Two weeks go by. Some days drag, other pass fast. I work. I go to the beach with Sloane. I go to my parents’ house for a Fourth of July barbeque. I have brunch with Noah. I even get a drink with Miranda Hendrix after she texts me an invitation to.
None of it distracts me from the Gray-shaped hole in my life.
It’s a Tuesday. I’m sprawled out on the couch, surrounded by an array of food meant to ensure I won’t need to get up for a few hours. Sloane is at work, so I revel in my messy tendencies. I’m binging some high school television drama and crunching corn chips when my phone rings. Unknown Caller flashes across the screen.
It’s likely spam, but I answer anyway. “Hello?”
“Evie?”
I sit straight up, pillows falling and chips flying. For a second, I can’t speak. Then questions rush out in a torrent. “Gray? Oh my God, is everything okay? Are you hurt? Did something—”
“I’m fine.” There’s a smile in his voice. He’s pleased by my panic—that I was worried about him. He clears his throat. “I didn’t mean to freak you out. I just had some time. So, I thought I’d call.”
“Oh.” That’s all I say. All I can say. My mind is spinning too fast to formulate sentences. Words. I need words.
Seconds pass before he says my name again. It’s another question. This time, there’s an uncomfortable edge. Of uncertainty. Maybe even some nerves. Nothing like the assurance I expect from him.
“Yeah, I’m here. Sorry. I’m just…shocked, I guess. I didn’t think you would call. I didn’t even know if you could.”
“I wanted to hear your voice.”
I tuck away the sound of those six words in his voice. To the special spot where I store moments I know I never want to forget. “You’re okay, right?”
“Yeah. Just…tell me about your day.”
“I woke up two hours ago and have been watching teen televisions dramas while eating junk for the past hour and fifty-five minutes, give or take.”
He chuckles, and my chest warms like I downed a cup of cocoa. “What did you do yesterday, then?
I lie back down on the couch and tell him everything I can think of. Starting with the line out the door of Charleston Coffee Traders first thing in the morning. Then about how Rose was running so late that she did rounds in scrubs pulled over penguin-patterned pajamas. About the baby with a murmur, whose life I helped save. The questionable turkey sandwich I had for lunch. I talk and talk and talk. More than I ever have, possibly. I pause a few times, self-conscious. But then he asks what happened next or laughs, and I keep talking.
I don’t stop until I hear commotion on his end that grows louder instead of quieter.
We’re both silent for a minute.
“Thank you for the car,” I blurt. “Not that you’re, like, giving it to me. I don’t mean that. But thank you for letting me use it. It was really…sweet of you.” I’m not sure I could sound any less eloquent. Like lots of things, a simple thank you is more complicated with him than it would be with anyone else. I don’t want him to think I’m reading into the gesture. I’m also wondering if I should.
Rather than provide any insight, he asks, “Have you had any problems with it?”
“None. The thing runs great. And I haven’t gotten into any accidents, so don’t worry about the paint job.”
He’s silent for a beat. “If you were in an accident, I wouldn’t give a fuck about the paint job, Evie. Just you.”
I’m glad he can’t see my face because I’m certain it’s showing everything I never told him.
“I’ve gotta go.” There’s regret in his voice, and it makes my heart race.
Hope. That’s what this giddy emotion is called, I think.
Whatever it is, it makes me bold. “Are you going to call again?”
“Do you want me to?”
“Yes.” That’s my answer when it comes to him. Do I need him? Will he break my heart? Am I stupid for enabling this? All yeses.
“Okay. Bye, Evie.”
“Bye, Gray.”
I let my phone drop and then stare up at my ceiling with a stupid smile on my face.
A week later, he calls again. I’m in his Jeep, on my way to work. When I admit that, I can hear the smile in his voice. For the whole drive to work, we talk about nothing meaningful. I don’t ask what these calls mean, and he doesn’t offer up any explanation.
Despite that, I’m in a good mood all morning. Rose regales me with a dramatic retelling of her date last night over Caesar salad. When she’s finished making fun of the way he ordered wine in a French accent, she shifts her attention to me.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” I ask, playing dumb.
Rose’s expression tells me she doesn’t buy it. “Are things with Gray…”
“Over,” I reply. “He left.”
“Have you heard from him at all?”
“Yeah. He’s called a couple of times.”
“That’s good, right?”
“I guess.”
“Why don’t you sound sure?”
“I just…I don’t think anything has changed. He said from the start that this wasn’t anything serious, that he’s not looking for a relationship. And I agreed. Dragging things out now that he’s gone, well, it’ll just hurt even more in the end.”
“Did you tell him that?”
I play with a crouton. “No. I want him to call. I want to know he’s okay, and I want to hear his voice. That’s the problem.”
“Yeah. That would be tricky.” Rose plays with her fork. “You know Ben has a thing for you, right?”
“He’s friendly with everyone.”
