Fly Bye

When I walk outside at the end of my shift a week and a half later, a familiar figure is leaning against one of the planters that lines the entrance to the hospital. I freeze, take a step, and then freeze again. It’s been a typical Friday. I’m not expecting anything out of the ordinary.

Gray watches my stilted approach. A slow smile unfurls on his face, and if I was managing to play it cool at all, I abandon it entirely. I don’t let myself think; I react, flinging my body at his. He’s either expecting it or he has really good reflexes because he doesn’t even stumble as we collide.

I tighten my arms and legs around him, breathing deeply. He smells like soap and leather and something uniquely Gray I couldn’t put a name to. He feels solid and firm and alive.

Something brushes my hair as I cling to him. His hand, or maybe his lips.

We stand still for a minute. Me clutching him and Gray tolerating it. He’s holding me loosely, but I’m the one pressing us together. Finally, I relax my grip enough that I can tilt my head back and look up at his face. His expression is smooth, but emotions are dancing in his eyes.

I do the most embarrassing thing possible. I burst into tears.

That takes care of the indifference he was sporting.

Gray’s face turns wary, then concerned. “Bad surprise?”

Pull it together, I scold myself. I’m normally skilled at harnessing my emotions, both at work and outside of it. I didn’t even cry at the end of The Notebook.

Apparently, I overestimated my ability to school my emotions in certain situations. I underestimated how much I care about Gray, which was not a low bar to begin with. Time and distance haven’t changed its height. I didn’t realize just how heavy and tightly knotted the ball of worry in my stomach was until it lightened and slackened.

“No. It’s a great surprise. I’m sorry. Long day.”

Gray’s face says he knows my waterworks have more to do with him than my job, but he doesn’t press the topic.

“What are you doing here? Did something happen?” Visions of engines on fire and twisted metal flash through my mind. He’s here. He’s fine, I tell myself.

“Nothing happened. Everything is fine. One of the guys in my unit had to fly back for a family emergency. I volunteered to copilot. It’s a long trip to make by yourself, and I passed all my duties off to a first lieutenant.”

“How long are you back for?”

“I’ve got to be back on base by noon tomorrow.”

Less than twenty-four hours. “Short trip.”

“Yeah.”

But he made it. He volunteered for it even. What does that mean? Was it out of friendship and loyalty to whoever had the emergency? Or is he here for me?

“Uh, today is Noah’s birthday…”

Gray’s eyes briefly close. “Dammit.”

“Sloane has spent the past week decorating our backyard. There’s a patio…and stuff. She wants to show it off, so she had me invite Noah, Harrison, and Emmett over. They’re supposed to be there”—I check my phone—“really soon. And then we’re going to Malone’s.”

He gives me a wry smile. “I didn’t check the date. Not exactly how I pictured this evening going.”

“We can…after. You know, if you want to. I’m not assuming anything. I just—” Smooth as molasses, Evie.

He bends down and kisses me. It’s not a peck. There’s heat and tongue and urgency. And a promise of more when we’re not in public and fully clothed.

“I didn’t fly five thousand miles not to fuck you, Evie. I want to.”

Five thousand miles? “Okay.” I think my giddy smile counteracts the nonchalance of that single word.

Gray smirks. “So…are you going to invite me to your party?”

“Do you want to come?”

“Beats sitting around, waiting for you to come over.”

“Okay, well, you know where I live, right?”

The smirk deepens, both dimples punctuating his cheeks. “Right.”

“Okay, well I—oh!” I realize. “I, uh, have your car.”

“I know.”

The more frazzled I become, the more relaxed Gray appears.

“I’ll catch a car back to my place and then get a ride with Emmett to yours.”

“Are you sure? It’s your car, and I can—”

“I’m sure.” He bends down and gives me a quick kiss. “I’ll see you soon.”

A wide, silly smile stretches across my face. It lingers the whole drive back to my house and is still firmly in place when I walk in the front door. Sloane is flitting around, straightening magazines and arranging flowers. She cut back on her hours at the law firm and is now working part-time at an interior decorating company as well. It shows in our house, and I’m definitely not complaining.

“Hey!” I greet.

Sloane studies me. “Are you drunk?”

“What? No. I just left work.”

“You’re never this cheery when you get home from work.”

“Well, I’m excited about the party,” I lie.

She buys that excuse. It’s not a total fib, just a small stretch of the truth. I’m especially excited now that I know we’ll have an unexpected guest.

“They’ll be here soon. Better go get changed.”

