by Aiden Bates
Grady’s mouth hung open and his face flushed pink. “What are you saying? I’ve never been that desperate. I’m a grown-ass man. I don’t hang around people for crumbs of attention.”
“You’re worth so much more than that,” I agreed, and my next words hurt my heart. I spoke them softly. “But Gray, I have to call bullshit. Eli has always been your blind-spot. He could have decided to marry three different men and somehow kept you waiting in the wings for him for when he was old and wrinkled and finally had time to spare for you.” I sighed and rubbed my hands over my face. “I have hated watching you wait around for Eli, thankful for any attention he had left to give to you. And yes, I was scared if I told you what Eli had said to me. I was scared that if Eli kept you on that hook, dangling there for him, I’d lose you.” I softened my voice further. “Because you’ve never been able to deny him, and because I knew you loved Eli more.”
Grady sat watching me, like he couldn’t figure out how to process anything I was saying.
“Gray.” I went to one knee in front of him and took his hand, pleading with him to understand. “Your love for Eli has been obvious to everyone for a very long time. Even to Eli, and he just pretended not to notice because then he never had to be responsible for the pain he caused you.”
Grady’s face drained of color, and I automatically put my hand out to steady him before he wobbled. “So,” he said. And his eyes were unfocused as he looked right past me. “You knew about his fake engagement and you didn’t tell me. And you also knew Eli knows how I felt about him?”
I nodded. “Yes.” I almost whispered it, because it was the truth, but it would hurt Grady to hear it.
“Oh my God.” His eyes filled with tears and he blinked furiously, like he was determined not to let them fall, like that would be one weakness too many, and my chest tightened in the face of his pain. “Why didn’t you tell me everyone knew? That Eli knew?”
I had no words, nothing that would make him feel better. And I had tried to tell him. “I tried.” The words forced themselves past my lips as I remembered I’d said it first at his party.
“But you didn’t make me see. Why couldn’t you try harder?” Gray’s voice was hoarse.
I half-laughed at how dumb all this was, how I was sitting trying to explain to Grady that the reason he was hurting now was because I hadn’t known the best thing to do while I was trying not to hurt him. “I thought you’d snap out of it. That eventually you’d see Eli was a dick and not at all worthy of you.” I sighed and shook my head. “But you never did. And now it’s too late.”
“I’m a fucking idiot.” Gray chuckled, the sound harsh and sharp. “And I might as well have tattooed how I felt about Eli across my forehead if everyone knew and was able to laugh about me behind my back, anyway. They might as well have laughed direct to my face, right?”
He stood and walked to the window we’d looked out of the night he brought me dinner to my office when I started to think I might be able to show Grady I loved him, might be able to show him he could love me.
Then he swung around and faced me. “And I must be pretty fickle with my feelings, right? So, do you know what I don’t get, Rome?”
I shook my head. Something in his face stole my ability to speak.
He drew a breath and closed his eyes. “The thing I don’t understand is why, if you think I’m hung up on Eli, why you’re with me in the first place.”
My heart crumpled.
21
Grady
The man in front of me shook his head. It was Rome, still on the floor in front of the couch where I’d left him, and pain reverberated through me. I’d trusted him, and I was just a fucking idiot. I couldn’t even think of the amount of people who were probably laughing at me. I didn’t want to. Did they really think I’d followed Eli around like his unwanted puppy all these years?
Rome certainly seemed to, or why hadn’t he told me to cut it out? Instead, he just let me parade around, apparently lovesick for Eli the whole time. Eli who seemed to have me wrapped around whichever finger he chose, Eli who wanted me to wait three years to be with him because he was so damn sure I wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity.
Fucking idiot.
Rome shook his head. “I don’t think you’re fickle, Gray.” His eyes pleaded with me to understand. “But our relationship was so new to us that I didn’t trust it was strong enough for you to choose me over Eli, and I wanted you to make that decision most of all.” He shrugged almost like he didn’t know he was making the movement—like it belonged to his sad thoughts over his sad words. “You’ve always been easily swayed by Eli. He has always known exactly what to say and when to say it to keep you right there, in that spot where he wants you.”
His words hurt, but I didn’t say anything, and he continued speaking.
“And because I know the influence Eli has on you, and the fact I can’t trust a word out of his fucking mouth, I didn’t tell you when Eli told me his and Benji’s marriage will be a fake one.” He snorted. “Well, the marriage will be real, I guess. But it’s supposed to be all a business arrangement.”
I nodded. Fake feelings, I assumed. Eli had led me to believe that when he confessed over frozen yogurt, anyway. I tried to think back over our conversation there.
“When did you find out?” Rome stood and took a step back.
“I met with him. Lunch. He told me all of it. He said he had to be married to Benji for three years, and he told me you knew.” I looked down, watching my fingers as they curled and uncurled in loose, lazy fists. I needed to trim my nails. “And then he asked me why you hadn’t told me.”
