The silence between Grey and me is unbearable. Thick and monumental. I doubt even a machete could graze a fraction of it. I am just too heated to speak. I don’t have any words. And if I did try and speak, I know for a fact that I’ll say something that neither of us would ever forget. He stays silent, but he doesn’t keep his eyes quiet as they glance over at me, practically begging for me to break the ice. But I don’t, nor does he make the move to.
The moment we get into his apartment, I storm into the kitchen. Grey stays silent behind me as I scoop ice into a plastic bag. I press it gently to my knuckles and can’t help the painful grunt that escapes my mouth. The repercussions that follow jamming a fist into someone’s face are exactly as I thought they would be—painful wrapped with a pretty ribbon of rage. And it’s wrapped around me so tightly I feel like I am suffocating.
“Let me help.” Grey rushes over and tries to hold my hand, but I pull back and glare at him. A look of hurt flashes through his glossy black eyes, and I almost stop myself from yelling. But then I think about how he made this happen in the first place and shake my head with a laugh.
“You’ve done enough, Grey.”
I slam the freezer door harder than necessary and round the counter. I don’t want to speak to him right now. Just seeing his face bloodied and his hands gone for the worse, it makes my stomach tighten and my concern for him grow frightfully high.
But he has to learn that I will not tend to his wounds if he brought it on himself. That guy who started the fight was the guy who called him a few nights ago. Or he was related to the guy, somehow. I knew when Grey came back drunk and had a cut and looked like he got into a fight the other day. And I guess, out of shot pride and anger, the guy found out where Grey would be and decided to get his payback.
What I’m wondering, though, is how did he know where he was? Diana must have told him. I mean, she did have him and his biker friends trailing behind her. They must have bumped into each other and, acting as the natural bitch she is, she did one better than telling him where he was—she brought them.
I wish I had done so much more than just punch her in the nose.
The moment I think that, I hate myself. This is not me. I do not punch people in the face. I do not have my heart broken multiple times by one guy. I do not get on birth control pills. And I most certainly do not backtrack on the future I’d practically been planning since I was born. But I do. I do all of those things because of one simple fact: I have changed. For the better or worse…I’m still figuring that out.
I enter David’s room and tug at the shoulder straps of the silver, almost lilac, dress hugging my body. I thought if I dressed up tonight I could hide the problems surfacing between Grey and me. As if the dress was a glorified, sparkly wall that could keep our hostility at bay. Too bad his enemies didn’t give a damn about my so-called wall.
“Can we please talk?” Grey asks in exasperation as he pokes his head inside the room.
“Unzip this.” I stare into the floor-length mirror with a cool, icy exterior. He watches me wearily through the mirror, and I roll my eyes. “If not, you can just leave me alone.”
“No, no—that’s fine. I’ll—” He clears his throat and enters the room. “I’ll do it.”
I freeze when his fingertips brush gently against my back, but I hold my breath and try my best to appear unaffected by his touch. I listen to him suck in a deep breath before clasping his rough fingers on the zipper and slowly tugging it down. The cold metal slides down my back and, before I can make a sound, I turn around, deciding that was enough, and step out of it.
His eyes stare at my chest that is held up by my thin lacy bra. Despite the wings batting like crazy in my stomach, I bend down and pick up the dress and walk over to the closet to hang it up.
“You can leave now,” I let him know as I rummage through my duffel bag, picking out a pair of sweats and a tank top. I slip on the comfortable clothes and turn around, thinking he silently left. But when I turn, he is a foot away from me, with the most devastated look on his face it actually makes me sick. “What are you still doing here?”
“Why are you still with me?” he asks softly. I almost don’t hear him.
“What?” I look at him, confused.
“I’m fucking insane. And I bring darkness around me. I practically drown in it…so why are you still here? With me? When you can just leave and have everything you need and want. Like an actual good boyfriend who doesn’t leave you to get drunk and get into fights. You shouldn’t have to patch me up every night, Liv…” As if looking at me is too much for his damaged soul, he stares at the ground with slumped shoulders.
I sigh and pad over to him. No matter how much he screws up or makes me want to rip my hair out, I don’t think I’d ever be able to stomach him beating himself up like this. I don’t know if it’s the future psychologist in me that wants to help this beaten boy in front of me, or because he has me so tightly wrapped around his pinky, but I can’t handle it.
I want to wrap my arms around him and stitch his wounds and clean his face and then kiss it. But I can’t. Not until he explains this to me. Because it still doesn’t make much sense.
“Because I love you, Grey,” I tell him honestly and briefly look out the window. “And I don’t think I will ever stop loving you.”
He snaps his head up and harbors the brightest smile. He clears his throat and tries to play it cool. I nearly laugh. “You do?”