I hang my bag up on one of the empty hooks by the door. “Okay. You need help with anything first?”

“Nope. Everything’s ready.”

“Okay.”

I shower, then head into my bedroom to get ready. I take longer with my appearance than usual, sorting through several outfits, applying more than just mascara, and taking extra care in selecting my underwear.

The whole process takes a while. I realize how long when I leave my room, walk out onto the patio, and discover that Noah, Emmett, Harrison, and Gray have all arrived.

I hug Noah, wish him a happy birthday and then greet the rest of the guys. My voice comes out higher than usual when I express surprise at Gray’s appearance, but no one seems to notice.

I can’t stop stealing looks at Gray. He was wearing his uniform when he showed up at the hospital, but he’s showered and changed since. I greedily absorb every detail I can, knowing what a limited time I’ll have to stare before he’s gone again. He’s so handsome; it hurts. I don’t know how to act around him. What we are. It doesn’t help that we’re surrounded by friends who know us only as separate people. Who don’t know how well we know each other.

When the bowl of hummus empties, I stand and offer to refill it, mostly under the guise of getting my libido under control. It’s not even that warm out tonight, yet I can feel my skin radiating with heat. I can’t look at him without imagining all the things I’d like to be doing right now instead of making small talk in front of my brother.

The barista at Charleston Coffee Traders flirted with me this morning, and I barely batted an eye. He was cute. But attraction is one thing, chemistry is another. Gray and I have buckets of both, and it feels combustible.

I’m rooting through the fridge for the container of hummus when I hear the door open again, and footsteps near.

Was I hoping he’d follow me inside? Yes.

I don’t turn to confirm it’s him, but no one else would approach me silently. Big, masculine hands settle on my hips. I sway, resisting the urge to melt back against him. The pink wrap dress I settled on shifts as his hands move to my waist. Pulsing tingles of heat shoot through me. Goose bumps pebble on my skin, both from his light touch and the cold air emanating from the fridge. I should probably shut the door, but I can’t seem to move.

“You took a long time to get ready.” His warm breath skates across my skin.

“I had trouble deciding what to wear,” I admit.

“I like the dress.”

I don’t know if it’s part of his compliment game, but I no longer need a shovel or an exploding agent to unearth one—it appears.

“I meant, underneath.”

He chuckles, but it comes out more pained than amused. “Fuck, Evie.”

I want to ask if it’s been as long for him as it’s been for me, but that’s not really a conversation I want to get into with our friends and my brother right outside.

“You didn’t call this week,” I whisper instead.

“I know. I was trying…not to make this harder.”

I turn to face him, finally shutting the fridge. “What does that mean?”

“You know what.”

I shake my head. “You—”

The door to the backyard opens, and Sloane steps inside. “Evie?”

There’s something off in her tone, something hesitant.

I tear my gaze from Gray’s and glance at her. “Yeah?”

“Uh, Logan is here to see you.”

“What?” I blink at her blankly, like I’ve never heard the name before.

Sloane is still talking, mumbling something about a medical conference and knowing an address, but I’m no longer listening. I leave the hummus on the counter and head outside. Sure enough, Logan Fitzgerald is standing in my backyard, shooting the shit with my brother. His blond hair has grown from the crew cut length he kept it at throughout our relationship. Aside from that, he looks the exact same as he did at our med school graduation—the last time I saw him. The last time I thought I’d ever see him.

“Logan.” I approach them. “Um, wow. Hi.”

“Hey, Evie.” He gives me a warm smile and a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too,” I reply automatically. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

His expression grows sheepish and a little uncertain. I mentally kick myself.

“I mean, I just wasn’t expecting you. Here.”

“I know.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I was in the neighborhood, actually. Professor Benson—you remember her?”

I nod.

“Well, we worked on the proposal for that research grant together. We got a meeting with a medical device company that’s headquartered in Charlotte. Founder lives here though. Since I was here, I thought…” His voice trails off. “I should have texted or called, I know. But there’s some stuff I’d like to talk to you about in person, and I had your address. I heard the commotion in the back and came around here. I shouldn’t have intruded. I’ll just head out. If you have time tomorrow, you can give me a call.”

“You’re not intruding. Evie has been wanting to talk to you too.” Sloane doesn’t hesitate to throw me under the bus—and this is why you should never lie to your best friend. All my words about needing time and not being ready to move on taunt me.

Noah jumps right on the rekindle the relationship train with her. “Yeah. It’s great that you’re here, man. We were about to head downtown anyhow. You guys can stay and talk.”

