Page 7 of Gravity

I smile. Thinking about all the times we used to have each other laughing with all the stupid stuff we’d do. But I’m not that little girl anymore who used to jump on his back without warning or annoy him because I was just his friends kid sister.

“He hardly texts me anymore, Pop,” I say, sadness in my voice. "Somehow, I highly doubt he'd want to hang out with me. Besides, Asher can sort him out."

He shakes his head. “Not… Ash. You.” He holds my stare, and the look in his eyes tells me he’s serious. If there was anyone who could get Grayson to do something when Asher was away it was always me. He’s always looked out for me, but not in a way that is suffocating.

He’s never tried stopping me from going out with friends, just telling me to be careful. He hasn’t ever told me not to do things, merely advising me how I should go about them in a different way in order to be safe.

But what I like about him the most is that even though he’s protective, he has always been fun to be around, and because of that, I grew to appreciate him as a person while my heart grew to want him. The very thought of seeing him again already has my heart racing and my stomach knotted with anxiety.

Chapter Three

Grayson

“Another drink?” Asher asks, pointing at my glass.

I shake my head, throwing back the small shot of whiskey I don’t even want, and look out across the bar. It’s a typical Friday night in Hot Tuna, and everyone has once again crawled out of their habitats and reunited like they’ve not seen each other in months. Men of all shapes, sizes, and tattoos gather in groups hunting for prey while pretty girls swarm around them, waiting for one to take a bite.

A fusion of heels and cleavage. A hotspot of sexual tension and surprises.

Peak season in Virginia Beach is like a coastal version of New York City. From the simplest of things like history museums, to vibrant night life, this place never sleeps. It’s an oceanfront of culture at its finest. Embedded in golden sands, clear waters, and a sky so blue, it’s a dreamland to those on vacation during the day. However, fast forward a few hours, and the buzz you get from the boardwalk alone is like a second heartbeat.

And this place is no different.

Located just offshore from Chesapeake beach, my little bar and grill is serene by day but a different fucking story once the sun goes down. Decorated with tables, a small dancefloor and fire pits outside, it’s a magnet for hot girls and Navy SEALs.

I love it. It’s my place of business that I’ve worked damn fucking hard for, but more importantly—and secretly—it’s the only thing that keeps my heart racing when I could easily hide in the shadows and never come out for air. Yet tonight, those shadows have shamefully taken over, and I’ve succumbed to the poison that is whiskey, swallowing the shit like a bitter pill.

A tribute to the past.

A memory of what is no longer here.

A reminder of how little I meant to her.

When you look at the pattern that has become my life in the last couple of years, it’s nothing but a contradiction yet one I don’t wish to walk away from either. Alcohol has ripped through my family like a cancer, yet here I am, promoting the damn stuff and sitting back to watch everyone get high on it.

It’s days like today when I have to fight the urge to punch the mirror as the reflection of the young boy looking back at me asks me what went wrong—asks me why I didn’t try harder to fix it. To fix her. Meanwhile, the man who stands on the other side is crippled with guilt and uncertainty, loathing the parts of his life that are darkened. It’s days like this that I want to hide away. It’s days like this that I wish my mom was still here. But it’s nights like tonight that I dislike because, although I love this little bar, I’m the reason these people are coating their veins in liquor, killing their livers.

And here I am nursing a fucking whiskey myself.

Contradictive bastard.

“You boys want a refill?” Lacy, one of the girls who works in my club, asks. She’s been hanging around us tonight like a bee in a honey jar, and it’s all because my friend Asher here has brought his other guys—Linc and Rex—out to play. With muscles galore to ogle at, the woman is in her fucking element.

“No, I’m good,” I say, holding my glass up to show I’m not done.

“We’ll have another beer. And I’ll have a whiskey chaser. Get one for yourself.” Asher winks at her, drawing her onto his path of seduction that she will easily stroll down in seconds. Thirty-two years of friendship with this guy and he hasn’t changed. The day he and his parents moved in next door, he was five years old, and even at that age he was a cocky little fucker.

“Gray, you sure the lovely Lacy here can’t tempt you with another?” Rex asks.

“I’m good for the minute.”

He raises a brow at me, and if it weren’t for the fact his biceps are twice the size of mine, I’d knock the fucker out. Why don’t people understand that I’m not in the mood?

The moment Lacy heads off to get Asher’s order, he turns to me and smacks me on the shoulder. “All right, serious question. When was the last time you got laid? Because she so wants to ride your dick, and you keep blanking her.”

“I’m not fucking her, or anyone else tonight.”

“But it’s your night off, and she’s clearly after some lovin’.” Asher grins. Every female in this bar is after the same thing. There’s something about a SEAL that gets the ladies’ temperatures rising. Being one himself, and built like a tank, Asher often has women falling at his feet.