“Good morning! I made breakfast.” Helen has her arms stretched out over food from bacon to hash browns to pancakes on the counter island. A blinding smile stretches across her face. She smells like soap even from where I’m standing and looks freshened compared to yesterday. She’s wearing a loose floral blouse and has her curls pinned up. For a moment, she almost looks sane—like a mother who doesn’t go throwing her kin to the wolves.
I stop rubbing by eyes and glance at Grey. His face is scrunched up, and he runs a hand through his messy hair. I want to say I’m able to decipher how he’s feeling right now, but with the exhaustion and his obvious disorientation since we literally just woke up, I’m not getting anything but confusion at its finest. He didn’t expect to wake up to a feast from his off-her-rocker mother, and neither did I.
A string of silence weaves through the air. There’s a lot of looking back and forth on my part, from Helen’s unflinching smile, arms slightly shaking from being held out for so long, to Grey’s impassive glare that could melt her skin off if he doesn’t avert his eyes soon.
“It looks good.” I can’t help but at least try to ease the tension. I think I would have passed out from the pressure if I didn’t. I nudge Grey, and he frowns at me, still not saying anything. Sighing, I try on my biggest smile and walk over to Helen.
“I hope you’re a pancake person, because I just about used all of the mix,” she says and claps her hands, then launches into detail about preparing the food. But I’m not paying much attention. And I don’t think she even cares. She just needs to fill the tense void with chatter about buttermilk pancakes and handmade butter, just like how she used to make it for Grey. It stings me hearing that, and I know it stung him even worse.
As I aimlessly make a plate, half-listening to her, I watch Grey. He has yet to move. It looks like he’s trapped in a daydream…or nightmare.
“Grey,” I call his name, and his eyes snap to mine. I feel my heart stop. His face is pale, and he blinks, like it’s the first time in forever. His brows frown, and he looks away. He looks like a hurt child, and it’s a painful sight.
A beat passes before he’s speed walking away. Helen continues talking; she sounds worried and might even be crying, but I couldn’t care less. I drop the plate of random food and rush after him. My heart is in my throat, and my chest tightens.
Images of him driving his fists through the mirror after having his meltdown that night after the car racing soars through my mind, and I find myself running and nearly falling. The blood. His tears. My heart exploding in my chest. The worry. It all comes crashing down on me.
I’m relieved when I throw the bedroom door open and find him sitting calmly on the edge of the bed. No tears. No blood. But the worry is still there. And my heart is still having a mini explosion.
I walk over to him and perch on the bed beside him but don’t say anything. He’s knee-deep in his thoughts, and I don’t want to disturb him. So I’ll just sit here and be by his side like always, and I have no problem of being the shoulder he “manly” cries on.
I lean my head against his shoulder. He tenses for the slightest second but then relaxes and wraps an arm around my torso and leans his head on the top of mine.
It’s quiet, but I don’t mind. It’s the kind of silence that I just can’t break because he needs his space and time to just think. To be able to sort out the no doubt messy thoughts jumbled in his mind without me jumping down my throat. If there’s anything I learned about him, it’s that he works better without my intrusion.
I close my eyes and lay my hand on top of his, which are balled up in his lap. He shifts his head down, lets out a big whopping sigh, and opens his palm. I smile at him opening up to me, both literally and figuratively, and I swear I feel him smile too.
“So how about the weather, eh?” I blurt out after what feels like hours of me smiling and him maybe smiling back.
He chuckles, and I smile even harder and lay my feet across his lap. He leans up but doesn’t remove his other hand that is still wrapped around me.
“You’re a weirdo, you know that, right?” His voice is raspy and deep, and I love it.
“Takes one to know one,” I quip back. He makes that low, chest-rumbling laugh again.
Silence brews between us for one, two, three beats before I run my thumb over his and whisper, “I love you.” I look up and catch his smile. He looks away, trying to be cool by not saying it back. So I hit him in the chest, and he quirks his lips up in that asshole smirk of his. “Say it back, meanie.”
“I love you too.” He kisses my head, and I nod in satisfaction. Then he smiles deeply and pinches his nose bridge. “I don’t think I can handle her being here. I’m actually going crazy, from the inside out. She just…she just brings up all these fucking…memories. And they’re good and amazing before she completely lost her shit, and I—it’s just too much. I’m telling her to pack her shit and leave.”
“You can’t,” I say, and he raises a brow at me. I sigh. “It’s almost Christmas.”
He scoffs and jerks his shoulders. “So?”
“So you can’t just send her packing. Not yet, at least.”
He full on looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You seriously want her invading our first Christmas together?”
“She wouldn’t be invading,” I mutter, though I know deep down I don’t really want her here. Call me selfish, but I just want it to be me and him. No Helen. No one but me and him. I deserve it after all we’ve been through. I deserve him.
I glance up at him and wrap an arm around his as he rolls his eyes and lets out a rough breath, thinking. He even rubs his bottom lip like he does when in thought and rolls his eyes again.
He’s going to have his eyes roll out of his head one day, I swear.
“Grey,” I whine his name, and he cuts me a glare. My smile only widens, because I hear him even before he opens his mouth.
“I’ll think about it…okay?” His tone is sharp, but my heart doesn’t get the message.
I lurch into his arms and smile. “Proud of you.”
He merely grumbles, but I can hear the smile through his grumpiness.
