Grey: The Reconnection (Spectrum Series Book 4)

by Allison White

  His hand gripping my flesh abruptly brings me out of my distracted mind. I think I am just trying to center myself on anything other than the feeling of my heart drumming in my head or the way my hands have taken to cupping his very sharp, rock-hard jaw…

  “I couldn’t in a million years,” is my raspy reply.

  Is he moving closer? Or am I? Is he holding me tighter, or does my body naturally spark on fire?

  I should stop him, because…um, because…he is really warm. I think I really am engulfed in…uh, in him…

  “Olivia! Te gustaría venir a la—oh mi,” Alma exclaims, bursting through the door.

  “Alma!” I sit up quickly and knock my forehead with Grey’s.

  “Fuck!” He curses the same time I do and falls back off the bed. He lands with a hard thud.

  I laugh on the inside.

  “I am so sorry. I can come back later…” Alma trails, pointing down the hall to the stairs. I shake my head, and I swear I see her smiling through the haziness brought on by Grey’s huge head colliding with mine.

  “No, no—we weren’t up to anything.” I quickly stand and force myself to not hurl on the spot. I stood up too fast, because now my rumbling hangover stomach feels attacked and threatens to spill out of my mouth like a fountain.

  “Oh…” she says and glances at her grandson.

  Grey is still on the floor, his hands pressed to the hard surface, holding him up. He just shrugs in return and passes me a cocky smile.

  I accidentally step on his hand—as I planned earlier—and walk over to Alma. “Seriously, he was just being an asshole.”

  She nods, understanding, and glances at her grandson with a disappointed click of her tongue. “Once an asshole, always an asshole.” She shifts her dark eyes to me and winks at me, and we both wait for what’s to come.

  “Stop…calling me that!” Grey shouts, and Alma and I descend into laughter.

  ***

  “So, Abuela Alma says she caught you and Grey fucking this morning,” Sofía, the youngest of Grey’s cousins, says casually as she tosses a bag of tomatoes in the red shopping basket I am holding.

  I nearly drop the groceries in shock.

  I look at her with wide eyes. “W-what?” I stutter like an idiot. Well, I’m sorry I am a little taken aback when one of my ex’s cousins thinks he and I had…you know…the sex and was caught by his grandmother. I have to live with his family for a few days, so them thinking that happened will definitely make things a little awkward.

  She nods, her lips pouty as she checks out a pair of peaches. “Yep. Said she was coming to get you to come to the market and walked in on it. He was on top, shirtless, and you were about ready to tear the rest of his clothes off.”

  “What? That’s ridic—”

  “I heard the shirt was torn in shreds because you were really desperate for him,” another, thickly accented voice rises from behind me. I turn around and find Isabella, who is a few years older than Sofía, nodding matter-of-factly.

  My cheeks spark with flames, and I gasp for words. “That is not true!” I laugh nervously, and they share glances, then raise a questioning brow at me. I let my jaw drop open and do another anxious chuckle that doesn’t exactly paint me as someone telling the truth. “I’m not lying.”

  “Because you would tell us if you two were banging again?” I whip around to Emilio, Sofía’s brother, who is older by one year. He’s chewing on a random red straw, his sunglasses perched on his nose. He stares at me intently over the shades and tips his baseball cap down.

  Geez, they’re all so attractive and dark. I wonder what Grey’s offspring would look like. I bet he/she would look just as intimidating, no doubt.

  “We are not banging because we are not together,” I tell them, and they all raise their brows. “I’m telling the truth!”

  “So why was his shirt shredded?” Isabella questions.

  “Yeah,” Sofía adds.

  “His shirt was not shredded. Your grandmother made that up.”

  “Why would she do that?” Emilio tips his head to the right, and they follow.

  Ugh, this gorgeous cult.

  “I don’t know,” I say honestly and shrug.

  “Because you are so good for him.” I jump and turn around, finding Alma grinning up at me with an adorable smile. But I’ve just found out she isn’t just adorable, she’s also very sneaky. And I mean very. I didn’t even hear her footsteps or anything.