“Oh my God.” Rome whirled around, putting his back to me, and he stood perfectly still for a moment, his shoulders tense. Then he put his hands on his hips and bent slightly forward like he’d just been winded. “For fuck’s sake. That bastard.” Then he turned back, his fists clenched and knuckles white, eyes flashing. His anger was as visual as it was vocal, as palpable as his sadness. “Don’t you see, Gray? Don’t you see this is exactly what I meant.” He threw his hands above his head, the movement so big it even disturbed the air around me. “Eli says things to you to make you believe his version of the truth and question other people. One conversation with him, and you’re questioning me and my intentions toward you.”
“Have you heard yourself?” I kept my voice low and empty. I couldn’t afford too much emotion right now. If I let myself feel the sadness, I wouldn’t be able to speak to him at all, and I needed to get these words out before they ripped holes in me.
Rome stared at me, his eyes wide and bewildered.
“You honestly have no idea, do you? The way you talk to me about not trusting Eli and trusting you instead, you sound just like him. Tell me why… Why should I trust you? You lied to me too. You’re the same kind of guy. When you do something wrong, you both end up somehow turning it around on me, so I don’t know which way to look, what to listen to. Who to trust.”
Rome shook his head and opened his mouth like he was going to try to say something else, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want his excuses any more than I wanted him trying to placate me. I was tired of listening to him tell me his version.
“You know what? Newsflash: I didn’t do anything wrong.” I spat each sharp, cold word. “And I’m just stuck in the middle of your and Eli’s dick-measuring contest.”
Rome raked his fingers through his hair, and I had to stop myself from going to him and smoothing the part he turned unruly at the front.
“Damnit, Grady. I am nothing like that little fuckwit. He hurts you every chance he gets.” His manic movements stopped, and he turned a pleading gaze on me again. “I’d do anything to prevent you getting hurt.”
“But I’m still hurt.” Someone walked past Rome’s office, and I waited for them to be out of earshot before continuing, my voice low. “You should have trusted I loved you enough for you to tell me whatever Eli had told you.” Desperation for everything that seemed t
o be slipping away claimed me, and then more words came, and I couldn’t stop them. “Nothing would have changed for me, Rome. Nothing would have changed between us. Over the past month, I’ve seen Eli for what he is, and I also saw you and me for what we could be. I saw that potential for us.” My eyes filled with tears, and I didn’t prevent one escaping to slide slowly down my cheek. My heart was breaking. “I love you. I trusted you, and now that trust is broken because you kept a secret from me. Because you didn’t trust me.”
It was all so stupid and unnecessary. Rome and I could have had a really good future. I’d pictured it in so many ways. I’d imagine five years, ten years down the road, Rome’s hand in mine. But I was done with being manipulated and lied to, and people thinking they knew better than me—better for me.
Rome’s eyes widened and his mouth parted. He held his hands up in front of him, and they trembled. He closed his mouth again and just stared at me, his eyes dark and sad like someone had turned the lights out. The gold flecks no longer sparkled and gleamed, and kaleidoscope of forest color had faded. He looked half the size of the usual confident man I looked at. Sometime during our conversation, his shirt had come half untucked and his hair had grown more wild.
He took a step toward me, his hands still out like he might reach for me, but I backed away. I couldn’t let him touch me. I had to be strong. If he touched me, I’d be weak because I wanted him, and I wanted everything to be okay again. But it couldn’t be okay again because the trust was gone, and he’d hurt me.
And it was so hard to be the strong one in the room. I wanted to be with Rome. I loved him. He was my best friend. But best friends didn’t hide things from each other. Best friends didn’t fail to trust each other. I couldn’t be with someone who had so little faith in me.
According to Rome, everyone had watched me discard my self-respect by loving Eli. I couldn’t do that all over again by loving Rome.
I didn’t look at Rome again. I couldn’t. His sharp inhales told me exactly what I’d see on his face, and I couldn’t be responsible for him trying to contain his tears, too. Instead, I just left. I didn’t touch him, I didn’t comfort him. I walked away.
I got into my car, and I drove home. I kept it together all the way there. Until I made it inside my front door. And in that safe space, with no one to see or hear and no Rome to make everything better, I slid to my floor and cried as my heart broke into more pieces than ever before.
Somehow, I’d gone from having two best friends who shared my history and knew my secrets, to having no one. I couldn’t trust either one. And somehow, buried behind my grief and loss, regret lurked. I regretted having loved either of them.
22
Rome
I sat in the rocking chair on the picturesque deck, wrapped in the once-vibrant-now-faded patchwork quilt from the bed inside and looked out over the frozen, tree-filled valley. The view left me cold and empty. The entire cabin felt like a void. I should have been here with Gray, loving him, telling him I loved him, but instead I’d arrived on my own.
I’d arrived to a hot tub bubbling, a champagne bottle chilling in an ice bucket, and rose petals from some hothouse in God-knows-where scattered artfully over the bed.
And it all made me think.
None of it symbolized love anymore. It only symbolized loss. And stupidity. And everything I’d done wrong since Eli dropped his bombshell marriage news on me.
I pulled the quilt tighter across my shoulders and puffed a curl of breath from my mouth. I couldn’t get Gray out of my fucking head. Everything I looked at out here, he should have seen. Everything I touched, he should have touched. The bed I slept in, he should have shared.
