Grey: New Beginnings (Spectrum Series Book 5)

by Allison White

  I feel guilty for all the things I shouted at him when I was put in that hospital room. The doctor exclaimed that the hostility with the PTSD and the vivid hallucinations sent me over the edge, and I completely lost it. I didn’t mean to hurt Grey. I can still see his face. How hurt he looked as I screamed I hated him, how I wanted him to let me go. I cover my ears to block out my own screaming, but it does no good. I can still hear the hatred and mania in my voice. Can still feel his heart breaking, along with mine. It was the worst feeling in the world.

  He probably hates me now. We haven’t been the same since, and it’s been a week. I’ve apologized, and he’s forgiven me upon hearing it wasn’t really my fault. But still, I feel at fault and horrible. And I don’t know what I can do to rid the gut-wrenching feeling.

  I am so in my thoughts, I almost don’t hear the door creak open. I look up and see Grey sitting on the toilet. I avert my eyes before they can make eye contact with his. I twirl a piece of my hair and listen to my shallow breathing. My body heats up under his intense gaze, but I don’t make a move to look at him.

  “How long are you going to stay in there?” Grey finally sighs after a moment of silence.

  “A few more minutes…” I tell him, voice low. I wade my left hand in the water, staring at the growing ripples that move as a result.

  “Stop it,” he says.

  I look up at him, into his dark eyes. “Stop what?”

  “Feeling so bad. You apologized, and you weren’t yourself,” he reminds me.

  I slowly avert my eyes to the milky-white water and close my eyes. “I can’t get your face out of my head, or what I said. It just replays itself on repeat, on a loop that won’t stop. And it hurts so bad…but I deserve it. I should have told you when it first happened. But I didn’t. I let you find out when you thought I was dying, and I thought so too.” I shift my wide, teary eyes to him and chew my lower lip. “Do you hate me?”

  His face falls but softens as he drops to his knees and takes my hand into his. “I could never hate you, Liv. Not even if I tried. And trust me, I have tried.” He quirks a smile, and I blush as he refers to our six months apart. “All it did was make me miserable.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  His finger pressing against my mouth shuts me up.

  “No buts.” He slowly removes his finger, watching for a reaction, but gets nothing but a sigh. “Plus, the problem’s solved. The bad lung is gone. Damn it…”

  “What?” I frown, clutching his hand.

  His mouth corners twitch into a small smile as he leans over and whispers, “You won’t be able to really smoke a joint. Damn, I can’t even imagine. My poor girl.”

  “I would never smoke weed,” I growl, pulling away from him, making him chuckle.

  “You’re right. You wouldn’t smoke it.” He wiggles his brows, and I am confused for a second until I remember the time I ate a pot brownie.

  I flush. “I didn’t know what was in the thing.”

  “Bet it tasted like heaven, though, huh?” he teases, doing an annoying eyebrow bounce.

  “Shut up.” I scrunch up my face, and his eyes light up.

  “Do you feel any different?” he asks seriously, laughter dying down. “You know, to have only one now?”

  I take a deep breath as if to emphasize it and shrug. “It feels…normal, I guess. I mean, I don’t want to think on the fact that, if I exercise too hard or run too fast, I may, well, die. But really, it feels fine. Like a part of me wasn’t ripped out.”

  Silence ensues, and I frown as his eyes drop to the water, jaw clenched and eyes soft. What is going on in that head of his? I examine his changing facial expressions before it hits me, and I soothe his thoughts before he can even voice them.

  “This is not your fault, Grey,” I tell him gently. It hurts to even know he thinks any of this is his fault.

  His eyes snap to mine, wide and flashing panic. “But isn’t it? I’m the one who left the gang. I’m the one he came after. I could have stayed back, maybe listened to you about what Rose did and have you go home. But no. I decided to be the stubborn ass that I always am and look what happened. You got hurt.”

  “No one could have seen that coming.”

  “I could have…maybe.”

