Page 71 of All I Have Left

EVIE

I ’m not healing. I’m suppressing. For him. And I’ll keep doing it until he’s ready.

That’s what I tell myself over and over again as I drive around town looking for Grayson since he left.

For an hour, I check all the usual spots with Frankie, even The Point. I even check Shane’s old house. I can’t find him anywhere.

“Where could he be?” I turn off the highway, and left at The Point.

Frankie stares at her phone, texting Ethan. “Knowing him, anywhere. You don’t think he drove out to the correction center, do you?”

“In Montgomery?” I gasp, knowing that’s where Shane is. “I hope the hell not.” My heart lurches in my chest. “You’d think he’d be picked up before he got out of town. Every cop in town knows his license is revoked and all the windows are busted out of the truck.”

Frankie’s eyes shift to mine. “I’m worried about him. He’s not himself anymore.”

“Frankie, you’re the one that keeps telling me he’s going to be fine! ”

“I know. It’s just hard to watch.” She flips her hand around. “Ignore me. I’m just pregnant and worrying about everything. Like yesterday, I drank expired milk. It tasted fine, but the entire day I kept thinking holy crap, what if the baby gets sick and vomits inside me?”

I snort-giggle. “You know that’s not possible, right? I mean, it’s not, right?”

“No, it’s not. They don’t throw up inside you and the little thing is the size of a lemon.

No way it throws up, but that’s what I’m saying.

My brain is fucking weird. I literally spent all day having these visions of it throwing up.

” She tosses her head back, groaning. “And then I made myself get sick. It’s awful. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I think you’re pregnant, your brother was nearly killed, and you’re getting married next month. That’s a lot on a girl, you know?”

Frankie reaches for my hand. She holds it tight and smiles. “You’ve been through a lot. And my shithead little brother isn’t making it easy.”

“No, he’s not,” I agree, anger rushing through me.

“Let’s head back to the house. I’ll call Hicks and see if he can look for him.”

I agree and we head back. Frankie goes inside the house saying she’s hungry, and I stand in the driveway staring at the place where his truck had been parked, and the tarp lying on the ground.

“How’d he even find the keys?” I ask Wyatt as he folds up the tarp.

“I left them on the counter the other day.” Wyatt frowns, shaking his head, his shoulders slumped forward as he sets the tarp on the bench inside the garage doors. “I’d called the wrecking yard to come pick it up since Grayson told me to get rid of it.”

For being a guy that seems not interested in anything around him, Grayson’s sure perceptive, isn’t he ?

Ten minutes later, Sheriff Hicks pulls up.

Wyatt and Julia come outside, their eyes wide. Julia’s eyes narrow on the driveway. “Did you find him?”

“No, but he might have.” I shake my head, watching Hicks open the back door to his cruiser, smiling.

“Oh, great,” Wyatt groans. I’m sure this is a familiar sight to him. It’s certainly not the first time Hicks has brought Grayson home.

“Picked this one up for arson,” he says, letting Grayson out, his eyes on mine.

“It’s not arson when it’s your property,” Grayson tells him, emerging from the car, shaking his head.

Wyatt snorts. “I’ll be inside.”

I run up to Grayson and wrap my arms around his waist. “I was so worried about you.” He smells like smoke. It burns my eyes.

Grayson sighs, tangling his arms around me and briefly pressing his lips to my forehead before pulling away. “I’m fine.”

“What did you do?” Julia asks, stepping down from the porch.

He has his left side turned to her and struggles to hear what she asked. “What?”

She steps in front of him, her hands on his shoulders. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Grayson flashes her a grin, and for a moment, it touches his eyes but fades easily. “Mama.”

She shakes her head, smiling. He used to call her mama when he wanted to get out of trouble.

I look to Hicks. “What did he do?” Hicks remains quiet, traitor, so I snap my eyes to Grayson, who’s leaning against the hood of the cruiser, his arms crossed over his chest. “Where’s your truck?”

“It caught on fire.”

Hicks smirks. “Uh-huh.”

