“Grey!” I feel my heart plummet as I rush over to him. I bend down and run my fingers through his hair—it’s standing up like he’s been electrocuted—and cup his face. Tears stream down his cheeks. It absolutely shreds me to pieces seeing him like this.
The only other time I’ve seen him break down like this was when he revealed his past surrounding his broken relationship with his mother and how messed up his childhood was. I want to hug him until they all disappear and protect him. I want them gone.
What the hell happened?
He mumbles incoherently, his jaw twitching and more tears falling.
“Let me see your hands. Come on.” I grab his balled-up fists when he is hesitant to release them from his chest. I suck in a breath and glance at him through my lashes, trying to control my composure. He has officially shredded his knuckles to pieces. Blood surrounds them, and I think I shed a tear. I wipe it away and grab his cheeks. “What happened?”
He shakes his head and fidgets with his hands. I gently hold his long fingers. He furrows his brows and wracks out a sob, his shoulders shaking and his eyes crinkling shut.
“What—happened to you, Grey?” I ask again but this time through thick tears with confusion lacing around every syllable.
“I didn’t mean to upset you like that,” he croaks, and I frown.
“What?”
He opens his eyes and jabs his fingers at his temple. “Sometimes I just—I just lose my shit. Go bat crazy, but—but I don’t mean to. It’s just this fucking thing inside me…I’m sorry.”
“There is absolutely nothing for you to be sorry about,” I tell him honestly. He shakes his head, and I gently tug at his fingers. “The disorder has you messed up, doesn’t it? Because you don’t take your pills?” I help him come to what he’s getting at.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I am trying my best for you,” he says with a sloped smile, “because you only deserve the best.”
“I don’t want it.”
He looks at me, confused. “What? Why not? It’s what you deserve. It’s what you need.”
“No, what I need is for you to be real with me.” I pause and run my thumb over the back of his hand, just the way that calms him down. He once told me he becomes stable once I touch him. From the dazed look and smile tugging at his busted lips, I know he was telling the truth. “I want the good and the bad, or this wouldn’t be real. Don’t handle me like I’m a baby because I’m not. I can handle you both ways, Grey.”
He stares at the ground for a long time. A strip of silence, with the exception of his deep breathing and my pounding heart, fills the air. I decide to clean him up while he thinks. I know not to push him for his thoughts, or he’ll just lash out again.
So I stand up with his eyes on me, watching me wearily. I give him an assuring smile and walk over to the cabinet after getting a small nod of assurance from him. Retrieving a bandage wrap, alcohol, wet paper towel, and pain killers, I return.
I examine the torn skin on both his sets of knuckles and hold back a wince. I gently dab his hands with the paper towel—he doesn’t cringe at all. He really doesn’t feel any pain…I don’t know why, but it saddens me to know that he doesn’t feel anything. Does he even feel when I kiss him? I’m tempted to ask, but not right now. Right now, I have to take care of him—it’s more important.
I can feel his eyes piercing through my scalp as I focus on cleaning his knuckles. After they are mostly clean, I tear a piece of paper towel and press the alcohol bottle to it. Dampening a bit, I pull back and flick my eyes up to his, before pressing it to his right hand. Nothing. Then, to the other. Not even a little intake of breath.
With a sigh, I begin to wrap the right. After I’m done with that hand, I move to the left. Once they’re both well bound and in place, I begin to stand.
“I’m going to get some water for the pain pills,” I inform him, and he merely nods, still watching me with those dark eyes. I can’t help but blush under his gaze. He could look at me this way for a century, and I would never not be affected by them.
When I return from the kitchen with a glass of water, I find him standing over the sink. Worried that he may injure himself more by flipping out, I slowly walk into the bathroom.
“Grey, what are you…” I trail off when I see his disorder medication on the sink. Open. Did he really just…“Grey?” I walk over to him, and when I’m close to him, he turns his head and nods. My heart swells with so much emotion, I think a tear slips out of my eye. Damn period hormones. Either that or I’m overwhelmed with joy. Could be both.
“I am so proud of you…” I admit, putting the water down before wrapping my arms around his waist.
He hesitates, but I close my eyes in relief when he hugs me back. “I don’t ever want to lose you. I—I had to.”
“You weren’t going to lose me either way.” He has to know that I love him more than anything by now. “You mean everything and more to me.”
He doesn’t say anything, and I take his sudden weight shifting onto me as a cue to get him in bed.
“Okay, hold onto me.” I wrap an arm around his waist and help him back into the bedroom. It’s my turn to tuck him in. His light snores fill the air the moment his head hits the pillow. I laugh quietly and climb in next to him.