I love how no one—besides Logan—seems to have taken into account how I feel about this. But it’s a conversation we need to have. “Okay.”

“Gray! Ready to go?”

I don’t turn around to see how Gray is reacting to my ex’s appearance. Knowing him, he’ll look indifferent.

“Ready.”

I still don’t look, but I feel his presence near.

“Hey. I’m Logan. Nice to meet you.” Logan introduces himself to the only person in the backyard he hasn’t met.

I hold my breath.

Gray gives him a long stare before shaking the offered hand. Tension thickens the air like a rubber band pulling taut. “Gray.”

Logan looks at me. I don’t need to be a mind reader to know what he’s thinking. I mentioned Gray’s name once. Years ago. He hasn’t forgotten, though.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Let’s talk inside, huh?” I suggest, heading for the door.

“Sure,” Logan agrees. He smiles at Noah. “Happy birthday, man. Sorry again to interrupt the party.”

“No worries.” Noah smiles back.

I give Noah a quick hug. “Sorry about this,” I whisper.

“Don’t apologize, Leigh-Leigh. I’m happy for you.”

Tears threaten to burn my eyes. I don’t want to have this conversation. There’s only one thing Logan could possibly want to talk about, and I won’t be able to give him the answer he wants. I’ll have to break his heart again. And while I do, precious minutes I could be spending with Gray before he’s five thousand miles away again will slip through my fingers.

I pull away and force a smile. “Have fun tonight.”

Logan follows me inside, into the kitchen and down the hall to the living room. “Warmer here than I was expecting,” he comments as the air conditioner hums in the background.

“That’s the South for you,” I say as I take a seat on the couch.

“Yeah, I guess.” He settles down beside me.

“So…”

Logan rests his elbows on his thighs and looks at the floor. “This is…well, I…” He shakes his head and chuckles. “Damn, this is harder than I thought it would be.”

“It’s just me, Logan.”

He looks up. “I miss you, Evie. Everything you said when we broke up made sense. I wanted to stay in Boston, and you wanted to move back here. We both knew our schedules would be crazy. But… I miss you so damn much. I work insane hours, but when I’m not working—hell, even when I am—all I think about is you.” He smiles. “I know nothing has changed with work. But… I guess…I’m asking if you want to figure it out.”

“I… I thought you were dating someone else.” It feels cruel to shoot him down immediately, but I can’t put it off. It’s everything I was worried about.

“It didn’t work out. I want to be with someone who understands what it’s like to have a demanding career, not someone who resents it. People think they want to date a doctor until they actually do, you know?”

I don’t. Because the only guy I’ve done anything with that even came close to resembling dating was Gray, and he never once made me feel like I needed to put my career second. If he texted and I was busy with work, he’d just suggest a new time to meet up. Was that because it was just sex? He asked about my job, acted interested when I told him about my patients.

And the fact that all I’m doing is thinking about Gray says a lot as well.

“I haven’t done much dating,” I reply.

Logan smiles, and I belatedly realize that sounded more encouraging than I meant for it to.

“I know this is a lot and out of nowhere, and it’s your brother’s birthday. Think about it, okay? I’ve looked into some programs down here, but I haven’t applied or let Mass General know. I will though, if I should. And we can take things slow.”

Sex. He’s talking about sex. About the fact that in ten months, we never made it past third base. Because I hesitated and was embarrassed and it became routine not to talk about it—let alone have it. A problem I never had with Gray.

When I saw Gray, my heart flew. When I saw Logan, it sank. My answer isn’t uncertain.

“I don’t need to think about it, Logan. I’m sorry. I admire you, and I respect you…but I’m not in love with you.”

He sighs but doesn’t seem surprised. “I had a feeling—when I saw him here.”

“It’s not just that., I’m just…” I give up. “I think we’re best off as friends.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sorry. I wish—”

“Don’t apologize. I needed to say this in person, and now I can move on for real.”

He leans over and kisses my cheek.

No tingles. No butterflies.

“Goodbye, Evie.”

“Bye, Logan.”

I stay seated on the couch, even after I hear his steps recede and the door click shut. We broke up months ago, but this felt like finality. I doubt I’ll receive any more gifts and probably fewer texts.

I should go to Malone’s. Noah and Sloane will be wondering what happened with Logan. But I don’t feel like answering any questions. I don’t want to watch women hit on Gray and pretend I’m not staring at him.

