“I-I’m good,” I choke out pathetically, hurriedly shoveling more cereal in my mouth.
“That’s right…” he drawls, wiping away fallen milk dribbling down my chin with the crook of his finger, eyes glistening with unleashed wickedness. “Eat up, baby girl.”
“Stop being nasty.” I slap his hand away, twisting my mouth up.
“You’re the one who started it,” he defends.
“Yeah, but you didn’t have to make it all sexual,” I mumble, cheeks red.
He chuckles and holds his arms up defensively, though his black eyes glisten with trouble. “Fine, sue me. I’ll stop being sexual…You better hurry and get ready, buttercup,” he says sickly sweet, pinching my cheek.
“Ugh, go back to being sexual,” I joke, slapping his hand away.
He just laughs and watches me finish my breakfast.
“I’ll take a quick shower,” I tell him as I stand up.
“All right, I’ll get your clothes out for you.” He takes the empty bowl and glass and places them in the sink.
“The college sweatshirt and jeans please,” I say as I near the bathroom.
“Got it.”
I smile at how amazing he is. He really has been the most loving, sweetest boyfriend ever since the incident. I mean, he was that way before, just not so openly and enhanced. It’s like me getting hurt flicked some switch and turned the light on bright, leaving behind the brooding darkness in the past. I like this new Grey, but I’d like a little bit of the old darkness. Not so much that I’d miss the warmth he’s showing me now, but enough that I know he’s the rude asshole I fell in love with. I know I sound insane, but what’s the point in having a blinding light when the darkness offers you shelter…?
My smile drops when I reach the bathroom door. I hold my raging stomach and attempt to relieve the tight tension in my chest. I widen my eyes and rush inside, falling to my knees in front of the toilet. I lift the seat up and empty my stomach. I taste metal and bile on my tongue and throw up even more, gagging in the process. My sweaty hair clings to my face, but I can’t lift my shaky fingers gripping the seat to push the strands away.
“Oh my God, Liv!” I hear Grey’s panicked voice behind me. My hair is lifted back, and I finish vomiting. I see little black dots in my vision but blink them away rapidly. “Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing my back soothingly.
I take deep breaths and sit back, trying to regain my composure. I glance up at him; he’s on his knees and his eyes are wide, cheeks splotched. I nod my head and try to stand.
“I’m fine.” My voice is short and breathy.
He helps me sit on the toilet after flushing away the disgusting mess. “You are not fine. Jesus Christ, there’s blood on your chin, for fuck’s sake!”
“I said I’m fine!” I snap, voice croaky.
He clamps his lips together, huffing out impatiently.
I take one of his big, sturdy hands in my small, shaky ones and smile. “I just tripped and cut my mouth on the toilet. That’s why there’s blood.”
“And the vomiting?” he questions, hand tightening around mine.
“A stomach flu. It explains the sweating.” I point to my forehead, lies tumbling easy like breathing. I hate this. I hate myself so, so much. He does not deserve being lied to when he’s been so kind and helpful to me. But I can’t let him imprison me in this apartment while my life and future wait for me beyond these brick walls.
He looks thoughtful, lips drawn up and jaw tight. “Okay, then you’re staying until it passes. That can take a week.”
I shake my head quickly, but he looks set on the ridiculous idea. “I can’t do that.”
“There’s no damn way I’m letting you go out when you’re sick, Olivia.”
I roll my eyes. “I can handle a little fever.”
“No,” he says firmly.
“Yes. You can’t make me stay here.”
“Oh, yes I can.” He nods his head matter-of-factly; I want to smack him. “I’m your boyfriend—”
“But not my father!” I throw my hands up in frustration.
“Doesn’t matter, I care too much about you to let you leave my side!” he snaps, and I sit back, looking into his wide eyes. He clears his throat and looks to the ground. “I mean, I can’t—I can’t let you go out sick.”
