30. Macy

Chapter 30

Macy

Now

H e fell asleep curled up against the wall, as if whatever overcame him leeched all his energy. I don't bother waking him up, knowing deep down he needs the rest, and I need this time to myself. To think. To try to make sense of why he lied.

I pull out my phone, and type Delilah Wright into the search bar on Facebook, hoping to find some answers. I bite my thumbnail as I scroll through several people who share her name, but none of the profiles belong to Grayson's sister. I search him next, since he probably follows her, but neither of the twins are searchable. But my search for their mom's profile is successful, and I eagerly click on her page.

" Aug 2 nd , 2024

It's been eighteen years since we lost a beautiful soul ? —"

I scroll.

" Eighteen years later and I still can't believe you're gone ? —"

I scroll even further down, finding hundreds of posts she was tagged in, all of them expressing their grief. I scroll until I find posts from August 2006. Eighteen years ago.

"I am saddened by the news of my dear friend's untimely passing. She, her husband, and six-year-old daughter were killed in a car accident. I am still in shock. I can't believe such a beautiful family was taken from us. May the Wright family rest in peace."

I'm going to be sick. I inhale an unsteady breath, trying to get my emotions under control, but despite my best efforts, tears well in my eyes and my heart sinks to my stomach. It's not true , is my first thought. Delilah, my very first friend in Sanibel, can't be gone. If she were, that means she's been gone this entire time. And that would mean that while I was growing up like a normal kid, Grayson was grieving his entire family. And if that's true, it would mean the man I fell in love with has experienced more pain than I could possibly fathom.

I look at my phone, eyes dragging over the words repeatedly until they truly sink in. It's all true. It feels as though tragedy has swallowed all that was once beautiful, and I can't imagine ever smiling again. I can't begin to wonder how Grayson manages to so much as laugh. I wrap my arms around him and bring his head to my chest, slowly running my fingers through his hair. "I thought I loved you then," I whisper, even though he's sleeping. "But if that was love, then we need a new word for what I feel toward you now."

A peaceful snore fills the room, and I imagine for him, peace is hard to come by. I hold his sleeping body for what feels like an hour. My arms and legs tingle from keeping them still. My heart shatters for the boy who lost his family, and for the man who couldn't bring himself to tell me. He begins to stir, and then his head shoots up, eyes wide and alert when he looks at me. "Macy," he breathes. "Oh my God. I fell asleep?" A divot forms between his brows. "There's an explanation. I'm trying to find the words, bu?—"

I bring my index finger to his lips. I tilt my head down so our foreheads rest against one another. It's the only thing I can do to bring either one of us comfort. Even if it is in this small way. My heart feels as though it's cracking in my chest. "You don't need to say anything." I hesitate to say the words, and when I do, my voice breaks. "I know what happened to your family."

He pulls away, his gaze searches mine and his eyebrows pull together. "You…know?" he whispers, and I never thought his voice could sound so sad. The cadence of it weighs me down.

"I know." I hold my phone up. "Facebook," I say sadly, as way of explanation. I press my lips against his, as though I have the capability to take his pain away with something as trivial as a kiss. "Daniel," I breathe his name. "I am so sorry for your loss." I try to hold it together, but his presence is comforting in a way that makes me forget to show up with a mask at all. As much as I try to fight it, to be strong for him, a tear slips, and his thumb catches it.

All the despair falls away from his features. "I didn't know how to tell you. To even say it." He reaches for my hand, interlocking our fingers as though he needs to hold onto me in some way.

"That's why you pretended not to know who I was? Why you called yourself by your middle name?" I try to understand.

"That's part of the reason."

"And the other part?"

He looks away, opens his mouth like he's about to speak and then closes it.

"Talk to me," I place my hand tentatively on his cheek and angle his face, so his focus is on me. "Please."

He nods but takes a moment to himself. To gather the words or perhaps the courage. He sniffs and then says, "You're going to think I'm so weird."

"I already think that," I joke, trying to make him feel comfortable.