Fifteen minutes later, I park in the garage of his loft. Déjà vu hits as I take the elevator and walk down the sweet-smelling hall. I haven’t been here since he left. Muscle memory kicks in as I unlock the door and weave through the mess in the living room to get to Gray’s bedroom. I open the door and stall in place.

He’s here. On his bed, fully clothed and staring at the ceiling.

My heart pounds so loudly that I’m amazed everyone within a mile can’t hear it. With anticipation and anxiety. I close the door behind me. When I turn back toward the bed, his eyes are on me.

He says nothing. Neither do I. I kick off my shoes and peel the pink dress over my head. Leaving me in a matching set of blue lingerie.

He doesn’t move. I do. I approach the bed and climb on it beside him. I align my body with his and settle my head on his chest, just below his chin. We lie still for a few minutes before his hand moves. Fingers weave through my hair, pulling my head back. Moonlight streams through the window, casting shadows across his face.

“What are you doing here?”

“You’re here.”

“Did you talk to Logan?”

“Yes.”

“Are you moving back to Boston?”

“He offered to move here.”

“Wow. He must be confident you’ll put out this time.”

I exhale. “Don’t do that, Gray.”

“Don’t do what?” he challenges.

“Do you want me here?” I ask.

“I want to know why you’re here.”

“You know why I’m here. But you? You told me that this—that I—didn’t mean anything and then you left. I don’t know anything, Gray.”

I stare, and he stares back. I let it all bleed across my face. All the hope and the worry and the relief and the giddiness.

“Why did you come back, Gray?”

Gray sighs. “Because I can’t do this when I’m five thousand miles away.”

He kisses me, and I’m swept up in sensation. I didn’t forget what it felt like to be kissed by him, but I forgot what it was like to experience it firsthand. To not recall a single fear or thought or dream and simply sink into a cloud of bliss.

We kiss and kiss. Until I’m out of breath and my lips feel swollen. I expect him to escalate things. When he doesn’t, I do. But he keeps his hands on my waist, up until I move my own downward. He snags my wrist before I make it halfway down his chest.

“I don’t—this isn’t—I just…” He groans and closes his eyes for a second. “You deserve better than this, Evie.”

“Better than what?”

“Me.”

“I want you.”

I reach for his jeans. This time, he doesn’t stop me. I unzip the denim and pull his cock out of his boxers, gripping the length in teasing strokes. He thrusts in my hand.

“Someone’s eager.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Has it?” I keep my tone detached even though I’m anything but. A while as in days? Weeks? The length of time we’ve been separated?

Rather than answer, Gray finally decides to become a willing participant. He flicks a strap off my shoulder so that the lace of the bra droops. His gaze turns hungry—predatory—as he studies my chest. But there’s also something tender and familiar and dangerous. He’s looking at me like he cares. Like this means something.

His right hand dips downward, pulling my underwear to the side, not even bothering to pull it off. He lines the head of his cock up with my entrance, then pauses. “Do I need…”

And…we’re back to the dancing around if we’ve been with other people game.

“You tell me.”

“I haven’t been with anyone else, Evie.”

I do an atrocious job of keeping the shock off my face. I convinced myself he would have. Conditioned myself to nod and smile in response to the admission. “Since you left?”

“Since we first hooked up.”

I suspected, but the confirmation still comes as a surprise. “Why?”

He doesn’t answer. He teases my entrance with his hard length, and I can no longer think straight. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“You think I’ve been with anyone else?”

“It’s fine. If you have.”

The words say one thing. His face says another. Still, the two sentences royally piss me off.

“Oh, it’s fine, is it?”

His face tenses. We hold a silent stare-off, desire and stubbornness mixing in the air. He starts to move away, but I grab the front of his shirt, holding him in place. He could break out of my grip easily, but he doesn’t.

“Do I need to put on a condom, Evie?”

“No,” I mutter.

He slams into me in one powerful thrust. I have to bite on my bottom lip—hard—to keep from crying out. It’s better than I remember—the full sensation and the rush of arousal. From the way Gray growls, it feels pretty damn good for him too. He’s still fully dressed. I have to yank the cotton of his T-shirt up, so I can touch the powerful slab of muscle that forms his back.

Gray sets a brutal pace. He’s been rough before, but I’ve never felt like he was fucking me. Not this primal, desperate pounding. He’s mad. At me. Maybe himself too.

I’m annoyed with him, but it doesn’t slow the build of pressure as he fills me again and again. The explosive pleasure of my orgasm takes me off guard. Gray groans as I start spasming around him, pressing his palms on either side of my open thighs as he ruts into me twice more. The foreign, warm sensation of his release catches me off guard.

