Grayson
I drain the last of my beer and signal to Kara for another.
“Got it,” she says, whipping past with two platters full of empty glasses and plates.
“No rush.”
I mean it. It’s the Fourth of July—a Saturday, no less—and Dyl’s is slammed.
It’s one of those rare, twice-a-year nights they’ve had to stop letting people in and shut down their waitlist. Noise fills the space from wall-to-wall, drinks flowing, bodies everywhere, despite having half the crowd out back, staking their chairs for the fireworks that’ll happen in a few hours.
“You good?” JJ asks, sitting across from me at the high-top, eying my fourth empty bottle.
I counter by nodding to his third. “Are you?”
“No work tomorrow,” he says.
I’m not buying it.
JJ’s never been a big drinker. Neither have I, but it’s even more out of character for him to down three beers in an hour-and-a-half than it is for me to have four.
My guess is it’s something to do with Alex, his high school sweetheart.
The anniversary of her death isn’t for another two months, but her mom always calls him on holidays, and he’s never totally right afterwards.
He also doesn’t like talking about it, so I choose not to pry, answering his question instead.
“Dawson didn’t reply.”
I’d held out hope that he’d still show up to Anson’s earlier today—for Lala, at least—but he never did. And our little sister noticed.
Fortunately, JJ swung by after seeing his parents and managed to put a smile back on her face. Thank fuck.
“He have a game?” JJ asks.
“Two days from now.” His schedule was easy enough to look up. “That’s fine if he couldn’t make it, but at least answer. Call and say hi to Lala.”
My little brother was never a jackass. A reckless moron, sometimes, but he always had a good heart. Not sure where the hell it is now.
But that’s not the only reason I’m welcoming the buzz in my head.
My vision drifts to the door again, like one of those annoying automatic sprinklers that keeps swiveling around.
“He’ll get right. Eventually.” JJ takes a long swig of beer. “He’d do the dumbest shit when we were kids, and then he’d come around and apologize.”
“Weeks later.”
“Sure, but he still did it, and you wouldn’t even need to ask for it,” he says, resting his elbows on the table. “He knew when he was wrong. I don’t think you just lose that when you grow up.”
I toy with the label on my bottle, trying to find comfort in that. Anson’s far past the point of goodwill. Maybe JJ and I are the fools here, but it’s better than believing Dawson’s changed that much.
The front door opens, and my chest jolts. But it’s just a few locals making their way back inside.
Jesus, I need that beer.
“You gonna make me guess who you’re waiting for?”
Caught red-fucking-handed.
“I’m with you. Lala and Anson are out back,” I play dumb. “Not waiting for anyone.”
“So why are you watching the door?”
JJ’s grin grates at me. “I’m not.”
His eyebrows raise. “Brother, I’m trained to spot shell casings buried in the mud in zero-visibility water conditions. I can easily see that your eyes—” he points at them— “are glued to that door.” His finger moves, pointing at the dark oak slab I’ve spent way too long staring at.
My teeth clench. “I’m not waiting for anyone.”
“So you’re—what? Hoping someone walks in? Preparing to duck and cover if they do?”
Rarely do I ever want my best friend to shut the hell up, but right now is one of those scarce moments.
Even through my annoyance, though, I know it’s not his fault.
It’s mine.
I took Eliza to that secluded stretch of sand. Said to hell with self-preservation and gave in to my impulses. Jerked off to the memory of those breathy little moans and her pussy spasming around my fingers every day since Monday.
As predicted, the tendrils of attachment have latched right on.
So I’ve spent the week trying to pry them off. Neither of us have brought up what happened. I’m not avoiding her—she still joins me on some tours. But I haven’t gone out of my way to re-engage her, and she’s done the same.
It’s like we’ve both reverted to the mean, shooting surface-level comments at each other, pretending our time on the sand never happened. Like two teenagers embarrassed about their first kiss.
Maybe we should talk about it like responsible adults, but communication is key for relationships, and I’m actively not trying to have one here. Besides, even without a conversation, we’re clearly on the same dismal page.
Though the fact that I’m stuck between hoping Eliza appears in that doorway, and desperately hoping she doesn’t, shows just how much I’m struggling to stay on that page.
