Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(42)

“I disappeared like a fucking thief in the night, didn’t contact you, and now am acting like a heartless asshole.”

I blinked. “Uh, yeah, that’s pretty much the gist of it.”

There was silence after that, and when it became clear he wasn’t elaborating—despite knowing exactly what the issue was—I snapped. “What the fuck, Gray?” I snarled, voice rising with each word. “What the fuck happened in the few hours between us fucking and you sneaking off? Why couldn’t you just send me a message to let me know you were okay? I had to hear it from Angelo. Angel-fucking-O. When did you two even become such good friends? I mean, what the actual fuck? Nothing's making sense.”

He let me rant and rave, and the expression on his face never changed, which only made me rage harder. My fists had clenched at my sides at some point in my speech, and I was so close to throwing fists that I had to start backing away to calm myself down.

Part of me understood that my rage was about more than just Grayson disappearing for a few days. This was a deep-seated issue that I had with abandonment and being let down by people I loved, but that was a problem for Dr. Candace. A problem she wasn’t going to have time to fix before Grayson received the full force of my trauma.

When I ran out of steam and he was still just sitting on the bed staring at me, I sucked in some deep breaths. My rage wasn’t making a dent in his cold exterior, so I decided to try a different tactic. “Just tell me,” I said hoarsely, letting my pain seep out in a different way. “I can take it. Whatever it is that happened, I can take it. An old girlfriend came back, and you still love her? You have a secret baby that showed up? You realize you hate sharing me and would rather I disappear? I mean, I don’t really know shit about your life, so it could be any or all of the above. Which is…” I wanted to say fine, but I couldn’t lie that badly, so I changed the subject. “I can deal. You just need to tell me the truth, and I’ll leave you alone.”

The first crack in his armor appeared as he straightened, a clear jaw tic going on as he fought for his next words. “That’s the last thing I want, Prickles.” The words were low, but even with the noise of the jet engines, I heard him clearly. “You are”—he shook his head, clearing his throat—“the best fucking person to stumble into my messed-up world. There is no past love or past anything. There is only you, and you are all I give a fuck about.” He ran a hand through his hair, and I was surprised to see his hand shaking. “I always knew my past was going to destroy my future. I knew it, even as I fought against it, but I never thought it would be like this. I never saw you coming, and for that, I’m so fucking sorry.”

I took a step closer to him, the unease that had been plaguing me since, well, probably since Grayson had disappeared on us, surging to new heights. “What happened, Gray?” I whispered. “Tell me so we can work through it together.”

He stood then, ducking his head so he didn’t hit the roof. Our dynamic changed near instantly, and when he stepped closer, it triggered that tinge of fear that never completely disappeared around Grayson. “I want you to know that if I could go back, Billie,” he rasped. “I would change everything.” The swirls of unease grew stronger. “I’m not a good man, but for you, I would have tried. I’d have tried for something different.”

He was going to destroy me. He was destroying me.

“Gray, you’re scaring me,” I whispered. “Just tell m—”

I was interrupted by the pilot’s voice coming over the speaker. “We’ve put the seatbelt sign back on as we navigate the next pockets of storms. Please take your seats and buckle up.”

Our argument had been so all consuming that I hadn’t even noticed that the flight was growing rougher. As I had that thought, the plane did a little drop in the air, and I almost stumbled into the side of the bedroom wall. Grayson reacted instantly, reaching out and steadying me.

One of the airline staff appeared in the doorway then, a dark-haired woman about my age. She was clutching a few wine glasses she must have picked up on her way. “Can you please take your seats,” she said, her words urgent. “The pilot said this pocket is a nasty one.”

There was another drop in the cabin then, along with the rattling of the plane, which sent us all stumbling. Grayson kept me upright, but the dark-haired chick didn’t have her own rock star to hold onto, and when she crashed into the doorframe, she unfortunately used the hand clutching the wine glass to steady herself.

The shatter of glass was loud, and with the continued turbulence raging around us, panic overtook my mind. That metallic scent of blood hit me next, and in that instant, I knew that I was about to have an episode. Before I had a chance to even try and focus on my techniques to prevent a flashback, the darkness overtook me, and I collapsed against Gray, the scent of smoke filling my senses.

Holding my belly, I sobbed before choking on smoke. When I made it out onto the landing, I headed for the stairs, sticking close to the side of the hall. Smoke thickened here, and pressing the damp cloth to my face, I lowered my face and headed for my parents. I could smell copper, like old blood, and I hoped they were okay and not injured. As I had that thought and started to move faster, a shadow caught my eye.

A shadowy figure.

I attempted to call for help, but all that emerged was a dry rasp. A sound that would never be heard over the rage of the fire. And I couldn’t be seen through the smoke surrounding me. “Help,” I tried again, but my throat was just too dry. The shadow had light feet, moving nearby but not so close that I could reach out and try to grab them. I wanted to sob, but there was no moisture left in my body to do so.