I breathe in relief and search for a popcorn packet in the pantry. I’m glad she didn’t see past my façade. More so the makeup I have slathered under my eyes that are covering my eye bags. It’s only temporary; at least I want it to be. I don’t want to live off of coffee and ice cream and late night rom-coms and cover the evidence. But it seems as though it’s going to become a permanent thing…
I’m transferring the finished popcorn into a big green bowl when my mother walks into the kitchen.
“What are you doing?”
I look at her as I hold the bowl to my chest. “Getting popcorn.”
“No, I mean with the boys in the living room,” she says harshly, then walks over to me, heels clacking against the tile. I hold the bowl tighter and stiffen as she glares down at me. “You should be resting. You know what’s tomorrow.”
“I don’t plan on celebrating it, so it doesn’t really matter,” I mumble, avoiding her hawk-like eyes.
She scoffs. “But it’s your—”
I finally face her and barely stifle a yawn. “I know, Mother, but I don’t want to glorify something so small.”
Her eyes narrow into thin slits. “Did you just yawn?”
I stiffen and fall from my brave façade and look away. “No.”
“Olivia…” she warns.
“Fine, yes—only because—”
She cuts me off. “There is no excuse. You should always be well-rested.”
So now she cares?
I scoff, and she grips my cheeks, yanking me forward.
“What was that?” she questions.
“N-nothing,” I whisper, and she hums.
I feel my heart clench as her long, red finger trails over my cheeks, just beneath my eyes. She gasps, finding the truth beyond my words. “And you’re wearing makeup to cover your exhaustion. This is completely unacceptable, Olivia.” She lets go and crosses her arms over her white satin robe. “Have you not been taking your pills? Should I bump the two sessions to three?”
“No, please no—” I plead.
“Then take your pills,” she spits. She shakes her head in disappointment, making me feel worse than I already do. “I knew something like this would happen. That’s why I ordered for them to be stronger. Maybe then you’ll finally move on from that horrendous boy.” She huffs, eyes glaring through my flesh. “Go to the pharmacy and pick them up. And when you get back, I want to see you take it, then you’ll go to bed. Do you understand me?”
I have no energy to defy her, so I just nod and grumble, “Yes, Mother…”
***
“I’m here to pick up anti-depressants for Olivia Westerfield,” I tell the pharmacist behind the counter. My voice is low and thick; I don’t sound the same. I sound like all the life has been drained out of me.
He nods and goes into the back to get the medication.
While he does, I drink the coffee I got on the way over here. I left the boys, saying I wanted to get more ice cream. They were, Mason especially, hesitant on letting me go by myself now that it’s really dark out. But I promised I wouldn’t take long.
“Here you go.” He gives me the rolled-up bag, and I pay before pushing away from the counter.
“Thanks…” I pause when I feel all the coffee hit me at once. “Do you have a bathroom I could use?”
“Back there.” He points to a hallway, and I thank him before following his directions.
As I walk, I feel my body sway and rub my eyes vigorously. I seriously feel like my body is slowly dying, but it’s just one night’s sleep I missed. I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll just take two of these pills and get back to the movie marathon. I’ll be fine; I will be okay. I just know that I will not be subdued in another nightmare when I can stay awake. And I can stay awake.
I blindly open the bathroom door as I rub my eyes.
“The fuck?” a familiar voice barks.
I open my eyes and feel my heart skip a beat. “Grey?”
What is he doing here?
He is in front of the sink, bloodshot eyes staring straight through me. I take a second to examine the cut on his upper cheek and his bruised knuckles. The skin is torn, and he is lamely attending to it, incorrectly wrapping it haphazardly. But the cut on his cheek, on his beautiful face…it’s deep and gushing blood.
“Oh, no, don’t—” he warns me, but I don’t listen to him.
I rush inside and reach for his hands; he doesn’t pull back fast enough. “What happened?” I ask, feeling my heart thrum a million miles per hour. I hold his fingers and feel every part of me linger, wondering if his touch is the real deal. When I rub his finger pads and he sucks in a breath, they sigh in relief, and I hold back a smile.
