“Jonah?” I call out.
I am dressed in the same light-blue dress I wore the night of the accident. But I’m not on the road, where my nightmares usually take place. I’m standing in a room that looks awfully familiar, but I can’t put my finger on it.
Maybe the accident didn’t happen. Maybe we came here instead. The fire that rages on in front of me comforts me in a way. It sends goosebumps up my arms and sends a relieved smile to crawl across my face. We made it…
Hearing footsteps behind me, I whip around with a hopeful smile, thinking it’s my parents and Jonah. Instead, I find Grey.
“Grey? What are you doing here?” I’m confused. Why is he here? He doesn’t say anything, and I look at him. “Oh my god. Y-you’re hurt.” Blood stains his shirt, but I don’t see a wound. “Where are you bleeding?” I ask frantically. Why the hell isn’t he speaking?
I rush over to him, but I hit an invisible wall.
“I don’t understand—” I can feel my blood stop when he raises his hand.
In his palm is a bloody, dripping heart. His heart.
“Why did you do this to me?” he croaks.
“What? No, no. Grey,” I try to scream and reach for him, but he backs away. Tears swell his eyes as they have to me also.
“GREY!” I scream on the top of my lungs.
“Grey!” I scream, writhing like a fish out of water. My hands are outstretched for him, but I clutch nothing but the air. I frantically pat the empty sheets on either side of me. He’s gone. I killed him. I killed the man I love. “Come back! I didn’t mean to! Grey!” I’m crying now, and I’m choking on my words.
“Hey, hey—I’m right here. Calm down.” The bed dips with weight, and my face meets warmth. I am encased with large arms wrapped around me. I instantly wrap my arms around him and hug him back even tighter.
I open my eyes, and they connect with his black ones. They are wide and mirror my panic. He’s here. He’s not bleeding. He’s okay. He’s not bleeding. “Of course I’m not bleeding.” He laughs and rubs my back soothingly.
I close my eyes and hold him for dear life. I thought he was gone. It felt so real. What the hell was that? Was it a warning? I have so many questions and so many thoughts going on. I can’t focus on just one. All I can do is hold him tighter and breathe in his familiar scent of cigarettes and dark chocolate. An unusual mixture, but it’s him, and it’s become my absolute favorite thing to smell.
When my heart settles, I pull back but keep my hands on him. They roam his black t-shirt-clothed chest, and I breathe a “Thank God,” smiling softly when I find nothing but a firm chest. No blood. My hands are shaking like I’ve been electrocuted. I really thought I lost him.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” he asks with a confused expression.
“Where were you?” I ignore his question. He opens his mouth, but no words come out. His eyes flick down to his hands, then at a wall. Why is he acting so shy? I look down at his lap and tilt my head in confusion. There is a little silver box in his lap. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it’s an engagement ring…“Grey?” He is known for being reckless and kind of insane.
“I’m not going to be here the whole of next month,” he says and holds up the small box. My heart can be heard a mile away, I’m sure of it. He flips the top open, and I’m shocked and relieved it’s not a ring. We are much too young for that. And this…this is much better, in a way. “I’ll be away fighting and building my ranks for the summer fight I told you about. You know, the one that’ll help me become a pro, so I, uh, got you this.”
It’s a silver heart-shaped charm with an engraved G. He flips it over, and I feel my heart stop. On the back it reads: Princess, you are my middle ground. Love, G.
I think I’m going to cry.
“Do you not like it?” I look at him through my lashes and smile as he scratches the back of his neck, his face pink. “I can change it. Or get a different color? Or maybe—”
I lean forward and smash my lips against his, shutting him up. He instantly smiles into it the same time I do, and I feel my love for him grow infinitely. He grips my hips and shifts so I am on my back. I wind my fingers through his hair and pull him closer. I glide my tongue against his and soak in every toxin that lingers on it. Sparks of fire bloom between our bodies, but he pulls away before we can go any further.
He pants and smiles at me. “Does that mean you like it?”
I smile back and kiss him for a while, enjoying the taste of his lips before whispering, “I love it. Thank you.” He sits and pulls me up. His arms wrap around me, and I laugh when he makes a little raspberry in my neck. I giggle and push him away. He laughs. I sigh and brush a piece of his dark hair back. “I wish I knew you were leaving. I would have gotten you something too.” It kind of hurts that he would tell me this now, but at least he told me at all.
He shrugs and, caressing my bare thigh, says, “Your lips are enough, trust me. That, among other things.” His hand slides up my shorts, and I narrow my eyes playfully. He laughs and kisses just under my chin. I close my eyes briefly and peck his lips. As he smiles up at me, I soak in the sight of this beautiful man, wondering how the hell I got him.