“Grayson.” I gasp. “Did you set it on fire? ”

Julia walks back inside. Grayson smiles at me, and though I want to be mad at him, that fucking smile I’ve seen less than four times in two months tears down any wall I want to build up. “I think she’s mad at me.”

“Well, yeah.” I scowl, trying to stand my ground, my hands on my hips. “You weren’t supposed to be driving.”

“Arrest me then.” He holds his wrists up to Hicks.

“Something tells me leaving you here is punishment enough.” Smiling, Hicks dips his head to get inside his cruiser. “Have a nice night, ya’ll.”

Grayson stands up straight, taking the two steps toward me. He reaches out, using a finger to lift my chin up so that my eyes meet his. “I love you,” he states simply.

It’s then I realize this, this is how I fell in love with him. He has an incredible ability to make you forget you’re mad by the warmth of his eyes. He’s good at it.

“Why’d you burn your truck?”

Irritation flashes in his eyes. “Why do you think?”

I squint, trying to decipher his thoughts he keeps so hidden from me. “Because you couldn’t look at it anymore?”

He nods, his arm around my shoulder. His side-eyed stare on me sends shivers down my spine. “You know what would make me feel better?”

“What?”

“Sex.”

I try not to focus on the smirk or the way his hooded eyes meet mine and stifle a sigh. “Six weeks,” I tell him.

Groaning, he angles his head toward mine, as if just the mere idea is impossible. “I can’t wait that long.”

“You went three years without it. Pretty sure a few more weeks won’t be too bad.” Dropping my hand, I lace my fingers in his. “And I googled it. Even an orgasm can increase the pressure in your head. You still have six weeks until your three-month check-up. ”

Hanging his head, low laughter falls from his lips. It doesn’t seem to stem from amusement, but maybe disappointment. I can’t tell, but it guts me when he whispers, “Way to ruin my fucking night,” and distances himself from me further.

Inside the house, Grayson doesn’t say much.

The smile I had outside has long disappeared and replaced with one word answers.

He does congratulate Frankie on the baby, hugs her for the first time, and she bursts into emotional tears.

She’s either relieved or thinks the baby is going to throw up again.

I help Julia with dinner for the next hour. Ethan and my mom come over with the hamburger buns. Ethan sets them on the counter and then catches me by the arm, a beer in his hand. He nods toward Grayson standing near the pool with his dad. “Did he really set his truck on fire?”

I watch Grayson, fearing he’s too close to the edge of the pool. What if he falls in?

Jesus Christ, it’s like I’m trying to protect a toddler. “Yep.”

“I would have too,” Ethan notes, watching Grayson stumble when he turns to his left. I notice it’s always his left side he has problems with. Probably because that’s the side that took the hit.

I stare up at Ethan as I arrange pickles, tomatoes, and lettuce on the plate in front of me. “You would have?”

“Without a doubt. Look at the memories he probably has.”

A frown settles on my lips. “He claims he doesn’t remember anything past being at the lake.”

Ethan clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, his beer at his lips. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he cringes. “He’s lying to you then. You can see it on his face when he looks at you. He remembers. Probably all of it. ”

Awesome. So he’s setting shit on fire, lying to me, being an asshole, and we can’t have sex. Ugh.

I push my brother away from me. “You’re not helping my situation.”

“I’m being real.”

“Go tend to your fiancée. She thinks the baby is puking inside her.”

Ethan’s amusement turns to a somewhat frightened look. “Do they?”

“No. Did you not pay attention in health class?”

“Not really.” Shrugging, he tucks his beer under his arm and takes the plate in my hand from me. “I learned how to cover it up and moved on.”

I snort. “Turns out you failed to do that too.”

Ethan smiles, sweeping his hair from his eyes. The kind I know is about to lead to a conversation I don’t want to have with him. “Didn’t wear one. Went bareback.”

I make a face at him. “I didn’t need to know that. Go take this outside.”

The night drags on slowly but for once, despite the events of the day, we sit by the pool as the sun sets. Julia and Wyatt grill the hamburgers and laughter is in their house again. This feels normal. So many times while Grayson was in the hospital I longed for days like this.

