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"You don't talk to him anymore?" I asked, sensing the somewhat sad undertones in hisvoice.
"He and my aunt divorced and it wasn't exactly pretty. He hasn't really been in contactsince."
"Oh." I felt stupid for askingnow.
Thankfully, the waitress returned not long after that to take our orders. Grayson looked up at me over his menu. "Have you ever had fried Tilapia?" heasked.
I shook my head. "I don't eat a lot of fish." It had been too expensive when it was just my mom and me, even with us being so close to the ocean. Then there was the fact that I didn’t know how to cook it and wasn’t willing to waste money buying something I didn’t know if I couldmake.
When his eyes met mine again, I swear my heart stopped in my chest. "Do you trust me?" His voice had edged down, low and secretive. Seductive. Like a puppet on a string, my head bobbed. He smiled, handing the menus back to the waitress as he ordered for both ofus.
When she was gone, he reached across the table and took one of my hands. His fingers felt warm in my palm. Our eyes clashed, brown toblue.
"So," I said to break the silence, scrambling to come up with something to ask. "How's your family?" I blurted. I regretted the question as soon as it slipped from my mouth and a flinch descended across Grayson's features. He pulled his hand away and sat back roughly. I had to fight not to reach out again. "I'm sorry," I said quickly. "I didn'tmean—"
He waved his hand, cutting me off. "It'sfine."
My eyes burned and I cursed myself for ruining the moment. A heavy weight settled over the space between us as the couple at the bar talked with the bartender in quiet, happy tones. The sound of quiet but pleasant music drifted to my ears from some unseen speakers. It was the same tone of music that had drifted over the voices as we walked through the inside of the Coconut Hut to get to the rooftop, so I assumed it was playing everywhere. But even the quiet music couldn't drown out myguilt.
"I'm really sorry," I repeated a few minutes later when he neither attempted to talk about something else nor moved closer to the table. In fact, he was avoiding the thing as though it were some dangerous animal between us, ready to strike at him if he gotnear.
At first, I thought he wasn't going to reply. His gaze was settled elsewhere, seemingly far off in the distance. "My mother is a sore topic for me right now," he said. I was more than a little surprised that he hadn't made a joke or an asshole comment that would have instigated my ire. That Grayson seemed to be far away now. He had been for quite some time—ever since we came back. I moved closer to the table, dropping my elbows gently to the edge and leaning over just slightly. I didn't say anything, just waited—and hoped—for him to continue. He didn't disappoint. "She's not the most loving of parents," he said, still not looking at me. I wondered if he wasn't letting himself. I wondered if it was easier to pretend that I wasn't here. "She's always had an agenda up her sleeve. She's clever and beautiful, but she's a snake in thegrass."
I frowned. "How so?" Iasked.
He shook his head, his eyes never deviating from where they were set. "She uses people. She's controlling and always scheming, always fucking planning something." I blinked at the vehemence in his voice. He continued. "There are things I want in life, things I wanted to accomplish—to do. But if it doesn't align with her plan, it's not worthy of not just her time, but my time aswell."
“That’s not fair,” I said. He nodded in acknowledgement but didn’t say anythingmore.
Gulping low in my suddenly dry throat, I watched him with curiosity and more than a little understanding. Grayson and I were so very alike, I wondered if he noticed. Both of us had older brothers that never acted as older brothers probably should. Josh treated Grayson like a fixer for all his problems. Michael ignored me. That pain still had yet to abate. Several phone calls to what had turned out to be a dead end, because Michael's old number was no longer in service. I wondered if I would ever talk to him or see him again. I wondered if I wanted to. And our mothers? Well, we both had our own pasts and issues to deal with on that front. At least, with my mom, things had gotten easier. They'd gotten better since I met theguys.
"Have you explained to your mom what you want?" Iasked.
Grayson scoffed, the sound halfway between an unamused laugh and a coughing grunt. "As if that would matter to her, but yes, my mother and I have discussed my future many times. While she'll let me roam to an extent, she's got her tiny hands wrapped around my leash, pulling taut whenever she thinks I've strayed too far. There's only so much room she's willing to giveme."
