Chapter 24
Grayson
The restaurant is getting packed, but we get there right before the rush and get seated right away. Timing is everting in Manhattan restaurants. Rowan’s looking at her menu but I’m not hungry at all. I have anxiety about this whole dinner, and all I really want to do is talk. I order a drink and she does the same. The waitress brings them right away and I take a big gulp. I don’t want to be abrupt or rush her, but I need to know where her head’s at with everything.
“You can relax, Gray, this isn’t a goodbye dinner. You look so tense.”
“I am,” I tell her. “Can you blame me? I understand you needed time, and I tried to give it to you without questioning why you needed so much of it, but you didn’t exactly update me as to how you were feeling.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that. It was probably stressful for you, huh?”
“It was. I felt really unsure about us. Not about how I felt about you, I’ve always known that even if I did a terrible job expressing it. But I started to think that you didn’t feel the same.”
“I asked myself that question.”
“Jeez, that’s blunt.”
“It’s the truth, Gray. I’m not gonna sit here and lie to you and sugar coat how I felt. Part of the reason I needed some time was because we did a poor job of communicating about how we felt. Both of us, not just you.”
“What did you do wrong?” I ask.
“I did a good job of saying things to you that I assumed you would interpret as me feeling a certain way towards you, but I never really said how I felt outright. I complimented you, or supported your career, or tried to make you feel better when you were down on yourself. I just assumed you’d get the message as to why I was doing all of those things. And when you didn’t I thought that it meant you didn’t feel the same way towards me as I felt towards you.”
“No, Rowan, that was never the case. Ever. I was always really into you. You think I would have let you come with me to my uncle’s house in another state if I wasn’t into you? I wanted you from the moment I met you at the first signing we did. I’m an idiot if I ever let you feel otherwise.”
She smiles, and it relieves me on some level. “I’m glad you’re saying all this. I wish you would have just told me all of this right at the beginning.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I think that I was doing the same thing as you. Not exactly the same, but I assumed that you understood my feelings, but I can see that I didn’t really give you anything to go on. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. But that’s not my biggest worry with us, Gray.”
“What’s your biggest worry, then?”
“Your state of mind. I can forgive that you yelled at me and were really rude the last time I saw you, but the whole time we were doing whatever we were doing, you always seemed to be a different Grayson from day to day. Sometimes happy, sometimes not. Sometimes motivated, sometimes you doubted everything. I can’t handle those kind of swings.”
“Neither can I anymore, Ro. That’s really why I wanted to talk to you. Everything is different now.”
“How can I believe you?”
“Because a LOT has changed in these few weeks. After we had our. . .thing, Mike came over and helped me get on the road to being normal. I’ve been seeing a therapist every week—the same one Colton saw for his issues. She helped me identify some of what you’re talking about and I’ve worked on it. On top of that I started two new books and finished my part of the Wordsmith collaboration. There’s no miracle cure for what I have, but I’ve take the steps to get myself right.”
She listens to everything I’m saying. I can’t tell if it’s making an impression or not, she’s straight faced as I speak. And then she’s not. “That’s wonderful to hear, Gray.” Now she’s smiling. “It takes a lot of balls to be honest about your own issues and then address them. But how do I know we won’t get into the same routine we were before. What if your next book doesn’t do as well as you want? Or you start doubting yourself? I can’t be on eggshells all the time.”
“Listen to me,” I say, reaching across the table to take her hand. “I’m not Superman. I’m going to have off days. Depression’s like that. But you have my word that if something’s bothering me I’ll tell you about it, work to fix it, and that I won’t take you for granted ever again. That I can promise you. It scared the hell out of me when I thought I’d lost you forever. I never want to be without you in my life again.”
She squeezes my hand, hard, and I can tell that my words are finally having an impact on her. She starts to tear up, and I squeeze her hand back. “And no more yelling?”
“Pinky swear. Never.”
“How about I come over after the signing and we hang out and take it a day at a time. How does that sound?”
“It sounds like everything I wanted to hear the past few weeks.” I lean my whole body across the table and kiss her. It feels like the reason I was born with lips. It feels incredible. It feels meant to be. “I need to run to the bathroom, I’ll be right back.” I run over the men’s room only to see that owner is putting a fresh ‘out of order’ sign on the door. I ask him what happened and he said the toilet stopped working. I head back to our table. “The bathroom’s broken, and I have to pee so bad I’m about to start dancing right here.”
“How manly are you feeling?” She asks. I don’t get the question, but I just go with it.
“Like I could kill my dinner with my bare hands, watch some football, and eat my fresh kill with an ice cold beer. About that manly.”
“Good,” she says. “In that case peeing in the alley shouldn’t bother you, then.”
“Really?”
“Why not. You have a penis. It points in different directions. It’s getting dark, no one will see you. I’ll come out with you.”
