Chapter 43 – Grayson
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
GRAYSON
Go.
Wait.
Fuck this.
When she slams the door, it reverberates in so many more places than just the house. It’s in every part of me.
Christ.
I scrub a hand through my hair and tell myself to go after her, a split second before I tell myself not to.
That I should just leave things be.
I made my point. To myself. To her.
And now, guess who feels fucking miserable? Guess who feels like a fucking asshole? Guess who just messed up the best thing he had going for him in the longest of times and doesn’t know how to fix it.
Track her down. Say you’re sorry. Beg if you have to.
Fuck. The past few days have been miserable without her constant presence in some way, shape, or form. I’ve felt it. Luke’s felt it.
It isn’t just the lack of sex I’m missing. If it were, I could fix that with a phone call.
It’s the companionship. It’s the ability to laugh over something stupid. It’s the wish to tell someone something after a chaotic day and have someone care. It’s the need to share and not feel so fucking alone.
But I don’t chase after her.
I walk into the house, see the bag of food on the counter and cringe, the sight of it reinforcing how much of a prick I am.
Fuck, yes I tested her.
Fuck, yes I waited to see if I’d get the whiny texts complaining about how she hasn’t been able to see me and how she wants me to just get a babysitter. I waited for her to send that so that I could then sit around and wait for her silence after I told her I couldn’t.
But I received none of the above.
Instead, I got text after text asking me how Luke was doing. Seeing if I needed anything. Asking if I wanted her to watch him for a bit so I could get a break.
It was a great fucking test.
Great way to make me look like more of a fucking asshole than I already am.
Great way to try to mess up her feelings because I can’t figure out my own.
Nah, I can figure them out all right.
They’re just ones I swore I’d never let myself feel again.