33. Maisie
maisie
. . .
THIRTY-THREE
Another week has come and gone. I can’t imagine my life any other way now.
My body is sore from working day in and day out, but Grayson's massages each night have helped ease the pain. They’ve caused aches in other areas too, but neither of us have crossed the line yet.
I think we are both waiting until we know what this is, what this all means.
I feel like I’ve fallen off a cliff, free-falling ever since.
It’s scary and exhilarating at the same time.
Does he like me as much as I like him? Will he ever be free of his shackles and fully open up to me? Could this even work, with him here and my dreams elsewhere? It’s all so exhausting to think about.
I’m thankful I got to sleep in this morning, since it’s our off day. I lazed around all morning with Grayson and spent the afternoon writing in bed before falling asleep on my computer.
My door inches open, and Evie runs in from God knows where. Yesterday, she snuck into Grayson's closet and pulled down one of his hoodies she then turned into a bed. He was not pleased. He still gave her treats that night, though. Pushover.
She bounds onto my bed, rubbing her face on my cheek. “Well, hello to you too,” I giggle, giving her chin a scratch. She purrs in response. I notice a piece of paper tied to her collar by twine. “What’s this, sweet girl?” I untie it from her, rolling it flat.
Maisie,
Roses are red, violets are blue, I want to go on a date with you. Dress cozy and meet me by the front door in thirty. All you need to bring is your cute self. P.S. leave the hoodie-stealing feline behind.
See you soon,
-Your Gray
I think I might be having a heart attack—or is this what it’s supposed to feel like when you’re giddy over a man? This is hands down the cutest thing any man has ever done for me. I’m pretty sure it’s the only date a man has ever planned on his own.
For once, I don’t overthink my outfit, keeping it simple in a floral dress and a sweater with some white sneakers. I throw my hair up in a high pony and reapply my mascara before sprinting down the hallway a little too eagerly.
“Hi,” I breathe, an obnoxiously big smile on my face. Grayson’s stood like a gentleman by the door, a bouquet of lupine flowers in his hand. My heart melts at the sight.
“Hi, honey,” he hums, looking me over. “These are for you. I figured I would give them to you before we left so we could set them up in the kitchen.”
“You didn’t have to do that,” I respond, taking them from him. They smell so good. “When did you even have time to go to the store?”
He follows me into the kitchen, grabbing a vase. “I didn’t. I picked them from the field. I know I didn’t need to do it, but I wanted to, Maisie.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I struggle to swallow it down. “Thank you.” He helps me get them situated in the vase before taking my hand and leading us to his truck. We are driving in no time, his hand still firmly gripped in mine.
“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?” I ask, looking over at him. He looks so fucking delicious tonight in a backwards cap, navy hoodie, and jeans.
“Not a chance,” he teases, kissing the back of my hand. “Shit,” he curses under his breath, ripping his hand from mine to jerk the steering wheel. The truck veers off the road, swerving around a deer that leaped in front of us. We end up in a small ditch, narrowly missing a tree.
A flashback of that night hits me like a freight train.
I’m not in Grayson's truck anymore, instead strapped in the back of my parents’ SUV, hanging upside down by my seatbelt.
My ears are ringing to the point I can’t hear anything.
All I see is broken glass and blood everywhere.
I see my parents’ unmoving bodies in the front of the car and an unconscious Lan next to me.
Let me out. Let me out. LET. ME. OUT. I remember screaming the words over and over, inconsolable.
“I can’t breathe,” I whisper, barely audible above the engine's roar. “I—I can’t...” My head spins. No matter how hard I try, oxygen refuses to enter my lungs.
Trapped. Car. Blood. Glass. Death. Trapped. Car. Blood. Glass. Death.
“Maisie, talk to me, honey. I’m here with you. I’ve got you. You’re safe, I promise.”
I can hear the concern dripping from Grayson’s voice, but it does nothing to pull me from that nightmare of a day. I thought I was getting better. I haven't had a full blown panic attack in a long time from being in a car. This deer has thrown me all the way back to square one.
