The Rules Regarding Gray (29 page)

“And you don’t think you should listen?” She was starting to sound shrill.

“No! He has no one there for him. That’s not okay with me. He’s my friend as much as anything, and frankly, I’d do the same for you whether you asked me to or not!” She let out a frustrated huff. “I have two weeks’ worth of laundry to get done tonight, and I still have to get packed if there’s any chance of catching an early flight tomorrow morning in time for the funeral, so do you really want to keep arguing with me?”

Anna nodded. “Yes, actually. I do want to keep arguing, but…” She held her hands up. “I have a costume fitting in forty-five minutes, so I can’t stay.” She shook her head in irritation. “Listen, I can’t help you tonight, but if I can get you picked up and dropped off at the airport tomorrow morning before I have to be in dress rehearsal, then I will.” She sighed in exasperation. “I’m sorry I can’t do more—”

“It’s okay. I can handle this.” She stared at Anna for a moment. “I can.”

Anna hugged her. “Text me the time you need me to pick you up tomorrow morning, and I’ll see you then.” She pecked Gray on the cheek.

“Thank you.”

Gray spent the rest of that night using her crutch to shove laundry baskets back and forth between her bedroom and bathroom. She knocked her suitcase off the top shelf in her closet right onto her head and landed, quite fortunately, in a basket of clean laundry when it knocked her off balance. She cussed more in the space of four hours than she’d cussed her entire life, but she managed to get her small carry-on suitcase packed.

It took her an hour of online obituary research for San Diego before she came across one for an eighty-nine year old woman by the name of Gertie Drees. The church name and address was listed in the small write up, and she printed out the information, folding it and tucking it away in her purse.

The moment she picked up her phone to call the airline to book her flight, it buzzed in her hand. It was a text from Ian.

Back in town tomorrow. Dinner? Invite Jas too?

She stared at the screen, knowing she needed to respond but wishing like hell she didn’t have to. She typed quickly.

Jas is out of town, and I’m busy. Sorry.

What she should be doing was dialing his number so she could break up with him. But it seemed like a face to face conversation thing, and frankly, she wasn’t going to take the time right now. Instead, she decided to preschedule her break-up so she couldn’t back out.

Friday night?

Maybe. Might work late. I’ll call you.

K

She clasped her hand to her forehead and groaned. She might have all the permission in the world to screw Ian’s best friend, but she was pretty sure lying about her trip to San Diego to be with Jasper was all sorts of wrong.

By the time she managed to pick up the phone again, it was a good fifteen minutes later. She called the airline to book a break of dawn flight for the following morning that would put her in San Diego with enough time to get to the funeral. She arranged for what amounted to invalid babysitting for herself, and by the time she got off the phone she was set to meet someone at the drop off lane the next morning who would assist her.

She had no idea what reception would await her in California the next day, and she wasn’t going to call Jas and give him the opportunity to tell her not to come. She fully believed he shouldn’t be there alone. She just hoped he’d appreciate that sentiment.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

“Hey.” Jasper almost ignored the call from Ian on Thursday morning. He was just getting out of the shower and getting ready for the funeral. His phone had rung from his bedroom, and he’d rushed to it, hoping it was Gray—not her boyfriend. But he’d answered the call regardless.

“Hey. Gray said you were out of town. Too bad, I was going to suggest some playtime tonight.”

Jasper’s guts clenched tight in response to that. The very statement alone made him want to hit something, but instead, he tightened his hand into a fist and sat on the side of the bed. “Yeah. My grandmother passed away. I’m in San Diego. The funeral’s later this morning.”

“Oh… Sorry.” Ian sounded awkward. “Uh… So when are you back in town?”

“I have no idea at this point. There’s a lot of bullshit to weed through with her estate, and my dad isn’t helping matters.”

Ian snorted. “Good ol’ pops, huh?”

“Yeah. So I guess you and Gray will just have to have fun without me tonight.” His fist clenched tighter and tighter as he spoke. He felt entirely too far away from home at the moment, and the very notion that his suggestion could actually happen left him feeling sick to his stomach.

“Nah. Doesn’t matter. Gray’s got something going on anyway. I might see her tomorrow night. Who knows,” he said aloofly.

The relief was swift, and he exhaled slowly. “I’ll call you when I get back in town.”

“Sure.”

The moment he hung up with Ian, he dialed her. Her phone went straight to voice mail, and as he listened to her voice asking him to leave a message, he wandered over to a picture of his grandparents that sat on the dresser in the room. When he picked it up, his eyes teared.

Beep

“Hi, Gray,” he choked it out, forcing his voice to remain steady and casual. “I was just hoping to talk to you this morning. I … uh… Just call me later.” He hung up before his voice could waver, and then he sat on the side of the bed, clutching the picture in his hand and letting his tears fall.

He’d never felt more alone in all his life. Of course he knew G would die someday, but it was amazing how full his life felt when she was alive, and how truly empty it felt now that she was gone. He wasn’t like other people in the world who were surrounded by family. He had his G and that was it. There was nothing and no one else for him now.

He cleared his throat as he stood up, and he went through the motion of putting his suit on. He hated suits. He hated formality in general. People didn’t buy it on him. He just didn’t fit that mold, and he felt like an imposter when he tried to be this man. The discomfort of conforming left him feeling even more vulnerable on this day, and as he stood at the kitchen counter drinking his coffee a short while later, he contemplated running away.

He wouldn’t, of course, but he’d never wanted to more in his life. He didn’t want to face any of this—not the people, not the urn with her ashes in it, not his father who would no doubt be there making his life hell, not the forced sociality of it. But, as he tossed the last of his coffee in the sink, he cursed and then he left the house.