  “Yes, maybe. No one can predict the future, Grey.”

  His lips strain into a line. “I could have tried.”

  “Oh, because you have some kind of time-traveling machine?” I raise a brow, and he looks away. I suck in a deep breath and sit on my knees, placing my hands on either sides of his face. I force him to look me in the eyes, and then I tell him, “None of this is your fault…it’s Dean’s. Okay? I don’t want you to feel guilty about any of what’s happened.”

  “But you came to explain what happened. I should have just stayed to listen to you—”

  I put a finger over his lips to silence him. “You didn’t know. You were pissed at me. I would be pissed if I saw those photos, if you were in them with another girl. But you would have gone to the tournament if Dean hadn’t showed up afterwards. Right?”

  He nods solemnly. “That just proves of how much of an asshole I am.”

  I laugh. “Babe, I’m used to you being an asshole. It’s who you are.”

  “Thanks for that confidence boost, babe.” His smirk tells me I am slowly pulling him out of his guilt ditch.

  “You know you’re an asshole, though.” I poke one of his adorable dimples.

  “Yeah…” he sighs, and I laugh.

  “So, are we okay?” I ask, meaning more than him feeling bad. I’m talking about us. I don’t want him to continue to be down after what I did. I wouldn’t be able to handle knowing otherwise.

  “Yes, we are okay.” He smiles a toothy smile that makes my heart soar.

  “Good,” I sigh in relief. I shiver and cross my arms as I sit back in the tub. “Now, can you get out? I want to come out. I’m getting pruned, and I’m chilly.”

  He chuckles but stands. “Let me help you out.” He holds out his hand, and I stare at it, pale.

  “That’s fine.” I give him a crooked, shy smile.

  He scoffs, head tilted. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, can you please go?” I glance at the open door behind him.

  “Babe, I’ve seen you naked a million times. Why are you being so shy now?”

  “Can you just please go?” My voice shakes when I don’t mean it. I bite my lip and look away from his confused stare. I instinctively gently rub the scar curving my skin where I was cut open to have the lung removed. That along with the bullet makes me feel like I am a canvas for horror. I don’t look the same as I did before, pure, healthy…

  He squats before me before I can say anything. “Don’t do that to yourself. You are the most beautiful creature on this planet. I would love you if you had scars covering you from head to toe. I love you because of this…” He taps my forehead. “And this.” He taps my heart, and I swoon. “And maybe these.” He taps my mouth, and I smile as he smirks.

  “I don’t know…” I shyly avert my eyes, but he gently takes hold of my chin and pulls me to an inch before his face.

  “Know that you have my unconditional love, no matter what you look like. You are strong and a survivor. Eres mi princesa guerrera.” His words and soft voice bring warm tears to my eyes. I love this man with all of me, even if everything isn’t symmetrical anymore. He has it all.

  “I love you,” I croak like the emotional mess I am.

  He chuckles a sweet laugh. “And I love you.” He leans forward and kisses me, hard but sweet like a hard candy. I cup his jaw and rub my thumbs against his beard. I groan and lean back, gently pecking his nose.

  “I love you, but I think you could use a shave,” I whisper, scratching his beard, causing a nasty sound to erupt.

  He laughs, and I smile against his lips. “I thought you liked it.”

  “I did…but then I stopped liking it.”

  “Ouch.” He pulls away and stands. “I could only h
ope that won’t happen with me.”

  “It won’t…probably,” I tease with a shrug.

  He rolls his eyes but smiles widely and turns on his feet. I watch as he strides over to the cabinet and takes out a razor and shaving cream. He looks over at me. “Well? If you dislike it so much, shave it.”

  I nod and bite my lip, hesitantly holding up my arms. “Mind helping me out?”

  His eyes widen, and he looks like a cute, frazzled puppy for a second before nodding and scrambling over to me with one of my pink towels. “Sure. Just…careful.” I take his hand and slowly stand, feeling a tinge of pain glide across my skin on my back. I wince, and he wraps the towel around me, tells me to hold it tightly, and lifts and carries me out of the bath. He sits me on the sink and holds out the shaving cream and razor.

