Chapter 19 Reason Eleven #2
Rage swelled inside of me, and I knew at that very moment that Gray Collins would not be leaving the saloon with his life. “That’s the worst date story I’ve ever heard.”
“Took her right up to that old tree,” he said as I gripped Christian’s knee. “You remember what I told you, Bunny?” He leaned over, kissing Sarah on her cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. I kicked his shin under the table, but he barely even reacted.
“The lake?” She asked, seemingly oblivious to whatever the hell he was talking about.
“I told her that I’d been saving my heart for just the right person. That I’d know them when I saw them. And then I saw her, Kent. I saw her, and I knew exactly who I'd been saving it for. I knew that before her, no one else even came close.”
I closed my eyes and tried to find strength. Any level of strength. I would’ve settled for a single morsel. And then I pushed the anger down.
“I love you, Christian,” I blurted, opening my eyes and glaring at Gray.
Gray winced when the words were out, his face twisted up in pain like I’d just stabbed him.
Christian reached for me, cupping my face the same way Gray had just done with the defiler of sacred lakes sitting at his side.
He tugged gently, pulling me to face him.
“And I’m just so happy that I get to tell you that.
Right here. For the first time. Right now. In front of Gray.”
Christian leaned in, whispering between kisses. “Dial it down. You’re doing great, but you’re spiraling.”
When he pulled away from me, I caught sight of Gray. He had his arms crossed over his chest, and his fists were clenched so tightly I was surprised he hadn’t punctured his skin with his fingernails.
“Would you mind grabbing me a drink, Bunny?” he said. I glanced down at his half-empty glass of orange juice. “Got something I need to say to Half-pint.” He looked over at her and forced a smile. “This won’t take long. Only need a minute.”
Sarah looked nervously at Gray before standing up from her chair and grabbing her purse. “Yeah. Sure, Bun-bun.” She rubbed her hand against the center of his shoulders and his entire body tensed under her touch.
“My widdle bunny-wabbit,” I mocked, once Sarah was out of earshot.
Gray scowled at me like he’d just caught me slashing his tires.
Obviously, I hadn’t, but if he didn’t get his manners in check soon, I could certainly see it as a possible outcome.
I turned toward Christian, rubbing my hand against his cheek.
“Sorry. I thought it might be cute to try out,” I said.
“I think you deserve something a little better than Bunny, baby.”
Gray growled. He actually growled at us. “He ain’t your dang baby, Chris.”
Christian leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine. His voice was barely audible, the words meant just for me. “I’m going to get up and walk away for a minute. He looks like he’s ready to whoop my ass.”
Before I could scold him for abandoning me in my time of need, he was up and on his way to the bar, chasing after Sarah. The room around us swelled with laughter and revelry, but at that quiet table, in our secluded corner, I’d never felt more alone.
Finally, Gray broke the silence. “Why are you doing this? This is stupid. We both know this is just an act. The day you land Christian Thomas is the day I announce I’m an atheist.” He laughed at his little quip, but I wasn’t having it.
“You don’t think I can land a date?” I said, still focusing on the table in front of me.
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Chris isn’t gay. He’s had girlfriends. Lots of them. Must’ve seen at least two dozen of them on his arm coming in for protection at the end of a date.”
“So? That proves nothing. Bisexuality is a thing. It exists. Is it that hard for you to believe that someone else might see me that way? Is it really that unbelievable that there might be someone out there that loves me back? Would that be so bad? Don't I deserve that?”
“That’s not ... Dang it, Kent. That’s not what I’m saying. You’re just doing this to get back at me, but there’s nothing to get back at. I’m not doing any of this to hurt you.”
“Just because you’re not trying to, doesn’t mean that you aren’t.
It doesn't mean that this isn't killing me. How could you invite me here knowing I’d have to watch you two together? I already have to see her when she pops up at the store. What’s next?
Am I going to have to help you plan your bachelor party?
Going to invite me to be your best man?”
His eyes widened like it was the best idea he’d ever heard. “Would you want—”
“Don’t you fucking dare finish that question, Gray Collins. I swear to God, they’ll be the last words you ever say. I could already scratch your eyes out for taking her to our spot. That's our lake. Me and you, Gray. How could you?”
He sighed, spreading condensation around his glass with his thumb.
“I just said that to get a rise out of you.” His gaze was fixed on the glass in front of him.
He was doing everything in his power to avoid looking at me.
“I wouldn’t. I could never do that. I felt terrible as soon as I said it.
” His eyes darted up, meeting mine briefly before staring back down at the table. “I’m sorry for saying it.”
I was seconds away from breaking, and I knew I had to do something.
Had to say something to fill the cracks already forming in my heart.
“Apology not accepted,” I said, trying to force hostility into my voice, when all I felt was hurt.
“Why does it even matter? I'm seeing someone.
So what? How does that even affect you in the slightest? "
“You’re pretending to date him to make me jealous. It’s a big deal to me.”
“Even if I were, why would it matter? You have her. She has you, Gray. You’re hers. You win. Why the hell would it hurt for me to pretend?”
He reached across the table and took my hand. “You know why.” The look of pure passion pouring from his eyes was overwhelming.
“You want me to call this off? To tell you that I’m doing this because I’m jealous?
Because I can’t stand to see you with her?
Because every time she touches you, I want to throw you over my shoulder like a caveman and carry you out of this bar?
Is that what you want me to say?” He nodded, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Then give me a reason. Just one. I don’t need seventeen of them this time, just three words. Say them and it’s done.”
“I—Kent, I can’t.”
I shook my head. “The only person standing in your way right now is you.” I rubbed my thumb against the side of his hand, not giving a damn who saw.
