When I’m finished, my friends are silent. Probably pitying me. Then Anna gets up and starts messing with her beloved espresso machine—the very one I’d taken care of when she and Drew were on the outs. I still kind of mourn giving back to her. Deftly she makes an espresso, adding a spoonful of sugar, then handing me the cup. “Drink it down like a good boy, and you’ll feel better.”
Doubtful, but I take a sip anyway. Dark, sweet coffee hits my system like a welcome slap. Weirdly, it does make me feel better. Not by much, but enough. And I realize that this is why I’m here. Being in Drew’s familiar kitchen, talking to him and Anna, helps.
Drew leans forward, bracing his arms on the table. “I think we’re going to need a bit more explanation. You’re both obviously into each other—”
“Oh, obviously,” I sneer. “Seeing how she kicked me to the curb.”
“Please.” Drew waves a hand. “I’ve seen you two together. You’re like…”
“Drew and I are,” Anna supplies with a grin.
“What? Going at it like horny bunnies? I wish.” I truly do. Fuck, how I do.
“Baby steps, Gray-Gray.” Drew starts tapping his thumb against the table. Thinking. I hate when he does that. “So you kissed Ivy, and she freaked. Did it happen right after you kissed her? Must have been some shitty kiss.”
“Fuck you,” I say without heat, because I know Drew is messing with me. I’d have said the same to him.
I haven’t told them about the things we did before I kissed her. It was too personal. But I think about it now. The sounds she made, how she came against my fingers. My head hurts and is too heavy to hold up. I push away my cup and rest my face on the table. It’s cool against my cheek. “She seemed into it but then she wasn’t.”
“You must have said something stupid, then.”
“You don’t know that, Drew.” Anna gets up and makes herself a cup of espresso. The machine whistles and grumbles.
“Oh, no? Because I’m betting he did. Gray often speaks before he thinks. Kind of like someone else I know.” Drew ducks the towel Anna throws at him, then he gives me an expectant look. “Well? Think, bonehead.”
I lift head to glare. “I did everything I could not to freak her out. She asked me what we were doing, and I told her that… Oh, shit.” On a groan, I slam my head back down on the table. “Shit, shit, shit.”
“Told you,” Drew says to Anna.
“Zip it, Baylor,” Anna says. “What did you say to her, Gray?”
Don’t think. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t have to matter. Because that’s what I thought she wanted to hear. Because I was afraid to tell her the truth. “All the wrong things.” I shove back from the table. “I’ve got to go.”
Twenty
Ivy
I’m depressed. Gray is ignoring me, and I’m avoiding Fi. I don’t want a pep talk. I don’t want to go out. I don’t want to bake. I just want to sit in my house and ignore the world. Thankfully, Fi gives me space and heads out to her boyfriend’s house.
It’s been raining all day. A miserable, cold downpour that beats against my roof. I’ve got the heat turned up and am curled under a thick blanket, while watching North by Northwest. If anything can take my mind off of Gray, it has to be Hitchcock.
I tell myself this again as I sip my cocoa and stare blankly at the TV. My eyes are dry and hot. I should go to bed. But I know it won’t help. Sleep has avoided me for days.
My fingers curl tight around the mug as a surge of anger rushes through me. I’m mad at myself. I’m not being proactive. I should hunt Gray down, force him to talk to me. Apologize for being a jerk. Tell him he’s the most important thing in my life.
I’m setting down my cocoa when someone pounds on the door. Do I want it to be Gray? With my whole being. But he hasn’t called or texted. And he never shows up without warning.
Wary, I make my way to the door. “Yeah?” I call, visions of psychos dancing in my head.
“Ivy.” Gray’s voice is muffled by rain and the door. “Let me in.”
Two seconds later, it’s open and I’m facing him.
He’s soaked, his big body hunched against the rain that bounces off him. “Ivy.”
“Gray. What the hell?” The rain has mixed with icy sleet and hard pings of hail. It’s freaking twenty degrees out, and he’s only wearing a wet, long-sleeve shirt. “Where’s your truck?”
“Broke down a mile back. Think it’s the fuel pump.” He sounds like a zombie. His skin is too pale, his lips blue.
I grab hold of his arm and tug him in, slamming the door shut against the icy wind that gusts into the house. “Why didn’t you call so I could get you?”
“Broke my phone last Saturday.”
“Oh.” Well, at least I know why he hasn’t answered my calls.
He doesn’t move, but stands there dripping onto the floor. Straggling strands of his hair fall into his eyes. Eyes that are haunted, gazing at me with pain and desperation. “Ivy… I ache. For you.”
My breath hitches, and he hears it.
His fists clench. “I can’t do this. Staying away. I can’t…” A full body shiver wracks him. “I n-need you… I’m through being…considerate…”
He’s shivering so badly, his teeth clatter.
“Shhh. Gray. You’re freezing. Come here.” Worried, I take his hand and lead him into the bedroom. He lets me tug him along, his steps wooden.