Page 79 of All I Have Left

And then I think about the after. The tears. The truth. He told me what happened when he was in Iraq. The horrible things he’s went through.

Watching his fingers move over the keys, his words filling the space between us, I sigh in relief. Our secrets were out. Our wounds were on display, ready and waiting for us to take the next step into whatever our future holds.

When he’s finished with the song, he sighs, his shoulders rolling forward. I gasp at the sight. My broken boy, so lost, so… beautiful in his vulnerability.

I move from the bed, Grayson’s shirt falling off my shoulders as I make my way toward him. I touch my hands to his shoulders, my lips pressing to the top of his head .

He turns to face me and I stand between his legs. His hands move to the backs of my legs, up, under the shirt to the cheeks of my ass. Tingles trail up my spine at his touch. “I love you,” he whispers into my stomach, holding me close to him.

I wrap my arms around his head, cradling his face to my chest. “I love you too. And you sound just like I remember.”

He lifts his head, our stare holding. “You make me feel shiny and new.”

I smile. “Like a virgin.”

He chuckles and squeezes me harder, but doesn’t say anything more.

We pause, as if we don’t know what comes next.

I don’t. Last night… well, it’s easy to think you’re going to be strong and get through the really shitty parts of being in a long standing relationship with someone, but until you’re there, until you’re staring down at either walking away, or making it work, you don’t know how hard that is.

Some give up.

Some walk away.

They see the white flag waving and realize maybe there’s not enough to salvage.

But I won’t. Not when it comes to Grayson. Because he won’t. He fought hard to get where he’s at now. Sure, it wasn’t easy. He was mean and damn near unbearable to be around most days, but I couldn’t leave him. Not after what he went through to get back to me.

“Are we going to be okay?”

Grayson’s brow furrows. Last night, I intended on leaving him. I guess in some ways, I waved that white flag. I compared him to Shane, told him I’d had enough if he wasn’t going to try. But he stopped me. He gave me his truths and let me in.

He stares at me for longer than I would expect before he mumbles, “I don’t know.”

He’s right. He doesn’t know. Hell, I don’t know if we’re going to be okay. Tomorrow it could all fall apart .

You can say you’re going to heal, but until that time comes, you don’t know.

You know what you do?

You try. You put in the fucking effort.

Grayson draws in a ragged breath, his hold tighter. And then it happens. He cries. For the first time in I don’t know how long. Months. Years. Forever. I don’t know, but I’d never seen this side until now.

But I let him.

I hold him, trying to fill the hole inside him with my presence in his life.

He sobs, clinging to me as if his life is dependent on it.

That day, the one that changed everything flashes behind my closed lids.

Only now, I picture him screaming for them to stop and Matt, though I don’t know what he looks like.

I envision what this man holding onto me has been through and there’s beauty in it, believe it or not.

Because he’s here. He’s been to hell and back and though we’re still broken, that’s fighting. Some give up and he didn’t.

It’s minutes, maybe longer, when his sobs slow and his grip on me loosens. He drops his hands from me and runs them over his eyes, drawing in a quick breath. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I’m a mess.”

I lift his chin carefully, my own tears falling from my cheeks. I hold his face in my hands. “You’re my favorite mess.” I repeat what I told him the first time I helped him shower. He needs to know that no matter what, I’m here. Just like I was then.

“You can leave and I won’t hold it against you,” he whispers. “I’d understand.”

“Are you saying this because of what you told me last night?”

He nods.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I assure him, shaking my head, my words gentle and assuring. “We’re getting our shitty shit together. We’re going to go to therapy and heal. We’re going to get married and have babies. We’re going to have a future, regardless of what has happened to us. ”

His bloodshot eyes hold mine. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do,” I tell him, sternly. “We deserve happy ever after. Together.”

He nods, though I’m not entirely sure he’s convinced, but that part might take a while. It doesn’t happen overnight.

There’s a knock on his door. Grayson scoots back away from me, wiping away his tears. He disappears in the bathroom, the door closed behind him.