He helps me attach the new charm to my bracelet. My heart nearly bursts from love at the sight of the silver charm meeting the sunlight entering the room through the blinds.
“Have you considered changing your mind?” I ask.
He sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m ready to face my mother, not just yet.” He pauses. His face tightens when he asks, his voice low, “I hope that isn’t a deal breaker for you.”
I shake my head frantically and take a deep breath. “No, I respect your decision.” He smiles at me in appreciation before leaning up to try to kiss my lips, but I hold up a finger. “What about you come home with me for Thanksgiving?” I blurt out and assess his facial expression. Slack, slightly confused, and…dare I say it…amused? But not in a mocking way. A way that gives me my answer before he even opens his mouth.
I know I told my mother off and said I wasn’t coming, but I am not spending this holiday without some type of family. And maybe if we can get through this one, we can get through others together…
“Are you planning to propose to me in front of your family?” He gasps and reels back, hand against chest and eyelashes batting like a butterfly’s wing. “That is the most romantic thing I have ever heard.”
“Grey,” I whine and interlock my fingers with his. He usually caves in when I do this. I lean forward and press my nose against his soft neck. He sighs and pulls away. I frown and watch as he pulls his hand away, rubbing the back of his neck with it.
“I don’t think it’s the best idea,” he says seriously.
“Why not?” I ask, even though I already know the answer.
He scoffs and says, “Your hell-hound for a mother is one reason. And I’m not exactly sure the rest of your folks will appreciate me either…” He sounds so hurt, but he tries to mask it with a chuckle and a casual shrug of his shoulders. “It’s better if I just stay here. I have a fight that day, anyway.”
I wait for him to laugh and say he’s joking, but he doesn’t. “There is no way I’m letting you stay here and fight on Thanksgiving. The day is about family getting together, not seeing who can throw the best punches.” I frown. “I really want you to come with me. It’d mean a lot to me.”
“I can come with you right now,” he mumbles sexually.
I roll my eyes but let the smile spread over my face. “Not like that, you pervert.” I knock my knee against his, and he does it back. I giggle and sit across his lap, taking his face in my hands.
I lay my forehead against his and whisper, “I really, really would love for you to come to my hometown for Thanksgiving, with me, Grey. We don’t even have to interact with my mother. We’ll stay clear of her. I just—I just want you with me. Plus, I’ve already told my grandmother about you, and she wants to meet you, so…” I trail and raise my eyebrows. How can he say no to my gammie?
He doesn’t reply but stares into my eyes for a long time. My stomach ties into boat ties, and my face has become flushed with anxiety. If anything, I want him to come just to avoid fighting on a day like Thanksgiving. It breaks my heart knowing that he hasn’t spoken to his mother in so long and has been breaking his knuckles and bruising all by himself. I think I’m crying on the inside, but I must stay strong on the outside so he can see how serious I am about wanting him with me.
“Okay.” It’s not very audible, but I hear it, and I nearly flip.
“Really?” I press my hands harder and laugh when he glares at me. “Sorry…” I drop my hands but can’t help but press a finger in one of his dimples, shaking excitedly. “You’re coming with me for Thanksgiving?”
“Yes.” He nods hesitantly, and his eyes grow hooded and are swimming with lust as he grips my hips before flipping me onto my back. “And right now, in fact.”
“Grey!” I squeal.
He chuckles like the mischievous man he is and crashes his lips against mine.
Perfect.
“Wait.” He suddenly pulls back. “Why did you wake up screaming like Freddy Krueger was going to get you?”
I look into his eyes and cup his face, lightly brushing my thumb against his growing facial hair. “It was just a nightmare.” He gives me a look, and I give in. “Fine, I—you were there and—and I thought I killed you.”
He looks at me incredulously then breaks into laughter. “You thought you killed me? How? You’re not some psychopath, are you? Because that’d be the perfect plot for a Lifetime movie.” He narrows his eyes and drops his voice into a lower octave. “Seemingly sweet, innocent Olivia Westerfield fights her desire to fall for mystery bad boy, ripping out his heart.”
My smile drops at his words, and I look to the ground.
“What is it? What’d I say?” he asks and tilts my head back to meet his glossy black eyes. “What aren’t you telling me?”
I falter with my words and end up croaking out, “Do you trust me?”
His eyebrows knit together, and he grins. “Of course I do. Why are you asking that?”
I smile and shrug. “No reason.” He looks confused, but I lean forward and connect my lips with his. His confusion fades, and desire takes over.