Is it pathetic to say how much this is making me happy?
“None of your business,” he mumbles and snatches his hands from me.
I silence the screaming in my body and look up to peer into his dark eyes. “Grey…” I sound hurt, and I don’t even try to hide it, because I am. If anything, I don’t ever want him to be hurting. He could yell at me, push me away all he wants, but I’d feel truly gutted if he’s actually in pain.
I just care more about him than me at this point.
Because I am not worth the concern, not anymore…
“Just go,” he snaps at me.
I hold back tears and shake my head. “No, let me help.” I reach for his hands again, but he holds them to his chest, and it stings, because I remember when I did that once before everything that happened. He’d always grab my hands to just make me listen, but now he’s the one doing it. Talk about role reversal…
“Just fuck off, Olivia.” He turns away from me and goes back to wrapping his hand.
It is silent as I watch him, then I shake my head again like the stubborn girl I am.
“I’ll leave, but after I help,” I choke out.
“No, Liv!” He whirls around to me, knocking over a paper bag on the sink.
I glance down at it, then back at him. He’s looking away from me, his jaw locked. “Is that yours?”
I honestly thought he’d stopped taking his medication after everything. I feel a little dance in my stomach at the thought of him continuing to take them for his health.
“I’m not still taking it, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he grumbles as he snatches it off the ground and tosses it into the waste-bin behind him. He turns back around and steps up to me, glaring down at me. “You can go now.”
I ignore him and twist on the faucet.
“What are you—?” he begins, annoyed.
“Shut up and unwrap that mess,” I say in Louise’s motherly “don’t-mess-with-me” tone. I look over my shoulder and find him staring at me with an unreadable but pissed-off expression. “I’m not leaving until you’re okay, Grey.” I forcibly rip off the Velcro bandage, not bothered if it hurt him or not. He always said he doesn’t feel pain, right?
It is silent as I bring his large hands under the running water. I gently rub away the fraying skin and grimace as they wash down the drain, but his skin will heal. I watch as the water turns pinkish with blood. When they are all clean, I twist off the faucet and reach for the opened first aid kit on the ledge above the sink. I grab an alcohol pad and rip it open with my teeth.
He speaks as I gently disinfect his knuckles. “Why are you helping me?” He sounds genuinely bothered.
I look up and stare at him through my eyelashes. “Because I still care about you,” I say, voice wavering.
His fingers flex under my touch, but I don’t think because of the sizzling alcohol against the wounds. “Oh, do you now?”
“Yeah, I joined the club with you. Crazy, right?” I partially joke.
That broke the camel’s back.
He rips his hands from mine and scowls at me. “What was that?”
I feel my heart skip a beat and shrug. “Nothing…”
He tips my head back, and although his demeanor is anything but welcoming, my skin still reacts like he’s my sun. “What the fuck did
you say, Liv?”
“I said…nothing.” I try to look away, but he forces me to look into his eyes.
He rolls his eyes and throws the kit and my medication bag onto the floor. Before I can question his clear insanity, I am on the sink with him between my legs. I suck in a deep breath. My body feels energized and is flushed red hot under his strong, tethered hands gripping my waist. He is so close, too close for me to handle. He smells strongly of weed and alcohol, and I remind myself that he is here right now, not the real him. Though I haven’t seen that man for the past seven months…
“What did you say, Olivia?” he grits out, teeth bared.
I gulp and blurt, “Rose told me you still have feelings for me.”
His brows furrow and his lips twitch until he bursts into laughter that rips out my heart. “Is that what she told you?” When I nod, he laughs even harder, more nefarious, scary…dark. I feel my throat run dry. Suddenly, his nose is under my chin. I gasp. “She can be such a bitch. Probably just toying with you…because why the hell would I still have feelings for you?” He levels his face with mine and looks expectant.
Feeling tears line my eyes, I shrug and whisper, “She said you were crying and—and—”
“Aw, poor, little, innocent Olivia can’t speak without fucking stuttering.” He slaps his hands on the mirror behind me, and I yelp, cowering under his wide, crazy eyes. “Why would I still feel for someone as pathetic and manipulative as you?”