  “Okay, but first.” I shift on the sink and feel a string-like pressure push into my chest cavity. “Can we move to the toilet?”

  “You got it.”

  I giggle as he picks me up and walks over to the toilet.

  “What?” he asks with a hidden smile as he sits on the lid, me straddling his lap.

  “Nothing, it’s just…you reminded me of Michelle Tanner just now.” I smile as I focus on rubbing the cream on his beard.

  “Who?” He looks up at me with a puzzled look.

  I gasp and stop applying the cream. “Seriously?” I ask, but he still looks clueless. “Babe, you’re older than me. How do you not know who she is?”

  He pinches my thigh, and I laugh at his offended face. “Three years. I am older than you by three years, not decades. And I didn’t really watch TV as a kid.”

  “Why not?” I slowly and carefully run the blade across his cheek.

  “We didn’t have cable. That’s why I was out picking fights and doing gang shit,” he explains, and I falter a little, watching his face soften a bit with sadness. My heart becomes solemn. I basically had everything I could have asked for growing up. But that all stopped when I was eight, because I didn’t have what I wanted the most—my parents. But that doesn’t mean he can’t get what he really deserves.

  “We can easily fix that,” I say, admiring the little clean lines I’ve made.

  “How?” he questions, eyebrows stringing together in confusion.

  “By having a nineties TV show marathon. Duh.” I roll my eyes playfully.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  “This is not negotiable.”

  I look down at him and find him already staring up at me with so much raw emotion. My heart feels full with his adoration. I smile, expecting him to turn my offer down again. But he takes me by complete surprise with his next choice of words.

  “Okay,” he says, voice soft.

  I beam down at him before giving him a simple peck on the forehead. Then I continue to shave him while he holds me protectively.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Grey

  “Hmm…not bad,” I hum as I run my fingertips along my freshly trimmed beard. Trimmed being the operative word. I didn’t let her shave the entire thing ‘cause I for one like it. Plus, she called me rugged-looking and sexy as hell because of it. There was no way I’d shave away one of the ways to take my girl to bed. Not that I need it. All I really need is my natural sexy-ass aura and a smirk.

  “Stop smirking at me like that,” she demands, but I just wink at her. I laugh as she rolls her eyes under my lingering gaze and walks up to me in front of the mirror. “And I used to help shave my dad’s face when I was younger. I used to be such a daddy’s girl.” She sighs, eyes glazed over in solemn nostalgia.

  “You’re still a daddy’s girl. Don’t worry.” I wink at her, and I watch in fascination as blush runs from her neck to her cheeks.

  She looks at me in amusement. “You are not my daddy.”

  “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” I shrug and cough out a laugh when she pushes at my arm. I push her back, and she sighs in defeat but lays her head against my arm. I smile at how content she looks, joking around with me. It feels like forever since we’ve played around and laughed. This is all I want. Her, her cute snort laughter thing she does, her tiny little baby dimple, and feeling like everything will be okay.

  I turn to her and nudge her slightly with my shoulder, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Your father must have been either really stupid or too trustworthy to let a little girl near his face with a sharp razor.”

  She smiles at me through the mirror as I wrap my arms around her naked body. “They were never sharp enough to kill him, but he trusted me, anyway. And he was right to. He also said that he was teaching me for…” She trails off.

  “For what?” Why’d she just stop?

  She sighs heavily and mumbles, “He was teaching me for when I had a husband. Then I could help him.”

  “Oh…” I rub the back of my neck, and she nods.

  Oh, crap. The marriage bullshit is resurrecting from the dead. What will it take for the bitch to stay down?

  “Yeah. Guess I’ll just help you instead.” She’s beaming up at me, but her blue eyes are clouding over. And it’s my fucking fault. Why can’t she just not want to get married? I mean, what’s the point? It’s just a signed paper, and a wedding’s just an overrated party. We can stay like this—Liv and Grey, Grey and Liv. We do not—she does not need a ring to be happy.

