Page 136 of All I Have Left

Julia kicks Grayson’s leg under the table. “Grayson. Stop that. This is a family restaurant.”

He rolls his eyes in response. “Hardly.”

“Will you knock it off?” I whisper, and it does nothing for the cheese sauce dripping down my lips. Grayson’s eyes widen as he takes in the alfredo sauce dripping from my lips and the breadstick in my hand. I’m not entirely sure how this looked to others, but Grayson’s reaction tells me it’s inappropriate.

White cheese on my lips, long stick in hand? Yep, looks like cum.

His eyes widen in response, his jaw clenched. I hold his stare, unsure, and grab a napkin. “Sorry.”

He draws in a heavy breath, relaxing into the chair and reaches for my purse on the floor, sets it on his lap and frowns. “Can we leave yet?”

Ethan throws his head back, laughing. “We’re a complete shitshow.”

Everyone turns around to stare at us and Wyatt flags the waiter down. “Can we get the check, please?”

I reach down, having dropped my napkin through all this on the floor. In the midst of doing that, Grayson leans in, grabs my wrist and whispers, “The next time you have anything dripping from your lips, it’scomingfrom me.”

My level of embarrassment and desire reaches an all-time high.

Four more days. Four morefuckingdays.

62

GRAYSON

Is it Monday? Tuesday? Wednesday? I have no clue. But I know the date. September twenty-fourth. My three-month check-up is today. It hasn’t come soon enough. Finally, I feel like I’m getting on the right track with the medications and the headaches. I haven’t thrown up yet this week, so I guess that’s a good sign, right?

I still can’t hear out of my left ear and my vision isn’t great. I can’t stand up without seeing stars and nearly every time I shower, I have to sit down. I drop things, stumble, forget words, and I can’t be in a crowd. I hate when someone hugs me, can’t button a shirt, and sometimes forget what day of the week it is.

Okay, that last one is daily. Evie reminds me.

Evie… she’s…everything. I piss off everyone on a daily basis, but she’s so incredibly fucking patient with me and I don’t deserve her. Anyone else would have kicked my bratty ass to the curb by now.

Even with all that, I fear this appointment for one reason. Clearance to be intimate. Intimate? Whatever the fuck that means. Traumatic brain injuries basically take intimacy and toss it out the goddamn window.

Don’t get me wrong, I want to have sex more than you willever know, but then again, am I ready? I sleep next to Evie every night, can’t keep my hands off her, but am I ready to have sex with her?

Honestly, I don’t think so. Something happens after you experience trauma. Your brain has a hard time letting go of what it knows and moving on. I don’t know that it’s done on a conscious level either. I think it just happens, similar to muscle memory maybe.

Evie stays with Frankie today, something about a bachelorette lunch, or whatever. I was only half paying attention to the conversation, and I’m able to block out a lot of things by simply pleading that I don’t remember. Works great, and unfortunately, I don’t remember much of anything so I’m not lying.

That leaves Ethan taking me to my appointment in Birmingham, and picking up Josh from the airport before the wedding this Saturday. Kelly’s been in town for a few weeks now.

“I’m not going inside the airport when we go to pick Josh up,” I tell him as we pull into the parking lot of the University of Alabama Hospital, a place I never wanted to return to.

“Yes, you are.” He turns left into a parking spot. “I’m not leaving you in the car. It’s too hot out.”

I reach for my cell phone in the cup holder, surprised I remembered to bring it this time. “You can leave me in the car. I’m not a baby.”

He turns off the engine of his truck, smiling at me. “That’s debatable some days.”

I scowl at him and he raises his hands to me. “I’m sorry, I had to. You walked right into that one. Now, let’s go get you cleared for fucking.”

Clearly my family knows what my priority is lately.

In the waiting room,Ethan and I take a seat next to the windows. It’s warm, the heat radiating through the glass despite the air-conditioning working overtime. Being the end of September, you’d think the heat would be releasing its choke hold on the city, but sadly, no.

At least it’s not as hot as Iraq. I never want to experience that kind of heat again.

---