I take a deep breath and rub his shoulders, causing him to look up sheepishly. “I love you and appreciate everything you have done for me, really. But you can’t control me or anything I want to do. I get it, you’re scared I’ll get hurt…but I won’t let that happen.”
“You can’t control that,” he grumbles, eyes flicking shyly to the ground.
I feel my heart shudder as I realize he’s talking about the massacre. He lost me in the crowd, and because I wasn’t behind him, I was the one who took the shot when he thinks he should have been the recipient. What he doesn’t know is that I would have taken a million more if it meant he wasn’t harmed. I wouldn’t be able to cope with the idea of him getting hurt or worse…but I would never tell him that, because he’d definitely strap a bullet-proof vest on me and lock me in this apartment.
“Dean isn’t going to hurt me,” I whisper, hoping to relax his muddled thoughts.
His frightened eyes pierce through me. “How do you know?”
“Because he isn’t dumb enough to come after me or you. There’s already a search out for him and his gang. If either one of us is harmed in foul play, the punishment on him would be much worse than it is now.”
He chews on his lip. “I don’t know…I’d feel better if you stayed home.”
“I can’t stay in here anymore,” I say, voice cracking. “I already went to the program for a whole week without any problem. The same can be done for school.”
“Still…” He’s letting up a little; I can tell by his tone.
“Grey, I will be fine. I need to do this, to show you and everyone else that I can move on. Please, let me do this…” I whisper, and he eyes me intensely.
***
“Did you make it to your last class fine? Are you at the coffee shop yet? I knew I should have made you stay home,” Grey rambles into the phone, making me laugh at his excessive worry. He had nothing to be concerned about, though. I went to all of my classes on time without any troubles. Though my fellow classmates and professors were riddling me with pity like crazy—sympathetic frowns and concerned glances every few seconds and all. I was uncomfortable most of the day, but I’m sure they’ll get used to my sob story after a few weeks and I’ll be old news. Luckily, I had Jaimie and Julia alternating in two of my classes, keeping me company and distracting me from the others.
“Yes, all of my classes were fine, like I told you after each one ended.” I laugh nervously as I open the door to the coffee shop. “And yes, I am at the coffee shop now. Like I told you, there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about—”
“Liv?” My name being called behind me makes me freeze, thinking the man of my nightmares has found me.
But when I whip around, my eyes land on another boy who’s stained another part of my mind.
“Liv, you there?” Grey asks, rushed.
“I—” I can’t find the words.
Mason stands in front of me, a smile resting on his lips. “I thought it was you.”
My body shuts down, and I am teleported back to That Night.
“Liv, what’s happen—” Grey’s voice fades.
Nothing but darkness.
Chapter Eight
Grey
I spend the day training with vigor. I push myself harder than I have before, and that’s saying something considering how much I was gunning for the tournament. That was nothing compared to now. It was the starting point that led up to the biggest fight of my life. The tournament only pitted me for this turning point. It prepared me for this. So to say that I have to train until I literally can’t anymore would be a sad understatement. I have worked too damn hard to get to this point; there’s no way I’m going to j
ust give up or slow down now.
However, I can’t focus completely, which is pretty damn dangerous considering the hefty amounts of weights and sparring I’ve been doing. Liv’s face, a bloody mess this morning, just won’t leave my brain. I keep picturing her gagging and pale in my arms. I keep thinking: what if it isn’t just a stomach bug? A flu? Sure, she was a little heated and sweaty, but I don’t believe for a fucking second it was the flu. I wanted to take her to the hospital and have her stay until she was one hundred percent healthy. Even if it meant she’d stay for months, I just want her okay. I need her to be or I won’t be able to focus on training at all.
The fight isn’t even slightly important to me if she’s still suffering from That Night. That fucking night that should have never happened. If I hadn’t left the gang, Dean wouldn’t have felt betrayed and so angered. He wouldn’t have come after me, and my girl wouldn’t have been shot. She wouldn’t be suffering like I know she is but doesn’t want me to see. She’s been through surgery, so much surgery. So many nightmares, worse than she’s dealt with before. She’s been screaming so much; her throat ripped and is still repairing. I had to hold her tightly and hold back the avalanche of tears that wanted so desperately to escape, because I had to be strong for her.
