He stops walking from the gas station and looks around. His wide grey eyes and his slow smile are a tell-tale sign that’s something isn’t right. He looks guilty, flustered…fucking guilty. Did he just jerk off in the bathroom or something?
“You’re Liv’s boyfriend…Gerald?” he says.
“Fuck you.” Do I look like a fucking Gerald to him?
He chuckles. “Sorry.”
“Grey,” I correct him, glaring at him.
“My apologies.” He bows his head at me, and I scoff. He isn’t fucking royalty. He glances at his car, the SUV. “I should get going.”
“Why’re you all dressed up?” I ask him.
His lips twitch in a smile, like I’m holding him up. But the fucker looks suspicious, and I have nothing better to do. “There was a charity ball event tonight on behalf of the program.”
I perk up, putting the nozzle back and closing the little door. “Was Liv there?”
He squints his eyes like he doesn’t know who I’m talking about, then makes the most dramatic “ah, yes!” with his finger thrown up in the air. He grins and nods curtly. “Yes, yes, I remember seeing her. But briefly.” He nods again and turns to his car.
“Wait.” I jog around the car hood, noting the annoyed clench of his jaw. “Do you know if she’s still there right now? It’s really important that I—I speak to her.” My pocket buzzes, and I blindly pat my pockets for my phone. But I realize it’s in the car. “Shit, wait. Don’t move,” I instruct, giving him a pointed look.
Either tired or intimidated, he nods with a wave of his hand.
Good.
I jog back to the car and lean in through the window, snatching my phone up. It’s Liv’s number. She’s fucking calling me. What the fuck? But I don’t complain, I instantly tap the accept button.
“Liv!” I say excitedly.
Hiccuping, incoherent mumbling. I hear scuffling behind me and glare over my shoulder. The guy stops moving and smiles at me with no teeth. He looks at me with this weird look. I roll my eyes and stand up straight.
“Hello—?”
“I-it’s him.” Not Liv.
“Who the fuck is this?” I growl.
“L-lily. Garrett was the one who ran into them that night. He hurt her. Please. You have to get back here for her while they look for him. The police are looking right this second. S-she needs you…”
“Tell her her wallet is in Milo’s cage,” I say quietly, pushing off the car. Silent rage swims through my veins. More scuffling behind me.
“I really should go…” Garrett says nervously.
“What?” Lily says, sniffles.
“Just do it.” She’ll need her ID when she bails me out of jail for killing the motherfucker behind me.
A door opens behind me.
I drop the phone and run over to him. I pull his ass out and shut the door on his hand. He cries out in pain, and the other people filling up their cars run over to us but just stare. Pricks, human beings. I slam his face on the door and knee him in the stomach. He drops and clutches his stomach. I kick him in the ass, and he falls to the gravel. Laughing, he rolls over and smiles up at me.
“You killed my girl’s little brother!” I accuse, pointing a finger at him. “You ruined her life, her innocence. Do you know what shit she has been through because of you?” I squat down, drag him up by his now-bloody collar, and punch his nose. It breaks, but he just continues laughing like a freaking maniac.
“When my lawyers are done with you, you won’t feel so superior and threatening in prison,” he croaks, spitting blood on me.
I smile. “Trust me, I’m not the one going to prison. Manslaughter charges can easily get you fifty years. And you wanna know a fun fact?” I lean and close and whisper, “Her father’s a fucking Supreme Court judge. You’re going away for a long time, fucker.” When I pull back, his eyes are wide, and he sneers at me. “So the few hours in a cage won’t mean much compared to you getting ass-raped behind bars until you’re gray and old.”
With a smile, I pull my fist back and throttle it into his mouth, shutting his rich, proper fucking ass up.
No one gets away with hurting my baby girl. No one.