“Grey,” I choke, and he rolls his eyes.
He cups my cheeks and runs his thumbs over my skin, wiping away a tear of mine. “Why are you fucking crying? No one ever lied to you. No one ever hurt you—”
“You’re lying to me right now. You’re hurting me right now—” I point out, raising my voice.
His thumbs stop rubbing, and he frowns, then seems to fight it and laughs again. “Bags under your precious blue eyes…you can’t sleep? Good. You shouldn’t be able to after what you did to me.”
“I apologized, Grey,” I breathe. I don’t know why I’m even trying. He’s drunk or high or both.
“It isn’t enough!” he screams.
“Let me go,” I plead, pushing against his shoulders.
“I’m upsetting you now?” he mocks me with a pout.
“Yes, you are!” I push against him with everything I have and jump down, nearly falling on my butt. But I shake my head, ignoring the strong lull to fall under my tired body’s command. “I hurt you, I get that. But I also apologized and haven’t been able to breathe the same ever since. I haven’t been able to sleep or do anything without wanting to kill myself because of it!” I scream at the top of my lungs, crying full force.
He stiffens the same time I do.
Where did that come from? I swear, it’s…it is not true.
“What?” His tough façade melts, and he takes a step toward me, but I’ve had enough of his dangerous emotional whiplash.
“Just…just let me suffer in silence, okay? I don’t need you making it any worse before it’s too…” I stop myself. What am I saying? I wipe away my tears and look away from his warm black eyes. “I’ll stay away from you from now on because there is no point. You hate me. I do too.”
He looks like he’s fighting with himself to say something, but when he doesn’t say a word, I grab my anti-depressants, and I leave the reason for them behind.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The next morning, I feel numb to the core. I feel strapped to my bed with a million emotions pressing into my chest. And I tried to ease it by pacing the enormous width of the room. I also tried counting in my head like Dr. Drew instructed me to do whenever I need to get myself under control. That didn’t work. I tried writing it all down, but the words just blurred together. I ended up throwing it away with a deafening scream, but it didn’t leave my lips. Instead I let it out in my head, to the point where it felt like I was going to implode…and I didn’t mind the eruption.
Now, I am staring blankly at the ceiling, wondering how I could let myself get this fucked up. I begin thinking about how perfect and unbroken I’d be if I hadn’t fallen for Grey or his charms. How I would have skated through the school year unscathed, heart intact. I would have no problems being with Noah. Sure, I probably wouldn’t feel anything physically, but I don’t need to in order to secure a stable future. A future I have been planning ever since I was able to hold a pencil.
I wouldn’t be lying here. I wouldn’t be hung over some guy who took my heart then turned around and began to terrorize it until he had enough. I wouldn’t be numb to everything around me, and I most definitely wouldn’t feel so deflated…so alone.
A warm tear trails down my cheek, and I can’t even lift my arms to wipe it away. So I let it sink into my skin and do its worst. I shut my eyes as tightly as I can and curl my hands into tight fists, so hard I can feel the tiniest prick of pain. But it doesn’t last long, so I clutch even tighter and hold my breath. I hold and hold and hold until my desperate lungs beg me to give them air. I let out a restless sigh and shrug. It’s not the same as being under anyway…
A soft knock on the door is followed by, “Hey, you up?”
I turn my head and find Noah nervously rubbing the back of his neck.
I have no energy whatsoever, so I just give the smallest smile I can offer and nod.
His long legs carry him to the bed, and he sits down next to me. “You okay?” His voice is small as he reaches out to brush my hair behind my ear, but I back away the smallest inch. Hurt flashes across his face, but he smiles and tries to act like he’s unaffected. “Why didn’t you answer? I’ve been calling you for the past, like, ten minutes.”
Unable to speak, I shrug.
