Page 14 of Pretty When It Burns (When The Lights Go Down #1)

Chapter twelve

"I'm Not Crazy" - charlieonnafriday

Grayson

The guys and I sit in a booth at the diner after another long and grueling rehearsal.

No one spoke much, tired from rehearsing for four hours straight.

I pick at my food, disinterested, even though I should have devoured it.

I’m grateful that after the show we have tonight, we’ll have a week off.

Perhaps we should spend the time working on new material, but looking around the table at the weary eyes of my friends, I’m glad we’re taking the time to reset and recharge instead.

“What does everyone have planned for next week?” Tony asks as his second order of French fries arrives at the table.

“I think I’ll take a little road trip,” Eric muses. “You know, see where the road takes me.”

“Yeah, why am I absolutely positive it’s going to take you to Rylee?” I smirk.

“So what? I wanna see my girl,” he says, only slightly defensively. I watch as Brandon shifts a little uncomfortably on his side of the table. “What are you going to be doing, Gray?”

I lean back and cross my arms. “First of all, she’s not your girl—not until you grow the hell up and stop jerking her around. Second of all, I will be here at the house, watching TV in my underwear and enjoying the fact that all of you will be gone.”

“What, you’re not going on a trip?” Brandon asks. There’s something off in the tone of his voice that I can’t place. “I thought surely when you signed those divorce papers, you’d be off to a beach somewhere to bask in your freedom.”

“No,” I say, deciding to brush the tone, and his comment about the beach, off. “I have some thinking to do. About what’s next.”

“Oh, not this again,” Eric groans, dragging his hands down his face.

“Dude. Seriously. If you want Mia, go get her. Sign the divorce papers. Tell her, or don’t.

It’s not the end of the fucking world if you wind up single for a bit.

But sitting here moping isn’t doing anyone—especially you—any favors. ”

The whole table stares at him in astonishment.

I’m at a loss for words, too. He’s saying exactly what I need to hear, but somehow, it still doesn’t seem that simple. I can’t just sign the papers, pack a bag and leave, go to Dallas and show up at Mia’s door, tell her I’m crazy about her and hope she says she’s crazy about me, too…

Can I?

“Okay,” I say, rising from the table with a sudden sense of clarity, tossing a twenty dollar bill on it. “Okay, I’m gonna do it.”

I begin walking towards the door, hearing Brandon exclaim from the table, “Do what? Grayson, what are you doing?”

I don’t respond.

I make it to the car, shove the keys in the ignition, and head for home. It’s a short drive, giving me no time to attempt to talk myself out of what I’m about to do. I bolt in through the garage door, finding my sister in the kitchen.

“Hey,” I pant, not realizing that I’ve been holding my breath. “Have you seen Lil?”

“I think she’s in the guest room next to mine,” Johanna says hesitantly. “Why do you look like you ran here?”

“No reason,” I reply quickly, heading towards the hallway leading to the bedrooms. “Thanks, sis.”

I duck into my room, grab the envelope of divorce papers, and yank open my nightstand drawer for a pen. Without overthinking it, I flip to the last page and sign my name.

It’s done.

My heartbeat seems to increase with each step I take towards Lily’s door. I knock and hear, “Come in,” from the other side.

I enter and give her the papers. “I signed them.”

“I guess that’s it then,” she says blankly, zipping up a suitcase I didn’t see before. “You’re really sure about this?”

“I’m really fucking sure, Lily,” I tell her with conviction, before my voice softens as I realize my own intensity. “I really do wish you the best of luck with everything, but please—just go.”

“Goodbye, Grayson,” she nearly whispers. “I’m sorry that it came to this. Best of luck to you, too.”

Our marriage is really over, and she’s really leaving, for good this time. I stand in the middle of the room, hearing the click of the door signaling that she’s gone.

I feel like I should be more emotional, that I should feel something other than the relief washing over me. But the truth is, all I can think about is getting to Mia and telling her how I feel.

I head back to my room and begin rustling through my drawers and closet, looking for everything I’ll need for the next step of my mission when an unexpected knock sounds at my door.

Brandon sticks his head in cautiously.

“You signed the papers? Just like that?” he asks. “I just saw Lily leaving.”

“You can come in,” I reply sarcastically, intentionally not answering his question.

“Going somewhere?” he prods, not giving up on the inquisition, noticing my duffle bag on the bed. “Please, tell me you’re not actually going to see Mia.”

I look up, confused. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because Eric doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

I fight the urge to let anger and frustration get the best of me.

Why is he getting in my way?

“There’s obviously something on your mind,” I say, the irritation clear in my voice. “Can you just get on with it instead of playing games?”

“I’m not playing games,” Brandon says defensively, visibly getting heated.

“But it sure as hell seems like you are. You’ve been divorced from Lily for literally, not figuratively, two minutes, and now you want to go and tell Mia that you want to be with her?

Are you fucking stupid? She has a chance at happiness, and you’re over here pretending like you’re what’s best for her right now. Wake up, Grayson!”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand.

“I want her, man!”

Suddenly, it’s like all of the air left the room. I can’t breathe. I stagger backwards onto the bed and attempt to pull myself together.

This is worse than the Johanna thing.

“You… what?” I ask sharply in an attempt to make sure I’m hearing him correctly.

“We talked this week, Mia and I. We made a connection. I didn’t want to bring it up to you until I knew it was something serious, but Grayson, I… you can’t fuck with her like this. I can make her happy. Think about what you can give her, and what you can’t.”

“Get the fuck out,” I growl.

“Grayson—”

“I said get out!”