I’m still figuring out what my reply should be when JJ speaks again.
“Hope you know your answer, because I’m pretty sure that someone’s walking in right now.”
For probably the thirtieth time, I look up to see JJ’s spot-on. Eliza’s following Amanda through the door—probably how she managed to sneak in when they’re turning folks away. And when her body crosses the threshold, I don’t care that JJ’s watching for my reaction.
I can’t look away.
Eliza’s not wearing much of anything. A white, lacy tank-top ends at her belly button, exposing an inch of smooth skin above dark-wash shorts that sure as fuck aren’t work-appropriate.
Doesn’t matter that I’ve been beneath that fabric, explored more than what she’s showing. How she looks is like a drug.
Goddammit, I need that beer. To give me limp dick, if nothing else.
She scans the crowd as Amanda leads her toward the bar, and it doesn’t take long for her eyes to find mine. For a beat, she just stares. Then her mouth tips into a friendly smile.
The same friendly, professional smile we’ve been giving each other all week.
Eliza whispers something in Amanda’s ear, then leaves her there as she makes her way to us.
“Need me to flip this table so you can hide behind it?” JJ asks.
I glare at him. He drains the rest of his beer, chuckling, before standing up to greet her. “Hey, there’s my long-lost teammate.” He pulls her in for an easy hug. “How you doing?”
“Good.” She draws back, glancing over at me. It’s quick, a flicker of movement, but her eyes track down my body, stopping on my arms before coming back up. “Grayson.”
Her hair’s pulled back, cheeks extra rosy, from the night’s warm temperatures or a drink, maybe.
I tilt my bottle toward her. “Happy Fourth.”
Can’t believe I actually just said that out loud. That’s the meaningless formality you say to neighbors. Cashiers at the grocery store. Not people you know.
Not women who’ve moaned beneath your fingers.
She tips an imaginary hat. “Happy Fourth to you too, sir.”
JJ’s eyes track between us in the succeeding silence. “Beer sometimes makes Gray extra formal,” he comments, trying to save me.
“Formal?” Eliza repeats. “Grayson doesn’t do formal.”
“And what does Grayson do?” I ask.
Whatever pops into her mind first makes her cheeks even rosier, and I can’t help the satisfaction that slides through me. It only deepens when she tries playing it off. “Grumpy. Standoffish. Rude.” She pauses. “Cocky.”
Maybe she emphasizes the word. Maybe she doesn’t. But she’s regarding me with an unreadable expression, like she’s thinking about the first four letters. Or maybe that’s just me in my own fucked-up head.
Since I’m apparently a masochist, I reply.
“Cocky. Hmm.” I purse my lips in mock thought. “You say it like it’s a bad thing, Boston.”
“I find that cockiness is usually a form of overcompensation.”
“Is it, in this case?”
We both know what the answer is.
Her jaw works as she mulls over her response. This is the closest we’ve gotten to talking about Monday, and she has the chance right now to bring it on home. I’ve practically dared her to, because I can’t fucking help myself.
Kara, where the fuck are you?
Finally, she sucks in a breath and says, “I’m n—”
“Hey! Grayson, JJ, my guys.”
The deep, boisterous voice shatters the moment. I physically rock back in my seat, not realizing I’d leaned closer to hear her response, as Darian sidles up. His blue eyes are slightly glazed, his face ruddy. The beer in his hand isn’t his first.
Those buzzed eyes land on Eliza, and they beam. “Eliza! Wasn’t expecting to see you here!” He slings an arm up, giving her a side-hug.
My fingers tighten on my bottle when he lingers longer than he needs to. Just like his gaze lingered all the fuck over her when we played pool.
“Amanda invited me last-minute,” she explains.
“Well, I sure am glad she did.” He squeezes her shoulder before dropping his arm and turning to us. “JJ, how was…where was it—” he snaps his fingers. “Canada?”
“Alaska,” JJ amends good-naturedly. “And it was epic. Wild place up there. The training was just as wild, but I learned a lot.”
“Hell yeah.” Darian fist-bumps him, then nods at Eliza and me. “What about you two? How’s working together on the farm?”