Chapter Forty-Three
Liv
Garrett killed my brother…Garrett killed my brother…Garrett killed my brother…Garrett killed my brother…Garrett killed my brother…Garrett killed my brother…Garrett killed my brother…
The revelation repeats over and over on a torturous loop. I can’t stop the words from forming, twisting daggers into my weak heart. I try, and I try to ignore it, to focus on something that doesn’t feel like my death. But all I can picture is Garrett’s smug face as he revealed he hit my family’s car. Feel my entire body break down, cell by cell, nerve by nerve. They deteriorated, leaving me boneless and breathless.
For the millionth time tonight, I break into uncontrollable sobs. My weak heart twists and turns, bleeding from the repeated stabbing as I think of what I just heard an hour ago. Shaking. I am shaking from head to toe as I relive the experience. The charms dancing. Jonah giggling. Father rubbing Mother’s stomach. The bright white light. Faster, closer—the rolling and Jonah’s neck bleeding, lips blue.
“Shhh…it’s okay,” Lily coos, pulling me into her arms. She rubs my back, soothing the death-storm eating through my skin, nibbling on my tattered heart. “He’s been detained, the both of them. We’re going to put him away for a very long time. I promise.”
“H-he killed him. He didn’t help. He just drove away!” I wail even harder. It feels like my entire world is crashing down. I am experiencing what I did all those years ago. The fluorescent light I woke to, to finding my parents weeping in the middle of a corridor, to watching as my father cried as he put all of Jonah’s favorite toys in a box, to my mother sitting in the corner of his room for weeks.
There is no greater pain than losing the person you love. I feel that pain every day. I may smile and seem fine, but there is an eternal layer of sadness in me. Pain that knows no boundaries. He lives in my memories, and I miss him every single second. He never got to live his life because of that asshole.
Maybe he could have been saved if he just got out, called the ambulance, drove him to the hospital. Maybe they could have stopped the bleeding sooner. Stopped him from bleeding out. Maybe he could be calling me, complaining about Mother and Father grounding him. Maybe I could be laughing and promising to burst him out and go see a football game with him tomorrow.
Maybe, maybe, maybe—all there can ever be is maybe.
I never thought we would find out who ran into us that night. The police tried to track down the culprit, but after two weeks of searching, they just stopped. I wanted to know who took my little brother’s life away. I wanted to see them suffer like Jonah did. I wanted them behind bars, guilt eating their soul away. But they stopped looking, and we were told we’d never find the person.
When the officer taking care of our case told my parents that, my mother screamed at him and began hitting him; my father had to pull her out of the station, holding her as she cried against his chest.
I remember tearing up as I watched them break down. I remember feeling my heart peel away, turning into dust as it finally, finally sank in that he was gone and not coming back. I can still feel all of my hope for him suddenly waking up and playing with my ruffled dress and charms, chasing me around the house with nasty things on his finger, rolling down the dip in the backyard, complaining as I pushed him on the swing.
But he did not come back to me. My little brother stayed in the ground, never to open his eyes. Never to return to his now-broken family.
“We’re here,” Lily whispers gently, pushing my hair back, un-shielding me from the world. I whimper and sit back, shaking my head. I’m not ready.
“Come on, Grey needs your help,” Matthew coaxes from the driver seat.
I sniffle and give a stiff nod. “Okay.”
“M’kay?” Lily brushes her thumb against my cheek;
Matthew reaches around and takes my hand, tugs a little.
I smile softly and look past Matthew and out the windshield. We’re at the police station. And then I think back on what Lily said earlier and what my mother told me That Night. “Can you guys wait here, please?”
“Of course,” Matthew says as Lily says, “Yeah.”
“Thank you.” With one small, appreciative smile, I get out of Matthew’s car. Snow is falling quite heavily, and I button the top of my coat, tuck my hands under my crossed arms. With small, thoughtful steps, I enter the warm station.
A group of officers pass by, giving me a confused glance, but don’t question me. I must look as horrible as I feel. As I walk up to the processing desk to post bail, I catch a glimpse of myself in a dirty mirror. Blotchy cheeks, smeared lipstick, heavy blue eyes, hair crazy from the wind outside. From all the commotion. I don’t even attempt to pat my hair down or swipe away the running eyeliner under my lashes. What’s the point?
