I don’t hear from Gray for a full week after his departure. I spend the stretch of time stressing and second-guessing. Working and worrying. By the time he finally calls, I’ve worked myself up into a mess. I’m in my bedroom, getting ready for bed, when the phone rings. I fall onto my bed and babble for the first ten minutes, barely letting him get a word in.
Everything I can think of to say, I say it. The recent rain and work and updates on Charlotte’s sports team, which I only know about thanks to Noah. He just listens. Yet, somehow, I can hear him in the silence. I can tell that he’s content to listen—that he wants to. He’s at ease as I desperately scramble to make it feel normal. To spout off whatever nonsense comes to mind.
When I run out of topics—and air—he takes over, telling me about the card game he played last night and what he ate for breakfast. Without prompting and without me asking. It feels like we’re a normal couple, each coming home from work and filling each other in about our days. I hoped I would one day have a relationship like this, where even the boring and mundane seem important and exciting. I fantasized that Grayson Phillips might one day treat me like an important part of his world.
Listening to the familiar cadence and rasp of his voice, I’m hit with a wave of longing powerful enough to knock me over. It’s not just that we’re separated. It’s that we feel separated. There’s a big wall between me and the happy ending he never promised—the happy ending he told me not to expect. A translucent one, so I can see everything I want, I just can’t reach it.
I’m not sure where we stand. He’s given me more mixed signals than a malfunctioning stoplight. And I suddenly need to know. This is torture, made all the more painful because parts of it are pleasure. I’ve laughed and smiled more on this call than I have in the last week. The high makes the low feel like rock bottom.
So when he announces he has to go, I call on the same reckless abandonment that made me kiss him in that hallway at Malone’s. The moment that sent this all into motion.
“Gray?”
He hesitates before clearing his throat, like he can sense the importance of what I’m about to say in the single syllable of his name. Know what I’m about to say will change us. “Yeah?”
“When we were in Beaufort, on the beach before the storm…you told me a list, remember?”
Silence, then he repeats, “Yeah.”
“Am—am I on that list? Is there a chance I will be, one day? Are you…open to adding to it?” I feel moderately ridiculous, talking in metaphorical circles. But bravery has bounds—mine, at least. I can’t force the words Do you love me? out of my mouth.
More silence. Foreboding silence. I’m grateful I can’t see his expression; the pause is painful enough. It’s not a question you should need to think through, and if you do, that says a lot in itself.
“If I’m not, if I won’t be, can you stop calling? Because it…” The white plaster of my ceiling swims before my eyes. “God, it hurts, Gray. I don’t know what we are or where we stand. I don’t know if I should hold on or let go or move on. And I need to know. I know where we’re supposed to stand, but not where we really do. You’ve said things…I’ve said things…” I bite down on the inside of my cheek until I taste metal. “I want this—us—for real, Gray,” I admit. “I need to know if you do too.”
It’s quiet for so long that I think we’ve been disconnected and I’ve been pouring my heart out to open air this whole time.
Then, he finally responds, in a way that makes me wish the phone lines had been snipped after all. “I have to go, Evie.”
The next two weeks pass slowly…and silently.
Gray never calls.
Day by day, I give up on the hope that he will a little more. Until there’s none of the pesky emotion left. If I’d never let myself hope, this would be easier. I know Gray cares about me. You can’t share moments like we have and walk away completely unaffected. But there’s a long leap from care to love. One I apparently made solo.
Maybe I should have waited to ask him in person.
Maybe I pushed too fast.
Maybe he just needed more time.
But in the meantime, I was falling and falling and falling. Better to start pulling myself up now than tumble any further.
Even my mother notices my depression and forces me to come over for dinner. We’ve always been close, but she’s never asked me about boys or relationships or love unless I broached the subject first. She’s not the touchy-feely sort, and neither am I.
Henry and Juliet Phillips join us for dinner, which makes it extra challenging for me. Not only are they a potent reminder of Gray, but Henry’s presence makes me feel like I can’t blame the dark circles under my eyes and my pale skin on the insane hours I’ve been working lately. I’m covering twice as many shifts as the next intern. Third-year residents know my name. Every nurse on staff has my pager number memorized.
Professionally, I’m killing it.
My personal life is another story. I’ve barely seen Sloane as of late, and I know she’s worried about me. On the rare occasions I’m home, I’m sleeping. Work and sleep are my two respites. When I’m dashing around the hospital, I’m too busy to think. When I’m home, I’m too tired to do anything but embrace the blissful oblivion of sleep.
The worst part is the anticipation. I didn’t fall for any random guy. When Gray returns to Charleston, there’s an excellent chance I’ll have to see him. Interact with him. I’m not confident I can handle it without throwing something at him or crying. Or both.
He said he’d be gone “at least another month.” I probably should have clarified before asking for a live love declaration. There’s no way I’ll end up in this situation again—I hope—but lesson learned. Ask basic questions before big ones.