It didn’t matter. They didn't matter. Because, as I looked into his eyes—as I saw the tears pooling in them—I knew he wanted this as much as I did. He was just being stubborn. All he had to do was say the words. “You feel this. I know you do. I’ve seen it, Gray. I know that look because it’s the same way I look at you.
I’m home, and I’m not leaving again. We can be happy, you’ve just got to stop fighting it.
Please, just let us have this.” I squeezed his hand harder. "Please?"
“You can’t say stuff like that.” A tear fell down his cheek. “Please don’t say stuff like that.”
“Why not? Why can’t I say it if it’s true?
” Nothing in that room mattered more to me than the man directly in front of me.
The man who was waging a war between his head and his heart.
“It doesn’t have to be okay. It just has to be true.
Remember?” A hint of a smile quirked in the corner of his mouth.
He remembered. “Truer than Texas, Gray. Truer than family. Even truer than God.” My thumb brushed back and forth against his palm, and he jerked it away, shoving his hand into his pocket.
“You’re scared right now, and I get that—believe me, I get it—but you’ve got me, Gray. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you.”
“Kent, please.” He pulled his hand back out, and there was something in his grip that was too small for me to see. He tapped it against the table, twirling it in his fingers.
“It’s true, and we both know it. They stole twenty years from us. How much more are you going to let them take?” I touched my hand to my heart, thump-thump-thumping it against my chest. “Number seventeen, Grayson. All this time. Do you hear me? I love you. I never stopped.”
He made an awful sound. It was like he was gasping for breath and suppressing a wail at the same time. He stared down at his hand, watching as he tapped something against the table.
“Gray?” He looked up, his expression pained. “It’s going to be okay. I’ve got you,”
“You promise?”
“We’re going to be so happy, baby. I swear it.”
He whimpered, flinching as I said the words. Then every trace of resistance left him. He wanted this. He wanted it just as much as I did. Gray closed his eyes and his lips parted. As he leaned forward, there was the sound of metal dinging against wood. We ignored it, our focus on each other.
Someone squealed nearby, pulling me out of the moment. I looked up to find Sarah Thistle staring down at the table. Her eyes had doubled in size.
“Gray?” It was the first time I’d ever heard her call him by his actual name. Not Bun-bun. It felt like an insult. Like it wasn’t hers to say.
Because it wasn’t.
I followed her line of sight and realized that she was staring at an object next to his hand. When I looked at Gray, he was still staring absentmindedly at me. He crushed his bottom lip between his teeth and gnawed.
Then I saw it. It spun around as if it were doing perfectly practiced pirouettes against the table. A ring. One that was supposed to be mine. He must have let go of it when he leaned in to kiss me.
“Bun-bun?” Sarah said, shaking us both from our dazed state. Gray and I both glanced up at her, unsure what she was talking about. “Is that …" Her eyes widened as she stared at the ring. "Yes, of course, I’ll marry you.”
As she leaned down and threw her arms around him from behind, his eyes were wide and focused directly on me.
I didn’t, he mouthed, and then, I wasn’t.
Judging by the look of shock on his face, I didn’t think he’d actually meant to pull the ring out.
But even if he had fished it out of his pocket to hold on to like some sort of touchstone to guide him through our difficult conversation, the fact remained that he had brought it with him that night.
He must have planned on proposing, even if he hadn’t meant to do it in front of me.
Worse than that, he wasn’t stopping it. Armageddon was upon us, and as the world crumbled at our sides, he said nothing.
Instead, he reached for the ring, curling his fingers over, hiding it away.
I can’t, he mouthed. I’m so sorry.
"Two-liter," I whispered, shaking my head. “Gray, no.”
He turned his palm up, his fingers uncurling like a blooming flower.
The tears that had been forming in his eyes were now falling freely, and as he gave her my ring, all he could manage to do was mouth that he was sorry, sorry, sorry.
We stared at each other as it all unfolded.
There was pressure against my ankle, and it took me a second to realize he was trying desperately to nudge me under the table.
To relay some sort of message to me. I didn’t need to hear it.
Whatever that message was, it didn’t matter.
Sarah had ripped the ring away from him like it was some sort of carnival prize.
She was staring down at her hand like he’d just given her the world.
And I suppose he had. My world. The one he was supposed to save.
Just for me. Because we were always going to end up here, weren't we? From the moment I saw him at Shooters that first night, we’d both felt it.
Our connection. The unyielding tether that stretched all the way from West Clark to Atlanta, never breaking.
Not once. Because this was Gray. The boy who begged his mother to get me a dog because he knew I was hurting.
The creator of a seventeen-point presentation detailing the reasons why Kate didn’t deserve my heart.
He didn’t need a list. He was the only reason I ever needed.
She wasn’t even acknowledging him. It was all about the damn ring. And then, plans. Calls she’d need to make, an announcement in the newspaper’s weekend edition. Wedding dresses, hymns, catering. Nothing about Gray. She had a one-in-a-million guy, and she didn’t even care.
I had to get away from that table. Away from the joy radiating out of Sarah Thistle. I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to hold it together if I didn't. I ran out of the bar and into the parking lot. My stomach was spinning, and it was taking everything in me to hold down my liquor.
It hurt. Every goddamn thing about it hurt.
We’d been playing with fire for months, knowing all it would take was one match to set the world around us alight.
But even with all of that hurt, it was worth it.
Even if I couldn’t have him anymore, I treasured this.
Whoever you want to call it—God, the stars, fate—I thanked them.
I praised them, even. For bringing him back to me.
For letting me have those moments with him.
I went into this knowing we would get burned. But, God, we’d burned so beautifully.