“Good night, Grey,” I whisper softly before brushing a piece of hair out of his eyes and kiss his cheek. I lay my head against his warm chest and join him in sleep.
***
I wake up with a start. The nightmare I saw coming has made my heart rate beat against my ears and my skin glow with sweat. I grasp the sheet and groan as my head pounds.
“You okay?” Grey saunters into the room, and my heart stammers out of nowhere. He just took a shower, because he’s dripping wet with a towel draped around his hips. I shamelessly stare at his defined V-line and muscular physique. Sometimes I wonder how a man as attractive as him could have fallen for me. I like to think it’s because I was mostly resistant to his charms and was able to keep up with his confusing ass.
“Might want to get a bucket.” He walks over to his dresser and pulls out a black t-shirt, as usual. I wonder if he has any clothing that isn’t just plain black…probably not.
“What? Why?”
He looks over his shoulder and chuckles. “Because I don’t want your drool making a mess on my pristine sheets.”
“Shut up!” I pull the sheets to my chest as he snorts in laughter. I roll my eyes at his ever-endearing cockiness. “And it’s not exactly like they’re all that clean in the first place.” I bring it up to my nose and scrunch up my face. “It reeks of sex.”
“Well, excuse me, but I’m not that the only one to blame for the that. Now am I, sex kitten?” He winks slyly at me, and I look away with red cheeks. No amount of time with him will ever make me immune to his mouth. His mouth on me, however, I can and have already gotten used to.
“I made you toast,” he randomly says as he drops the towel. I look away, and he snickers like the asshole he is. He knows what he does to me and will always do to me—flush like a tomato. I think he’s too good looking for his own good.
“Toast? What happened to your sudden fantastic skills that came out of nowhere? You know, the same skills you used when you made us dinner the other night?” I tease, knowing well enough that he ordered that food from a restaurant. He isn’t James Bond when it comes to suavity, since I found the receipt the moment we came in. But I guess his looks make up for that department.
“That was a one-time thing. Keep up.” He winks.
I smile even though my mind is running on last night. I still can’t believe he took his medication after such a long time of being off them. He told me that, after his father passed, he didn’t feel like “being treated as if he was broken” anymore, which is the opposite of what the pills do. But I think they’ll help stabilize him like they are supposed to. I want to ask him if he took them again this morning, but I don’t want to possibly upset him and cage him back in that mind-state that he doesn’t need them.
I anxiously pick at the comforter and listen to my charms jingle slightly. “Did you, you know, take your—” I begin painfully slow, like I am expecting the worst, because, well, I sort of am. As much as I love this man, I know how easy it is for him to blow up and go off sulking and drinking and—and I don’t want that. But I also realize I have to learn not to walk on eggshells around him.
He glances at me as he tugs on a pair of dark basketball shorts.
“My crazy pills? Yes, I did,” he answers, and I slump with a frown. I don’t like it when he calls them that. They are supposed to help him, not label him as crazy.
Either way, I relax the tiniest bit. He pulls on a gray tank top, and I frown when I realize he’s dressing to go somewhere.
“Where are you going?” I can’t help but be curious. I don’t want to be clingy or anything; I just want to know. I have to go to classes anyway.
“To the gym.” He groans as he sits at the edge of the bed with a pair of Nike sneakers.
I crawl over and wrap my arms around his neck. “Are you sure you should be using your hands after last night?” I glance down at his bandage-wrapped hands and physically wince. “Speaking of which, I should actually put some ice on it. And have it elevated. Does it hurt beyond what you’re used to? Maybe you broke some bones—”
“Babe, your concern is incredible. But—” He grabs one of my hands and kisses my knuckles. I smile faintly and compare my pure, soft, and unmarked knuckles to his bandaged ones and sigh. Why does he have to be so violent all the time? I swear I’m becoming motherly, worrying about him so much.
“I can handle myself, seriously. I know my limits, and I know I can do a simple training. Plus, I need to get out and punch something. These damn pills are fucking with me, and I need to let it out.”
“I understand.” I nod and peck his cheek. I smile against his dimple when it occurs to me what he said. “So,” I drawl out, tracing one of his many tattoos, “who are you training?”
***
“Just move your hips—no, no—like this…yeah. Fuck, you are so good at that,” Grey coaxes in my ear. My body tenses up, and he notices, because he laughs, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise, if they weren’t up already, which I highly doubt.
“Like this?” I move my hips as instructed and drive my fist forward.
“Perfect,” he whispers haughtily in my ear.
“Grey!” I giggle when he picks me up and spins me around before pressing my back into the punching bag behind me.