Noah is chattier at dinner than normal, and I know it’s his attempt at drawing attention away from me. I should be grateful, instead it makes me feel worse. He’s helping me, protecting me, even after I showed no regard for his feelings. Pursuing something with Gray was entirely selfish. It would be one thing if it had a point. If I went into it with the possibility we might end up together and it would all be worth it in the end.
Instead of thinking with my head, I acted with my heart and my hormones. I told myself I would act normally around him after we ended, that Noah would never know, much less suspect. Maybe that was a lie all along. It’s definitely a lie now. I’ve forever changed the dynamic between my brother and his oldest, closest friend.
The knowledge Gray broke my heart will always be there between them, whether I’m around or not.
And it breaks my heart all over again.
After dinner ends, I say goodbye to my parents and the Phillipses and head to the hospital for the graveyard shift. Noah insists on driving me. I stopped using Gray’s Jeep to get around two days after our final conversation. Parked it in the loft’s garage and took an Uber to the hospital. I’ve been taking the bus ever since because I have been working nonstop and haven’t even had the time to go look at a car. It’s an outing I’m avoiding because I know I’ll be plagued by memories of my last trip to a car dealership the next time I return.
Noah makes small talk on the drive. He hasn’t asked about Gray since he comforted me in his bedroom, after finding out about us. There’s really nothing left to say. I know he hasn’t taken my recent behavior as a sign things are going well between us. He never mentions Gray, but there’s worry etched on his face as he drops me off. I’m tempted to normalize things some, to ask if he’s still seeing the woman from his architecture firm, Megan, that he mentioned to me weeks ago. But I don’t. I’m worried it will lead to the inevitable question of when I’ll start dating, the one I have no answer for. Maybe I already should be. Simply pretending I’m fine hasn’t healed my heart much.
I should be exhausted when my shift ends at seven a.m. There was a five car pile-up on I-26 that kept me and the rest of the staff on call busy for most of the night. I’m not tired, though; I’m wired with restless energy. My feet drag as I cross the parking lot toward the bus stop, dreading returning home to Sloane’s sympathetic stares and a restless day’s sleep.
“Evie!” I focus my tired eyes on a black Volvo. The driver’s side window is down, and Ben is waving at me.
I walk over to him. “Hey.”
“You waiting for the bus?” He glances at the stop behind me.
“Yep.”
“Want a ride?” When I hesitate, he adds, “I was planning to stop at Frosted…”
Since an iced coffee and sugary doughnut sound like heaven right now, I agree. “That sounds great. Thanks.”
I round the front of the car and climb into the passenger seat. The air-conditioning feels heavenly. Summer’s full wrath is upon us. Even at this early hour, the heat is intense.
“Something wrong with your car?” Ben asks as he starts driving.
“More the lack of one that’s an issue,” I reply.
“Weren’t you driving that Jeep?” As if realizing how that sounded, he quickly adds, “Not a stalker. I promise.”
I laugh. “Um, yeah. I was. The Jeep’s owner and I have…parted ways.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks.”
We chat idly after that, Ben making an obvious effort to lighten the mood following my admission. He also holds the door for me and pays for my breakfast, reminding me of Rose’s comments a few weeks ago.
When we climb back into his car, I suggest we eat back at his place. The insinuation hangs between us in the chilled air inside the car as he agrees and starts driving in the opposite direction from my house. I finish my doughnut on the short drive, mostly as a way to keep my hands and mouth occupied. Without meaning to, my mind wanders to a different, yet similar, trip. In a Subaru, not a Volvo. Feeling equally nervous.
Ben lives in a nice complex just outside of downtown. It’s comprised of individual townhouses, so it doesn’t feel like you’re in the middle of a city, just a small community like at the base I visited with Gray.
I smile when I see the bowls set out on his front porch. Ben does too.
“Darn cat won’t leave me alone.”
“Not feeding it would probably help,” I point out.
He chuckles. “Yeah. It probably would.”
I follow Ben into his kitchen, taking in the shiny appliances and new furniture. The decorating makes me feel like I’m in a furniture showroom. There’s nothing wrong with it; it’s just all perfectly matched, coordinated in dark wood and shades of green.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks. My mom picked all the furniture out.” Ben makes a face, like the matching set might not have been his first choice either.
“You’re close with her?”
“Very. My dad passed away a few years ago. It was tough when I was out on the West Coast, but my brother lives close by her. He stayed in Ohio for college, and since.”
“That’s nice.” I’m having trouble focusing on the polite conversation. Nerves are percolating in my stomach and prickling at my skin.
I feel like a virgin again. This all feels new. Different. Strange.
An awkward silence falls, and I channel my nervous energy into action before it can turn into babbling or fidgeting instead. I walk right up to Ben and kiss him. He wasn’t expecting it—at all. He stumbles back a step before resting his hands on my waist and steadying us both. As the surprise fades, he starts to kiss me back. His tongue teases the seam of my lips. I part them. He tastes like coffee and sugar. I probably do too.