After pulling on a pair of Grayson’s shorts on the floor, I make my way to the door and inch it open. It’s Wyatt. “You okay, honey?”

I swallow over fresh tears burning my eyes.

My shoulders lift in a half-assed shrug but I can’t use my words.

They stall. The tears strangle them and hold the “I’m okay” I want to give him hostage.

Because it’s not the truth. I’m not okay.

I’m scared, angry, devastated… confused.

You name it and I’m feeling it this morning.

Wyatt sighs and yanks me into his chest, the smell of leather and manly aftershave I’ve found comfort over the years invades my sences.

Now it’s my turn to cry because once again, the only father figure in my life is here for me when nothing makes sense.

His lips press to the top of my head. “We’re gonna get through this. Together.”

I believe Wyatt. I have to. Because that’s where the hard work of making a relationship last comes from. Believing that all that dedication you put into will be worth it.

Grayson takes a shower while I make some breakfast with Julia. She tells me Frankie and Ethan missed their flight to the Bahamas because Ethan was hung over and puking in the bathroom all night.

“Some wedding night.” I laugh, knowing exactly how that happened. Ethan was shitfaced before he even said “I do” last night.

“How was Grayson last night?” Julia asks, her eyes drifting to mine as we stand in front of the sink sipping our coffee.

My throat feels tight. “He….” I swallow, unprepared for the sudden sharp thump in my chest. “Told me what happened in Iraq.”

By the expression on Julia’s face, she wants to ask details, but she knows her son well enough to know that if he wants her to know, he’ll tell her himself. “Is he okay this morning?”

“He played for the first time….” My voice trails off and I wonder if she understands the meaning behind this.

Her smile is warm, her eyes tender. I see Grayson in her expression. “We heard. It was beautiful.”

Tears burn in my throat. “I don’t know what happens next. I’m scared.”

Julia turns to face me, taking my face in her hands. “We’re in this together. We’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

I nod, tears spilling over my cheeks again. I believe her. I do. But it doesn’t mean any of this is going to be easy.

Julia and Wyatt end up leaving to clean up after the wedding. Apparently everyone was so drunk they ended leaving everything for this morning. I want to help, but I want to spend some time with Grayson more.

I’m half way through another batch of banana chocolate chip muffins when I feel two familiar arms wrap around my waist and pull me into his chest. “Are my parents still here?”

“No. They went to clean up from the wedding.” I lean my head back against his shoulder. “You smell good.”

“Soap usually makes you smell better,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Are those banana chocolate chip?”

I nod, smiling and reach for one of them on the cooling rack. It’s warm, the chocolate chips perfectly melted. Biting my lip, I lift the muffin to his lips. Smirking, he takes a bite out of the top, his eyes on mine the entire time. I never knew taking a bite could be erotic, but fuck is it.

There’s a flicker of desire in his eyes and before I can even comprehend what he’s doing, he picks me up and carries me back to his room. “You’re not supposed to lift more than twenty-five pounds.”

“You barely weigh anything,” he mumbles, kicking the door shut behind him. Lying me on his bed, he covers his body with mine. “Now… how about we pick up where we left off earlier.”

“Don’t you want breakfast first?”

I’m still holding the muffin in my hand. He takes another bite, his hands grabby. “I’d rather have you for breakfast.” His deep rich voice fills my head and I want nothing more than that.

Him. Always. Forever.

I drop the muffin on the bed beside me as he repositions himself and grinds his erection into me. “I can’t get enough of you.”

When you think about it, Grayson and I have had actual sex, four times. And two of them occurred last night. This is new for us. Exciting, shiny, brand new.

He props himself up on his elbows, his brown eyes pinning me. “Do you want to?”

My cheeks flush and I nod, my hands roaming over his shoulders to his chest. My palms flatten and then I curl my fingers around the fabric.

Watching me closely, he’s breathing heavier than normal, probably because he wants this.

I fist his t-Shirt in my hands and bring him closer.