He stares at me with so many emotions crossing his eyes. “Is this because of what happened…you know…yesterday? Because if so, I am so sorry. I just—you were so lost, and I—I’ve just wanted to kiss you for so long. I couldn’t sit there any longer and watch you rip yourself apart…”
I cut him off the same way he did to me.
I kiss him.
Why should I lay here hating myself when I can shoot for my future? A better future without someone as fucked up as Grey in it, I may add. Noah is here, and he is sweet, and everything Grey isn’t—he is what I need now, tomorrow, and forever. Who cares about the passion? The feeling of complete and utter love grips you so tight, you think you’re going to pass out, but even then, you’d welcome the feeling. Who cares about the moments you wish you could have captured to have for the rest of your long, happy love?
Who needs any of that when you can have a future without hurt?
So, I kiss him, and I give it everything I have. Every thought and every burning desire, I push it away into a metal cage, and I throw away the key. All I can afford to think about in this present time is Noah. How he smells like bar soap and mangoes. How his hair is soft like cotton. How his hands are on my waist, inching me closer into his chest. And how…just how right he is for me.
I latch onto the few tingles in my stomach and smile because I’ve finally found something.
But then I find myself opening my eyes.
He looks so into this, like he doesn’t ever want to part.
And I am about to close my eyes and strive to feel like he looks…when my eyes land on my wrist resting on his broad shoulder. The scripted G carved into the metal charm brings tears to my eyes, and suddenly his lips taste like rubber and I feel vomit on the tip of my tongue. Can he taste it?
I don’t know, can you taste Grey? my subconscious sasses.
I pull back like his mouth is poison, and he looks confused as he catches his breath. “I…I can’t. I’m sorry.” I look away from him, unable to gauge his pained expression. He looks like I stabbed him in the stomach and spilled his guts on the floor.
“Oh, yeah—yeah, I’m—” he spurts, and I look up to find him shaking his head while wringing his hands together. “I didn’t…”
“I’m sorry, Noah. I’m just—fuck,”
I curse and tug my hair violently. “I’m fucked up, and I don’t want to drag you into this…thing in my head.” I bite my lip, and he frowns. “I don’t want to hurt you too.” My voice breaks, and I fight back tears.
“Hey, hey—it’s okay.” He smiles as he places a hand on my shoulder.
“Really?” I sniffle and wipe away a stray tear.
He looks pained but nods and says, “Yeah, totally.”
No, he’s lying to me. Great, I’ve already hurt him. Why can’t I stop hurting everything I touch?
“Noah, I really don’t want to hurt you—” I begin earnestly.
But he stands and shrugs dismissively. “It’s almost noon. Aren’t you hungry? How about we go down to the diner and get some pancakes? You were always stuffing them down your throat at brunches when we were younger.”
“Noah, I—”
He grabs my hand and pulls me up. “It’s the least I could do on a special day like this.” He winks, but I can’t get past it, and I stare straight at the gutting feeling I am causing.
But I let him pull me off the bed and out the door. I will fix this somehow. Things between him and I were great before that kiss and the one we shared just now. I just wish I could go back in time and save him from setting his lips on the most vicious, toxic creature in Miami…
When we turn the corner to go down the stairs, I am frozen in shock and confusion. So much confusion.
There is a gigantic pink banner with the words “Happy Birthday, Liv” draped across the entryway of the house. And beneath it is an assortment of people, like Louise, Charlotte, Mason, Mateo, and surprisingly enough, Jaimie and Julia. They all look exuberant and are holding sticks of confetti, which go off as I begin coming down the stairs one by one.
“Happy birthday!” they exclaim.
“What is…?” I breathe, cheeks flushed. I look to my side at Noah and try to find words that hide from me. “What is this?” I ask him, incredulous.
He shrugs and gives me a very forced smile. “It was supposed to be a surprise. Like this.” He thrusts his hand out to me. There is a small silver box in his hand. He looks so sad, though, so I can’t help but stare at him, a big apology on the tip of my tongue. But he laughs airily and softly taps it against my stomach. “Take it before my arm falls off,” he jokes, and I crack a sad smile.
Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3) Page 25
