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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 boneheaded, 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 my 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.”
Chapter 20
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 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 eluded 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 inside, 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.
