Page 24 of Losing Forever
I take her wrist in a gentle hold and move it away. “How about I do the right thing and take you home?”
She crosses her arms. “I gotta be honest. I didn’t expect you to be such a prude.”
Laughter shoots from me. She’s right. “I didn’t, either. Believe me. It’s a first.”
“I’m going to try not to take that as an insult.”
“And I’m going to shut up before I fuck up this night even more.”
She gives me a long, hard stare, shakes her head in disappointment, and walks to the door, her hips swinging. “Your loss.”
“Don’t I know it.” I follow her out of the office, angry with myself for so many reasons. For asking Caitlyn out instead of following Noah’s lead and keeping my distance. For placing my sexual needs over my work ethics. For almost screaming Braylee’s name while my dick was in Caitlyn’s mouth, and for proving Noah’s old theory about me screwing up situations to be as true as ever.
9
Braylee
After changing into my pajamas, I patter back downstairs to the family room to turn off the TV. Noah got a call during our movie fest and disappeared into his room, never to return. I didn’t mind. He’d spent enough time with me.
We ordered Thai food to go and ate it while watching old horror movies. It's not even close to Halloween, and channels are already playing them in marathons.
Soon, stores will be filled with Halloween goodies and by the end of the summer, Christmas decorations will stock the shelves. Mom and I used to shock Dad, texting him pictures of Christmas trees in stores in August, when he was on the road for work.
We'd pack Elijah up in his stroller and spend hours in a warehouse-type home décor store Mom and I loved. A smile breaks across my face even as my heart aches for the loss of them. I'd give anything to go back in time and live the day of the accident over again. I'd do everything differently, the exact opposite. I'd change my life if it meant I could keep them in it.
A tear slips down my cheek. I wipe it away, sniffle, and lean over the couch to grab the TV remote.The Shiningis playing now. I turn it off.
Silence fills the air. Then, someone whispers, “Boo.”
A squeal rips from my throat. I whirl toward the kitchen and stumble against the side table, knocking the wooden lamp to the floor. It hits the thick rug with a thump. Leaving it, I scan the darkness for who scared me.
“Shit. Bray.” Grayson's tall, shadowed form appears in front of me. He touches my arms with his big hands. “I didn’t know you'd freak out. I was playing. I'm so sorry.”
“You…” My breath blows too fast for me to finish. I drag in a deep inhale. “You asshole. Why would you do that?” Tremors run through me as I work to calm my pounding heart.
“I was just teasing. I thought you might scream and then laugh. I didn't know you'd be terrified.” He lowers his warm hands from my arms.
I rub my biceps. A tingling sensation lingers on my skin from where he touched me. “Noah and I watched scary movies all night, and I had just turned off the TV. You shouldn't sneak up on people like that. It's not nice.” The words are a harsh whisper. I catch a hint of Caitlyn's powder-scented perfume on him. Black and red swirl inside me. Before I can stop myself, I wave a hand in front of my nose and step back, bumping into the couch. “You smell like Caitlyn.”
He straightens or stiffens. It's hard to tell in the dark. “We went to dinner.” He picks up the lamp and sets it on the table. “I don’t think it’s broken.” He switches on the light.
The room brightens, showing off my pajamas—tiny boxers, the fabric dotted with pineapples, and a thin tank top with no bra. “Turn it off,” I shout, not wanting him to see my disfigured body.
He does at once. Thank God. Darkness blankets the great room, except for moonlight filtering in through the near-closed plantation shutters.
“I should go to bed.” I step around him.
“Wait.” He grabs my arm and moves in front of me. “I’m sorry I scared you. I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t thinking. Like always,” he adds under his breath and shakes his head. “I’m a master at making poor decisions. I want to try to change that, starting with you and this tension between us. Our work and living arrangement will be better for it. Noah’s life will benefit, too. He’s a good friend, who tends to get caught up in my shit and is far too lenient on me for it. So, what do you say?” He raises his hand. “Truce?”
“Truce? I didn’t know we were fighting.”
“You’re not exactly friendly with me. Not that I blame you. I can be a handful.”
This honest, vulnerable side of him has my mind reeling and my heart softening. He’s right. Life would be easier for us and for Noah if we got along. My knee-jerk reaction around Grayson falls between snippy and defensive. Time to put this ugly jealousy aside. It’s not like I haven’t defeated worse. I lost my entire family and dealt with the grief. I can handle this.
I stare up at his face in the dark room, unable to make out his features or see his special eyes—special because they’re so similar to my purple focus color. “You’re not the only one to blame. I haven’t been easy on you.”
He doesn’t speak, just stands there as still as a statue. I listen for the sound of his breathing. Nothing. Then a faint exhale.