My hair is brushed from my face, two large hands engulf my cheeks, but I’m still there. That day. Trapped. Car. Blood. Glass. Death. Trapped. Car. Blood. Glass. Death. “Trapped,” I whimper, the last of the air leaving my lungs.
The sound of a door opening barely registers until mine is thrown open and fresh air graces my skin. It feels like heaven. My body is gently yanked from the car until I’m wrapped in a tight embrace. It feels like a warm, safe blanket, helping ease my anxiety.
I drag in one shaky lungful of air, my chest rattling with the movement.
“That’s it, honey. Again. You can do it.
” I heave, a little less shaky this time, and my vision clears with it.
“Good girl, I knew you could do it. What can I do to help?” he asks anxiously.
He has me pulled in his lap, wrapped around me on the side of the road.
“I’m okay,” I manage to say around another breath. “I just need a minute.”
“Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
He has no idea how hard those words hit right now.
My life has always been a living nightmare of wondering who will disappear from my life next.
When the shoe will drop and flip my whole world upside down.
It’s one of the reasons I’ve struggled to find true, deep connections in friends or love interests.
You can’t be broken past repair if you never fully invest your heart.
I think it’s one of the reasons I haven’t let Grayson have all of me yet.
It’s easier to break ties if I haven’t fully dipped my toes in the water.
The feeling of him wrapped protectively around me, helping me fight my demons, has me seeing our situation in a different light, one where I can rely on someone else to pick up the pieces and shove them back in the right places when I don’t have the strength to do it myself.
Bad days are inevitable, but they don’t have to be faced alone.
My relationship with Grayson seems to be backwards from anyone I’ve had with a man so far.
Usually, it’s physical affection before you see all the ugly, raw pieces of each other. Not with us, though.
Grayson is different. He’s seen me for all I am, and I’ve seen him. My pain calls to his in a way that’s like a Band-Aid to mine. It helps mend it.
“I sometimes have trouble riding in cars,” I admit, looking out at the trees surrounding us, thinking back on that night. Grayson remains quiet, squeezing me tight so I know he’s listening. “It’s gotten better over the years. I thought I had it manageable. This, well, it just brought it all back.”
Grayson’s thumb strokes my jaw in encouragement.
“Healing isn’t always linear. It dips and crashes like waves in an ocean, but then the tide goes out and washes it away for a brief moment.
It’s about weathering the waves and learning to ride them out.
” He looks between my eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”
No one has ever asked me that. My initial reaction would normally be no, but I want to share this with him. I want to connect deeper and plant those roots for once with someone, even at the risk of having them uprooted one day.
“It was like any other day of my life. I woke up and got ready for the day, had breakfast with my family, bonded over my latest softball game with my dad. It was all perfectly normal—until it wasn’t.
Lan had been begging our parents to take us bowling, and they finally caved.
We all loaded up into the car, and the next thing I knew, we were upside down in the middle of the intersection.
A car had run a red light and t-boned us.
My…my parents, they didn’t make it. Died on impact, the medics told us.
If we would have been even a foot further into the intersection, it would have been me and Lan in their places, and they would still be here. ”
My leg burns with phantom pain from that day.
I absentmindedly drag my finger over the scar marring my body as a permanent reminder of that day.
Grayson catches the movement. I slowly pull the hem of my dress up until my upper thigh is exposed.
A large, jagged scar cuts up the inside of my leg, long healed now.
Grayson’s hand is drawn to it like a moth to a flame, reverently marveling at it as if it's a piece of precious art. “This is from that night?” he asks, his voice rough.
“A piece of metal was lodged in my leg when the medics found me. Luckily, that was the worst injury I received, besides a concussion and some minor cuts and bruises. Oakland fared pretty well too. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost him too.
I…I don’t think I would be here today if I didn’t have him to navigate this life with. We’ve been through a lot together.”
His thumb traces my scar, helping soothe the pain away. “Well then, I owe your brother my life, because I couldn’t imagine a world you weren’t in, Maisie Rae Brooks.”
Another root takes hold, gripping into the earth, determined not to break. I let it seep into the dirt, and, for once, I feel at ease with the connection. I crave it, even. I help pat the dirt down so it holds firm.