31. Grady
CHAPTER 31
GRADY
Spencer is beside me when I wake up next to her in bed, perhaps the last time she will be for a while. I roll over and pull her into me with one arm, spooning her, my hard length pushing into her back. She responds to it, pushing her hips back into me and grinding them on my hard cock. We make love in a sleepy, serene fog, and when we both come, it dawns on us that today is the day our relationship is going to change.
I gaze up at Spencer, still straddling me. Neither of us says a word so as not to break the spell we’re both in. Her scarlet hair falls down around my face like a velvet curtain, and I reach up to tuck one side behind her ear, before wrapping my hand around the back of her head and pulling her down into a long, delicious kiss. I don’t want to accept that this, what we have right here, right now, is coming to an end.
We’ll no longer be in this fantasy, living together, playing house.
“I should get ready,” Spencer whispers into my mouth and tries to pull her head back, but I don’t let her. I hold my hand firm on the back of her head and press my lips into hers once more.
“Don’t,” I say when I finally release her mouth. “Don’t go, Spencer.” I make one more desperate attempt to convince her, and she squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head.
“I have to, Grady. I signed the contract. We agreed that this was best.” She agreed. I’m going along with it. She climbs off me and wanders into the ensuite, closing the door behind her with a soft snick , and I lie in bed in the silence, staring up at the ceiling.
The shower faucet turns on with a squeak and I throw the sheets off me. I pull on my grey sweats and wander out to the kitchen. When Spencer emerges, I have coffee waiting for her on the counter. I made it the way she likes it, but today I put it in a travel mug. She’ll want to get on the road early.
She leans up to kiss me on the cheek before she takes it and starts bringing her bags one by one out from the bedroom and dropping them by the front door.
I help her load her things into the van. Neither of us say much. There isn’t much to say, and we promised each other we wouldn’t dwell on the sadness of the day. It’s just any other day. But when she climbs into the driver’s seat and rolls down the window for one last kiss, she says the words “We’ll keep in touch” and my heart sinks. The promise sounds empty, like this is just any other relationship she’s had on the road. Just something casual.
I can’t help but wonder if this long-distance agreement was just a way of putting a dying relationship on life support. Not because we think it might survive, but just to give us enough time to say goodbye and have closure. I know how hard long distance is on a relationship. I’m not lying to myself about that. I know that our situation is only made harder by Spencer’s flightiness. I’m prepared to do what it takes to make this work, but I’m not sure I can say the same about her. She’s had one foot out the door since our first night together. At every turn, I feel like I’m caging Spencer in, making her feel suffocated, like I’m doing too much.
I stand in the driveway until the van is completely out of sight, and as Spencer rounds the corner, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I dig it out and see that Ally has texted, almost as if she’s sensed that Spencer is gone.
ALLY
Just got back from the hospital but Mason got called into the clinic. Can you come help me set up the bassinet? I am SO not prepared for Hazel coming early.
I shoot Ally a text to let her know that I’m on my way. I think she knows I need a distraction today. She probably needs the distraction too.
The spot behind me on my motorcycle is empty, the wind cold against my back, as I make the short ride over to Ally and Mason’s cabin. I let myself in through the front door as Ally told me to do, and find her sitting on the sofa, Hazel nestled under chin, fast asleep.
“Hey,” Ally whispers so as not to wake her. I point to the box on the floor in the living room, in a silent question. Ally nods. It’s the bassinet. I sit on the living room rug and get to work quickly, doing my best to open the box quietly, and gingerly removing all the pieces until I find the instruction manual.
Ally and I sit comfortably in each other’s presence. She’s become a good friend since she moved here. She’s one of the few people who knows Spencer the way I do and knows how it feels to miss her presence the way I am right now.
Hazel squirms in Ally’s arms and she gets up to take her to the other room, the one they added on to the cabin for her nursery, as I piece together the legs of the tiny crib. It’s hard to imagine anyone being small enough to sleep in here.It’s fucking adorable.
The bassinet is almost finished when Ally returns and resumes her place on the couch, Hazel now strapped into a wrap across her chest.