“Good,” we reply at the same time.
Jesus, we’re stiff as boards.
“Cool.” Darian gives a sharp nod. “Well, I’m gonna get a refill. You boys want anything? Eliza?”
JJ and I both decline, but Eliza says, “Yes, actually. I haven’t gotten anything yet.”
The way Darian’s face lights up, you’d think she’s made his whole damn night. “Perfect. It’s on me.” His hand lands on her upper back, and I lock onto his palm like a targeting radar. “Come on, pretty lady.”
Acid burns in my gut as he whisks her away. I’m experienced enough to recognize the smolder of jealousy. And I’m self-aware enough to know I sure as shit shouldn’t be feeling it when I’m trying to put distance between us.
“Alright,” JJ starts, voice low. “Either you two fucked, or you made a move and she shot you down. Or you really want to fuck her, but won’t, for some reason.”
He pulls away as Kara swoops in with my beer like a superhero. She’s gone before my thank you reaches her ears, and I take a few long drags, trying to find peace in the cold brew as it slides down my throat.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
JJ’s a certifiable guru when it comes to advice. But admitting this whole thing out loud makes it more of a real problem.
“Fine by me.” He raises his hands defensively. “But don’t expect me to sit here and deal with your moody ass all night. This is the first Fourth of July I’ve gotten off in three years.”
“I’m not moody.”
“You just looked at Darian’s hand like you wanted to cut it off,” he says as I take another sip. “And now you’re scowling. In the middle of a party.”
I drop my beer on the table and rub my eyes. JJ’s a fixer, through and through. It’s part of what makes him such a damn good guy—and why I know he won’t let this go.
“I like her,” I blurt, ripping off the band-aid. “I like her, and we messed around a little bit, but we shouldn’t have. She’s leaving next month.”
There. I said it. Part of me expects the weight to lift from my chest, but it doesn’t. Just fucking digs its claws in.
“Don’t see what her leaving has to do with anything.”
That third beer must be messing with his cognition. He knows my tendencies. Knows I have a hard time with casual.
“She and I can’t go anywhere,” I say, driving it home. “I can keep on liking her, but she’s going to leave, and I’m never going to see her again. Why would I sign myself up for that?”
“Gray, she lives in Boston. Not Wisconsin. It’s only, like, two hours from here.” He says it like it’s so simple, which frustrates me more, enough for my thoughts to tumble out.
“Two hours of time, but it’s a different world up there.
” With a giant pool of successful guys who climb ladders and chase promotions, just like her.
“She might be taking a detour to this world right now, but she isn’t staying.
” I trace the rim of my bottle, not sure when I became a fucking philosopher.
“And you know how I got after Mackenzie. Couldn’t focus.
Couldn’t think straight. I’m not doing that again. ”
JJ nods, fingers tapping on his drink. “She already have a job lined up in the city?”
“Not that I know of.”
“So how do you know she’s going back?”
I’m pretty sure my friend just sprouted two heads. “It’s her spot. Where she wants to be.”
“You seem so sure of that.”
“You would be, too, if you knew her like I do.”
Yet as I say it, I remember how wistful she’d looked the other day, observing the pond from that quiet strip of sand. She’s killing it with her marketing, and with every day that passes, she looks more at home on the skiffs, at the farm, despite that polish she always wears.
A cheer goes up by the bar, and my head swivels—past the commotion, to Eliza, who’s laughing at something Darian’s saying with animated gestures.
Part of me wishes he was a shithead, so I’d have an excuse to rip him away from her.
But while Darian might have appreciative eyes, he’s a good guy.
He won’t make any moves unless she makes one first.
My next breath is tight as I reset on JJ. But his eyes have followed mine, staying on the scene behind me. And he has to go and say the last thing I need to hear.
“All I’m gonna say is if she doesn’t have a job lined up, you don’t know for sure that she’s heading back.
” He takes a heavy breath. “And if Alex taught me anything, it’s that when you find someone special, you hold on like hell and cherish it.
‘Cause if it slips away, you’ll always wonder if that, right there, was the best part of your life. ”