Page 64 of Things I Wish I Said

Chapter forty-two

GRAYSON

The flight home is quiet.

I sit in my seat like a scarecrow, stiff and unyielding, a hollow version of the man I was a week ago. The place where my heart used to be is carved out like a jack-o’-lantern. Empty.

When we land, I exit the plane, moving on autopilot to baggage claim where I grab my suitcase and call an uber since my car is still in the repair shop.

Once my driver arrives, I throw my bag in the trunk and slide inside. It’s then I allow my thoughts to drift to Ryleigh.

I wonder if she got home all right, who picked her up at the airport, and what she told her mother about us and why she came home early.

I have to wonder because she won’t answer any of my texts, and she sure as hell won’t take any of my calls. I’ve left her at least a dozen messages since she left the hotel last night, and all of them remain unanswered.

On the ride home, I think about her the entire way, so when the driver nears my exit, I tell him to head south until we reach Hocking.

Going to her house is the last thing I should do.

If everything she said to me in the hotel wasn’t perfectly clear, her silence is.

But I can’t seem to help myself where she’s concerned.

The driver pulls up to the house and I get out, asking him to wait as I take the sidewalk quickly and knock on her door.

Several minutes pass, but no one answers.

I knock again, but there’s no movement inside. No noise. Nothing.

I peek in her windows like a fucking stalker, but it seems no one is home. Either that, or they’re ignoring me and doing a damn good job of it.

With a sigh, I get back in the car, and this time make it all the way home.

I pay the driver, then watch him pull out before I enter the garage, and walk through the mudroom into the kitchen.

My steps falter, surprised to see my mother sitting at the island, a glass of wine in front of her.

Maybe I’m crazy, but it seems like she’s waiting for me.

It’s something that would’ve pissed me off a few weeks ago, but now, I’m oddly grateful for.

Mom takes a sip of her wine, and it’s then I notice her trembling hand.

Something’s wrong.

Every muscle in my body tightens, preparing for the blow.

“Hi,” I say, my tone wary. I set my suitcase down and stop beside her. “What’s going on?”

Her smile falters, while I wait. “I have some news that I think will be unsettling for you. ”

The hair on my arms stands on end, suddenly certain whatever she needs to tell me has to do with Ryleigh.

“I have some news that I think will be unsettling for you.”

Fuck no. Please no.

“What is it?”

“Ryleigh’s mother, Jill Sinclair, called.

She informed me that you and Ryleigh flew home separately from LA.

” She pauses, and I sense she’s waiting for confirmation, so I nod, my jaw tight.

“I guess on Ryleigh’s flight, they had to divert the plane to Charlotte.

While they were in the air, she got sick and fell unconscious. ”

The floor spins beneath my feet while my heart crashes into my ribs. I sway, reaching out to the island to anchor myself as ice chinks in my veins. I should’ve been with her. I could’ve helped.

“What happened? Where is she now?” I ask, expecting the worst.

Love never lasts , a bitter voice inside my head hisses. This is what you get for thinking it could .

“She’s at St. John’s in Charlotte. They admitted her for pneumonia and plan to keep her at least a week. So far, she’s doing well.”

My mother’s words do little to ease the nerves fisting inside my chest.

I turn and snatch her keys off the counter and spin around, headed for the garage. “I need to borrow your car,” I call out behind me .

“Where are you going?” Her voice is close, and I can tell by the proximity, she’s following me.

“I have to go to her. I can’t just sit here while she’s in the hospital, sick.”

“Grayson, stop.”

I rush into the mudroom, slipping on my shoes. “I need to see her. I have to help.”

“Grayson, no.”

I twist around, my eyes flashing like blue lightening. “I can’t just fucking leave her there! If she’s sick, I’m going to her.”

I finally manage to get both shoes on and straighten before a hand clamps down over my shoulder. “You need to stop and listen.”

“No. I need to go.”

“Grayson, she doesn’t want you there.”

I freeze, her words sinking into me like hooks—painful and sharp.

“The reason Jill called is because she thought you’d want to know. But she also told me to tell you not to come. She said that what’s best for Ryleigh’s recovery is rest, and she’s worried your visit would unsettle her, do more harm than good.”

I glance away from her, unable to see the sympathy in her eyes without cracking.

Finally, I spin around and head for the door.

“Where are you going?” she calls out.

“I need a minute,” I say, slamming the door behind me as I exit the garage, back outside .

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a pack of cigarettes and shake one out, then bring it my lips while I grab my lighter next, flicking it to life.

The flame dances in front of my eyes a moment before I freeze, halfway to my mouth.

What the hell am I doing?

The girl I love is dying of lung cancer and just blew my heart to bits, and the first thing I do is light up?

The fuck.

I open my mouth and the cigarette falls to the ground while disgust curdles my stomach.

My chest aches, heart thumping as I back up a few paces, wrench my arm back and chuck the lighter as far as it will go.

It arcs in the air, landing somewhere on the street with a metallic ping. The pack of cigarettes follows, a roar of pain ripping from my chest.

Breathing hard, I stare out at the street, completely and utterly helpless.

“Grayson?”

The sound of my mother’s voice grounds me, and I spin around, swallowing in an effort to fight back the sting of tears.

“I know you thought this thing with her was fake, but it was real. We were real. But Ry’s most recent scans were bad, some shit went sideways with the award, and she broke up with me because she was upset and hurting.

She left me there. And I just let her.” My voice cracks over the words.

“I would’ve been there for her, Mom, I swear, but she upped and left. I didn’t know . . .”

“Oh, sweetie.” Mom reaches out, pulls me into her arms, and I crack.

All the pent-up anger and sadness and despair from the past year come out in a torrent—a rush of emotions so large, so monumental, they threaten to consume me.

My hands fist behind her back as my arms come around her, taking the comfort she’s offering. “I love her.”

“I know, honey.” She squeezes tighter and I bite back a sob.

“I was so mad at you after Dad . . . mad that you didn’t tell me how little time I had left with him. Because I would’ve stayed, spent every second with him. Prepared myself for what was to happen. Then after, you drowned yourself in the foundation while I was drowning alone, and I was so mad.”

“Oh, Grayson.” Mom's voice thickens. “You’re right. We should’ve told you. I’m sorry. I was just trying to cope, trying to honor him, but you’re right. I lost sight of you in the process, and by the time I realized it, I was so scared it was too late.”

“I’m sorry, too,” I whisper, feeling a weight I didn’t know existed lift off my chest.

I pull back and wipe my damp eyes. It’s been more than a year since I’ve felt like she and I were on the same team, but right now, it feels like we are.

Mom reaches up and brushes the hair off my forehead. “I saw the way that girl looked at you, and I can assure you she felt the same. ”

I shake my head, my emotions ragged. “She says she doesn’t.”

“What do you think?”

“I think she’s running. Scared. Chemo didn’t work. Neither did immunotherapy. They’re running out of options, and Ryleigh’s done trying. There’s a trial, but she refuses to do it.” I inhale, preparing myself for the reality of my words. “She’s dying, Ma.”

Tears swim in my mother’s eyes, mirroring my own. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

I curl my hands into fists until my nails dig into the flesh of my palms as I fall back against the wall beside the washing machine. “I can’t lose her, but what if I can’t get through to her and make her see she has so much to fight for?”

Mom shakes her head. “You can’t want it for her. It doesn’t work that way.”

“I can’t let her go. I won’t.”

“Oh, honey. You and I both know you don’t always have a choice.”