AllFreeNovel
Share Us
42
GREYSON
I’d been back in D.C. for a little over three weeks now. My boss had saved up enough assignments to keep me working twelve-hour days and flying out on weekends. I’d only seen my kids on video calls, and as much as I knew it made me a selfish bastard, it stung to see how happy they were.
Billy apparently had a little girlfriend he’d met in town, which partly explained why he had suddenly been so against the idea of moving back home. Molly was loving her new Kindergarten teacher and classmates. Katie and Matt were apparently thriving while working remote, and it had given them both more time to take up hobbies they hadn’t enjoyed for years.
And then there was me, sitting in my big ass penthouse alone at midnight with a bottle of scotch. I hardly even drank hard liquor, but I’d quickly made a habit of it lately. Because once the workday was over, all I had left were the memories of Fairhope. I thought about my kids there, my family, and even my cousins who were there almost every week to cook out with Zack.
And of course I thought about her, too. That was when I usually broke out the hard liquor and got plastered. It was the only way I could get to sleep. I burned through bottles of pain meds to handle the hangovers the next morning and I went through my days like a fucking zombie.
I thought distance would help make Harper fade from my mind, but it only seemed to get worse by the day. I’d given up everything in Fairhope for this job–this career. And it was worth it. I kept repeating that, hoping it’d eventually stick.
The next morning, my boss asked me to stay back after a meeting about our company’s planned push farther out West.
“Greyson, can I have a word?”
Lindsey Miller was the CEO of Stay Inn. She was in her fifties with powerful features and a habit of chewing gum aggressively at all times. Sometimes, she reminded me more of a high school P.E. teacher, but she was also damn good at her job.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
“Have a seat.” She gestured to the chair nearest to her.
“I’ve noticed you haven’t seemed well ever since you came back. Is there something you want to talk about?”
I sat up straighter, trying not to focus on the pounding in my head as if it would make her realize how hungover I was. “I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. Your work is still impeccable, but I’ve had numerous private conversations with your colleagues. People are worried about you. They say you seem like a dead man walking.”
I feel like one. I shrugged. “If my work is still up to par, I don’t see the issue here, Lindsey.”
She leaned forward, giving me a hard look. “The issue is there’s more to life than work. You know how much I value what you bring to the company. It’s why I’ve promoted you so many times. But if your heart isn’t in this anymore, you can tell me. I don’t want to watch you burn yourself out.”
“My heart is in this. This job is all I have left.” I nearly choked that last sentence, surprised by how much emotion snuck into the words.
Lindsey tilted her head, giving me a concerned look. “Greyson, what happened out in Fairhope?”
“It’s nothing,” I said. “My wife and kids are still out there. I’m trying to adjust to seeing them less. That’s all.”
Lindsey tapped her pen on her desk. “I don’t want to be the reason you aren’t seeing your kids. You know we’ve moved a lot of positions virtual lately. Matt Parsons has been doing all his consultations on Zoom. The guy hardly ever leaves his house, and his productivity is actually up. It also saves us on travel expenses.”
For some reason, I felt my anger rise up. I clenched my jaw. “What are you suggesting?”
“I’m saying I care about you, not just the work you do, Greyson. If moving you remote so you can be with your family is what it takes, then I’m happy to find a way.”
“I’m not moving to fucking Fairhope,” I snapped. “Why won’t anyone get that through their heads?”
I stormed out of the office, feeling more than a little foolish. I went to my office and pulled the door shut, sinking into my chair and feeling more and more unreasonable by the minute. I picked up my phone and called Zack.
“I was wondering how long you would keep dodging my calls.”
“What am I doing?” I asked. I could hear the defeat in my voice.
Zack heard it too, and it was a long time before he responded. “You want the sugar-coated truth, or the cold hard version?”
“Cold hard.”
“You’re afraid to be happy. You didn’t have to admit that because you had enough excuses, but those all dried up on you one by one. Now you’re just sad, alone, and living in your own self-induced purgatory.”