He forces a small smile, but it's absent of anything resembling happiness. "Macy." He hesitates, and then steels his expression. "I've returned to this house for a week every summer." He speaks each word considerably slow.

Time seems to still with that one sentence, and the silence that follows is sizable. I feel my head tilt, my eyes looking between his as if I can decipher everything within those blue flames. The truth is a heavy thing, filling my chest like cement around my heart. "But—" I shake my head. "I came to your house… There was a man there," I say more to myself. "He told me that you and your family moved."

"I know," he says. "I remember." His eyes twinkle with wet tears. "That was my uncle. He became my legal guardian after everything. I don't know why he lied, perhaps he also couldn't voice the truth." He shakes his head. "What matters is that I hid when you came to my door because I was terrified to tell you what happened. I didn't want to accept it myself."

My eyes dart back and forth as I think. "But… I never saw you."

"I stayed inside." He shrugs.

I'm pelted with stones of what could have been. Would we still be friends if things were different? Would I fall in love with him regardless of the circumstances?

I'm hit over and over, until my body seems to go limp with exhaustion. Grayson must feel the same. We comfort each other like two dominos, leaning on one another to keep from falling.

"I'm so sorry I kept this from you. I tried to tell you, Mace, but I couldn't find the words."

I press a kiss to his cheek. "I get it. You don't need to be sorry," I promise. "And I never exactly made it easy for you. God, I've always given you such a hard time, I'm so sorry for not being the safe space you needed to open up to me."

"You've been perfect, Mace." He brings his hand to the base of my head, gently grabbing my hair. "Does this change things?"

"Yes," I say, which causes him to flinch. I quickly add, "Because now I need to figure out what the hell to call you." I smile which seems to ease the tension in his body.

"When I moved back here years ago, I decided to go by Grayson. I didn't want anyone to realize who I was. I couldn't handle being treated like the boy who lost his entire family, it would be too painful of a reminder. But you can call me anything you want, Mace."

I nod understandingly.

"I need to get off this floor," he says. I stand, trying to be a strong force for him. I hold out my hand, which he takes. I pull him up, and once he's towering over me, he scoops me into his arms and breathes in the scent of my hair. We hold each other for several minutes, until it hurts a little less, and then he whispers, "I really need a shower."

I chuckle. "I was wondering what that smell was." He pulls away and flicks my forehead, then kisses the exact spot.

I lay on his bed while he cleans up. My eyes are on the ceiling, but my mind is someplace else entirely. I'm experiencing pain for the man I love while simultaneously grieving my very first friend, and his parents who were always so kind.

I try to process Daniel being here this entire time, isolated in a world of pain I'll never fully know. I hadn't noticed I was crying until Grayson is suddenly above me, wiping away the tears. His hair is damp, and his towel is wrapped around his waist.

"I had a crush on you when we were kids," I say. Seeing how he overheard my conversation with Sarah at The BARnacle, he already knows this.

"I've had a crush on you my entire life."

I peel my back off the bed and sit up on my elbows, my head tilting back to meet his gaze.

"I saw you every summer. My window faces your house." He gently rests his weight on me, using his arms to hold himself up so he doesn't crush me whole. "You were the sun, Mace." I remember a conversation we had at the Inn. "What made you happy?" I asked, wanting to know what he was like as a kid. He answered, "The sun."

My stomach warms like the star we speak of. "I wish I could've seen you grow up."

"I wish I had let you," he says, then looks away. "Do you remember my sister? Delilah?"

"Of course, I do. She was my best friend."

He points to the framed note I spotted weeks ago on his bedside table. I remember when I first saw it. It was the night I broke my grandparent's ocean treasures and grief swept me up. I thought I'd drown in it, but then Grayson came and took me to shore. I asked him if he ever lost someone, and he said yes. I remember the first shooting star he saw. He described it as, "Like I'm looking up at heaven and it's looking right back, waving hello."

I glance at the framed note, then back at him.

