by Vivian Wood
Her mouth opens into an o. “What? Why? And…” She stops, flustered. “When?”
There is a burning sensation in the pit of my stomach. “It’s the reason that I was medically discharged from the Navy.”
She moves around me. I can almost see the gears turning behind her eyes.
“You didn’t tell me about it. When was this?”
I close my eyes again. “Five years ago. I… I don’t know how to even tell you about it. I’ve been keeping it inside for so long…” I gulp in the night air. “I still don’t want to tell you, even though I think I have to now. I just… I can’t stand for you to see me differently.”
Her breath leaves her in a rush. “Why were you in the hospital, Gray?”
My faces burns with the intense feeling of shame that nearly overwhelms me. How can I even start to tell her this story?
I draw in a shaking breath. “I was in an accident when I was abroad. Our Humvee was attacked and flipped upside down. Everyone else died except me.”
That moment, the moment where I realized that I was the only one left… It sears me on the inside, cauterizes my broken and bleeding wounds. My voice breaks but I push through the immense pain I feel.
The truth is killing me as surely as the sun rises and sets every single day. I have to get this out.
“My rotator cuff in my left shoulder was torn, but other than that...” I shake my head a little. “If I hadn’t been so cocky, we might not have been blown up.”
She squints. “What do you mean?”
“We were coming up to a roadblock. They’re pretty common out there in the desert. Anyway, we had to be somewhere. We were late. I looked at that roadblock coming up ahead and I thought…”
I take a deep breath.
“I thought about how late we were going to be, not about the security protocols for when we approached one of those roadblocks. I made the call to go around. It was too late by the time I realized that we were being attacked.”
She frowns. “Who attacked you?”
I shrug. “Hezbollah took credit for the attack, but I’m not sure that it was them. A lot of times they take credit for violent acts just to show that they are aggressive.”
Rachel sighs. “So… I’m just trying to understand. You don’t know if they attacked you for being in the US military or whether you provoked them by driving around the roadblock?”
I pause, hesitating. “That’s right.”
“And that is your fault why, again?”
“I made the call,” I say. “And I was the only one that survived.”
“Did you know that you would be attacked if you disregarded the roadblock?”
That gives me pause. “No.”
“Did you know that you would be the only one to survive if you were attacked?”
I shake my head slowly. “No.”
Rachel narrows her eyes on my face. When she speaks though, her tone is reassuring.
“I don’t understand what you feel you did wrong. And maybe I had to be there. But… it sounds like you lived through a tragedy and you’ve been struggling to make sense of it. Unfortunately, it also sounds like you took the wrong lesson from the loss of your unit.”
My eyebrows fly up. “There is a lesson I should have learned?”
Her face softens. “Yes. You should be glad that you survived. You should be doing what you can to honor the memories of the ones you lost.”
That hits me hard. I close my eyes. It seems like Rachel isn’t done, though.
“How did you end up in the hospital?” she asks.
I take my time in answering that one.
“You never get over an experience like that. I was struggling with the burden of the death of my unit… and I told Aiden that I wanted to die.”
When I open my eyes and look up, I see Rachel’s eyes filling with tears. “Oh, Grayson…”
It feels like hell, telling her this. But she might as well know what kind of coward she is spending time with.
“It didn’t stop. That feeling of welcoming death, that dragged on for almost three years. I was in and out of psych hospitals for almost twelve months.” I need to stop and take a deep breath. “I had to… I couldn’t come back and pretend like nothing happened, Rach. I didn’t know how. So I just didn’t come back at all.”
A tear breaks free and rolls down Rachel’s face. “How did you end up here?”
“Aiden. He was cut loose from the Navy a few months after I was discharged. He sought me out. He was…” I blow out a breath. “Persistent would be a nice word for it. He brought me out here, no questions asked. Got me a job doing what he was doing. If I had a bad day, he was right there, kicking my ass until I got up.”
Her face says that I’ve answered one question but she has a million more. She bites her bottom lip. “So… your family knew where you were?”
I drag my hands across my face, rolling my stiff shoulder a few times. “Olivia did after a year, yeah.”
Her mouth creases. “Why didn’t she tell me?”
“I didn’t want her to. I didn’t want anyone to know that I was back. I thought… I thought it would be best if I just made a clean break.”
I suck in a breath. “Actually… I saw you.”
She looks confused. “What do you mean you saw me?”
“Right after I got out of the psych ward for the final time. About a year after the accident. I went looking for you, and I saw you.” The last part comes out sounding broody, even to my ears. “You were with someone. Before I could reach you, he kissed you. And… I just couldn’t compete with that. I didn’t want to disrupt your life—”
She scrubs a hand through her amber hair. “I don’t mean to drag you, but… Grayson, what the fuck? What were you thinking?”
Growing irritable, I answer without thinking. “I felt like… like I wanted to die. So I let that person I was before slip away. Everything from my old life just fell to the wayside. It was the only way that I could go on, Rachel.”
She puffs out her cheeks, exhaling slowly. “Jesus, Gray.”