I kept thinking: if I had just stayed, none of it would have happened. I should have just pushed her away and stayed in that toxic gang to protect her. All I ever wanted to do was protect her. The moment I saw her, I knew I would hurt her. I knew, and I didn’t care. But I didn’t know I’d fall in love with her to the point that she was the only thing I could think about, more than myself. And the more I spent time with her and fell in love with her over-analytical brain and big blue eyes, the more I grew selfish and pulled her into my world, knowing it was too fast and too dark for her.
But now, now I want to protect her with my life, even if it means I’ll be miserable and masked in the darkness for the rest of my life. As long as she’s okay, I don’t care what happens to me.
I stop sparring when I notice the time. She gets out of her last class in twenty minutes, but she wants coffee afterwards. So I tell my sparring partner I’m leaving now so I can meet her there. But after, I intend to carry her straight to the hospital. The only reason I didn’t this morning was because of her eyes. The look of panic and need flashing through her oceanic eyes was too great, too loud for me to ignore. She wants to live a normal life so bad, to work and go to school and not deal with her PTSD, which she has officially been diagnosed with. And I couldn’t—I couldn’t for the life of me take her against her will to a place where she’d be poked and prodded and diagnosed with disorders.
I’ll just keep a very close eye on her and cut back on training too much. I can’t be away from her while she’s in pain. My dream of being a fighter won’t mean much if she isn’t by my side, and not in a hospital bed with a gaping hole in her chest. The image of her lying in my lap, her naturally bright blue eyes dull, skin white as the moon, makes me lose my breath for a second. I hold a hand to my chest as I drive, imagining blood on my fingertips when I pull my hand back. Like when I brushed a thumb over her beautifully full, pink lips…
I fumble in my pocket for my phone and quickly dial her number.
“Hello?” her sweet, sweet voice answers. Not like the horrible, squeaky, croaky voice whispering she loves me.
“I love you.” My voice comes out strangled and jittery.
A slight pause. “Grey, are you okay?”
“Where are you? Are you all right?” I ask, ramble really. I need to know she’s fine, not dying. I need her to be o-okay…
“I’m walking toward the coffee shop,” she informs me, and I can easily see her twist up her lips in confusion.
“I’m sorry, I—” I take a deep breath and grip the wheel, shaking my legs as I slow down in front of a red light. “Did you make it to your last class fine? Are you at the coffee shop yet?” I ramble on. “I knew I should have made you stay home.”
“Yes, all of my classes were fine, like I told you after each one ended.” She laughs nervously, and I hear a little bell ring. “And yes, I am at the coffee shop now. Like I told you, there is absolutely nothing for you to worry about—”
She pauses.
“Liv, you there?”
She’s not responding. I’m freaking out, zooming off as soon as the light turns green.
“I—” she fades.
“Liv, you there?” I ask frantically.
Why isn’t she fucking answering me?
“Liv, what’s happening?” The phone call ends before I can question her anymore. “Fuck!” I toss the phone in the passenger seat and slam on the gas. I bypass any driver in my way and feel my heart race so hard, I can barely breathe. What the fuck is happening? Is she having another panic attack? Hallucinations? She really only experienced them so intensely when she was just admitted to the hospital. I thought it stopped, though. Guess not. My hands are shaking intensely as I run them through my hair, barely driving now as I race over to the shop. With each ticking second that I am not aware if she’s okay or not, I feel my heart sink lower and lower.
I throw my car in a double-parking spot in front of the coffee shop and quickly hop out. “Liv!” I cry out her name as I run to the shop. My heart sinks when I see her in front of the brick wall. She is clutching her chest, in tears, shaking. And beside her is…fuck!
