfortable but every time we move, I fear I’m falling into the water.

With the summer sun burning my back, I hang my arms off the front of the raft. Grayson catches my hand, interlocking our fingers. I twist my head to look over at him, annoyed I can’t see his eyes with his sunglasses on. His skin glistens with beads of water, golden brown and oh so tempting .

“What are your tattoos of?”

He turns his head, but then looks back at the lake. As if he’s acknowledging my question, but not sure how to answer it. “Nothing, really.”

I touch the match tattoo with my finger. “Not buying it.”

Twisting his arm, he peers down at where I’m touching him. “I think it’s supposed to mean life from the first breath to the last.”

Focusing on the last of the seven matches, my brows pull together. “But why the one in ashes? You’re still alive.”

He lays his ear on his forearm, his head angled toward mine. “Am I? I’m not sure I know the difference anymore.”

I have no idea what to make of his comment, but then again, I think I know exactly what he means. “I like them on you.”

He shrugs again, a smile ghosting his lips.

The tattoos, the muscles, the tan skin, that sharp defined jaw, he’s beautiful, and a man.

When he left, he was eighteen and though that was only three years ago, he’s grown so much, experienced even more and this is the guy that’s left. Hanging on by a thread, much like me.

It’s then that my thoughts shift to his time away from me, and, well, sex. I’m curious about his comment that he hadn’t slept with anyone. Had he not wanted to?

“If you would have had the chance, would you have slept with someone while you were gone?” I ask, curious what his reaction will be.

His face is smooth and expressionless, his chin resting on his forearm. It’s hard to believe. “If I thought it would have gotten my mind off you, yeah. I would have.”

Just the mere idea of him being with someone else in that way sends my heart racing.

“So, like, you never had any time away from the base for that sort of thing?” I’m trying to be nonchalant about my questions but it’s obvious I’m prying.

My thoughts are screaming, who’d you want?

Who’d you think of? Were there girls? Were they pretty? Did you want any of them?

Drawing in a breath, he turns his head toward me.

“We were allowed to leave base in New Mexico. I had leave a few times and saw Kelly and Josh in Arizona, but I never thought to fill my time with women. I guess I didn’t want to.

” He shrugs. “I could have, but I don’t know.

And in Iraq, shit.” He pauses, snorting.

“Some of the guys paid the local Iraqi women for it. I guess you could call them hookers.”

“You didn’t?”

“Fuck that.” He laughed. “I’m not into paying for sex and I can’t imagine the shit they carry.”

“Was it weird being over there?” I know I’m prying but maybe he might open up now that we’re alone on the water.

“It was hot. And boring for the most part.”

I chew on my lip. “Something tells me it wasn’t all boring.”

Turning his head, he stares at the water again.

“It was… uneventful. I worked sixteen-hour days and didn’t sleep much.

Until the real shit started happening and anything you can imagine happening in war, happens over there.

The city’s infrastructure was nonexistent.

Murder, rape, children dying right in front of you, grown-ass men using their kids as shields, dismembered body parts in the streets. ”

The raft moves and I notice he’s shaking and his grip on my hand in the water hurts. Wiggling it loose, I move it from the water and run my fingertips over his back.

Staring at his shoulders and back, I think about how all these scars got on him.

I trace the puckered skin on his right shoulder. “Were you shot over there?”

He swallows and turns his head toward me. “Yeah, a few times.”

“You don’t want to talk about it, do you?”

“Nope.” He breathes, rolling onto his back and bringing my body with him.

I’m flat on my back, against his chest, staring up at the cloudless sky. His breathing is light, his mouth on my neck, one hand on my hip, the other trailing up my side. I squirm, giggling, and he groans, pushing my bikini top to the side and palming my breast.

His thumb brushes my nipple. “Are we moving too fast?” he asks, kissing my shoulder.

“I think it’s natural for us to want to be this close again. It’s a nice distraction.”

“But is that healthy?” His words tremble and he sounds so much like a lost child, unsure if he’s making the right decision.

His hand that’s on my hip moves inside my bikini bottom, palming my center.

“Because all I fucking think about is war, killing Shane, and this,” he rasps, his voice hoarse with desire, his middle finger making a path from my clit, to inside me.

I hear him swallow again, the action forced.

I twist my head and kiss him, squirming at his touch. “I think if it’s what we want, it doesn’t matter. There are no rules to this.”

His erection settles into the crack of my ass as I move my feet flat against the raft.

It sways, the motion causing him to groan.

“There should be rules, because I don’t know what the fuck to do.

” Sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, his finger slides out of me and across my clit again. “I’m scared.”

“Of what?”

“It being too much.”

I open my eyes and lift his sunglasses from his face. “For you or me?”

“Both,” he answers honestly.

My chest feels heavy with apprehension, yet there’s a familiar stirring inside me. “What if we just try? No expectations as to what happens after?”

His eyes, so bright, so focused now lock on mine, sunburnt cheeks glowing in the sun.

“Did you bring any condoms with you?” I ask, rolling my hips back against his.

A grunt leaves his lips, his lids fluttering. He nods, but no words follow. Grabbing hold of his wrist, I push on his hand that’s beneath my bikini bottoms. Desire knots inside me, my legs shaking and opening wider, and I’m thankful we’re tucked away in a cove and out of sight.

And it’s here, beneath the shade of trees hanging over the cove, I fall apart again in his hands. No expectations as to where this will go from here.

When you fall in love the second time, there’s a part people warn you about. It’s the ugly parts. The ones you never see coming but know it’s there beneath the surface waiting for the you to sink just enough it can swallow you whole.

With Grayson, I didn’t think I’d slip. Not this time, anyway.