"I've seen you look at it a few times," he says. "I wanted to tell you my sister wrote it, but then I'd have to tell you that I lost her. That—" He closes his eyes, and when they open again, they're glistening with fresh tears. "The note was special because it was all I had left."

My chest squeezes. I carefully push him off me and then gesture for him to sit against the headboard. When he does, I rest my head on his chest, inhaling the scent of his soap still potent on his skin.

"You want to know what she always said to me?" I ask, looking up to find him nodding. "She told me I had to marry you when we got older, so that her and I would become sisters."

He laughs, the beautiful cadence filling the room and chasing away the heaviness. "She said that to me too."

Then it's silent for a while. I listen to his breath and the miraculous rhythm of his heart. He's alive. "Where were you that day?"

He stiffens beneath me, then says in a gravelly voice. "With you."

"What?" I whisper.

"I stayed with you that day because you were flying home in the afternoon. I needed every minute with you." My face must reflect a thousand questions because he continues. "Your family was waiting for mine to return home, and I could tell that your mom was starting to stress about getting to the airport on time. So, I lied and told them my family was home. I waited all day for them—" His voice breaks off and his eyes are squeezed tight. I see how brave he is in this moment. How hard it must be to speak about something he's never told anyone before.

"Hey," I whisper, bringing my fingers to his cheekbone. "You don't need to tell me everything today unless you want to. Or tomorrow. Or even months from now."

"Won't you be gone months from now?"

"Oh," I say, realizing I never got the chance to tell him. "I was going to tell you, but then…" I let that part of my sentence trail off. "I'm moving to Sanibel."

His wide eyes meet mine and he lets out the most beautiful sound I've heard. He laughs. His arms twist around me tight enough that I let out a huff of air. "Thank God. I was beginning to worry about how much I was going to miss you." He kisses me powerfully, then lifts us out of bed. He spins us around. My laughter echoes off the walls, adorning the room where everything seemed to hurt minutes ago.

It's nearly midnight when Grayson suddenly says, "I'm taking you somewhere." After the exhausting emotions from the day, we stayed in bed and showed each other our comfort movies, only leaving to grab our dinner from the delivery person at the door, and to occasionally use the bathroom. It was a much-needed distraction for the both of us.

"It's like the middle of the night," I point out, which he ignores.

He climbs out of bed and stretches his limbs, then he interlocks our fingers. He guides me down the hallway, stopping to grab a sheet from his linen closet on the way out.

It's nearly pitch black outside. We walk in the sand for a few moments before he stops and lifts me off the ground. I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle my face in his skin. "I'm glad we're not pretending anymore, because I've always wanted to smell your skin shamelessly."

"I've wanted to do much more improper things with you, shamelessly."

I laugh. "You've made that pretty clear."

"Have I? And here I thought I was doing a good job concealing how attracted I am to you." The hand that's holding me up slides to my butt and squeezes. I bite his neck hard enough to leave a mark, but he chuckles as if a mosquito bit him. "We're here."

I open my eyes to find ourselves beneath the lifeguard tower. He sets me on my feet and then spreads the sheet over the sandy ground. He sits and leans against one of the posts. I do the same. I trace his profile with my eyes once they adjust to the dark.

"Ask me," he says.

"What?"

"I know you have a million questions, and I know you said I don't have to talk about it today. I'll let you know if something is too much for me, but I'm going to try. I want you to understand me. So, ask."

So brave. "Okay… Tell me about the first time we met."

His gaze snaps to mine like he wasn't expecting my question. I give him a smile which erases his hesitancy. "Okay." He nods. "Delilah always woke up before I did. It was the first week of summer break, and I took advantage of the time to sleep in. I had finished breakfast late one day, my dad was at work and my mom was on the back deck watching my sister play with another girl. I remember the moment I walked out the back door, you were mid-laugh, shoveling sand into a bucket when my eyes caught yours. I was terrified in the way that most boys are of pretty girls. I had every intention of turning around and hiding inside. Delilah called me over and I didn't move. She stalked toward me, grabbed my hand, and dragged me to you against my will."