“How are you feeling?” Ally asks, now that we’re able to speak at full volume.I don’t have an answer for her other than fucking shitty, like my heart got ripped out and is being dragged along a highway behind a WanderLuxe van, but I water it down for her a bit.
“Not great,” I admit. I have no reason to lie about how I’m feeling. I’ve learned that Ally is good at seeing through people, assessing them. Comes with the nurse title, I guess. “There was a part of me that was still hoping that Spencer would change her mind and decide to stay. Maybe I’ve just been deluding myself this whole time.”
“Spencer definitely knows her own mind. She doesn’t like to be pinned down,” Ally says, her words are careful. “But I’ve never seen her the way she was when she was with you. She’s different now, in a good way. She may be flighty, but she’s loyal as hell to the people that she loves. She may be choosy, but I know she’s chosen you.”Ally’s words barely reach me, I feel numb. She hasn’t chosen me, though. Not fully. Not the way that I’ve chosen her. I would do anything to be with her.
“I just don’t want to love her halfway. I don’t want pieces of her. I gave her all of me and I want all of her,” I say, focusing my attention on the final screw I’m drilling into the leg. I give the bassinet a shove to test it out and it sways gently.
“Maybe it’s cliché, but you know that saying, if you love something let it go? I think that’s what you need to practice here. Spencer needs to come to her own conclusions, and if, at the end of the day, you can confidently say you did everything you could to fight for her, then maybe it’s time to let her go. Let her come back to you when she’s ready.” Ally’s gaze is boring into me. It’s all things that I know, just impossible to accept. “What is your relationship now that you’re trying long distance? Are you going to see other people?”
“I mean, I’m not.” It’s the only answer to that question that I have and my stomach drops. We didn’t really specify what we are to each other, we never clearly defined the terms of this. I suddenly feel nauseous. The conversation we had last night, I thought, was enough. I assumed we were on the same page, but now I’m not so sure. Spencer mentioned that she doesn’t want hook-ups anymore, but we didn’t settle on anything specific. We didn’t set clear boundaries. Spencer loves her boundaries and her rules, so it worries me that she didn’t see a need for them here.
“Oh, Grady.” Ally’s voice has a touch of pity in it, and I hate it. This is my own damn fault, honestly, and I’m the only one that has to live with the consequences.
“Yeah, I fucked up,” I say. “I did everything I could think of, and then I shit the bed at the last moment. I don’t know how to do this, Ally. I don’t know how to fight for what I want.”
“All you can do is be there for her, Grady. Just keep showing up, the way you have been. But at the end of the day, don’t bend so far over for her that you break your own back. Don’t sacrifice everything. I’ve known Spencer a long time, and I love her, but she needs to learn how to reciprocate and stop getting in her own way.” I nod silently, and a small squawk comes from the bundle of fabric attached to Ally.
“Are you hungry?” Ally coos at Hazel. I take that as my cue to leave. I say goodbye to Ally and Hazel, leaning down to give my niece a kiss on her tiny head. It fits right in my palm as I stroke the soft wisp of dark hair she has there.
I wave goodbye to Ally as I hop on my bike, and because I still feel antsy and unsettled, I go for a ride, wherever I feel led to go. No agenda, no mapped-out route, no plan.
Today that has led me past the house, past the campground that sends a pang through me when I whizz by, all the way up the meandering switchbacks to the lookout over Heartwood.
The air is crisp today, the sky is clear, and from the lookout Heartwood is unobstructed. The last time I was here was with Spencer, and I pointed out all the things that make Heartwood special, all the reasons that I will forever call this place home. This is what she helped me preserve.
Spencer sees into my heart, and sees me for who I really am, and then pushes me to go out there and create a world that reflects that. Somehow in the process I created a world that she is not a part of. I learned how to speak my mind and say what I want and need, but what worked with the council didn’t work with her. No matter what I did it wasn’t enough. It didn’t convince her.
Maybe Spencer was right this whole time. Maybe I misunderstood, or I had blinders on and was too focused on my own goals to see her clearly. How many times had she told me that relationships were just not part of her DNA? We’re fundamentally different, her and I, and perhaps the best thing for both of us at this point is to make a clean break. She can continue to live the nomadic lifestyle that clearly makes her happy, and I can find someone who is willing to share a life with me, here in Heartwood. Yet, that thought feels so disappointing, so inadequate now that I know what it’s like to share my life with Spencer. Because it will never be her, and so I will always feel incomplete.