“True. But he’s friendliest with you. He’s never invited me to Starbucks.”
“You’re always talking about guys you’re seeing.”
The fork gets pointed right at me. “You get hearts in your eyes every time Gray gets mentioned. Yet Ben still asked me if I knew whether you were single.”
“He did?”
“Uh-huh.” Rose studies me closely, obviously attempting to determine my reaction to that news.
“What did you tell him?”
“That I wasn’t sure. I don’t stick my nose in other people’s love lives unless they ask me to.”
“Hmm.”
I take a bite of salad, testing out the idea of me and Ben in my head. I’m not sure I can picture it—kissing him. More than kissing him. Then again, I can’t seem to picture doing either of those things with anyone who’s not Gray. So much for using him as a transition to one-night stands with strangers—or whatever the hell I told myself when we first started hooking up.
“So…what are you going to tell him?”
I laugh. “Where’s your nose right now?”
Rose rolls her eyes. “I’m not telling you what to do. Just curious what you’re thinking.”
I play with a piece of lettuce. “I don’t know what I’d say. I should give it a try. He’s a great guy.”
“But…” she prompts knowingly.
“But I’ll probably tell him I’m still hung up on someone else. Because…I am.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d say.” Rose’s pager goes off, vibrating against the table. She groans. “Crap. I gotta take this one. See you later?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Once Rose disappears, I stand and toss the remains of my salad in the trash. It’s late for lunch, nearing two, so the cafeteria is mostly empty. I only have to wait in line for a couple of minutes before buying an iced tea to wash away the aftertaste of anchovies. It was slim pickings by the time I had a chance to take my lunch break.
Rather than sit down at one of the tables that makes me feel like I’m in a high school lunchroom, I head outside. There’s an attached courtyard with winding paths and neat landscaping. I take a seat on one of the curved metal benches flanking the fountain in the center, watching some of the more mobile patients visit with their families.
It’s a warm, sunny day. A perfect day, really. The sky is a bright, vibrant blue, the hue only interrupted by the occasional fluffy white cloud. The sun beams down in bright rays, dappling the leaves of the trees and the blooms of the flowers. I focus on the fountain, watching the soothing trickles of clear water spill over the edge and then disappear, only to be recycled.
The rumble of a distant engine draws my gaze back up to the sky. A plane flies by, its speed and size deceptively slow and small against the vast backdrop.
Gray’s parting words echo in my mind. “You’re not a fly by, Evie.”
I haven’t asked him what that means. It implies we aren’t temporary, but he said them right before walking out the door, with no other assurances or declarations. Technically, we’re both single. We never made any commitments. He could be involved with other people. I could go on a date with Ben.
Would he care?
Should I ask?
“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”
I glance to my left to see Henry Phillips approaching. He sits down on the bench beside me. “Picture-perfect,” I agree.
“How have you been doing, Evie?” he asks me kindly.
“All right,” I respond. “Busy.”
“So I’ve heard. You’ve made quite the first impression here.” He gives me a proud smile. “Not that I expected anything less.”
I smile back. “Thank you.”
“Made it to the beach much?”
“Twice. You?”
Henry dons a sheepish expression. “Not once. Easy to say, I’ll just go tomorrow. Hasn’t happened yet.”
We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes.
“How is Noah doing?”
“Good. He loves it at his new firm. And he’s talked about a coworker named Megan a few times, so he might have managed to find a woman who can put up with his annoying tendencies.”
He chuckles. “Good. And how about you? Anyone special?”
Opened myself right up for that one. “Um, no. There was a guy in Boston, but that ended when I moved back. I’m just focusing on work for right now.”
“I was the same way—until I met Juliet.”
Another plane passes overhead.
I look up at it. “Good flying conditions today.”
Henry follows my gaze. “Yes, they are.” A pause follows. “Gray left a couple of weeks ago.”
“Yeah, I know. Uh, Noah mentioned it.”
He nods, eyes still on the few fluffy clouds drifting by, covering the white trail left by the engines.
“Have you—have you talked to him?”
“No.” Henry shakes his head. “No. I—to be honest, I wouldn’t even know how to go about it. He barely answers the phone when he’s on leave. I have no idea how to reach him while he’s deployed.”
Honestly, I don’t either. He always calls me.
When I look at Henry’s expression—holding a hint of stoicism and a lot of sadness—there is a long list of things I’d like to say. Condemnation, for letting his relationship with Gray deteriorate to the point it has. Admiration of who Gray is. I want to tell his dad everything—how he feels about storms and how he lost Sam and what it’s like to be up in a plane with him.
“Maybe you should try to find out,” I suggest softly.
It takes a minute for him to reply. “Maybe.” He stands, straightening his white coat. “Have a good rest of your day, Evie.”
“Yeah, you too,” I reply.
Henry disappears, and I raise my gaze back to the sky.