I laugh, picturing it. He smiles in return. "I was too scared to speak, but Delilah said ‘This is Macy, our new friend. Macy, this is my brother, Daniel.' You smiled so bright; it was like staring at the sun." I remember our conversation on the way to the fall festival, when we shared our first impressions of each other. "You embodied the rays of a thousand suns. You were joy personified. I thought you were lovely, Mace." There's a smile in his voice when he says, "You hugged me and then ran off along the shoreline. Something in my mind clicked, and I chased you. I could never catch up to you back then."

"Now look who's faster," I whisper.

"Not for long. You're already making me work for it."

"I remember that day." I smile but it slowly fades into a frown now that I know how the story ends. The kind boy I had met that day lost his family shortly after, including his twin sister.

There's a bond between twins unlike any other. The moment he twinkled into existence, she did too. She was the first person he ever met, even before his parents, and now, his other half is in a different world.

He was left to grieve all alone, and his agony was strong enough to keep him from ever telling someone what happened. I find myself reaching for his arm, holding it, and rubbing soothing patterns over his skin.

I can't imagine losing my mom and dad, let alone if I had a sibling. But enduring that as a child, when he had only a thin understanding of the world—I can't fathom his pain. We learn from our experiences, and I can only imagine the awful things he believes about the world.

"Did you ever talk to anyone about all of this?"

He shakes his head. "After everything happened, I had no interest in making friends."

I frown. I hadn't realized the depth of his isolation until now. "What about a guidance counselor?"

"Nope."

I frown. "You had no one to talk to for so long, but I know you had much to say. You can tell me," I whisper. "If you wish."

He looks at me then. I mean really looks at me. "The woman you are..."

I tilt my head.

"You're compassionate, kind, beautiful…smart, of course. I could name thousands of adjectives if you'd like."

"That won't be necessary, and if I didn't know any better, I'd think you were stalling."

"I am."

"You don't need to say anything."

"I want to. God, I want to, but I don't even know where to start."

"Close your eyes," I say. He glances at me warily but does as I instructed. "You must have so many words trapped. Let them out, Grayson. Let someone else carry them for a while." I squeeze his hand encouragingly.

"Okay," he whispers. "Are you sure you want to hear it all? I don't want to bothe?—"

"Yes. I want to listen."

"Macy. I really, really like you."

I grin. "You're stalling…"

"No. That's one of the things I wanted to say as a kid." He opens one eye to peek at me. I'm smiling. His left dimple appears, then he closes his eyes again. I'm patient, waiting for him to speak, tracing his features.

"Sometimes… I think tragedy follows me. I can't seem to escape its cruel way of popping out and scaring me when I least expect it to." Oh, Grayson... "Ever since I was a kid, I lay in bed at night and picture what it would be like to see them again. How it would look for a family to reunite after spending a lifetime apart." He opens his pained eyes to meet mine, inhales a breath, then continues. "I moved into my uncle's house in Fort Meyers. He took care of me in all the necessary ways, but he never spoke about my family. The more time that separated them and I, the more I wondered if they existed at all, or if I made them up in my head. Delilah especially seemed too good to have ever been true. She was a built-in best friend. We were together nearly every second of the day. When I discovered loneliness, I couldn't fathom ever having a different companion."

I frame his face with my hands and kiss both his temples. "I wish I could take all your pain."

He shakes his head. "If me enduring it keeps it from ever touching you, then I'll withstand it for eternity."

If I had the chance to carry the weight of his grief, I would do so in a heartbeat. Maybe that's what it means to truly love somebody. I place a soft kiss to his lips. "Keep going."

"Okay," he says. "As the years went on, I thought I'd burn alive in the silence. Or drown. Whichever is worse." He pulls me so I'm in his lap, then hugs me to his chest. "I just really need to hold on to you. Is that okay?"

"Yes," I breathe.

