Fly Bye
: Chapter 16

The following morning is one of the best I’ve had in a while. I wake up to the smell of fresh bagels and frying eggs. My dad analyzes the coming week’s weather while my mom works on the daily crossword. I soak in their quiet contentment. I’ll replace this. Someday. Somewhere. With someone.

After breakfast, I change into the one-piece from high school still sitting in my drawer and head into the backyard to swim laps. It’s hot, clear, and humid out. The cool water feels like heaven when I jump in. I float for a while, staring up at the blue sky and the fluffy clouds and the sunbeams filtering down before rolling onto my stomach and starting to exercise. My arms churn the clear water in rhythmic motions. My heart rate rises and lactic acid builds as I count each stroke. By the time I pull myself out of the pool, I feel tired and relaxed.

Rather than take a towel from the stack, I lie down on the sun-warmed stones surrounding the chlorinated water, absorbing the bright sunshine like a lizard. Birds call in the distance. The scent of freshly cut grass wafts by. Warmth soaks my damp skin. It’s been a while since I allowed myself to slow down long enough to do anything but sleep. My skin is dry and my mind empty by the time I rise and start to take lazy steps toward the deck.

Then, I freeze. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Gray exhales as he approaches. “I know.”

“Then, why are you here?”

“Because I want to talk to you.”

“You could have called. Or texted,” I add quickly. Calling means something different between us now. Something different than what I meant. He made his choice about calling and I don’t want to discuss it.

Gray doesn’t answer. He continues walking toward me until he’s only a couple of feet away. He sinks his hands into the pockets of his shorts and studies me. I wish I had more clothing on.

“We don’t have to do this.”

“Do what?” He passes me and takes a seat by the pool.

I follow and sink down beside him with a sigh. Looks like…we’ll be having this conversation.

“This. The whole smoothing things over, let’s go back to normal thing. I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m, you know, basically over you.”

That last sentence amuses him. “You are, huh?”

“Yep. Figured it was…time.”

He smiles, but it fades fast. He leans back on his hands, then sits up straight.

He’s nervous. “Look, I—”

“Gray?”

We both look to the left. Juliet Phillips is standing on the other side of the landscaping that separates their property from my parents’, holding a watering can and wearing a shocked expression. She obviously had no idea he was home.

There’s a pause as she absorbs his presence and we absorb hers. I wasn’t expecting this to take place at all—for him to come here. He wasn’t expecting Juliet to appear.

“Hi, Mom.” Gray stands and traipses through mulch to give his mother a hug.

“You said you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow,” she says.

“I know. My schedule changed last minute.”

I glance away at the pool, because I have a feeling the conversation is about to shift to me.

Sure enough, she says, “What are you doing in the Collins’ backyard?”

“Asking Evie out.” He says it so casually, so easily, that I’m certain I misheard him.

He didn’t say that, right?

Juliet’s shocked gasp makes me think he actually did.

“Your timing sucks, Mom. I’ll come over in a bit and we can talk, okay?”

“I—okay.”

Juliet says something else to him I can’t hear before Gray’s legs reappear beside me. Then his torso as he sits back down again.

“Are we about done here?” I ask pointedly.

“You don’t have to pretend you didn’t hear what I said.”

“You should work on your communication skills. I get why you didn’t tell me you were coming back, but you should have told your parents.”

“That wasn’t the part I was talking about.” He blows out a sigh. “I didn’t call you because I didn’t—I wanted to talk to you in person.”

“There’s nothing left to say.”

“I have things to say.”

“You said everything you needed to say when you never called again.” I stand and kick a stray pebble into the bushes. There’s too much simmering inside for me to sit still and discuss this calmly.

He stands too. “It wasn’t that simple, Evie!”

I step forward and shove his chest. It feels good, so I shove him again. “It was exactly that simple! It’s a fucking yes or no question, Gray! You don’t sort of love someone. Maybe love someone. Consider loving someone. Either you do or you don’t. And I should have known your answer. I should have seen it coming. I would have, if you hadn’t blurred the lines right alongside me. You said it was sex, and that was fine. But you knew. You knew I had feelings for you! I thought I knew what I was getting into. And I would have if you hadn’t taken me to Beaufort with you and called me and made it seem like it all meant something to you. Like I meant something to you.”