“You’re going to watch me pee. I’m not sure if we’ve reached that point in our relationship.”
“Fine. But it’s a city block walk to the hotel. The alley’s right there. I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”
I don’t really want to go, but my body is telling me that it’s either that or getting thrown out of this fine establishment for peeing on their floor. I guess in that case the alley is the better choice. I throw enough cash on the table to cover whatever the bill is and we step into the alley. Rowan is right. It’s dark, no one’s around, and that brick wall is looking as good as any toilet right now. “No peeking.” I turn and face the wall. I feel like any second some unlucky employee is going to come out to throw away the trash and get a free show of me pissing on their wall, so I try to go as fast as my body will allow. “You promise not to peek?”
“Oh just pee already,” she says, laughing. “I’ll turn away, don’t worry. Hell, I’ll even cover my eyes, okay?”
“Good.” I look at her as I unzip and see she’s literally covering her eyes. I turn back to the wall, and in seconds the sound that I hear most prominently is that sound of my own peeing against the wall, along with the normal sounds of people walking around in the area. It feels like such a relief that I stop noticing anything else around me except the feeling in my body. As I finish and zip up my eyes are fixed on the wall in front of me, and I really hope that no one saw me just do that.
I don’t hear anything behind me before I feel my face smashing into the wall. I’m on the floor, the searing pain of the blow slowly winning out over the shock of whatever just happened. I start to feel the sensation of my face, like a deep burning, and I feel the warm trickle of blood coming down my face. I’m disoriented. Hurt. Not even sure where I am for a second. And then I hear it—the sound of Rowan screaming. It’s sharp and blood curdling. She’s not just screaming, she’s screaming my name. “Grayson!”
I see two sets of feet standing over me, and when I look up there’s two of the Brotherhood standing over me. I look behind them, to Rowan, who’s being held by Johnathan. She’s struggling to get free as he holds her arms from behind. I look back to the men standing over me—it’s KL and Roland, and they’re smiling as I bleed on the ground. Roland takes a step forward. “How does your face feel, you piece of fucking shit? That feel good?” I’m just getting my bearings back. My face is killing me, and the blood is coming out faster from my nose. But I don’t care about me. The sounds of Rowan yelling and struggling is what really has my attention.
They’re yelling at me and gloating. I don’t bother to fight back, yet. I don’t ask what’s going on. All I do is reach into my pocket. I pretend to be doubled over in pain, but what I’m really doing is sending the fastest text I’ve ever sent in my entire life. I write to Colt. “Brotherhood jumping me in alley. Help.” I hit send. I don’t wait for a reply. I don’t care if anyone else is coming. I’m just biding my time, pretending to be more hurt than I am, but really all I’m doing is saving up enough energy for what’s about to happen. I listen to them, letting each word help build the anger inside of me.
“You thought it was funny, embarrassing us at that pizza place, huh? Where are your biker friends now, asshole.” It’s KL this time. I’d recognize his weird voice anywhere. I let him talk. Let him gloat and think he’s gotten the better of me. And then, once he steps in to hit me again. . .
I grab a single leg as he goes to kick and connect my hands. I twist and throw him to the ground. I turn immediately to Roland, who hits me with a punch in the side of my head. It hurts but there’s no power behind. I step back and get my bearing, ready to fight. “Roland, don’t this, this is dumb. . .” He doesn’t listen to me. Instead he steps forward haphazardly, swinging with his right as hard as he can. My body goes into complete muscle memory from Jiu Jitsu. It’s an art that’s all about self-defense, and using an opponents strength and aggression against them, and at the moment these guys are giving me all the aggression I can handle. But the good thing is they don’t know how to fight—not really. They’re attacking in predictable ways, which means that I’ve see those looks in training.
I duck under his right punch and grab onto his torso, locking my hands around his chest and pressing my head into him. As soon as I have a grip I put one of my legs behind his and push my weight forward, causing him to hit the ground on his back. I have him tied up and helpless, but as I try to disengage I feel a kick from behind me. It’s KL, who’s gotten up from the throw I gave him. I turn to him and repeat the same move I just did, only now Johnathan lets go of Rowan, who’s screaming for help, and comes over to help his friends. I’m a decent white belt, but taking on three angry guys by myself is out of my depth. My survival instinct kicks in, big time, and every time one of them lounges at me I do my best to fight them off. I feel a kick to my knees, and I fall to the ground as they go to pounce on me. I’m defending the blows as best as I can, trying not to take too much damage or get knocked out, but it’s three on one. Pussies.
One of the their punches gets through my guard, and it knocks me silly. I’m doing my best to cover up, but I can’t hold them back much longer. I’m balling up as much as I can, trying to protect my head, then suddenly I feel the blows stop, and I hear a familiar voice.