If you love someone let them go.
All this time, I thought that I was letting Spencer go. But I still have my fist closed tightly around the part of her that she is willing to give. I need to let her go. Fully let her go. Allow her to fly free, follow where the wind takes her.
It’s not anything wrong with her, it’s just who she is. I can appreciate that with more honesty and acceptance than I could before.
My phone rings, jarring me from my thoughts, and my pulse quickens when I see Spencer’s name on my screen. I know she’s still on the road, probably only halfway back to Vancouver, and my mind plays through all the reasons she might be calling. An accident? A flat tire? And perhaps the worst thought of all, the one that I shouldn’t even be entertaining anymore, she wants to come back.
“Hey, Rebel,” I answer, my tone trying to be playful, but my hesitation is obvious.
“I just got back into service. I’m on the other side of the mountains now,” she says. Her voice is calm and even. No accident, no flat. She called me as soon as she got service. I hate myself for the way my mood brightens, the hope that perhaps the last option is true. “The drive has given me a lot of time to think, Grady.”
Just like that, the hope I had been feeling is replaced with sweaty palms, a twisting in my gut. She’s going to end it. She came to the same conclusion I have, that it would be better to just make a clean break. Although I know what’s coming, I still flinch in preparation for what she’s about to say. I realize I haven’t said anything yet, lost in my own thoughts when Spencer speaks again. The sound of her voice makes me lose track of what I was going to say.
“We never agreed on the terms of this new agreement we have with each other.”
“And you want to know if you can see other people,” I finish her sentence. The one I’ve been anticipating.
“What? No. I was just going to say that we need some new rules while we’re figuring this out.” While we’re figuring it out. Not committed, yet. But the fact that she’s willing to put boundaries on this is something. It’s enough for now.
“You’re sure you want this? Long distance is no joke.” I’m still unsure of what this means for us, and I need to be certain that Spencer means what she says.My hands shake slightly waiting for her response, and I shove my free hand into my pocket to still it, hoping it will also still my nerves.
“I know. It won’t be easy. But the drive has given me a few hours to think, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to get home so I could call you and hear your voice. I want to give this a fair shot,” she explains.
The fact that Spencer has been thinking about me, about us, this whole time makes me want to shout from the lookout all the way down to Heartwood. She’s thinking about me. I’m suddenly very aware of the distance between us. The fact that my body is yearning to grab her, pick her up, spin her around, hold her face and kiss her, and I can’t. It’s sobering.
“You can talk to me whenever you want, Spencer. I’m here. I’ll always be here, on the other end of the phone line, waiting to talk to you. Waiting to hear about all your crazy adventures,” I say, and I mean it with every fibre of my being. Every atom in my body. Every heartbeat, every breath, is for Spencer.
“Okay, then let’s decide on these rules,” she says, and I can hear her smile through the phone line. “We talk on the phone every day. Even if it’s just for five minutes. We FaceTime or Zoom once a week for a virtual date night.” These rules are less sexy than the first set Spencer laid out. Those ones had almost added to the desire, made our relationship feel forbidden. These rules just paint a bleak picture of the fact that we both want a relationship we can’t have.
“How will these rules work while you’re in Costa Rica?” I ask, contemplating the time difference between us and the new job that will undoubtedly monopolize her time.
“We’ll figure it out.” She says it like a promise, and it eases my nerves slightly.
This should feel better than it does. I should be happier than I am. Spencer has decided that she wants us. She wants to make us work. She’s still in this with me. But this is not what I hoped our relationship would look like, missing her. I can’t say with certainty that this is what I want. I don’t want virtual Spencer. I don’t want to watch her life from afar.
Ally was right. I’ve bent myself over backwards trying to show her how much she means to me, but at what cost? I sacrificed so much of myself in the process that now I’m unsure if this is truly what I want.
“You’re right, we’ll figure it out together,” I say. But my words feel hollow. Like, on the surface, this looks like everything I could have ever dreamt, but inside, it’s devoid of the very thing that makes it special.
Her.