* * * *

Jasper stared at the floor as he walked into the sanctuary—his father behind him and the minister in front of him. He sat in the front row, and his father sat in the same pew nearly four feet from him. He was alone and pathetic sitting there by himself. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. He knew full well other families didn’t look this way. Other families would fill the first pews, sitting side by side with one another. His own father couldn’t handle being any closer to him than four feet away, and he stared at his lap, fighting the tears as much for that as the loss of his grandmother.

He didn’t bother listening to much as the minister spoke. He stared at his lap, trying to be small, trying to make the world around him disappear. And it wasn’t until he was walking out during the procession a short while later that he managed to look up at anyone at all. He glanced around, not allowing his eyes to meet any one particular person’s for more than the briefest of seconds, and as his eyes met Gray’s, they passed right on by until his heart came grinding to a stop. He looked back, and his gait came to a halt as his lips parted and he stared at her. His father nearly walked into the back of him, and as he passed, he had a venomous sneer on his face. But Jasper’s attention returned to her quickly. She bit her lower lip. She looked terrified.

He knew his face was a stone. He was just in shock, but as he watched her, his eyes glossed over and finally filled with tears. When his lips started trembling, her brow wrinkled. His eyelids fluttered as he tried to fight off the tears, but they fell anyway, and he lowered his head. There was little doubt the entire church was staring at him as he acted like a fool.

But his sudden breakdown left him desperate to touch her, and he reached out to her hand that was still gripping one of her crutches. His fingers were trembling as much as his lips were. He reached for her body. It was an awkward thing hugging her with crutches under her arms, and it had resulted in the damn things being dropped to the floor more times than he could recall over the past couple weeks. But this time, he just clutched at her hip, his other hand reaching for her cheek, his fingers curling against her ear.

He ignored the people watching him, and he leaned to her ear. “Hi,” he whispered. It was kind of a silly thing to say under the circumstances, but he didn’t have a clue what else he was supposed to say.

“Hi,” she whispered right back, and then he nuzzled against her neck for a moment, breathing slowly and deeply against her skin. She reached to his waist, gripping him under his suit jacket, and he moaned the quietest deepest sound he’d ever made as he felt her touch. When he pulled back, he brushed a tear away from his cheek quickly, and then he shook his head, trying to clear it.

He studied her for a moment, and then he nodded, squeezing her waist gently again before he turned and walked away. He wasn’t trying to desert her, but he was supposed to be in the vestibule in the greeting line. Of course the greeting line would only consist of himself and his father, and when he entered the small entryway that separated the front doors from the sanctuary, he found it empty aside from the minister. He glanced around looking for his dad for a moment, but as people started slowly filing out of the sanctuary, the minister pulled him to his side. He took a deep breath as he forced a small smile to his lips as the first person approached him.

Most people shook his hand kindly and smiled at him sadly as they moved through the greeting line. He hated this. He’d been dreading it for days. Being forced to greet and thank every last person who had come to the funeral was painful for him. He knew a good portion of these people were the same Torrey Highland residents who liked to glare at him from their cars and judge him for his slightly less than Caucasian look. Never mind the negative impression a good lot of them had based on nothing more than the shenanigans his father had pulled since his grandmother’s passing.

The only saving grace was that his father hadn’t returned, and he seemed to be gone for good. Jasper was fine with that. Being so close to his dad on any day was painful, having to be around him on this particular day was just plain torturous. But now
she
was here. The moment he saw her, the knot in his chest released and his entire body relaxed and sighed.

The fact she was so close to him right now was at once terrifying and comforting. He waited for her to come through the procession line, willing himself to behave this time. He’d had a hard time walking away from her when he’d seen her standing at the end of the pew. Pulling his fingers from her body when all he wanted was to touch her skin was almost impossible.

He’d have never condoned her coming, and he wasn’t at all sure how the hell she’d made it happen, but his heart was beating again for the first time in days, and the empty hole in the pit of his soul felt just a little less empty. He glanced down the line of people, and she was just exiting the sanctuary. He was reminded of the conversation he’d had with her once about what a relationship meant to a person.

It had been such an oddly intimate and personal conversation when he barely knew the woman. But maybe his grandmother had been right. Some people were just easy to know. And perhaps she’d been right when she’d suggested that Jas was simply
supposed
to know Gray too—as though the world had its own ideas of who a person was intended to connect to.

But as she neared him now, all he could think about was that conversation.
She’d
said a partner filled in your missing pieces.
He’d
said a true partner made your past tolerable. She most definitely did that for him. He’d never liked himself in spite of his garbage so much in all his life. And he couldn’t help but wonder if there was any chance he could make her whole in the way she needed. He knew she felt like her life wasn’t enough sometimes. He knew she felt like she’d traded a life for a career—one she was now losing. He knew how important it was for her to feel whole and satisfied. He just knew her.

He did his best to focus on whatever person was standing in front of him as his mind and his eyes continuously drifted to her. It was a struggle to speak to people and shake hands at the same time, especially with her trampling on peoples’ toes with her crutches and apologizing profusely to one person after another in the crowded vestibule of the church. He’d decided she wasn’t going to be mastering this crutch thing anytime soon.

When she finally stepped in front of him, he took both of her hands in his, and he watched her. He knew his steady unwavering expression was throwing her off. He was good at this expression, and on this day, it was just all his facial muscles could handle.

“Are you upset I’m here?” Her voice was quiet, and she glanced to her side as the next person in line waited.