Frankie and Ethan talk about the wedding. “September twenty-seventh,” she tells us. “And you’re my best girl,” she notes, looking to me.

“You mean maid of honor?”

“Yeah, that thing.”

I laugh and move closer to Grayson, who’s seated in one of the Adirondack chairs now. My thigh bumps into his leg. With my back to him, I’m curious if he’s going to reach out and touch me or simply ignore my presence next to him.

As I talk to Frankie, sipping on the sangria wine my mom hands me, I feel Grayson’s hand next to my thigh. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice he’s staring longingly at my ass and if it hadn’t been for his parents near us, I bet he would grab it. His hand moves to mine and he tugs.

I turn to look at him, seeing what he wants.

His eyes are on Ethan now, but he reaches out and brings me to a seated position on his lap.

This we haven’t done since the day at the lake.

Me on his lap. And though I’m afraid of hurting him, I let him because this is everything to me. He’s giving what he can.

I lay my head on his shoulder, relaxing into him. He’s showered since he burned his truck to the ground and now smells like Ivory soap with a hint of lavender. “Does this hurt?”

“Yes,” he breathes, his voice strained.

I tense. “I can move.”

“It’s not physical pain,” he murmurs, his nose running up the side of my neck. It sends goose bumps through my entire body. I think I even squirm.

I want to ask him what he means by that, but I don’t get a chance before Ethan lays it on Grayson. “Hey, so listen.” He bumps his beer to Grayson’s knee. “Will you be my best man,” he says, flat out, no messing around.

Grayson stares at him for the longest time. I almost think he’s not going to answer him, but then he surprises me and mumbles, “Yeah, sure,” seeming uninterested in the wedding planning.

I notice the more they talk about it, the more agitated Grayson becomes, so I smile at him. “I can’t wait to see you in a tux.”

His tone is kept low, only for me when he whispers, “I can’t wait to take your dress off you.

” His hand on my thigh inches a little higher but stops when his stomach tightens.

I notice the change and wonder if I’ve hurt him by sitting on his lap too long.

But then I think, I’m not wearing a dress, I’m wearing shorts and a tank top .

“I’m wearing shorts,” I say, my forehead scrunched.

Has his memory gotten so bad he can’t remember what I’m wearing?

I mean, yesterday he forgot where he set his hat and then remembered he was wearing it.

An hour later, I tried to tell him, but with this guy and his outbursts, you remain quiet when he’s on his rants.

His jaw clenches, as if he’s in pain again.

“And if I’m hurting you, let me get up.”

“You’re not hurting me.” He refuses my attempt to get up and holds tighter. “I’m not talking about tonight.”

I stare at him, searching the sudden fire in his eyes. I catch onto what he’s implying and smile. I know the exact day Grayson’s appointment with Dr. Nehls is. The Wednesday before the wedding. Which means, potentially, that dress could be taken off.

“Oh,” I say, laughter falling. I slap my hand over my mouth. “I get it.”

For some reason, I think it’s funny and here, on the back patio of his parents’ house, forty-three days later, I get the first laugh. It’s low, but his chest shakes, his eyes crinkle, and the sound of him laughing, smiling at me, gives me hope.

There have been times when I never thought he’d laugh again.

And though this day isn’t exactly how I envisioned it going, by his laughter, we’re one step closer.

We’re still grieving. I don’t know that we’ll ever stop.

Living minute by minute, we’re both waiting for the ability to fall asleep at night and not fear it.

We’re learning to live in this new version of our life, our decisions made in the moment, like setting your truck on fire, and they’re scary and unfamiliar.

We’re navigating something new, and sadly, we don’t know what forever looks like anymore.

But I feel it deep inside me, like it’s in my bones, that this isn’t the end. As ugly as healing can be, retreating, no matter how scary this journey is, isn’t an option. I don’t know what our future holds, but this guy staring at me, the spark in his eyes is still there .

His arms are open, he’s salty at times, but he’s there, pushing through.

I’m willing to carry his pain and mine, even if I can’t take it away. But we can get stronger. Some of the greatest loves in the world have been shaped from periods of immense pain. So I’m going to embrace it.