“Of course I do, dummy.” I almost push him playfully, but I stop myself before I can. “But you need to be able to talk to me. I don’t know how much you need to hear it or see it in my eyes for you to finally let me in on that twisted mind of yours, but I hope it’s now. Really, who was that girl? Who was that man who crashed the party? Was it that ‘D’ guy?” I have so many questions, and hopefully he’ll answer at least some of them.
He opens his mouth but then looks contemplative and closes his it. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, Grey,” I almost whine, and he nods.
“Paige—she really is a friend…well, kind of. It’s complicated, but not in that way you’re thinking.” He chews on his lip. “You honestly came at the worst possible moment. We were talking, I swear, and I decided to take a shower. I honestly thought she had already left. But I guess she had to make some…call? Anyway, nothing sexual or even remotely cheating-like happened.”
I look him square in the eyes and wrap my arms around my chest, as if appearing confident somehow would help me determine if he’s lying or not. But…he isn’t. I can just tell by his eyes. However deep and dark and scary they may appear, I am a master when it comes to exploring them. And they tell me now that he’s telling the truth.
“And the man?” My voice has a bit of an edge to it.
“He…fuck.” He rubs his face harshly and leans against the brick wall, fingers threading through his hair. “He’s someone from my past. From when I was, you know…in that damned fucking gang, but not D. D is one of the most dangerous people I know, and I helped in the most tragic way—you wouldn’t still be with me if you knew what I did back then…” He pauses, as if to slow memories down and rolls his eyes, then cuts them to mine with a hint of hostility, but not directed toward me. “Does that answer your questions?”
I shrug and come up with another since he’s so gung-ho about actually answering them; he never is. “Why did that man come after you tonight? And even before then, when you came home drunk and pissy.”
He rubs his eyes and pushes off the wall. “Because they’re trying to get me back into that life…” The rest hangs in the air. I tense up and cross my arms.
“Are you going to…?” I let my question hang in the thick air, and he slowly shakes his head. “Okay.” I clear my throat of the tightness I hadn’t even noticed and walk past him toward the bed. I feel his eyes on me as I slip underneath the comforter and turn my back on him.
“Okay? Is that it? Why are you still sleeping in here then?” He sounds annoyed.
I sit up and face him, annoyed myself. “Because you’ve been nothing but an ass to me lately. You keep telling me how you don’t want to lose me, but you keep things from me. You know you can talk to me. Just like you did just now.”
“So, what, I was just supposed to tell you my old gang leader wanted me back?”
“Yes.” I nod my head, and he scoffs. “I’m serious, Grey. I’d be shocked, but then I would ease into it, and we could then talk about it. Like a regular couple.”
“Yeah, I’m sure boyfriends talk about their experiences in a fucking gang.” He plops down on the bed at my feet, and I roll my eyes and wiggle my toes under his butt. He smiles at me, and I lean my chin on my raised knees and smile back.
“Some, maybe,” I say. “But I don’t even care about your past that much.”
“Sure you don’t,” he teases, and I nod my head and scoot up next to him.
“I really don’t,” I admit, and he looks at me funnily. “I’m serious. As long as it doesn’t mess with us, that is.”
“But it has, on multiple occasions.”
“Then let’s focus on the future.”
“How do you suggest we do that?”
“Let’s make a pact to ignore calls from mysterious characters named D, ignore annoying redheads—especially the one who’s a much greater target than a punching bag.” He snickers, and I bite on my inner cheek, repressing a laugh. “And most importantly…look ahead and not behind. Deal?” I hold my hand out.
He looks at my hand as if he’s going to laugh at it, but he smacks his palm against mine and we shake firmly. “Deal. Now, can we please quickly backtrack to the part when you socked Diana in the face?” His eye corners crinkle up like waves that never come crashing down, and his nose turns upright, his cheeks swimming with crimson.
“Oh my God.” I let my hair fall around my knees and face, hiding from his gaze. “Do not remind me. I feel horrible.”
He pulls my hair away and holds my chin, bearing a proud smile. “You shouldn’t. The bitch deserved it.” I can’t help but examine the blood drying up on his face and his knuckle and the skin peeling off, and…my stomach literally churns, and I stand up before I can stop myself. I say nothing as I tug at his shirt’s collar and tug him to stand to his feet.
“Where are we going?” he asks as I walk across the hall and into the bathroom.
“Sit and don’t move,” I instruct him as I sit him down on the toilet. He raises his hands defensively with a knowing smirk. “I won’t be your nurse all the time, Grey,” I warn him with a pointed finger, but we both know I’m lying. I will always clean him up and make sure he’s polished and taken care of. Always. I love him too much to see him like this—bloody and beaten.
I’m in way too deep. I am a shiny coin that’s been tossed down a well with no bottom.
As I clean his face and wrap his hands and stitch his face the best I can, I know he knows it as well.
And as he takes his bipolar medication in front of me while I lean against the door with a pleased grin, I know he’s falling right beside me.