He takes a step closer. “Evie, I—”

“No. I’m done. I can’t do this, Gray. Please. If you—if you ever actually cared at all, then just go.” I turn away. “Just go do whatever the hell you want to do until you leave again.”

“I’m not leaving.”

My muscles freeze so I’m physically incapable of moving any farther away. “What?”

“I’m not leaving Charleston. I’m back to stay. I asked to be permanently assigned to the base here. I’ll have to take some shorter trips, but ninety percent of the year, I’ll be here.”

I look back at him. “What?” I repeat, disbelieving. “Why—why would you do that?”

Gray holds my gaze. “Because you’re here.”

It takes me a solid twenty seconds to speak after that. “But you didn’t…” I’m worried those three words will be hard to recover from. And then he keeps talking.

“You’re on my list, Evie. You’re at the very top. You have been for a while. I used to be disappointed when I landed in Charleston. It was an ending. The end of a flight. End of a mission. But now? I’m so damn excited for those wheels to hit the runway here. Because once they do, I’m that much closer to seeing you.”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out. I’m sufficiently stunned silent. He’s saying everything I’ve ever wanted to hear, but I’ve had the rug pulled out from under me by him too many times before. I can’t allow myself to trust it, to absorb what he’s telling me.

“I didn’t call…” He runs a hand through his hair, which is barely long enough for him to grip. “I didn’t know what to say to you, Evie. I’d put in for the transfer, but I hadn’t heard back. I didn’t want to…I needed you to know I was serious.”

I scoff at that. “You being on the other side of the world was not the fucking problem, Gray! All I needed from you was for you to tell me how you felt about me. I needed you to call. I needed to talk to you. That’s what I needed from you.”

“You’re right,” he agrees. “I should have said it when you asked. I should have said it before. But I’m saying it now. I love you, Evie. I’m in love with you. And if we’re laying it all out here…you’ve never said it.”

I’m the furthest thing from amused right now. But I laugh—I can’t help it. “You honestly think there’s a chance I’m not in love with you?”

He stares at me.

I stare back.

“Will you go out with me?”

What? “What?”

“Will you go out with me? Tonight, if you’re free.” He says the two sentences completely matter-of-fact. Like he’s a guy and I’m a girl and we met for the first time not too long ago. Like there’s no history or fights or unresolved feelings stacked up between us.

“On a date?”

That damn smirk appears, dimple and all. “Yeah. On a date.”

“I…” God, I’m considering it. Ten minutes of talking after weeks of stark silence, and I’m considering it. I want to tell him yes.

He reads my hesitation. “It’s just dinner, Evie. We’ll talk. You can ask me anything, and I’ll answer it. I promise.”

That’s the word that gets me.

Promise.

Here’s the thing about promises: they’re just words. You might promise to do something, but there’s no action associated with the promise itself.

They’re easy to make.

Easy to break.

But Gray has never broken a promise he’s made to me.

So, I replace myself agreeing.

“Okay.”

Sloane shakes her head. “No. The black was better.”

I yank the purple top over my head and scramble to pull the black tank back on.

“Actually, I think you should wear the white.”

I might strangle her.

Sloane loves imparting fashion wisdom on others. She’s mostly given up on me as a lost cause. Twenty-plus years of friendship, and I mostly wear sweatshirts and leggings, especially in the winter. Or scrubs now.

It says a lot about my level of nerves that I asked her to help me pick out an outfit for tonight. And it’s a decision I’m regretting.

I sigh as I swap the black shirt for the white one. The sun I got this morning offsets the pale color.

Sloane smiles. “Perfect.”

The doorbell rings. Anxiety explodes in my stomach like a firework. Why did I agree to this? I must be a masochist.

I smooth down the gauzy material of my shirt and take a deep breath before I pick up my purse.

“Have fun. Let me know if I should make myself scarce later.” Sloane waggles her brows in a poor imitation of a pervert, as if I could have possibly missed the insinuation behind her words.

“You won’t need to.”

“Uh-huh. You’re barely attracted to the guy.”

I hesitate. “Am I being stupid, agreeing to this? It hurt so much before, and that wasn’t anything like this. If it ends this time, I can’t even…”

Sloane slides off the bed and stands in front of me. “You’re not stupid, Evie. It takes courage to try something that failed before. You’re not weak; you’re brave. And we both know that if you don’t do this, you’ll always regret it. So, go.”