“Hey. This time, I didn’t go looking for you. You just showed up unannounced. I wasn’t exactly planning on you waltzing back into my life.”
She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “No. You’ve made that quite clear.”
Rachel stands up and goes to the edge of the tarp, looking out on the moonlit night. I feel… god, so many things, all at once.
Shame.
Guilt.
Anger.
Resistance.
Most of all, I just want to crawl somewhere dark and quiet and be alone with my thoughts. Rachel feels that too, I guess.
“The rain has stopped. I’m going to go for a walk.” She reaches for her boots.
“Rachel.”
She looks at me. “Yeah, Grayson?”
“I am sorry for disappearing on you five years ago. Hope you know that I regret it every fucking day.”
She pauses for a second. “Thanks. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry that you went through that.”
For a second, I can’t breathe. “Thanks.”
She flashes me a ghost of a smile and then finishes tying her boots. Then I have to watch her walk away while I try to figure out what exactly I’m supposed to do now.
I want to chase after her. I want to kiss her. I want her to absolve me of all my sins, to wave a wand and magically erase everything that has happened in the time we were apart.
But I know that there is no simple cure for my heartache and guilt. At most, that would just mask my deeper wounds. I just… I regret every minute I haven’t been by Rachel’s side and I’m at a loss for how to begin paying reparations to her.
With my guts twisting themselves into knots, I lay back with a sigh.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rachel
After our kiss and Grayson’s explosive confession, the awkward silence between us grows until it’s uncomfortable. It lasts for the next couple of days. Gray
son finds every possible excuse he can to do anything I’m not doing.
I am feeling uncertain about Grayson. Sad and wounded on his behalf at what happened, yes. But there is definitely some tension too, stirring beneath the surface. I’m still angry that he just left me like he did.
I can’t find the words to say what I’m feeling for him, especially when I don't know what to even call the complex torrent of emotions I feel every time I look at him.
I feel angry. Sad. Intrigued. Humiliated. Depressed.
But god help me if he shoots me one of his brooding looks…
Because then I am too busy remembering why I found him so fucking attractive to begin with.
It’s easier just to keep my mouth shut than to try to explain any of it to Grayson. And since he’s avoiding me, it’s pretty much a given anyway.
When we finally get back to the campsite three days later, there is someone waiting for us. As we march into camp, I can only see that back of his blond head, but he’s dressed head to toe in brand new Patagonia clothes. He’s leaning against his ruby red Range Rover, his head bent as he looks at his phone.
Knowing immediately who it is, I sigh heavily.
“Who is that?” Grayson asks, squinting.
“That would be Clay.” My lips form a half-sneer. “He was my boyfriend until very recently.”
“Oh.”
I can tell that Grayson doesn’t quite know how to feel about that bit of news. Smiling humorlessly, I decide to let him in on the secret.
“He cheated on me.”
Grayson’s eyebrows lift. “Do you want me to send him on his way? I may be grown, but I can still thrash some pansy piece of trash if you want me to.”
That pulls a smile from my lips. “I never doubted it for a second. But no, I assume that Clay is here on Civicore business. And since they are sponsoring my trip this summer I think it would send the wrong signals.”
Not wanting to answer any of the questions that my response will no doubt provoke, I push forward. Clay finally notices us when we’re a dozen paces away, looking a little surprised.
If I could summarize Clay in one phrase, it would be perpetually surprised.
“Rachel,” he says, pulling off his Mostcot sunglasses. “You look… suntanned.”
I have no patience for him. Actually, despite what I just said to Grayson, I have no patience for this entire visit. I don’t want to be emotionally manipulated and yet here is my cheating ex, visiting me unannounced.
Especially after all that Grayson recently shared with me, I’m too wound up and too raw to have any kind of tolerance for Clay’s bullshit.
“What are you doing here, Clay?” I grit out.
He ignores me, turning his attention to Grayson. “You’re quite large, aren’t you? I’m Clay Attenborough. Civicore’s VP of marketing.”
He extends a hand. Grayson looks him up and down then steps up to him, much closer than social niceties indicate is appropriate, and squeezes his hand aggressively. Clay yelps and struggles to get out of Grayson’s grip.
Grayson lets him go, smiling so that we can see his perfectly white teeth. “Grayson Sellwood, park ranger.”
Clay gives him a searching look, dusting off his olive green Patagonia jacket. “I don’t think I like you.”
Grayson gives him a toothy grin and leans in. “Same, brother.”
Clay narrows his eyes, but Grayson is so much taller and broader than him that he can’t push his luck. He clears his throat and looks at me.
“Rachel, I came to see how you were getting along way out here in the middle of nowhere.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “You’ve seen me. Run along and report back to my father.”
Stepping away from Grayson, Clay shoots me an uneasy smile. “I’m afraid that isn’t enough. I want to see you one on one to make sure you’re not being unduly influenced. You are, after all, an heiress. Your family is worried about you.”
“Over my dead body,” Grayson snaps, taking a threatening step towards Clay.
Clay pales. “Rachel, call off your guard dog.”
I raise my brows. “I don’t control Grayson.”