"Good." He continues. "It was so quiet, Mace. My uncle was there, but we didn't really interact with one another. He was always working. I didn't talk to anyone at school either. Sometimes my teacher would pair me up with other kids, and they would make it a game of who could get me to talk first. My raging silence was their entertainment. But at home, when it was just me and the quiet… It was loud . Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

"It was like static filling my head. Sometimes I wondered if my brain would explode." He sighs. "I've always wanted to tell someone that. To just, I don't know, complain."

"You're not complaining, Grayson." I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and tuck my face in his chest. "What else?"

He squeezes me a little. "I felt like a ghost the day I moved here and went into town. I even went to The BARnacle, but no one recognized me. I didn't think I wanted anyone to, but it still hurt, Mace. It really hurt."

How is he still standing? How could anyone survive what he did and still smile? How could he have it in his heart to be kind when the world has been so cruel?

"I made it through the school years because I knew I'd see you in the summer. When the pain felt strangling, I told myself ‘Just a little longer until I see her again.' When you came, everything seemed to be all right, because there was a person right out my window who was always happy, and somehow, that made my grief smaller. It was like looking down from an airplane and realizing how small your life is compared to everything else out there. You saved me, Mace. Without even trying, you saved me."

I pull back to look at his face. "Don't give me credit for your survival. You did that, and I'm so in awe of you and your strength." I understand grief. Not to the extent of his, but I know how heavy it is. How it's hard to pull yourself out of bed. What it's like to not to let tears fall because once they do, they'll never end. "After all your heart went through, you still have it in you to—" Love? I point between us. "This. You still have it in your heart for this ."

"This," he breathes. "Is the only good thing I've experienced since I was six, and I keep waiting for something to steal it away. I don't want you to feel pressured to continue this, and I certainly don't want your pity. I don't even know what this is, I just know it feels like?—"

"Destiny," I answer for him. "It feels like destiny."

He kisses me then. My eyes fall shut and stars burst behind my eyelids. We get lost in each other, both of us breathless. "You make it better," he says into the next kiss. "You make me feel like I'm alive."

He makes me feel like I'm alive.

My body moves naturally against his, and I can feel just how alive he is. Veiled beneath the midnight sky, tucked under the lifeguard tower, it feels like our own separate world. I pull back to observe him in the dark. He always looks sharp around the edges when he's adorned in shadows. As if he can't stand the absence of my lips any longer, his face angles up to mine and he kisses me like he's starved. He tightens his grip on my hips, pushing and pulling me forward to create wonderful friction.

His hands slide toward my backside, squeezing me as he lets out a long groan. I pull down the waistband of his underwear and joggers, springing him free. His wide eyes meet mine with a mixture of shocked amusement. My shorts are loose enough for me to pull my underwear aside, and when I do, Grayson stills me. "I don't have a condom on me."

"I have an IUD."

He blows out a steady breath as I lower myself onto him. I move my hips with every ounce of love I have for him and with every year that has tried to separate us. My mind always returned to the memory of him, winning the test of time. And then I kiss him with every promise I have to make the future a place so beautiful that his mind doesn't want to return to the past. At least not the sad parts.

When it's over, I don't slide off him yet. We cling to each other for a while, with the wind's whisper against our skin. The nighttime sky hanging over us like a secret. He kisses my shoulder, then rubs his chin over the skin. I hiss from the scrape of his stubble. He kisses it again and whispers an apology.

A month ago, I was living in a place I longed to leave, engaged to a man I despised. I picture being stuck in a cave, with fallen boulders blocking the way I came. Trying to move the dozens of rocks with bloodied fingernails and shouted pleas. I envision dust coating my lungs and every ounce of strength being wasted on attempting to escape. That was my life, and then, I turned around and found a sliver of light, and it grew the more I followed it. It led me out. It led me here . To Daniel. To Grayson. To the dreams I never dared to hope for.

Sometimes the way out isn't the obvious path. Sometimes it's a faint sliver of light that you need to follow. Sometimes, that light leads you right where fate wants you to be.