Jailbait (12 page)

“I did.” My bike has a lot custom work, and I could talk about it all day. They ask me more about it but I’m interrupted by a phone call. It’s Pepper. The guys walk away as I turn to answer, unable to help the smile that’s pulling up my lips at the thought of her.
 

“Miss me already?” I say as soon I put the phone to my ear. Pepper doesn’t respond. “Pepper?”
 

“Gray,” she says, voice strangled.
 

My heart sinks for a split second, then anger rushes through me. I’ll kill that fucker Olson if he told her, if he made her hate me. “What’s wrong?”
 

Instead of answer, Pepper starts crying. I give her a few seconds before asking again. “My father,” she sobs. “He’s dead.”
 

*

I tear through the hospital hallway, bumping into people but not caring. The ER doors swing into the wall from the force of me shoving them open. I look as I walk, not stopping. Pepper’s friend Savannah is standing outside a room, pale-faced and stricken.
 

“Sir,” a nurse calls to me. “It’s family only. You can’t come in.”
 

Ignoring her, I rush towards Savannah. She looks at me, tears rolling down her cheeks, bringing black streaks of makeup along with it.

“Grayson?”
 

I nod and she steps aside. The nurse is bustling along after me when I burst through the door. Nothing prepares me for the pain I feel when I see Pepper bent over her father’s body, crying silently. Her head jerks up when I enter the room.

“Fuck, Pepper,” I breathe and go to her, taking her in my arms. I wrap her as tight as I can, holding her as she sobs. The nurse that followed me sees us together and leaves without a word, clicking the door shut behind her. I smooth my hands over Pepper’s hair, giving her everything I can, even though I know it’s not enough.
 

“I’m so sorry,” I tell her over and over, not knowing what else to say. I recall the lines I heard time and time again when I lost my dad, and it all seemed like bullshit. Pepper’s crying so hard she can barely stand, and my heart is breaking for her. “I’m here.” I tell her the words I’ve longed to hear. “I’m here, Pepper. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

I stay with her, holding her as her father’s body is taken away, drying her tears when someone comes in to talk to her about insurance and arrangements. The legal side of dying is complicated and wastes no time. Alcott’s official cause of death is a pulmonary embolism, resulting from the cancer in his lungs. It was sudden, but he didn’t suffer long, the doctor assures us. It happened late this morning, probably around the time I sent him the text, and his secretary found him unresponsive in his office not long after.
 

It feels like days have passed when we’re done with paperwork. Savannah stayed the entire time as well, and the three of us walk out of the hospital in silence.
 

“I don’t want to go home,” Pepper whispers.
 

“You can come to my place,” I offer, knowing that walking through the doors of the house she grew up in is too much, too soon.
 

“Okay,” she mumbles, clutching my hand as tight as possible.
 

“Give me your address and I’ll have her things dropped off,” Savannah says. I give her my info and take Pepper to my bike. She gets on the back, arms wrapped around me. Her faces presses against my shoulder, and she stays in the same position the entire way home. Not moving, not crying. At times I’m not sure if she was still breathing.
 

I park my bike in the driveway and help Pepper off. A piece of paper is stuck in the boxwood fern along the sidewalk leading to the front door. I can see my mug shot illuminated in the fading sunlight.
 

I walk past it. Pepper is all that matters now.
 

“Do you have anything to drink?” she asks when we get inside. She doesn’t look around or take anything in. Her hands are clasped on her elbows and her eyes, swollen and red from crying, are on the ground.
 

“Yeah. I have whiskey.” I take Pepper’s hand and lead her into the living room, guiding her to the couch. She plops down and starts to cry. Whiskey in hand, I hurry from the kitchen to be by her side, taking her in my arms. She melts into me, sobbing.

“It’ll be okay,” I soothe. “Somehow, someday, it’ll be okay.”
 

She takes in a shaky breath and sits up. “I got snot and tears on your shirt.”
 

“I don’t care.”
 

“It’s gross. I’m sorry.”
 