  “I’m…what?” I breathe.

  “You’re good for him,” Sofía says, a little snappy.

  Easy anger definitely runs through the family bloodline.

  “No, I am not,” I say with a little huff. Why are we discussing my love life with Grey in the middle of a market, when there is no actual love life with him?

  “Yes, you are,” Alma speaks up, rubbing my arms. I stiffen. “I can see you are very special to him.”

  “I assure you, I’m not,” I tell her and them, strained.

  “He hasn’t brought any girl around the family,” Isabella says, and I am at a loss for words.

  “What about Rose?” My throat feels dry.

  They all exchange confused expressions.

  “Who’s Rose?”

  Oh…

  ***

  “Mateo…hey,” I greet him, shocked, as I am one of the first to enter the house. I kind of forgot he was Grey’s cousin, but then I hammer it into my brain. He sets down two suitcases by the stairs. When he turns around and sees me, he grins widely and opens his arms.

  “Liv, hey,” he says warmly, and we hug, stepping to the side of the stairs as the others bring in bags. I grip the ones in my hands and nervously look around. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  I shrug. “Just here supporting Grey.”

  He nods. “That’s great.”

  I look around and smile softly. “Mason didn’t tell you I came here with Grey?”

  He shakes his head. “He was kind of closed off after I asked him to come here with me.”

  “Oh…” I take in his solemn expression as he nods, expelling a little breath.

  “Yeah. He’s not ready, I guess…” he trails and begins rubbing the back of his neck.

  The silence between us grows incredibly awkward. I want to ask about Mason, but obviously they aren’t on speaking terms. And neither are he and I. He didn’t make the effort to listen and understand me. I desperately want to make things better between us and fix things, because he must be going through something extreme to turn down coming down here with Mateo at this troubling time. He loves him, he really does. So why not come?

  “Well, I should go and say hi to everyone,” he says, breaking the silence.

  “Sure, I’ll see you around,” I promise.

  He gives me a close-lipped smile before turning on his heels and wandering into the kitchen where everyone else is, taking the bags in my hands.

  I bite my lip with a yearning to comfort my best friend, but he wasn’t mine when I needed him. So I push the painful thought away with a sigh and bound up the stairs. I briefly admire the many photos running along the wall, wishing my family could do the same. But we haven’t taken a collective photo together since that night…

  I nearly burst into tears at how many people I have lost, like Mason, Jonah, my parents, possibly Noah…and it’s all my fault. Every single one of them. They all nearly connect with one person I love so deeply; he is forever wreaking havoc on my life. But I cannot get him out of my head even if I tried my hardest.

  “Hey, are you okay?” a voice booms behind me.

  I uncover my hand from my mouth and turn around. Grey stares at me with concern as I nod my head, frantically wiping my tears away.

  “Um, yeah, I’m fine,” I croak and choke back on a sob.

  “You’re a bad liar. You should just stop trying,” he says. I close my eyes, and he wraps his arms around me. All my worries and despair melt away, and I am able to breathe in his one of a kind smell. I inhale, and he doesn
’t say anything. I sniffle and let the tears run down my cheek until I can’t focus on it anymore.

  A cold thing is imprinted on my cheek.

  I pull my head back and cry some more.

  He’s wearing the charm I gave him—Jonah’s charm.

  “You still wear it,” I whimper. I had thought he stopped wearing it after we split. But then again, I thought the same about the jacket, yet I found myself wearing it after he had two days ago. Has he really not given up on me?

  “Shhh…yes,” he admits, tipping my head back. I surrender to his eyes and bite my lip. He watches me do it and smirks. “But I think you need it more, hmmm?”

  I don’t answer, so he unclasps the necklace and gently turns me around. I close my eyes as he pushes my hair over one shoulder. I suck in a breath and feel his rough fingertips as he clasps it around my neck. My hair falls back down, and I am spun around and met with a smile that does all kinds of things to me, all at the same time, I feel as though I am going to faint from everything hitting me.

  “Much better,” he whispers, caressing my cheek with his thumb.

  I close my eyes and nod as he wipes tears from my cheeks.