When he said he was going to train that Mila girl again, something in me snapped, and I suggested he train me instead. He merely raised a brow and allowed it, letting a worker at the gym train her instead. What? Now that we’re concrete, I can’t just let him train another girl. I sound crazy and obsessive, but I honestly couldn’t care less. He’s my man.
“Okay, show me the moves you remember,” he says as he lets me go and walks back a few inches.
I raise an uneasy brow and chuckle. “You mean, like, right now?” I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t paying attention when he taught me his defensive and offensive moves. It’s kind of hard to concentrate with his large hands flush against my waist. I swear, now that I’m on my period, everything I feel is magnified. His touch blocked out his words.
I doubt Mila can recite any moves he’s taught her. I sure can’t.
“Yes, right now.” He laughs and crosses his arms, arching his thick eyebrows. “You wanted me to train you. Now show me what you’ve retained.”
“Okay…” I move unsurely toward him. I throw my gloved hand out to hit his face, but he swiftly ducks, grabs my wrist, and twists me around so I have my hand bent behind me and his other hand wrapped lightly around my stomach.
Fuck you, period.
“First, to point out your horrendous mistakes, you left your entire body open,” he begins, and I flush at his words. “Second, you put absolutely no weight into the arm. And thirdly…just let me do the fighting, m’kay?” He kisses my temple. I laugh and turn around, wrapping my arms around his neck. His eyes are alight with amusement as I stand on my tippy toes and swing my head to the side; he plays with my curls that are pulled back in a ponytail.
“I wasn’t that bad.”
“Oh, yes you were.” He laughs again, and I push forward.
He gasps and backs up with me in his arms. “Was that a fighting invitation?”
“Maybe? Why? Scared, you big ol’…scaredy cat.” I hit him again, and he lets go of me and backs up, holding up his injured hands.
“Okay, Mayweather, come at me if you think you’re so tough.” He curls his fingers up in a “come here” motion. I shrug and narrow my eyes over the hot pink gloves.
“You got it. Attack!” I throw my fists and my body toward him. He just catches me and swings me around. My laughter nearly deafens me; combined with his, it warms my heart until I am literally sweating from it.
“First mistake: announcing your attack,” he berates me, and I huff out a defeated groan. He chuckles and sloppily kisses my cheek. I close my eyes and squeal. Small moments like this fills me with a sense of euphoria. I live for them and wish I could take a moment, step back, and cherish how happy I am.
“Grey!” a familiar voice calls out his name.
We turn around and find David staring at us with an unusual stern look. He’s almost always smiling each time I see him. So whatever it is that has him flipped one-eighty must be serious.
Grey reads my mind and pecks my lips lightly, reassuring me, “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably needs help breaking up a fight or something.”
“This is a boxing gym,” I point out, and he rolls his eyes as if saying, “You know what I mean,” so I add, “And either way, you really shouldn’t be fighting. At least until your knuckles heal. You can damage them further and—”
He cuts me off with another kiss and a pointed look. “I will be fine. I told you, it’s nothing big.”
I’m hesitant, but I nod and smile slightly. “Okay, I’ll be here practicing my wicked ninja moves.”
He laughs and begins to say something when David calls his name again. “Be back.” He kisses me one more time before jogging over to David, who looks at me with that grim expression before they disappear through a door.
Still worried, I turn back around and lamely punch at the bag. Negative thoughts zig-zag across my mind as I try to figure out what was so urgent that turned David into ice. I can literally feel my stomach twist into little bow ties. Sometimes I can’t help but wait or expect something to fracture the solid wall he and I have built with our blood, sweat, and tears. I think quite literally.
I just hope the road is smooth for us beyond here. But then again, I had a blueprint, a plan for my future, and then Grey came along. He was my speed-bump, and I don’t regret him at all. But I don’t want any for us, ever. Even though I do hear how unrealistic it sounds, I don’t care. I deserve to be happy, and I don’t want to have to deal with obstacles thrown at us when we were first starting out.
When he returns, he looks different—more stoic, like David, but it doesn’t outweigh the obvious forced smile on his lips.
“What’s wrong?” I ask before he can even open his mouth.
“Nothing,” he says. I raise a questioning eyebrow. “I’m serious.”
“Don’t lie to me, Grey,” I warn.
He laughs, I guess in attempt to assure me everything’s just peachy. But I know things are not peachy.
“It’s nothing, I swear. He just wants me to go with him to look for houses for him and Holly,” he explains, and I slowly drop my defenses. Turns out I’m just high on hormones. Whoops.
“Oh…do you need to leave right now?”
“Yeah, but I’ll drop you back at my place first,” he promises.
“Okay.” I nod, a small part of me still unsure for some reason. But it’s just my hormones, I’m sure of it. With a charming smile, he puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me out of the gym.