  I sigh and feel a low sting at her words. She looks away like it hurts her just to look at me, then begins to shuffle out of the room. “Wait.” I wish I could just erase her desire of marriage and children. That way we’re on the same page. I unlock the cabinet as she turns around.

  “What?” She turns around.

  I hold up the scar-fading cream the doctor prescribed for her. “I need to apply this on you.”

  Nice fucking save, prick.

  Her face pales despite her trying to bring forth a bright smile. “You know that takes years to come into effect…”

  I shrug and take a seat on the toilet, patting my knee. “I’ll be here when it does.”

  Her eyes flash for a second before she walks over to me and perches herself on my knee, cradling into my chest. It is silent—too silent—as I gently rub the cream on her surgical wound and bullet wound on her chest. She whines and grips my neck but is quiet for a reasonable amount of time. She finally speaks as I twist the cap on the tube.

  “Will you?” she asks.

  “Will I what?” I shrug.

  “Be here?” Her voice is so small, I almost don’t hear her.

  “Of course I will be. Why would you ask something like that?” I hate that she’s doubting my love for her.

  She lifts her head, eyes heavy and a sigh leaving her lips. “Because you can’t guarantee you will be here.”

  “Why the hell not? I just told you I will,” I snap, becoming extremely pissed. “Does the tattoo on my back not fucking tell you I’ll always be here for you, with you?”

  “I…I love the tattoo. I’m not doubting your love for me or anything. I’m just saying, we have to be practical. Marriage is just a way of promising each other to be there—”

  “Please do not bring that shit up.” I lean back on the toilet and let out an exhausted breath.

  “I’m sorry, but we have to plan for the future,” she argues.

  “No, we don’t!” I unintentionally shout, and she stands up and storms out of the room. “Oh, for the love of…”

  Does she have to be so insufferable sometimes? I swear, she can be infuriating. Make my damn head spin round and round. Why does she need to be tied down in a marriage so badly?

  I get up and stride into the bedroom; I find her stuffing her legs through a pair of pink shorts.

  “Why are you so dead-set on marriage?” I ask her.

  “Why aren’t you?” She has the audacity to turn the question on me.

  “Because I am twenty-two years old.” Has she forgotten that fact?

  “So? It’s not a bad thing to plan out your future or at least have an idea about where you wan
t it to go.”

  “Liv, we are two completely different people,” I point out as if it isn’t blindingly obvious. “You plan every second of every day. I just live, because you can’t plan everything.”

  “You’re right…’cause I sure didn’t plan on you,” she says breathlessly as she sits on the bed.

  “See?” I gesture to her, emphasizing the point.

  She looks over at me, jaw clenched. “But that doesn’t change what I’ve always wanted.”

  I roll my eyes. I thought we settled this. “Look, I am never going to change my stance on this. I am not getting married, nor am I having children.” She looks away, her face contorting and bunching up like I kicked her in the gut. “You can either accept it and just be with me or…or—”

  “Leave?” her voice croaks, and I weaken at her teary blue eyes. “I am not asking you to whisk me away to Las Vegas right this minute, nor am I forcing you to impregnate me. I’m asking you to have an open mind about it. Like you said, you can’t plan everything. But you can plan on loving me. And loving me will eventually result in one of those two options.”

  “Olivia…” I sigh and run my hand through my hair, sitting beside her.

  “I almost died, Grey,” she states, looking up at me with a hurt expression. “Two times. All I would have left behind is…you. Being on the verge of death has taught me that you have to live before it’s ripped away from you. I love you, Grey. I really do…all I’m asking is for you to have an open mind.” Her voice shakes and ricochets off the walls.

  Oh, fuck. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? She’s bringing up the most stressful time of my life—almost losing her. Make that twice. But it does not change my mind. I don’t want any of that.