Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
GREYSON
Time passes slowly while I wait for her to exit the bathroom, but it’s fine because she set off a war inside my head.
This obnoxiously stubborn woman handed over her body to me, trusting me to take care of her on numerous occasions—something she says she’s never done before.
And against all odds, her own actions warning me otherwise, I believe her. It shifts something in my chest—bricks reorganizing themselves to create a little shelf with her name on it, and I don’t know what to make of that.
Sex like ours doesn’t happen often. Well, it’s never happened with anyone else in my experience, but I had assumed that was because she’s so aware of her sexuality. It never occurred to me that our infatuation with each other might be caused by something…deeper.
My head hurts, a migraine looming just behind my eyes.
I can’t ignore the way I connected to her, and if I’m honest with myself, it’s not just the physical connection. Our bickering and banter fed into it too.
Jesus, I love the way we challenge each other. Does that make me a sick fuck?
But then there was the sweet, gentle side she gave me as Firefly. Does anyone ever get to meet that version of her?
I wanted them both desperately. Did my obsession with not becoming my father cloud my head so much that I couldn’t see all sides of this complicated woman?
Is it because I was exhuming demons buried deep while laying them at Firefly’s feet or because Savvy was there to meet me head-on when I felt so raw after those conversations, I didn’t think I could give anyone more?
Does it make any difference at all that they’re the same person? Both of them were there for me in different ways, even if I didn’t know it until I’d already been cut open by the betrayal.
At the center of all my anger is…her. Both versions of her. I was angry with myself for being like my father, emotionally stringing along one woman while having a physical connection with another.
I more than hated myself for that, but I also couldn’t give either of them up.
Then I found out they were both Savvy and allowed my pain to override every other emotion and logical train of thought.
And then I ran.
The bathroom door creaks open slowly, as if she’s hoping I’m asleep. It’s too dark to tell how long she was in there, but my guess would be over an hour.
She pads quietly across the room, then pauses at the foot of the bed. There’s a seismic shift in my chest as she stares at me as intently as I’m studying her. She inclines her head, as though she’s peering through the darkness, searching for answers to questions she won’t ask.
I refuse to acknowledge the disappointment that rolls through me when she continues to her side of the bed before I can call her to me.
Once she’s settled, my shoulders melt away from my ears.
My stomach twists when she releases a shuddering breath that goes on for so long, I’m afraid she’ll pass out.
“It was different with you, Grey.”
I can’t breathe. She’s whispering so quietly, I don’t believe she even wants me to hear her. One breath from me would block out her voice, so I stay silent.
“When you’ve had control stripped from you in every way, it’s nearly impossible to give it up once you finally have it again. But with you?” She sighs, and it feels like it weighs more than she does. “I don’t know. I felt free for the first time since I was sixteen.”
Sixteen again. It’s the second time she’s mentioned that age. What happened to her at sixteen?
The muscles that had relaxed as she made her way to me from the bathroom coil and tighten again, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Fucking sixteen? The way she talks about control digs at a distant memory, picking at it, until a vision of my sister portioning her food stabs me in the eyeballs.
It’s not unlike the way Savvy has been playing with her food since she’s been here.
“I was never going to be the type of woman you could settle down with. My past is…tainted. But I’ll remember our time together for the rest of my life.
You…gave me hope when I had none. You’re a good man, Greyson Reyes, and I’ll always regret hurting you, but I’ll never apologize for being the friend you needed or how I went about being that person for you. ”
The bed trembles, just the slightest movement that makes me think she might be crying, and I silently curse. I may think I want to hate her, but feeling her cry is worse than death—it’s torture.
Frustrated with myself, with her, with our situation, but mostly because I can’t make a decision where Savvy Monroe is concerned, I angrily toss my pillow wall to the floor, slide to her side, wrap an arm around her middle, and forcefully drag her body into mine as she gasps and hastily wipes at her face.
She was crying. Silently fucking crying. How often does she fight her demons alone, in the dark, with no one there to hold her?
“W—what are you doing? I thought you were asleep.”
I huff through my nose. “Of course you thought I was asleep. That’s why you finally told the truth. Go to sleep, Monroe.”