“Pepper, don’t apologize for anything right now.”
 

She nods and reaches for the bottle of whiskey, taking it off the coffee table and unscrewing the lid.
 

“Want me to make you a drink?” I ask, though before I can get up, she puts the bottle to her lips and takes a big swig. Her body reacts, shuddering at the taste, but she keeps drinking. “Pepper,” I say and take the bottle from her. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”
 

“I don’t care.”
 

“You don’t now, but you will.” I set the bottle down and envelope her in a tight embrace. We fall back on the couch and Pepper cries until she falls asleep. The doorbell rings, and I sneak out from under Pepper, trying hard not to wake her up. Though with as much whiskey as she downed, I think she’ll be out for a while.
 

Savannah is at the door, with two large leather suitcases at her side.
 

“Thanks for bringing her stuff,” I say and grab the suitcases, which are deceivably heavy. Savannah helps herself inside, looking around the house.
 

“Where’s Pepper?”
 

“She fell asleep on the couch.” I close the door and Savannah stiffens.
 

“Thanks,” she says apprehensively. “For being kind. Please…please don’t hurt Pepper. She’s already hurting enough.”
 

“I would never hurt Pepper.”
 

Savannah lets out a sharp exhale. “You’re either a huge asshole or you really have no clue how devastated she was when you just up and left six years ago.”
 

“If I could go back and do things differently, I would.”
 

“We all would, wouldn’t we?” She closes her eyes and sighs. “If you’re going to pull an asshole dick move, just save it okay? One thing at a time, please. We both know she can’t handle anymore heartache.”
 

“I do know, and I won’t hurt her.”
 

Savannah nods, but doesn’t look convinced. She stands there staring at me for another few seconds and then turns to leave. I shut and lock the door behind her, thinking about her words.
 

I’d die a hundred times over before I hurt Pepper. I’ll do fucking anything to keep her from feeling even the slightest bit of pain. But there is one thing I can’t control, one thing that could cause her to hurt.
 

My life has been one mess after another, a sinking ship with no lifeboat. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve gone down with it, treading water until I somehow manage to drag myself to land. I know one of these days the water will get too deep, and I’ll drown.
 

If Pepper stays with me, she’ll drown too.
 

Chapter Nine

Pepper

I sit up, head fuzzy and heart aching. Seeing the unfamiliar surrounds of Grayson’s house lets me know right away that I didn’t have a terrible dream. My father is dead. I spent the last several hours going over insurance and funeral arrangements. And soon I’ll have to sit down with his lawyer and go over all the financial aspects of his life. It was something I knew I’d have to do someday, and my father spoke about it casually. He reminded me when my mother died and he was single again, he was bombarded with women—and even men—wanting into the family. Money makes people do crazy things, he’d tell me. And he wasn’t immune to it. I’d seen him do some unconscionable things when it came to protecting his investments.
 

“Pepper?” Grayson whispers, sitting up. He’s on the couch next to me. I rub my eyes, which actually hurt from crying. The last time I cried this hard was when Grayson suddenly disappeared from my life. “You awake?”
 

“Yeah,” I say hoarsely. “What time is it?”
 

He grabs his phone from the coffee table and taps the screen. “Almost six.”
 

I look out the window. The shades and curtains have been drawn, shutting out the pale light outside. “At night?”
 

“No, in the morning.” He slides over and puts an arm around me. I lean against him, feeling my heart come together. Not fully, no, it’s too soon for that. But having him with me is the only thing that’s keeping me from falling completely apart.
 

“I slept all night?”
 

He brushes the messy hair from my face. “Yeah. You needed it. Neither of us got much sleep the night before, and then with everything that happened…you were tired. Go back to sleep if you want to. I’ll take you to my bedroom.”
 

I turn my head into Grayson, nuzzling his neck. He holds me tighter, bending his head down to kiss my forehead. I don’t want to move, don’t want to face the world or deal with anything. If it were up to me, I’d go back and live out my time with Grayson again and again. I imagine him in my bed after we made love the second time. If I don’t move, I can pretend I’m there again. And nothing hurts.
 