He collapses his weight on me, carefully, smirking, shifting his hips forward.

I gasp at the contact his erection makes sliding easily over my clit. “It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve felt you like this.”

“Twice wasn’t enough,” he grunts, his breathing picking up as he grinds into me again, his hands sliding between the mattress and my ass. “No amount of times will be enough with you.”

He moves quickly, yanking off my sweat pants and his t-Shirt I had on. He’s out of his clothes even faster. “Do you want me to wear a condom?” he asks, breathing hard, sweat glistening at his temples.

“No,” I whisper. “I’m still on birth control pills.”

He nods, working my legs apart. I can feel the head of him there at my entrance. Swallowing, he lets out another quick breath before sliding inside me. “I love you,” he tells me, his mouth parting over my collarbone.

I kiss the side of his face, clinging to his body, unwilling to allow space between us. “I love you.”

Inside me, he thrusts deep, moving agonizingly slow, his lips tasting like chocolate chips find mine.

I can feel his breath coming out in pants as he drives deeper, mercilessly, desperately.

I can’t help but think he’s giving his pain, his confusion, an outlet.

A meaning, even if he doesn’t realize it, and though I know it’s not healthy, I give him this.

I let him bury his pain in us because he would do the same for me. He did do the same for me.

He stalls, mid-thrust, pulling back to look at me. “Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head. “It’s perfect.”

He finds a steady rhythm, filling me, over and over again. Sweat beads on his temples, his cheeks flushed, eyes fire.

I touch his warms face. “Are you okay?”

He nods, fighting off a smile. He fucks me like he can’t get enough. Like being inside me means more than anything else in the world.

And that’s how we spend most of the day. Making love. In a way it feels like we might be putting a Band-aide on trauma wounds, but then again, it doesn’t. It feels like we’re healing, in our own way. Preparing ourselves for what comes next.

Probably lots of therapy. And banana chocolate chip muffins.

Preferably not the one smooshed against my back and Grayson’s bed.

Despite the baked goods in places I don’t want them, I think about this moment.

The one where nothing is said and we’re existing in a sliver of time together, quietly.

It’s the in between seconds that are the hardest.

Grayson’s hand finds mine on the bed, his fingers holding tight. “Thank you.”

I crane my neck to look over at him. “For what?”

He swallows, breathing in deep, his cheeks still flushed. “For staying, even when you shouldn’t have.”

I roll to face him. “That’s what you do for people you love, Grayson.”

“I know.” He twists his body to face me. I run my fingertips over his scar on his head. “But I didn’t make it easy on you. And I’m sorry for that.”

“No, you didn’t. But that’s part of being in love. It’s not always easy.”

The corners of his mouth lift into a smirk. He blinks, slowly. “So what happens next.”

“Therapy,” I tease.

He snorts, a chuckle rolling through him. “Probably, huh?”

“We have to make an effort. I think we need to see someone together, but also, you need to talk to someone who understands what you went through over there.”

His eyes close and he rolls onto his back again, staring up at the ceiling. “I never wanted to talk about what happened over there. I wanted to forget it the day I left, but it doesn’t work like that.”

I move closer to him and nestle my head in the space between his shoulder and chest. Resting my hand on his stomach, he presses his lips to my forehead.

“What about… well, did you have trouble with us… doing it and what you dream about?” I don’t want to come out and say it, but I wonder about sex. Does he picture what happened to me?

His breathing changes, his body tensing. “You mean… you and him?”

I nod, fearing my words will come out shaky and provoke him further. Or I’ll say the wrong thing .

“That might never go away,” he says, his words strained, a hint of anger behind them, a bitterness that makes my stomach knot.

I look up at him and his eyes drift closed. My voice is weak when I whisper, “I’m sorry.”

A soft sigh escaping his parted lips. “Someday it won’t hurt so much.”

He’s right. Someday it won’t. That’s what working through your shitty shit gets you. Someday you’re going to be okay. Someday wounds will slowly heal and the sting isn’t quite as harsh.