Page 3 of Not A Whisper

“If I stay away, if I don’t reach out, Dad will think it’s over,”Grant added. “And because the others are always with me, they shouldn’t reach out to you either, just in case. I don't want him to be suspiciousat all."

“It’s just to keep you safe,” Jason assured me. "And only for a little while, then everything will go back to normal."

The conversation ended with Trip agreeing. "This is fucking bullshit, but they’re right. Garry will let it go if he doesn’t think any of us are sticking close and communicating for Grant. We’ll try to be careful when we do see you, but I think it’s best we don’t meet up too often for a bit."

I didn't get a choice in the matter. There wasn't a vote—not that I would've won it anyway—and I was left with just the hope that they would keep their word.

Their absence hurt.

Sighing loudly, I tug my jacket closer. I hate this. The sneaking around, the lack of communication, hell, just the lack of emotional and physical connection is wearing on me. I’m tired of feeling disappointed. Something has to change.

But what?

All I wanted from them was for this to be real, meaning exclusivity. Technically, I’m getting that—as far as I know. But maybe I’ve been expecting more from them and that’s why their lack of, well,everythinghas been irritating. Is it possible that I’ve been considering this a serious relationship despite the complexity of it? Had I really thought that there’d be more romance and fewer games and risks? No, I couldn’t seriously be expecting dates, flowers, or the works from them, right? Because that’s totally setting myself up for failure. That wasnevertheir thing.

But maybe that’s what I’ve secretly been longing for.

A heavy sigh slips past my lips, causing a puff of steam to gather in front of my face. Maybe that’s what needs to change: my mindset.

These guys can be a part of my life, as little or as much as they want. But I’m not going to dothisanymore. I’m not waiting around, nor will I tolerate being ghosted.

I pull out my phone again and pull up my chat with my coworker Megan who I know is out and about this evening.

Me: Hey, where are you? Let’s meet up for drinks.

Two

My mini heels click against the vinyl flooring. The sound weaves its way through the other soft noises around me. Students speak with one another, fingers tap on keyboards, and there’s the gentle scratching of pens and pencils as notes are made. These are just a few of the familiar sounds one hears in a library.

As I slide back behind the circular desk settled on the second floor of the Atwater Library, I’m greeted with another sound: an exasperated huff of a coworker and friend.

“Have I ever mentioned how expensive children are?” Jonathan demands as he types away on his phone. “If I haven’t, then let me tell you now: if you ever want to retire—don’t have any.”

I snicker as I wiggle my mouse to wake my monitor up.

“That’s what you get for having three. You could’ve stopped at one. Or even two.”

He scoffs loudly. “Tell that to Brenda.”

“Wasn’t ityouthat kept getting baby fever? If I remembercorrectly, Brenda said?—”

“She’s lying, I swear!”

My laughter is cut off as a student stops at the desk and asks for help. When they’re taken care of, Jonathan rolls closer to me in his chair and hands me his phone.

“We just got a babysitter so we could do this tonight. Want to join us?”

I take his phone and read the flyer on it. “A blues bar?”

“Yeah, my cousin is playing there with his band. He’s rarely ever in town, so I thought it would be fun. They have good food and I can vouch for the music.” Jonathan takes his phone back. “It’s a city over so, you could invite Grant if you want and not have to worry about being seen…”

Inwardly, I sigh. It’s mid-February and I’ve only gotten to see Grant once since last year and that was a week ago. He’d somehow found me at a restaurant not far from here and cornered me in the parking lot on my way in to meet Brenda for dinner.

“It won’t always be like this,” he’d whispered in the dark shadows of the building before proceeding to kiss me passionately. When he pulled away, his gaze looked nearly haunted, though it was hard to see it in the darkness. “I hate that I can’t spend every waking hour with you. I miss you, dollface.”

And then, just like that, Grant had disappeared. If it hadn’t been for my swollen lips, I would’ve thought I’d imagined the short encounter.

Outwardly, I roll my eyes so that Jonathan can see. “You just want to befriend a Gipson.”

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