She smacks my butt, which she declared looks “damn good” in these skinny jeans, which were an endeavor to get into. If anything does happen between me and Gray tonight, he’s going to have to literally peel them off me.

“Go!”

I spin and give her a hug before heading for the front door.

When I open it, all I can see is a bouquet of pink peonies. It lowers to reveal Gray’s smirk.

“Did you get lost on the way to the door?”

I hate that he’s making this easy. It’s a struggle to hold my glower in place as I take the flowers from him. “Thank you,” I say grudgingly, ignoring his comment about how long I took to appear.

“You’re welcome.”

“Stay here.” I shut the door in his face, then release a shaky breath. Two minutes, and my resolve is cut in half. I want to kiss him.

Sloane walks into the kitchen as I’m sorting through a cabinet, looking for a vase to put the flowers in.

“What’s going on?”

“He brought flowers.” I point to the offending, beautiful blooms.

“Ooh. Nice.” She picks one up and smells it, then looks around. “Where’s Gray?”

“Out on the front porch.”

Her lips quirk. “Why? Worried about being too close to a bed?”

I don’t deign that with a response, just a look. Although that is kind of what I’m worried about.

Sloane laughs. “Go, Evie. I’ll put these in water.”

I sigh and step down from the stool I was using to go through the cabinets. “Okay. Thanks.”

When I open the door for a second time, Gray is standing right where I left him. He’s silent as I step outside and as we walk toward his Jeep, parked along the curb.

“You look nice,” he says, halfway across the grass.

A pulse pounds between my legs. I might be angry and hurt and experiencing a million other emotions right now, but I’m also in love with the guy. And he looks almost as good in his jeans and a button-down as he looks wearing nothing at all.

“Thanks,” I reply.

He looks at the house for a minute before pulling away from the curb. When he speaks, I realize he was looking at the driveway, not the house.

“You get a car?”

He obviously noticed his was returned.

I shake my head. “No.”

“How have you been getting to work?”

I bite back the none of your business that wants to spill out. “The bus.”

A muscle in his jaw tics, but he says nothing, which is a wise choice, considering the state of things between us.

Based on the flowers and the very date vibe of this date, I expect us to head to The Boathouse or Florentini’s—two of Charleston’s more upscale restaurants. Instead, Gray parks outside a small Mediterranean restaurant I’ve only been to once before with Sloane. It makes me wonder if she did more than pick out my clothes in preparation for this evening.

“I’ll be right back,” Gray tells me, then heads inside.

I fiddle with my fingers on my lap, trying to expel some nervous energy.

Minutes later, he’s back, holding a large paper bag. It gets set in the backseat, and then we’re driving again. This time, our destination is obvious. The long stretch of sand that comprises Folly Beach is mostly empty, with only the occasional person in sight and a few cars in the lot. The sun is sinking in the sky, coating everything in golden light.

Gray turns off the Jeep and then grabs the bag of food from the backseat along with two beach towels I didn’t notice until now. He doesn’t say a word as he heads for the sand. I trail behind him, suppressing the urge to ask questions and babble. Which he knows I have a tendency to do. He knows me, and that puts me at a disadvantage in the ice-queen routine. Each second, I thaw a little more.

Especially when I watch him spread the towels and start to pull out containers of food.

I take a seat on the striped terry cloth, cross-legged. “This is nice,” I admit, picking up a grape leaf and taking a bite. The flavor of spiced rice explodes across my tongue, and I almost groan out loud. “Sloane tell you about this place?”

“No. I just know you like hummus.”

I laugh. He smirks, his expression triumphant.

Fuck. He’s winning in our battle of wills—because I want him to.

We eat mostly in silence after that. This time, it’s not forced. I’m not schooling my reactions and responses. It’s just comfortable. I’m happy sitting here with him, and I don’t need to put it into words. He’s relaxed as well.

“Want to walk?” he asks once we’ve finished dinner.

“Yeah. Sure.”

He shoves himself upright from the sand and holds out a hand. I let him pull me up, and I stay in place when momentum causes us to collide. I missed touching him. The heat of his skin and his smell.

I don’t move away. He doesn’t either.

One hand tangles in my hair, pulling it back and away from my face. I close my eyes and lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his skin seep into mine. I fall forward, knowing he’ll be there to keep me from landing flat on my face.

We stand like that—with me pressed against his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into my hair. “Sorry I hurt you. Sorry it took me so long to figure my shit out.”

