18. Cal
Chapter eighteen
Cal
Noelle fit seamlessly back into my family. Almost.
The biggest snag was Greyson. He was a veritable seam ripper, determined to make trouble. Not even Paisley’s soft influence could erase the hard glares he’d been flashing Noelle all night. When he wasn’t ignoring her, that was.
I loved my brother, but he could be a regular blockhead. A curmudgeon. A— Wow, I was starting to sound like Myles, the walking thesaurus.
“She’s not worth it,” Greyson said from behind me as I watched Noelle’s tail-lights fade into the darkness. Speak of the devil.
I shoved my hands into my pockets. “What makes you say that?”
He paused when we were shoulder to shoulder. “She wrecked you once. Why go through it again?”
“That’s kinda harsh, dude.”
He shrugged. “I call it how I see it.” His stoic attitude irked me.
“And how would you know?” I snapped. “Oh wait. You wouldn’t. You weren’t even here when she left. You were already off playing the hero.”
Greyson reared back like I’d slapped him. We’d never really talked about the way he left—he didn’t do emotions, and I wasn’t ready to relive the worst moments of my life.
After nineteen years of doing life together, he’d left me behind for the first time, heading off to boot camp but promising to be back for the wedding.
He was my best man. Only there was no wedding.
No need for him to be the best man. He came home, saw me falling apart, and then was gone again—first to Camp Pendleton, then to Japan.
The first in a long line of places that weren’t home.
“I had my assignment,” he said carefully. “And you had Myles.”
I scoffed. Was I grateful for Myles? Everyday. But it wasn’t the same and he knew it. “Did it occur to you that I needed you?”
Greyson didn’t say anything.
Right. Mr. Man of Few Words.
“We’re adults. What Noelle and I do is between us.” I frowned at him. “I don’t need your permission, Grey.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” he said, not meeting my gaze.
Again. Like it was a guaranteed fact. I clapped his shoulder. Hard. He might be able to out bench me, but I was an inch taller with faster reflexes. “I’m a big boy now. I can handle myself.” Time for the final jab. “I don’t need you to save me.”
His stormy eyes flared, but he said nothing. Sometimes I wished he’d blurt things out instead of stewing.
Irritated, I stalked off, leaving him to his brooding silence. I quickly gathered Khia up and headed home, trying to outrun the prickling guilt. Greyson had his issues with a saviour complex. I knew that, and he had good reasons. Picking that particular insult wasn’t my finest moment.
But I needed him to trust me. I wasn’t the punk kid I used to be.
The house was silent, and I flopped over in bed. Then flopped back. Not even punching the pillow helped.
My mind raced, and I wanted to talk to somebody—anybody—to get the thoughts out. But who? It was nearly midnight.
Greyson’s words refused to leave me alone. She wrecked you once. Yeah, and I probably hurt her, too. We were flawed humans.
I groaned into the darkness and flicked on the lamp, trying to chase away the shadows.
The bottom line was could I trust her? The Noelle I knew took responsibility for her actions, and she’d done that. She hadn’t come back with a chip on her shoulder; she had apologized.
Watching her and Khia’s dynamic made my chest ache. I rubbed my sternum, the phantom pain pulsing under my ribs.
Am I supposed to trust my head or trust my heart, Lord?
I had a daughter to look out for, but a peace settled over me around Noelle. Her leaving had blown up my life, but it had been thirteen years. I’d matured, gone through therapy, gotten the help I needed to heal.
A second chance was what I had prayed for. And now it was here.
Be smart about it. Grey again.
But couldn’t I be smart but still move forward in trust?
Sometime between my third mental argument with my twin and another whispered prayer, I drifted off into an uneasy sleep.