We start to move. I keep my eyes closed, trying to shut off my brain and just relax into the moment. Something soft hits the backs of my legs. A bed. I’m horizontal now, pressed against a downy comforter that smells freshly washed.
I kiss Ben harder, trying to force some sort of reaction. Any sort of reaction. All I feel is the pressure as Ben responds to my urgency. It’s eliciting the amount of passion that pressing my lips against the edge of a glass would. Worse is the nausea swirling in my stomach and crawling up my throat. It tastes like betrayal. Like I’m being unfaithful to a man who doesn’t want my loyalty.
I lied earlier. When I said it would be fine if you—when I acted like I wouldn’t care if you’d been with another guy. I would care.
Gray’s voice echoes in my mind, reminding me of words I unintentionally memorized and moments I’m trying to forget.
Can’t think of anything that would piss me off more, actually.
I can’t shut my brain off, no matter how hard I try. Can’t do this. Having sex with Ben won’t change how I feel about Gray.
I stiffen before I pull away and flop onto my back, panting. It feels hot in here—suffocating. With guilt and with annoyance over that guilt. I don’t owe Gray Phillips a damn thing. I should take back everything I’ve ever given him.
He has it all anyway. My fidelity. My trust. My body. My love.
“I’m sorry,” I say to the ceiling.
This won’t be progressing any further, and I can tell Ben realizes it. I don’t owe him anything, but I definitely led him on. Led him here.
Ben shifts beside me, accepting the literal distance I put between us. “Don’t apologize, Evie.”
“I know I made it seem like—”
“Evie. It’s fine. Really.”
We lie in silence. I’m also sweating. “I swear, it’s me, not you.”
“You mean, it’s him. Gray, right? The guy Rose asks about?”
His name douses me like cold water. It’s unexpected, leaving me no time to school my reaction—my surprise—at hearing that one syllable in a dark bedroom, spoken by a guy I was just kissing. On the plus side, the resulting chill means I’m no longer overheating. On the downside, Ben catches my wince.
“You’re in love with him.”
My first instinct is to shrug like that observation means nothing to me. But it’s difficult to shrug while lying down, and Ben is staring at the ceiling the same way I am, so he likely wouldn’t even see it.
“Probably.” I suck my bottom lip between my teeth.
Gray and love aren’t words I’ve used in the same sentence before outside my own head. I don’t know how else to describe everything I felt when we were together, though. Everything I feel when he’s gone.
“I thought I was making progress. I thought I could do this…so that’s a minor setback.”
Ben snorts a laugh.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, Evie. I should have made a better first impression at the bar.”
It takes me a few seconds to figure out what he’s talking about. “Oh. That’s not when I met him. He, uh, grew up next door to me. I’ve known him since I was five.”
Ben whistles. “Wow. When did you start having feelings for him?”
“The day he moved in.”
“Nothing ever happened between you two until now?”
“I was interested. He wasn’t.” My cheeks burn at the confession. “We don’t need to talk about this. I’m sure you don’t—”
“We’re friends, Evie.”
“You kiss all your friends?” I tease.
Ben turns his head to smirk at me. “Only the ones in love with another man.”
I let out some unattractive mixture of a snort and a scoff. “Right.”
We’re both quiet again. I should leave, but I kind of like lying here in the dark with him. His curtains are drawn, probably because he sleeps during plenty of daylight hours, like me. The guilt and anxiety have dissipated. I feel empty again. It’s nice not to be alone when you feel empty.
“Did you tell him? How you feel?”
“No,” I admit.
Ben hums a disapproval.
“That would have been…a bad idea. We agreed it was just sex.” I can only imagine how our last conversation would have gone if I’d preluded my list question with those three words. Pity probably would have permeated the long pause. I’m sure Gray has an accurate sense of how I feel about him. It’s simmered in the subtext of every encounter we’ve ever had. I wouldn’t have asked him if he loved me if I didn’t love him. That’s different from outright saying it, though.
“And you didn’t think it might end poorly? Sleeping with a guy you’ve had feelings for since you were five?” There’s no judgment in Ben’s question, just naked curiosity. Maybe a hint of amusement too. As far as failed hook up partners go, I chose well.
“I figured it would, actually. I just…wanted him more than I cared about the consequences.”
“And he didn’t?”
I sigh. “I have no idea. I asked how he felt the last time he called, and he hasn’t called since. It’s been two weeks.”
“Maybe you should call him,” Ben suggests.
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can. From what I’ve seen, you’re fearless.”
I only manage to tamp down the snort because I can tell he’s being genuine and sweet. When it comes to Gray, I’m mostly a complete coward. “I mean, I literally can’t. I have no idea how to reach him while he’s deployed. He calls me from a private number.”
“Oh. What if you contacted the base? They must have some way to reach him?”
“And say what? I’m trying to reach an airman who doesn’t want to talk to me?” I scoff. “No, it’s better this way. Cleaner. No temptation at all. I’ll just move on.”
I make it sound easy.
I know it’ll be anything but.