“But…”
“Go. To. Sleep.”
“You’re cuddling me.”
“Cuddling is for couples. I’m holding you together so you don’t fall apart before I can return you to your friends. There’s a big difference.”
“What does that make you then? If we’re not a couple and you’re not my friend, why would you hold me together?”
Why does she have to talk everything to death?
“Just because I hate you doesn’t mean I want you to be in pain.”
“Y—you hate me.” It’s not a question. It’s words filled with sadness that make my pulse skip three painful beats.
Irritation prickles every pore in my body.
“Honestly, Monroe, I don’t know what I feel for you.
We’re not friends, but I won’t let you fall.
I don’t care about you, but I don’t want you to get hurt.
You’re not mine, but I want to rip out the eyeballs of every guy at the pub who even looks at you funny.
You drive me crazy, but I think I’d ruin anyone who tries to break you.
I don’t want you to have bad days unless I’ve caused them.
I don’t like you, but I want you where I can see you.
You asked, Monroe. There you have it, and I don’t know what to do with any of it.
So please, for the love of God, just go to sleep. ”
“That was…honest.”
I grunt.
“Thank you, Grey.”
I hold her pressed so tightly to my front that not even air could slip between us until her breathing evens out and she finally goes lax with sleep. Only then do I ease my grip and allow myself to drift off too.
“Here,” I shove a plate onto the coffee table beside Savvy. “Eat it.”
“How—” She stares at the plate of pasta.
“I boiled water on an old charcoal grill I found in the attic. It took for-fucking-ever to boil, so eat.” The sofa creaks with my weight as I slip in beside her.
She’s sitting on the floor with her legs crossed like a five-year-old’s and has papers scattered all around her. An array of sticky notes assaults my eyes—it’s like a rainbow threw up all over her work.
I should have chosen another seat. One as far away from her as I could get, but she’s been avoiding me all day, and my indigestion is acting up because, for some fucked-up reason, she’s the antidote to my discomfort.
I swear I might actually breathe fire if she pushes me tonight.
Shoveling the pasta into my mouth is another form of heaven. After eating protein bars and whatever unperishable shit Moose had stocked for so many days, a hot meal settles the beast inside me.
“Eat,” I say again through a mouthful of food. I’m hungrier than I thought because manners don’t even cross my mind as I speak with food squirreled away in my cheek.
My muscles tense as she pushes the pasta around on her plate.
Violet did that too, but I was too young and too unaware to know what it meant.
“Stop staring at me,” she grumbles.
“No. Eat.”
This sexy, insufferable woman growls like a gladiator but brings a single piece of ziti to her mouth and bites it. She only eats one-third of the tube, and my frustrations grow.
A memory blurs my vision—Braxton and I in the library of my childhood home, researching ways to trick a teenage girl into eating.
I can’t blink fast enough to bring the present into focus. The memory transposes itself onto the view before me, Savvy blending into a version of my sister I no longer recognize.
In my dreams, Violet is healthy and happy. But the reality of her was so…different—sunken eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. I don’t even remember when Brax and I caught on that her relationship with food wasn’t healthy, but once we did, all we wanted to do was fix it.
Nothing we did made a difference. Not until she became pregnant with Sage. If my father hadn’t been so crazy, I think having Sage would have saved her from some of her demons.
“Grey?” Savvy kneels in front of me, and if the expression on her face is any indication, she’s called my name more than once.
Is it stress causing her to play with her food, or did I miss all the signs again?
My brain works to recall everything I know about eating disorders before neatly categorizing and storing the data to be called upon in an instant.
Don’t call attention to the meal. Don’t comment on how much she’s eating. Don’t judge.
Distract.
Distract.
Distract.
“Want to play a game?” It’s out of my mouth before a full thought has formed.
She sits back on her heels, blinking as though she doesn’t understand my question.
“A game?”
I nod in response.
“What kind of game?” Her head tilts as she chews on the inside of her lip.
Leaning forward brings me into her personal space, but I press a little more so I can drop my plate on the table behind her, basking in the hitch in her breath when my forearm skims hers.
“I don’t know. Let’s see what Moose left behind.” Reluctantly, I pull away from her and stand.