And I was alone because I was dumb. Grady had called himself a fucking idiot, but I was the idiot. I’d tried so hard to protect what we had that I’d broken it. Instead of sheltering and nourishing our love, holding it carefully in my hand, I’d crushed it.
I took a big mouthful of the too-hot coffee I’d brought outside with me and swallowed it, relishing the punishing burn as it slid down my throat.
I’d really messed up. I should have trusted in Grady, in what his actions told me, in what his body told me as I fucked him, and instead I’d been insecure and driven him away.
Gray was right. I’d gotten it wrong.
And being here at the cabin was fucking depressing, but I figured I deserved it. Part of me was loving punishing myself because at least I knew I could still feel something through the numbness.
Grady’s words haunted me, repeating over and over in my head. I love you. I trusted you, and now that trust is broken because you kept a secret from me. Because you didn’t trust me. And suddenly, I had perfect memory recall—the clearest I’d ever had in my whole damn life. I could see every emotion as it passed over his face as he spoke, every movement of every muscle underneath his clothes.
But he loved me. He loved me, and I’d thrown it away. Missed my chance. I’d let him down and made him doubt me.
Shit. I should have told him I loved him, too. I should have crawled to him on my knees and told him. I should have told him when I first kissed him, when he set my lips and my body on fire. I should have told him at his party when I lied and said it was all pretend.
It was never pretend for me.
I returned home on Tuesday afternoon. As planned but alone. And I walked into my house and saw the empty fireplace, the empty patch of rug in front of it where I’d fucked Grady until we’d fallen asleep almost as one body.
For the first time in a long time, my house was too quiet, too big, and I didn’t want to be alone in it. I walked around, looking in my rooms, searching for an activity or a distraction. But everything was just as I’d left it before I went to the cabin. Nothing was out of place. No one had been here while I was away. No one was likely to come.
I huffed in disgust at myself and slammed out of the house. There were only two people I wanted to speak to, and neither of them had spoken to me for a very long time.
The headstones stretched out in front of me as I walked the familiar path to the overgrown tree that shaded the double plot where I visited my mom and dad these days. Mom and Dad. I’d never needed their guidance more than I did right now, and all I could do was talk to the air. In my head, Mom was wise, and she had all the answers. I imagined she’d watched me grow up and knew me better than I knew myself—so she was a lot like Grady’s mom, only maybe not so scary.
Dad… well, he was still Dad. Short on emotion, long on logic, and a light in his eyes when he looked at me that really left me in no doubt that he had my back no matter what. He would have repositioned the moon if he thought it would make me happy.
I crouched on the ground in front of their matching headstones and swept some snow off the tops. Didn’t want them getting too cold in there. I was grateful they had each other. Dad had spent his entire life mourning a future that would never happen.
“I get it, Dad,” I whispered. “I think I really get it now.” Watching my future with Gray crumble helped me understand at least a portion of how much Dad had lost when Mom died.
“Mom.” I’d always imagined she’d have a ready stream of advice when I needed it. From her soft smile in the photographs Dad kept around the house, she looked like the kind of mother with plenty of love and advice to give. “Mon, I don’t know what to do. I need your help, probably more than I’ve needed it before.” I sighed and shook my head. “I’ve really fu—” I bit my lip and glanced at Mom’s name, then Dad’s. “Messed everything up.” I sighed again, and the sound carried all my troubles. “Let me just tell you about it. Maybe then it’ll be easier. Dad, do you remember Grady Caldwell? Well, I love him.” I laughed, the sound short. “He…Heck, I’ve been in love with him for as long as I can remember. I’ve never loved anyone else.” I shook my head before continuing. “And I never thought he’d love me back. I didn’t dare dream it, actually. And now I’ve screwed it all up and I don’t know how to fix it.”
I swallowed
against sudden nausea. I’d come so close to loving and being loved by Gray, and now I could lose him. A harsh sob broke free of my chest, and for the first time since losing Dad, I gave in and let tears slide unchecked down my cheeks. I bent my head and watched as they landed on the frosted ground.
A hand on my shoulder startled me, and I wiped my face before glancing over my shoulder. Eli stood just behind me, his face creased in sympathy.
“Hard without them sometimes, isn’t it?” He glanced back down the path, and I remembered he’d lost his mom too, and she was buried just a little bit further on.
Unexpected shame crept over me at the thought he might have heard me pouring my feelings out to my two dead parents.
He sucked in a long quiet inhale and looked past me as he began to speak. “Hey, I need to speak to you.” He blew out his breath and pushed his hand through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry, man. I had no idea how it was for you about Gray.” He met my gaze as a cool breeze blew right through my clothes, chilling my skin. “I didn’t know your feelings for him went back so far. You never… I wouldn’t have known in school.”
I froze. He must have heard everything I’d said.
“I talked with Gray, you know,” he continued.
I nodded mechanically as I studied the sparse tufts of grass at my feet. Of course I knew. Their conversation had ruined everything.