I don’t say it’s okay because it’s not. Not yet, at least. The pain is too fresh, too visceral. But I lift my hands and wrap them around his waist, shrinking the gap between us down to nothing.

I’m not sure how long we stand there for, but my chest feels lighter when I step back. He takes my hand, and our fingers tangle as we walk down the beach, closer and closer to the white foam that approaches and retreats.

Gray pauses to roll up the bottoms of his jeans, then walks into the water. I attempt to do the same, then quickly remember that my pants are practically painted to my skin. The only way they’ll be harder to get off is if they’re wet, so I stay on the sand.

“Why aren’t you coming in?” Gray asks.

“I can’t roll my jeans up,” I admit.

As expected, he laughs before wading back onto the shore. “Is this like the television remote?”

“No!” I scoff.

“On your butt,” he demands. In the same tone as he’s demanded other positions.

I complied then, and I do the same now. He kneels before me and starts tugging on the denim around my ankles, trying to force the material upward.

After a minute, he huffs. “Jesus. You weren’t kidding.”

“Told ya.” My voice is smug.

“Who designed these?”

I push his hands away and take over. “They’re supposed to make my butt look good. They’re not meant for wading in the ocean.”

He sits back on his heels, a secret smile spreading across his face. “Well, in that case, you’d better stand up, so I can judge them on that.”

“I saw you get a good look earlier.”

“You did, huh? Wouldn’t you have had to be looking at me to catch me looking at you?”

“I guess I get how you got there.”

Gray laughs before his gaze settles back on my ankles. “How long is it going to take you to get those all the way off later?”

“Don’t assume you’ll replace out.”

“I’m not even expecting a goodnight kiss,” he assures me.

“You’ll get one,” I confide. I might make him wait for sex, but there’s no way I’ll get through this whole night without reuniting with his mouth.

His eyes dance as he pulls me upright. I use our joined hands to pull him back toward the water, no longer caring if my jeans get wet. Some moments are too special for practical matters.

Gray raises a brow as the denim below my knees gets soaked, but he says nothing. When he does speak, it’s unrelated to wading while fully clothed.

“You know,” he says as the salty water swirls around our calves, “there was a moment.”

A gust of wind blows half my hair in front of my face. I brush it away so I can see him without the blonde curtain. “A moment?” Another breeze, and he’s half-hidden again.

“When I realized I was in love with you.”

I forget about my hair. “Oh?”

Amusement lights up his face in response to however I’m looking at him. “That day we went to the base? I wasn’t supposed to fly that day. I hadn’t flown—not since Sam had died. He was a damn good pilot, as good as me. What happened to him humbled me, I guess. Before that, I’d thought I was invincible. Sam’s death reminded me there’s always something bigger at play up there.”

He sucks in a long breath between his teeth. His eyes wander to the endless stretch of water we’re standing in before returning to my face.

“As soon as I invited you in that Raptor, I knew. I knew if you were up there with me, I’d be fine. Knew I would never—could never—let anything happen to you. Knew I loved you.”

“But…that was a long time ago. We’d only slept together a few times.”

“It wasn’t about sex, Evie. I’ve known you most of my life. I’ve known there was the possibility for”—his hands squeeze my waist—“this for a long time.”

I’m stunned. “You never said anything. Did anything. I had a crush on you forever.” Something I never imagined I’d admit so freely to him.

“Yeah.” A smirk flashes across his face. “I know. Part of it was Noah. I knew he’d be pissed. Not that we were dating, but I knew he’d be worried I wouldn’t treat you right. And he would have had reason to. I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship then. Look at how much I’ve fucked this up now. Me in high school? College?” He shakes his head. “It would’ve ended badly. But it doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it then. Doesn’t mean I’m not ready for it now. And it definitely doesn’t mean I didn’t mean everything I told you this morning. I did. I do. I love you, Evie.”

It feels like a moment where there should be a Polaroid snapped and a favorite song playing and a distant pop of champagne. All of those things take place in my head, but what’s happening here, now, right in front of me isn’t. Gray is really standing in front of me, saying all the things I’ve ever wanted to hear from him.

There are lots of emotions bubbling in my chest and thoughts flying through my head. But in the end, it all boils down to four words that fall off my tongue like I’ve said them a thousand times before. That I hope to say a thousand times more.

“I love you, Gray.”