Clay bristles. “If you two are going to make me feel unwelcome here, that’s your business. But Civicore will hear about it.”
I snort. “Okay.”
He fires back. “I doubt your father will be pleased. He might even withdraw your funding.”
I stiffen. “On your word alone? I don't think so.”
But I totally do, and the look in Clay’s eyes says that he knows it. He smirks at me.
“I think you two would be wise to be a little nicer to me. I was thinking that we would go rock climbing while I’m here…” He flexes his muscles and looks at Grayson. “I’m the best climber on the rock-climbing wall at my gym at home.”
Grayson’s eye roll is epic. “That’s great.”
Clay casts a jaundiced eye over him. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be? A shower, perhaps?”
Grayson turns to look at me. I sigh. “You should go have some downtime. I’ll entertain our surprise guest.”
With a shrug of his massive shoulders, Grayson heads off toward where his hammock hangs. Clay looks at me speculatively.
“I guess you aren’t concerned about getting sun, then.”
“Shut up, Clay.” I head for my tiny cabin, my mood ruined. I need to blow off some steam or just scream into a pillow or something, but there is still Clay to deal with. “You can take the other cabin.”
Clay is right on my heels. “Did you get my care package?”
His hopeful voice makes me want to puke. Instead I just keep it all inside.
“Yep.”
“Did you like it?”
I open the front door to my cabin, turning around in the doorway to stop Clay from bursting into my domain. “I didn’t eat any of it. I gave most of it to Grayson.”
Clay leans against the doorway, cocking his head. “I gather that you knew him before at some point?”
I cringe internally. Clay has been talking to my mother too, apparently. I want to say that I thought better of her, but the truth is I don’t even find it surprising.
“Yes,” I admit.
He throws a look back over his shoulder, double checking for Grayson.
“I didn’t even realize you two were talking.” He smirks. “I guess I’m not the only one who was unfaithful. I’m guessing he is why you came out here?”
My face contorts with rage. I step closer to him. “You would be wrong on both counts, Clay. And I was never with anyone else while we were together.”
Clay looks puzzled. “What do you mean, while we were together? We are still a great team. We’re just going through a rough patch.”
He reaches out to touch me. I yank myself free of him. “You’re fucking delusional. We were through the moment you looked at another woman.”
“Baby—” He tries to catch my arm.
“If you so much as touch me again, I swear to god I will scream for Grayson.”
“Whoa.” He steps back and raises his hand. “What was that about not controlling your guard dog, again?” He grins. “He must be a good doggie for you to live in the woods to be near him.”
“Why are you like this?” I ask.
“Seriously. We are just a modern couple. You have that cro-magnon, I have Lucy—”
“Stop it!” I hiss.
“Not that I like having him rubbed in my face. But while I’m here, you two can stop playing around…”
“Oh!” I cry, slamming the door in his face. Frustrated tears appear in the corners of my eyes. I sit on the bed in a huff, my mind awhirl.
I wish that I hadn’t sent Grayson away, honestly. Venting never seemed so appealing as it does right now. But I did, so I just sit in the cabin for a minute and wring my hands. I feel like I have so many thoughts trying to surface all at once.
The look on Clay’s face when I caught him in my bed with that other girl.
&nbs
p; How domineering my father is, to send Clay to check up on me.
And the feeling I had while I watched Grayson menacing Clay on my behalf.
For a fleeting moment, I felt…
Relieved?
Avenged?
Cared for?
Something more than the self-righteousness that the situation called for, that’s for sure.
Ugh. I should do something to make sure that Clay returns to New York with a clear understanding of our situation. I just don't know what.
Grayson pops into my head. More specifically, the feel of his lips pressed against mine.
It might be insane, but I can think of one way to drive the point home to Clay. It feels weird to consider using Grayson as a pawn in this fucked up game. But I can’t think of any better way to get it through Clay’s thick head.
Why not do what my body is begging me to do already? It will give me some relief. Hell, Grayson and I are both so horny that we can barely breathe for wanting it so bad.
A small smile settles on my lips. I have to sleep with Grayson and I can’t be subtle about it.
Pulling a face, I correct my thoughts.
Alright, maybe I won’t actually sleep with Grayson. Maybe I’ll just make it look like I definitely am. Enthusiastically, over and over again.
That will make Clay go away. And it will free me to continue on with my summer. I can finally make the choices that I’ve always wanted, even if it’s only until fall.
My hands tremble, just having the idea. But at the same time, my heart soars.
I can trust Grayson not to take it too far. At least I hope I can. He owes me that much for walking out of my life, at the very least.
Standing up, I feel nervous. Am I really going to do this?
When I open the door and see cocky Clay leaning against his Range Rover, looking bored, my determination musters itself. I’m doing it, no doubt about it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Grayson
Laying in my hammock, I seethe. I can’t believe that Rachel dated that piece of wealthy trash.
Clay.
Ugh. He oozes an unlikeable quality out of every pore. And I would be willing to bet that he thinks he’s a shark, that other men aren’t supposed to like him.