"How does she feel about you living with the guys andme?"
Finally, Grayson turned his head and his eyes moved to my face. The level of intensity in the depths of his eyes nearly sent me toppling over. Like razors lashing out, his eyes practically glowed under the tiki torch firelight, appearing lit fromwithin.
"It doesn’t matter what she thinks now," he said, a raspy growl in his tone.Was he angry?I wondered. "I'm done with her and she knows it. I don't care what she feels or thinks about what I do. Come my twenty-first birthday, she won't have any strings to pull. If I never have to go back and see her again, it'll be toosoon."
A part of me wanted to warn him away from such obvious hatred. That kind of acrimony could only lead to more pain in the future and I wanted to see a healed Grayson. The first Grayson I had met had been muddled by the murky waters of his home life—whatever it may have included, aside from the control his mother obviously held over him. This Grayson was still sinking in his grief, and no matter what he said, it was obviously grief—grief over losing family, grief over cutting ties to someone who had given birth to him and raisedhim.
It was hard. All of it. I knew. I had never been strong enough to cast away my mom, not like Michael had. Not like Grayson was. But even with our similarities, Grayson and I, we were still different. Our situations in the same realm, but not identical. Still, if things continued, if he could let go rather than hold onto that animosity in his expression, I wondered what kind of Grayson the future wouldhold.
I bit my lip and looked down at the surface of the table, smoothing my fingers over a fissure in the wood. "My mom threw a glass at my head once," I stated calmly. In my periphery, I watched as Grayson stilled and somehow forgot his desire for distance as he leaned forward. My finger trailed down the small crack in the wood. "She had these," I paused with an insecure breath, "moods," I continued. "They'd make her act a little crazy. She'd scream at me. Ask me where I was going, what I was doing. No matter how many times I told her, she never believed me. I’d get home from school and she wouldn’t believe me when I told her where I’d been. Then I’d have to go to work and she’d try to stop me, but I couldn’t stop going to work. Her disability checks were tiny. Barely anything and I didn't realize how much we needed money until we were almost evicted the firsttime."
"The first time?" he repeated, shock and concern in his tone as his arms moved back over the table. Grayson reached towards me and captured my moving fingers, squeezing them with his own. I lifted my gaze and gave him what I hoped was a serene and calm smile. Inside, I was a riot of unbalanced emotions, each one trying to drive out theothers.
I nodded. "She had this quirk—manic stages, the doctors called it. One moment she'd be so angry and upset and the next she'd be laughing and noticing things about the house—like how we didn't have any new curtains or dishes or my shoes were worn through and she'd buy everything without thinking about the fact that we didn't have themoney."
I still recalled the fear in my chest when I had come home after a particularly long shift with the yellow notice plastered to our door, demanding that we either pay our rent and back rent or vacate the premises. I hadn't even known we'd been falling behind. I thought that the disability checks had been at least covering the rent while I took care of the utilities. But it appeared that my mom had forgotten and spent the money elsewhere—where? I still didn'tknow.
"It took a long while for me to work to make up the money for our back rent. It was only because of my neighbor and the landlady and Alex that we ended up keeping the duplex for as long as we did." Alex had given me all the shifts I wanted and even upped my hourly pay. After explaining the situation to the landlady, she had begrudgingly agreed to give us more time to pay with the understanding that we were to be on time with our rent from then on. "To be honest," I continued, "it feels odd not having a job with regular hours now. It’s a little odd not scrimping and saving and actually going out like this. The lack of worry makes me anxious sometimes—like there’s something around the corner, something I’m forgetting. Soon enough that something will catch up withme.”
"That explains why you fell asleep so much in class." Grayson smiled sweetly at me even as he tried to tease me. "You were too busy saving the world atnight."
I blushed. "I'm not a hero," I argued, teasingly. "I don't have acostume."
