38. Then
THIRTY-EIGHT
then
“Ella, I swear to the Goddess, I will throw your phone into the East River.”
Maggie’s eyes bugged out as she shot daggers across our tiny room. Slowly, I lifted my hand off my phone.
“It’s not like him to not respond to a text,” I grumbled, settling back into my pillows. “It was just a stupid fight. I didn’t think he’d still be mad today.”
My roommate shrugged. “Boys are idiots. Give him another day to get back to you, and then move on.”
Everything inside of me balked. “ Move on? ”
I didn’t like a patronizing pity in Mags’ eyes. “Yes, sweetie. Guys ghost girls all the time. If you haven’t heard from him by tomorrow—or Sunday at the very latest—then you may as well call him Casper.”
I couldn’t even comprehend the notion of never speaking to Gray again. We’d only been dating for six weeks, but we had already experienced so much together. And everything he’d done for me—our ultra-romantic night at the St. Regis, ensuring we had dessert before every date, countless small gestures and presents, giving me a key to his apartment, always eagerly making plans for us—suggested he truly cared about me. Maybe even as much as I cared about him.
I looked at the dark green scarf curled into a careful pile on my desk. I’d finished it throughout the afternoon, needing my knitting to keep from spiraling into a panic attack.
With each hour, I found myself looping yarn faster and faster. Until, ironically, my gift for Gray was finished. I tied the final knot on the subway ride Uptown, just before we rolled through Wall Street and he didn’t appear.
By the time I got all the way back home after class and my work shift, I was more worried for Gray than I was about our relationship. But it was after midnight, and I was in Bushwick, with no way of getting to him except a series of very long, extremely sketchy subway rides.
What if something happened to him? a voice in my mind hissed. You have to make sure he’s okay .
I snatched my phone up and dialed his number before Maggie could even notice. By the time she glared at me, it was already ringing. To my amazement, Gray picked up.
“Ella.”
His voice sounded wrong. Gruff and thick. “Shit. Ella . Jesus, I’m sorry. I was going to call you as soon as you texted me and then—” His sentence choked off, leaving me without an explanation .
I didn’t care anymore. Fear for his well-being consumed my vanity. “Is everything all right?”
There was a long, tense beat. “No. I—it’s—” He blew out a breath. “Something happened. It’s… don’t worry about it. I’m fine.”
I didn’t buy it for a second. “What kind of ‘fine’?”
For the very first time since we had met, Gray’s voice cracked. “Shark bite.”
Thoughtless, I started packing. Underwear, socks, phone charger . Maggie caught on to my mood and appeared at my side, handing me a folded outfit and my toiletry bag. I took both, then reached for the newly-finished scarf.
“I’ll be right there.”
I used my key and slid into Gray’s apartment. For some reason, though it was after one a.m., finding the place in darkness threw me.
“Ellie?”
His rough voice called from the other end of the loft. I crossed the space as quickly as I could, dropping my bag at the end of the bed and kicking off my boots.
The second my coat hit the floor, his hands found my waist and tugged me down onto the mattress. Before I could breathe, his arms enveloped me in a vise-tight hug.
“Ellie,” he said again, hoarse. “I’m so sorry. For last night and not calling this afternoon.”
I buried my face against the crook of his neck, inhaling the faded scent of his aftershave. There was another smell, too—one I recognized from the rare occasions when he drank. The juniper scent of gin .
Fear tightened the knots of apprehension in my stomach. “It’s okay,” I soothed, reaching up to brush my hand over his hair. “I overreacted when I left. I’m sorry, too.”
His grip on me tightened. “No,” he whispered, pulling back to look down at me. His desolate eyes glittered in the dark. “Don’t apologize. It was my fault. Forgive me, Ellie. Please.”
I squeezed my arms around his neck. “I forgive you.” My nose grazed his stubbled jaw, inhaling a stronger whiff of liquor. “You’ve been drinking…”
Gray’s eyes closed. His forehead leaned heavily against mine. “I was in a bar all afternoon.” His mouth quirked into a bleak mockery of a smile. “Hiding.”
It was serious, then. He wasn’t someone who ordinarily put off unpleasant tasks or avoided his problems. The fact that he had purposely spent the day evading the situation instead of facing it spoke volumes.
Instead of questioning him, I rolled onto my back and pulled him along with me, settling his head on my chest. I expected some hesitation, but his arms immediately snaked around my waist while he nestled into the hollow at the base of my throat, squeezing his eyes shut.
“I got your text as I was walking into lunch with my parents,” he started, a rough murmur in the dark. “I meant to call you as soon as I left. But after everything they told me, I walked straight out of the restaurant and into a bar across the street. I thought I’d just have a drink and sit and process. But one drink turned into, like, ten, and then it was dark, and I was hailing a cab… You called me right after I fell into bed.”
That seemed true, considering he smelled like a bar and still had on his rumpled button-down shirt but no pants. “Here,” I mumbled, adjusting him so I could unfasten the stiff garment and slip it off one of his arms. “Lift up?”
He did, grunting while he pulled the shirt down over his wrist, then tossed it behind him. His gaze seemed bleary while he stared down at my sweats hirt. Strong, shaky fingers gripped the hem and tugged lightly. “Can I…?”
I nodded and arched my back, letting him remove the bulky top to reveal the camisole underneath. Gray settled his face back against my breasts a second later, moaning quietly while he huddled into me.
“Ellie. You always feel so good.”
Gray .
My heart gave a pang. He really was drunk. Sympathy pierced me, and I held him closer. “Whatever is wrong, it will be okay,” I promised, despite not knowing if the words would hold true. “I’ll help you if you want me to.”
Gray clung to me. His eyes slowly blinked closed. “It’s not the sort of thing anyone can fix,” he mumbled, growing heavier on top of me. “Least of all me.”
Did someone die? Were his parents getting divorced? For a long moment, I grappled with the urge to demand an explanation.
In the end, my anxiety won. “What happened, Gray?”
When he didn’t answer, I worried I pushed too quickly. But then I heard a soft rumble and realized it was a snore. He had fallen asleep, still clutching me as if I was his very last chance at survival.