“I’m posting bail for Grey Wyler,” I tell the man at the desk. My voice is chalky, depleted.
He gives me a sympathy nod, takes my ID. I stare at my wallet when I receive that and my credit card back. I’m sitting on one of the uncomfortable blue chairs that makes my back ache, but no pain is equivalent to what I am feeling right now. I just want it all to stop. Everything. It hurts too much. This is why I don’t like to think back to that time period of despair.
After a while of sniffling, I ask to see Grey while the processing takes place.
An officer brings me to the back, where criminals, mostly drunk men, lay in their cells. Most are knocked out, snoring loudly, while others are complaining about their cells being cold. None of the officers move an inch to make their night stay any better. We end up in front of one of the last cells. It’s small and dark, but I can clearly see Grey leaning against the concrete wall, staring off into space.
“Gotta visitor, Wyler,” the cop says in a bored tone, then leaves me alone in a section filled with criminals.
Grey runs over to me, eyes wide and black and face red as he grins down at me. “Princesa. I’ve missed you so much. This—uh—isn’t how I’d like for us to see each other again. But I had to do something. I couldn’t let him leave without getting his ass whooped.”
I don’t reply. My tongue is too heavy for my mouth.
He frowns and grips the cold bars, eyes scanning my face. “What’s wrong…?” Then his eyes zone in on my busted lip from where Garrett slapped me. “He fucking hurt you…I should have smashed his fucking face in with a goddamn rock. I should have done worse. He fucking hurt you, Liv!” He screams and rants, hitting the cell bars, but to no avail.
I just stare into his eyes. They’re buzzing with worry and anger and madness.
“Liv, why aren’t you speaking?” he asks and frowns, the worry intensifying with the heat of a thousand stars.
I speak, but my voice is too low for him to hear.
“What was that? Liv, you’re scaring me,” he admits.
“I…I think we should take a break,” I repeat, but this time too loud. Too audible. I want to stuff them back in my mouth, forget I ever said it.
He stares at me with a blank face, then it slowly melts into confusion and heartbreak. “What?” His voice is low and weak. His face grows pale; he looks so much like a ghost. A ghost of a person I killed by ripping out his heart. A memory of dreaming this exact moment makes me burst into tears. I saw this coming somehow. I want to un-see it, change the past, the present. Everything. Rip it all to shreds.
“I’ve already made up my mind. I just—” I take a step back, avoiding his probing eyes. “I think we should step back for a bit.” I stuff my hands in my pocket and begin walking away. I can’t look at him anymore. He is too broken, tears streaming silently down his face, for me to look at.
“No. Don’t you leave me. Come back here! Liv!” he shouts after me, hitting and shaking the bars even more. I can hear the desperation, the pure, unadulterated fear in his voice. My heart breaks more and more with each step I take.
Finally, I step outside and burst into tears for the hundredth time tonight. But this time, I can’t stop it. I can’t focus on anything else. Can only let it drag its nasty claws down my skin, my soul. I feel shredded and broken. No amount of glue and duct-tape can piece me back together. I plop into one of the snow-covered benches, lay my head in my hands.
I didn’t know it before, but I had become dependent on him. On his love. On his everything. On the feeling I had when I was around him. I wanted him to be my savior, to make me a whole person again. So much so that I forgot my dreams, what I wanted. I had dreamed of my beast, my prince to save me, make me love life again.
I thought I was going to be broken for the rest of my life. But then he looked up at me on my cloud with that damned smile, and he lulled me down to his world, to him. I want to be with him for the rest of my life because I truly believe he is it for me. No one can make me feel as beautiful and loved and important like he does.
But when I saw him just now, though back to my previous dreams, I came to the conclusion that I can’t put those on pause for him. I have to go after my career of helping others like he helped me. I have to have restless nights studying, I have to go out to poetry slams with college friends, and I have to live my life before settling down with someone who doesn’t even want that with me.