  Much…

  Chapter Sixteen

  Two hours later, I’m in the kitchen helping cook dinner. After the really intense and emotional moment between Grey and me triggered by my little breakdown, I couldn’t face him. Call me a coward all you want; if I had looked into his eyes for more than a beat as I thanked him, I know I would have lost all my control and done something I would have liked in the moment…but regretted when I returned home. It would wreck what’s between Noah and me, and that was already hanging on by a single thread.

  In this house, in this country, everything is just a dream of sorts. Meeting his family, him being more open to me, flirty, humorous, just like how he was when we started out—it’s not going to last. When we get back to Miami, he’ll be cold and reserved. I’ll go back to feeling like a corpse walking. And I will have two of the most important guys in my life hating me: one who is meant to be my whole future of perfection and check off every bullet on my list, and another who was my first friend at college, a foreign, scary place, but turned into one of my best friends and has always been there for me.

  However, when it came time to have their support and full trust…they failed me and acted as if I were some dumb, crazy, obsessive girl. I was no longer their Liv who did her best to feel something when kissed by another. I was no longer their Liv who was by their side with their boyfriend in pajamas watching 80s romance movies or used their shoulder to cry on when complaining about the boy with cold black eyes but the warmest heart. I was Liv, who got up and sought to help a person who she would give all she possessed to make sure he was sane and not taking out his anger via a fucking gang. I was Liv, the girl who put all her previous feelings for said boy aside and jetted to another country to be his god damn support system.

  But I guess they wanted their Liv who was weepy, depressed, and drowning herself, taking too many pills to stop feeling, and needing their protection and was just so fucking broken! Too bad I can’t be that Liv anymore. I need to get closure with Grey. I want to close this door, so I can be the final product of myself—Liv: the girl who goes to college, and attends poetry slams, and smiles at nothing in particular, and is able to breathe, because it’s just the easiest thing to do. And even if they hate me because of it, I will strive to be that girl, no matter what. Even if it kills me, anything has to be better than walking around like you’ve lost a huge part of yourself.

  “Liv, can you help me dice the tomatoes?” Alma asks, and I stop draining the rice.

  I nod and respond, “Of course.” I ask Isabella to take over, and when she does, I walk over to Alma. “How many do I dice?” I let my eyes sweep over the large amount. Normally this would be way too much, but considering the massive family grouped in the back, I actually don’t think it’s enough.

  “All of them,” she answers.

  I pick up the knife beside her and begin dicing the tomatoes. I hum to the beat of the festive song that wafts through the open windows into the kitchen. The atmosphere is laid back and really calming. I love how loud everyone laughs in the back and how well the cousins get along, teasing each other and even throwing a few playful curses at each other. I try my best but fail to contain my amusement when Alma curses at them to stop cursing.

  Oh, Grey’s family. You gotta love them.

  Alma nudges my forearm as I move on to the onions, seeing she could use some help.

  “You are good with the knife,” she says and raises questioning eyebrows.

  I shrug and tell her, “Louise, my caretaker, taught me how to cook at a very young age. I once cooked a meal for her, me, and her daughter when I was twelve.” I smile proudly at the memory of me standing on my tippy toes to preset the oven.

  “That is wonderful—” she praises.

  “It smells so fucking good in here,” a rather loud, obnoxious voice sounds from behind us.

  We turn around and find Grey and Mateo walking in. That was fast. A little while earlier, they left to play basketball down by the playground about ten minutes from here, claiming they were bored out of their minds.

  They are matching in basketball shirts and muscle tops. I feel my cheeks fluster with heat. Grey is dripping in sweat, and so is Mateo, but he looks attractive in a whole other way. His golden-specked skin outlines his impressive muscles, and his hair is slicked with sweat. I nearly pass out and die when he brings up the hem of his white shirt and wipes his face.

  “Might wanna close your mouth before he sees it as an invitation,” a voice whispers haughtily in my ear. I jump in surprise and snap my head to the right. I find Sofía smirking at me.

  “Shut up,” I hiss-whisper, and she raises her hands defensively. Being annoying sure does run in the family.