“Are you hungry?” he asks. “I’m a shitty cook, but I can go get you something.”
 

Stop!
I mentally scream. Stop talking about real life. I don’t want to be in real life right now. Because eating and resting means I’m a real person and real people feel heartbreak. Real people cry and grieve and have to deal with stuff I’m not strong enough to deal with.
 

I squeeze my eyes tight and turn my head, pressing my ear to Grayson’s chest.
One…two…three…four…
I keep counting his heartbeat, not moving. I’m still in my bed, still tangled up in skin. My only concern is coming down from the high of incredible sex to do it again. Nothing bad has happened.
 

And when the morning sun starts to rise, I’ll start this night over again.
 

Eighty-three…eighty-four…eighty-five…

“Pepper?” Grayson shifts his weight but I cling to him, needing to hear his heartbeat. “Pepper, are you ok—sorry, dumb question. Come on, babe, you should eat something. Especially after drinking.”
 

“Stop talking,” I mumble, losing count. I start over from one. I feel him nod, and then his arms fold around me. My stomach hurts. Is it from hunger? I don’t allow myself time to process it.
Seven…eight…nine…ten.
I have a headache that’s starting to pound a little harder and harder as my own heart beats on. My mouth is dry and I need to pee. I have to ignore it all. I can’t get up and acknowledge that my body has needs, needs I can’t control, because with that comes reality and I. Cannot. Handle. It.
 

Ninety-six…ninety-seven…ninety-eight.

“Pepper, you’re starting to worry me.”
 

I don’t respond. I just keep counting.
 

One hundred and fifty…. one hundred and fifty-one…one hundred and fifty-two…

Grayson gently tips my head to his and puts his lips to mine. The kiss is so gentle, so tender, so full of love and pity and sorrow.

It breaks me.
 

I pitch forward, crying. Grayson holds me, letting the sobs come freely, drying my eyes and pushing my hair back from my wet face. Finally, I suck in a breath and feel there is nothing left. My sobs turn into hollow gasps of air, and the tears feel heavy and hot rolling down my face.
 

Grayson stands, bringing me with him. I bury my head in his shoulder as he carries me into the bathroom, gently setting me down on the sink so he can start the shower. He steps out, giving me privacy to undress and use the toilet, and then joins me in the shower.
 

There is nothing sexual about it. I stand there, warm water streaming down, and he washes me. We stand together until the water runs cold. Once out and wrapped in a fluffy blue towel, Grayson leads me into his room. The bed is unmade and there are piles of laundry on the floor. I crawl into bed with him, and start crying again.
 

I cry for the loss of my father. I’ll never see his face again. Never hear his voice. We’ll never talk, he’ll never walk me down the aisle. He won’t get to meet his grandchildren, and they will only know him from my stories and photographs. I don’t remember the last thing my father said to me, and I didn’t take the time to tell him goodbye. I didn’t think I needed to. I called him yesterday and left him a message. I play over the words I said in my mind, wondering if he even got a chance to listen to them.
 

Hey dad, it’s Pepper. I’m going into the city with Savannah today and wanted to know if you could meet for lunch. I have some questions for you. Love you!

Thank God I added the “love you” at the end of my message. But it was said so casually, I don’t know if my father knew how much I really did love him. After losing my mother at a young age, my dad was all I had. Almost exactly a year after my mom’s death, my dad ended up in the hospital from exhaustion because he was spreading himself too thin running his business and spending much needed time with me.
 

Now they are both gone.
 

“Do you believe in heaven?” I ask Grayson.
 

“I’m not sure. I want to, and it’s comforting to think there’s a better place. But…I have a hard time believing in something I can’t see.”
 

“I believe in it. When I was little I used to think my mom’s ghost came down from heaven and visited me. Then the therapist said I imagined it all and should tell her to go away the next time I saw the ghost.”