“Get the fuck away from her!” I stomp over to them and push him away.
Mason.
What the fuck is he doing here? He broke her heart before it was grazed by a fucking bullet. She trusted him, thought he was her best friend. But the fucker proved what a manipulative snake he was when he helped his insane sister hurt my girl. My fucking princess who didn’t deserve shit. She trusted too much, but now she’s closed off. Only open to me and Jaimie and Julia. We are the only ones who care about her enough to block away anyone who dares to hurt my sweet girl.
He looks up at me as I near her. “I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see her. To explain—”
“Like hell you will. Leave her the fuck alone!” I growl.
A soft small hand, shaking as it tugs my bicep, sedates me. “Grey…” Liv’s low voice croons, and I whirl around and bend down, so I am eye level with her. The sight of her tear-streaked face, trembling lips, and splotched face makes my heart twist. She’s holding her chest with one hand while the other splays against my chest.
“Oh, princesa, I’m here now,” I promise, cupping her face and brushing away her warm tears.
She just closes her eyes and lets out a sad whimper.
“Liv, I didn’t mean to hurt you—” the pathetic sap begins to lie.
I cover her ears as I turn around, pulling her into my chest. The way she grabs my shirt furiously and her shaking kills me inch by inch.
“Don’t take another fucking step,” I warn through gritted teeth.
He stops walking toward us and hangs his head. “Please, k-know that I didn’t want to hurt her. I—I cared about her…”
“Get the fuck away, now!” I snap, and he looks up at me, eyes bloodshot.
Liv shakes and sobs in my chest, knees buckling.
“Now!” I roar, and his eyes widen. He takes one longing look at my broken girl before finally turning around and briskly walking away. I wait until I can’t see him anymore before I sigh and pull Liv back. She’s shaking even more, lips moving a mile a minute.
“I-is he gone?” she asks, her voice raspy and low.
I nod and lean down, wrapping her into my body and kissing the top of her hair. “Yes. Now let’s get you home.”
***
The sound of my fists pounding against the punching bag echoes and cracks through the still, quiet apartment. I had a punching bag hung up in the apartment for this reason, for me to be close to my girl when she needs me the most. So I can train here without leaving her. I have half a mind to buy more equipment and train in here without leaving at all. But Liv doesn’t want me to be cooped
up in here. She wants me to go after my dreams without feeling restricted, even though I’ve told her time and time again that she is much more important.
But training is not the only reason I am hitting the bag. It’s because of the emotions rampaging through me. Like frustration, anger, worry—they all combine and make this huge black hole that is slowly eating away at me. This is the only way I can get it all out. It’s either this or finding out where that fucker Mason lives and bashing his fucking skull in. I want blood on my fists, and the blood of my own covering my fists isn’t nearly enough to sate me. I want to feel his bones caving in, grazing against my fists. Who the fuck does he think he is, ambushing my girl and making her experience the night of the massacre again? There are triggers that are enough to transport her back to that time, and that motherfucker is a prime one.
I stop the bag and press my body to it, forehead resting on the bag wet with my sweat. I take deep filling breaths to calm my shaking, raging body. I clench and unclench my bloody fists. I push away, listening to the slow creak of the heavy bag moving on the chains holding it up. I walk into the kitchen and grab a bottled water from the fridge. I barely down half the water when I hear a ringing.
Raising a questioning brow, I put the bottle down and stride into the bedroom. I smile softly at Liv, who is dressed in one of my black shirts, hair wild and lips red from my kisses that are the only thing to calm her down. I snap out of my daze of her face held in my hands, a smile draping my lips as the ringing continues on. I growl and stomp over to her phone. An unknown number. Only a few limited people have her number, so who the fuck can be calling her?
A message flashes on the screen after a minute of silence.
Mother: Is this you, Olivia? It’s your mother.
Grey: New Beginnings (Spectrum Series Book 5) Page 6