  “¿Qué te dije sobre tu maldita maldición?” Alma curses at Grey…for cursing. (What did I tell you about your god damn cursing?)

  He and I both laugh, and his eyes meet mine. I suppress a giggle when he jokingly rolls his eyes to provoke his grandmother, who then threatens to get her belt.

  “Lo siento, abuela, pero estoy tan hambriento,” he apologizes, but his eyes are glued to me. I blush and glance away, but he’s staring at me with a mission written on his face as he comes over to me. “Y tengo mis ojos puestos en algo en particular.” (I’m sorry, grandma, but I’m so hungry. /And I have my eyes on one thing in particular.)

  I stiffen and tighten my grip on the knife, as if he is about to lunge and gobble me up like the big bad wolf he often represents himself as. My heart is beating faster, and I swallow a lump in my throat when he stops in front of me. He leans forward, eyes drilling through my soul, and I pull the knife back. When he pulls back, he has a mini empanada in his hand, and I feel myself blush and bite my lip. I forgot, there’s a huge tray of them on the counter behind me.

  And here I thought he meant me…I don’t know if I should be disappointed or relieved…

  “Oh, hey there, didn’t see you there,” he grumbles with a satisfied smirk as he chews.

  I roll my eyes and use the butt of the knife to push him back. “Lies.”

  He laughs. “Whoops.” He shrugs his shoulders and sucks on the sauce dripping on his thumb.

  Shameless, utterly shameless, I tell you.

  “Okay, enough flirting. Go back out and play with your little cousins.” Alma shoos them out of the kitchen.

  “There was no flirting,” I groan, putting the knife down, upset but not surprised they’re bringing up this topic again. Poor, naïve me prayed our nice little invasive chat would end when we left the market. But no, it has resurrected itself and is proving to me this family are more persistent on giving me heart palpitations than I thought.

  Emilio hums as he kicks his feet back and forth, perched on top of the counter, eating an empanada. “There was a little flirting. Right, Izzy?”

  “You are very right,
Emmy,” Isabella agrees, waving a knife at him.

  He groans and thrusts his head back, meeting the counter, causing him to groan again, but in pain this time, causing us to laugh. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?”

  “What? It’s a pretty name,” she defends, pouting.

  “Right! Pretty, and it sounds like a fucking girl’s name!” He flings the rest of his uneaten little treat at his cousin.

  She raises her knife and points it at him. “I will shove this up your ass, and you will be shitting butter-knives for a week!” she threatens.

  “¿No te advert sobre insultar en mi casa?” Alma butts in, pointing her knife at them. Then she shifts it to Emilio, and he raises his arms defensively. “Vas a la parte de atrás y juegas con los chicos. No toleraré que un vago se siente en mi mostrador. ¡Muévete!” (Didn’t I warn you about cursing in my house? /You go out to the back and play with the boys. I will not tolerate a lazy bum sitting on my counter. Move!)

  I burst into laughter and so does Isabella and Sofía as we watch Emilio gasp, then storm outside, muttering curses, causing Alma to run after him with the knife. We all rush over to the kitchen and watch as she chases him, screaming something about having no respect for his elders and how she would whoop his ass with the knife until he looked like a victim of Krueger Freddy. Cute. She got his name backward.

  The girls are going on about a bet to see if she really does do what she threatens, but I find myself zoning out as I find Grey in the midst of the crowd.

  He’s playing soccer with his little cousins and Mateo, only now he’s shirtless and his sweaty, inked chest and back are on display. He is quick as a bullet on his feet, retrieving and running around with the soccer ball. He chants and mocks and teases the little guys, showing no mercy as he drives the ball into a makeshift net leaning against the wooden fence. I hide a giggle behind my hand as he fist pumps the air and boasts in the little kids’ faces. He is so freaking mean…it’s kind of cute.

  As if sensing my gaze or hearing my barely audible laugh, his eyes find mine through the open window. And he smiles. Widely. Brightly. And perfectly. My chest tingles, and I find myself waving at him, then giving him a thumbs up in reference to him winning the little game.