3. June 14th

3

June 14th

S haking off my uneasiness, I glance around the space for any familiar faces.

Carrie, my friend, isn't here, but I don't expect her to be. She and my brother did not end on the best of terms and our friendship fizzled after their breakup. However, Veronica, Auggie's most recent girlfriend, is also noticeably missing. I want to be angry by her absence, but I can't blame her.

This memorial is a joke.

I find myself wishing more than anything that my best friend, Julia, was here. But she's not, she's been fading from my life for months.

I'm here alone.

The plop of rain drops falls to the floor around me in a puddle. But even that is not enough to ward off the sympathetic arm pats. Not enough to dispel the cloud of cheap perfume as I am pulled into numbing hugs.

I question once more the fairness of a world that would sooner take my brother than me. Auggie was always so full of life and promise. He would know how to navigate the waters of today. He would know what to say to our parents as they fought over blame.

And what about Tripp? What about his brothers? They were raised by a grandmother who recently passed away. I had never heard of their father, and their mother wasn't much of the parenting type.

Glancing around, I realize she isn't even here.

Tripp had explained his mother to me once. He summed it up quite well.

She loves us boys the only way she can, by not corrupting us with herself.

I find myself suddenly angry. Livid. Raging. As if the rain is no longer chilling me to the bone but somehow manages to set me on fire. As if it isn't water at all, but gasoline.

I give a tight-lipped smile to the priest who had been talking at me for the last several minutes. "Excuse me," I rudely cut through whatever bullshit he's spewing and make my way to my parents.

"Sunday." My mother's voice holds a tone of warning.

My father remains silent, he simply leans back against the wall, the beer in his hand a testament to how loud their fight will be tonight.

"I came as promised. I need to change." I try to calm my swell of emotion and gesture to the water that still drips down from me onto the floor.

"How do you expect to get home?" My mother's words are shrill. Grating.

"Carrie said she can pick me up." The lie comes out shockingly easily.

My mother doesn't look convinced, but before she can say anything, a sturdy muscular arm lands around my shoulders. A broad hand fanning across my bare skin.

"I'll take her Mrs. Masch." Grayson.

His deep voice is unmistakable, but I don't shake off the unwanted savior's touch, even as I stiffen from his words.

Why the fuck would he take me anywhere?

His presence alone is more soothing than it has any right being. As if he has comforted me a hundred times before, except he hasn't. My brain and heart are at war as I find myself subconsciously leaning into him for borrowed strength.

Even though I just vowed to avoid his very existence.

Even though I can't understand why he is standing here offering me a ride home.

My mother flashes a sympathetic smile at the man whose arm still holds me tightly. "Grayson, sweetheart, I told you to call me Joan. And you poor boys, you know if you need anything to let me know. Are you sure taking Sunday won't be a hassle?"

I start to argue that I wouldn't be going anywhere with this man, but his hand on my skin squeezes, causing me to gasp instead.

My mother pays it no mind, her attention solely focused on Grayson.

"None at all." Grayson's grip does not lessen as he speaks the words.

I don't have any chance to argue as Grayson drags me away from my parents and back outside.

The downpour has only intensified, the wind has picked up, and lightning shoots across the sky, but I find it oddly cathartic.

Grayson halts any further movement, and we remain shielded from the onslaught by a patio above. My mind finally catches up to what is going on, and suddenly, I feel suffocated by the behemoth of a man. I need space from him. Why is he here? What can he possibly want from me?

I attempt to jerk out of his restraints, but as if he expected it, Grayson uses his free hand to snatch up and keep me in place. His long fingers overlap around my wrist, but still, I refuse to look him in the eyes. My stomach is churning uncomfortably and I cannot exactly pinpoint how I am feeling.

But there is one thing I know for certain; he makes me feel small. Insignificant. Childlike. Controlled.

I squirm, trying to break free from his clutches as panic takes over all rational thought.

"Stop struggling!" Grayson loudly grunts at me over the noise of the storm.

I want to argue, but a flash of light has me pausing my verbal assault.

Lightning strikes the ground a dozen yards from where we stand. Exactly on the path I would have taken home. It is so close to us that the ground shakes and the air is filled with static. My ears are ringing as I look down at Grayson's hand on me. His hold is what stopped me from being a crispy pile on the sidewalk.

From dying at a memorial.

How did he know to stop me?

Apprehension once more slinks down my spine and I finally meet my captor's eyes. Except in this moment, he is also my savior.

Unruly sienna hair half covers his hazel eyes, but even still, I can make out the fear that is reflected there.

He's afraid of something?

This time when I jerk back, he lets me go.

Grayson crosses muscular arms over a broad chest. His black suit hides most of his skin, save for his hands. His broad hands are covered in tattoos and scars. He shifts and reaches up to rub nervously at his trimmed beard along his strong jaw, for just a moment, before recrossing his arms.

This man isn't safe. He's older, more intelligent, larger. Everything about his presence screams danger. It yells that I need to run. That he wants to hurt me. That he knows why his brother is dead. That he'll exact his revenge for my role in his death.

Grayson clears his throat, and I jerk my investigation away from his arms, up and up and up, eventually resettling on his eyes.

The fear there has been replaced by a cockiness that snaps me back to reality.

"Like what you see?" His sarcastic tone shakes off the last of my concern.

"No." My hands are still shaking from my near death, but I am done with this interaction, done with this man.

The terror from the lightning is long forgotten and now I just want to peel out of these clothes and go back to my bathtub. Then maybe if the rain stops I can fall asleep on the roof. Under the stars.

A shadow crosses Grayson's face and this time he catches me by the shoulders before I have the intent to move. "That's what you always say." His words are barely audible and they don't make any sense.

I haven't had many interactions with Grayson. We aren't friends. We aren't even enemies. We just avoid each other.

He is the brother of the man I loved. He is—was—one of my brother's best friends. All of the O'Briens were. Grayson is my neighbor. That is it. Except, the way his eyes are scrutinizing me now makes me think there's something I'm missing.

I don't like this feeling. As if I am the butt of some cosmic prank, and once more, unexpected anger furls deep in my belly. "Is this some kind of joke? I know you are grieving too, but please just leave me alone. Thanks for saving me from the lightning, but I just want to go home."

I attempt to pull from his grip, but he does not allow my escape.

He's still just staring cryptically into my eyes as if wishing for me to understand an inside joke I was never privy to.

I can't handle this. I can't deal with this scrutiny. Doesn't he understand I need to be away from people? That I'm trying to run away, not be stared down? I just want to lose myself in peace.

"Let her go," the familiar soft but stern voice comes from over my shoulder. It's Darius, the youngest brother.

The noise startles Grayson out of whatever trance he had gone into, and he lets go of me. Suddenly. I'm falling backwards.

Directly into another man's chest.

"Easy there."

I recognize Axel's voice, but I don't say anything. He sounds almost exactly like—I don't complete the thought. I can't. Instead, I yank free from his arms, the leather of his jacket scratching me as I do, and sprint away.

I stop my retreat halfway across the parking lot and turn my head. All three of the brothers are once more watching me.

I know in my gut that something isn't right, but I don't have the wherewithal to care.

I don't want to be around these strangers anymore. I am alone and anyone who made me feel differently is gone.