I’d give my everything to make him want more with me. I want him to be excited when I announce my pregnancy. To hold my hands and look me in the eyes with so much love, it physically pained him. Vows to be spoken between us. A house. A legacy. Each other. I want it all. But he doesn’t want any of it. And in a sense, he does not want me. To be rejected for what I have wanted for so long fucking sucks.
I thought I could put the thought of more on hold, for when I was actually ready, but I can’t. Not anymore. I feel like I’m cheating myself if I do.
I sit in the freezing cold for what feels like forever until Grey finally bursts through the double doors. I don’t react, listening to his boots crunch as he rushes over to me, screaming my name.
“Olivia!” He wraps his arms around me.
I pull away and stand, staring into his frantic expression. “I’ve already made up my mind.”
“No. You are not leaving me,” he says firmly, like I’m insane for saying otherwise.
“I am.” I nod, the tears starting up again. “I feel like I’m putting my life on pause for you, and I can’t do that to myself. I need to do this.” I turn away, but he grabs my hands, pulls me into his warm chest. I close my eyes and let him wrap his arms around me. I will never forget how amazingly him he smells.
“You can’t leave me. I—I’m sorry about what I did and said, but you can’t leave me. I need you,” he whimpers and kisses my hair over and over. He pulls back and cups my cold cheeks; his hands warm me instantly. “I will do and be whatever you want.”
“But you don’t want to. I want you to want me like I’ve envisioned. I want to have kids.” He flinches, and I groan, stomping my foot and taking a step back. “See? You just flinched.”
“Because I don’t want fucking kids,” he sneers.
“I know…that’s why I’m doing this. I have to do this for myself, or I’d never forgive myself.” I turn around and take a couple of steps away, but he throws his arms around me and rests his face in my neck.
“Don’t go,” he pleads. His tears run down my neck.
I clench my eyes tightly closed. “Grey…”
He squeezes a little tighter. “Please…don’t go.”
I take a deep breath, gather enough courage. “I have to.”
“No.” He releases me but turns me around. Tears run down his blotchy red face. Panic and heartbreak are evident on his face. In the way he talks. “Marry me,” he pleads.
My heart skips a beat, but then I look into the desperation in his eyes and take a step back.
“No.” He doesn’t mean it. It doesn’t mean anything if he
doesn’t mean it.
“Marry me, Olivia! Let’s have a fucking kid! Please. Just don’t leave me,” he calls after me in a desperate plea.
Boots crunching.
My heart shattering.
“No,” I repeat.
He whirls me around, and his voice is stripped raw as he whispers, “Don’t leave me. Please. I am begging you.”
“Grey…” I whisper, cupping his face. It’s physically, emotionally, and spiritually ripped me to shreds to watch him cry. To hear his heart losing its extra beat. He leans into my touch, and I say, “This isn’t goodbye. I promise. I will love you always and for—”
“Don’t you say it. Don’t you dare fucking say it!” he spits, his face scrunching up with forced anger, to not break down any more than he already has. “This is not always and forever. This is you walking away, being a fucking coward.”
“No.” I shake my head and whisper, “This is me reclaiming myself. I have given you too much of me. Sometimes I don’t even recognize myself.”
“That’s because you were nothing without me,” he shouts, and I flinch back. Regret flashes across his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.”
“I know.” I take a cautious step forward, and hurt tugs at his lips. I take his face, stand on my toes, and bring him down. I kiss his lips, savoring the familiar taste, the laughs and gazes and touching and lovemaking. I jar them all in my memory. When I pull back, an understanding but never-ending silence passes through us.
And with that, I pull away…take one last glance, and walk away from the love of my life.
Chapter Forty-Four
Two Months Later
I do something I thought I’d never achieve: I beat my alarm clock. I smile a victorious smile and slide out of bed. A yawn slips out as I enter the bathroom. I strip off my clothes and get into the steaming shower. The water works on my tight muscles and aching bones. I may have stretched myself a little thin at yoga yesterday. I used to not do yoga, but ever since my friend Claire dragged me there one day, I began to like the tranquility it offered me.
Grey: Everlasting (Spectrum Series Book 6) Page 31