***
Somehow, I managed to persuade Grey to drive me to the mall, but it didn’t really take much, considering it’s snowing heavily out and he wouldn’t dare allow me to “freeze my cute tooshie off,” his words, of course.
I have one day to buy his gift, because tomorrow is literally Christmas. I can’t believe it. It came so quickly I barely noticed, and it hurts because I still don’t have something for my man—for my Grey. But that will definitely change today. It might take me all day, but I’m hunting down his gift in every nook and cranny.
I told him that I was shopping for “girl things,” and he was quick to stay in the car. I don’t know what “girl things” means to him, but it must mean tampons and bras he can’t undo, because the look on his face changed dramatically and he tensed. But I didn’t mind the slightest bit because he can’t see what I’m getting him.
But even as I shuffle through endless t-shirts and sneakers and Home Depot for God knows what, I just don’t see anything that screams Grey.
“Something troubling you, sweetie?” Helen croons behind me, and I jump as her hand touches my skin. I turn around from shuffling through a sweater rack, and she smiles sheepishly and tips her palms up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay, and yes. Something is troubling me.” I turn back around and let out a frustrated breath, shoving Christmas-styled sweaters to the side. “I can’t find anything for Grey.” I clutch a wool sweater and shut my eyes. “I am the worst girlfriend ever,” I groan.
She laughs, and I frown at her. “You are not. From what I see, you two are great together.” Then she crosses her arms and pinches her lower lip. Wow. So that’s where he gets it from…trippy. “You just need to think—what does he like? What is he interested in? What will he look at and truly love?”
I chew on my lip and turn, diving into my thoughts. Okay, I have this. I know this man pretty dang well. What does he like, what does he like…? Me, but I can’t just wrap a ribbon around my ankle and say Merry Christmas! I could, but it’d be lazy, and Jaimie’s already using that idea—I want to be original. What does he like…oh! He likes punching people…boy, is he weird. Um, there isn’t much I can do with that—wait!
“I think I have an idea!” I exclaim, and she jumps, shocked from my sudden outburst. “Sorry, but I think I know what to get him.” He may not like it, though. He could have hundreds of them already.
***
“We’re back,” I announce as I slide into the passenger side after putting his presents in the back. Yes, presents—plural, because I thought of two perfect things. I can’t wait to go home and wrap his gifts and put them under the—
“What’s wrong?” I immediately notice his tenseness. From his tight jaw to his flaring nose, even to his grip around the steering wheel.
He faces me and doesn’t say anything as his mother slips into the backseat. She had her gift for him wrapped in a store. I don’t know what, but she promises it’ll make him happy. I’ll just have to take her word for it. But I do know it won’t make him any more pleased when he sees my gifts.
“Are we going home or what?” Helen cheerfully says.
I glance at her and smile. “Leaving right now.” I give her an assuring, wide smile, but it doesn’t reach anywhere near my eyes. I turn back and open my mouth to ask him what’s wrong, but he revs the engine and spins out of the parking and speeds onto the road. I shut my mouth and stare at him, worried and confused.
What the heck happened while we were shopping? I’ll ask him when he get home. Whatever it is, it’s obviously not good.
***
The minute we get home, Grey orders me to stay in his room while he has a talk with his mother. I should be happy that he’s really trying with her, but the way he told me in a clipped tone and the look in his eyes, it didn’t sound like he wanted to sit down and “talk things out.” I just couldn’t even find it in me to protest. Whatever he had to talk to her about couldn’t be so bad. He wouldn’t just kick her out after promising me to at least give her a chance this morning.
I wrap each present, delicately placing on shiny, colorful bows. I get up and open the door before realizing they’re still talking—even though it’s been an hour of me carefully wrapping—to stall and keep myself from just bursting out and interrupting whatever they are talking about. Maybe he’s realized that, since it is close to his father’s death, he should try and rebuild their relationship before it’s her time.
I am closing the door to give them privacy when I hear an unfamiliar voice.
“Thank you for calling me. We’ve been looking everywhere for her.”
I step out and take careful steps, listening like the nosy girl I am. I poke my head out, just barely enough to find a young girl in purple scrubs with her dark, curly hair strung up in a pink Scrunchie.
“Can’t I just stay for one more day?” Helen pleads, her eyes welling with tears. “Tomorrow’s Christmas, for goodness’ sakes.”
“You know we can’t have that, Helen,” the young girl says and nods to the elevator door. “Now, come on. The van is waiting for us.”
Helen bursts into tears. Grey just stands there with a hard look on his face, arms crossed over his chest. He glares at his mother openly and doesn’t seem bothered when the apparent nurse grabs Helen’s wrist and begins pulling her out of the apartment.
I finally jump into action and jump out from the hallway. “Helen? Who is that girl? What’s happening?” The questions fall from my lips as I chase after her, bypassing an unmoving Grey. The young woman in purple scrubs doesn’t let go of her hand, just pulls her along into the open elevator.
Helen whips her head over her shoulder, her eyes full of tears and lips trembling. “Take this. Please, i-it’s for him. For Grey.” She hands me a rectangular wrapped gift with a bow, and I take it with a frown.
“I don’t get it.” I look up, but she and the lady are already gone, the elevator shaft moving downward. “What the…” I whip around and walk over to Grey, who still hasn’t moved. “What’s going on? Where’s she going?”
“She escaped from the mental institution,” is all he says.
And my stomach drops.