He pulls out and yanks a few tissues out of the box beside his bed, handing them to me. “Here.”

“Thanks.”

Gray doesn’t move. Doesn’t react as I wipe myself and lie back down beside him. I’m the one who breaches the distance between us. His hand fists my hair. For a moment, I think we’ll start all over again. But his grip relaxes. He runs his fingers through the strands rather than just holding them.

I close my eyes and melt against him. Muscle by muscle, the tension seeps away. I feel his chest rise and fall. I listen to the rhythmic pound of his heart. I memorize the temperature and texture of the firm skin I’m resting on.

When he speaks, I’m half-asleep. “I lied earlier.”

“What?” I try to sort through everything that’s happened today, try to find a fib, but my brain trails off mid-process, too exhausted by the prospect.

“When I said it would be fine if you—when I acted like I wouldn’t care if you’d been with another guy. I would care. Can’t think of anything that would piss me off more, actually.”

That permeates the fog in my brain. “Is that what you meant when you said I’m not just a fly by?”

“Hmm?”

“You said our flight was a fly by. That it would be quick. That they don’t stay for long.”

“My job isn’t to stay. It’s to go where I’m needed.”

“I’m not talking about your job, Gray.”

“You’re not a fly by because I know you only get hot coffee around the holidays, when it’s gingerbread-flavored or peppermint-flavored or has eggnog added.”

“I—what?” That answer throws me for such a loop that I’m dizzy.

“You have a strange obsession with colored Post-it Notes. When you haven’t washed your hair, you wear it up in a bun. You ask your dad about the weather and pretend like you care because you know he does. You can’t drive anywhere until you’ve picked the perfect song. You have a dimple on your left cheek, but not your right one. And you deserve everything, Evie. A hell of a lot more than I can ever give you.”

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Both.”

I expected the answer. It still stings. “You know a lot about me.”

“I guess that’s what happens when you’ve known someone for twenty years.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

I twist my head so my lips can reach his. He kisses me back. Sweetly. Softly. And it hurts. I seek out more pleasure to counteract the pain, sliding my hand down his chest. I tug at his shirt, wanting it off, and he complies, finally shedding his jeans as well so we’re skin-to-skin. My fingers trace the valleys of his abs before fisting his cock. He groans into my mouth. One palm slides down my ribs, passing the small of my back, gliding over the curve of my ass. He hooks his hand around my knee and pulls it upward, opening my thighs. I’m right atop his erection, and I rub against his length. I could come from this alone, but I don’t want to. Especially since I think this might be goodbye.

He slides into me slowly, inch by inch. I memorize each piece of this moment.

The slight curve of his lips.

The expression on his face—half-awed and half-cocky.

The way he smells like soap and salt.

Gray rolls us, so he’s hovering above me. He kisses me in time with his thrusts. It’s a gradual build, like climbing a peak you can see in the distance. You want to reach it, but you’re trying to enjoy the climb. Prolong the journey.

I twine my fingers in his hair, wishing I possessed the strength to keep him here.

The rest of the world fades away. It’s just me and him and the languid way he’s moving.

I feel happy. Protected. Cherished.

I’m also battling the urge to cry. Because he said he can’t give me everything, but this is everything. All I’ve ever wanted—all I couldn’t obtain by myself—was for this boy to love me. And it feels closer than ever and also so far away. I couldn’t move on before. How am I supposed to now? When I have all these memories to supplant the fantasies and feelings I’ve held on to for years? I’ve come so far and fallen so short. Both are debilitating in their own ways. It’s hard knowing I’ve fought for nothing. Harder to stop fighting.

Ecstasy explodes, and I’m granted a temporary respite from worrying about those answers. I moan against his lips as tremors radiate through me. As I feel his release spill inside me. It feels so right, and I hate how much I love it.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, not caring about the sticky mess. That he’s about to pull away. I focus on the whoosh of his heart and the smell of his skin and the fact that he’s here. Above me. In me. Surrounding me.

“Evie.”

“What?”

“I missed you.”

I don’t realize moisture is spilling out of my eyes until some detached part of my brain starts to wonder why his neck is damp.

With a muttered curse, he slips out of me and away. But then his arms scoop me up, one under my knees and the other behind my back. He cradles me against my chest and walks into the adjoining bathroom, setting me down inside of the shower. My legs feel wobbly, but I stay upright.

Gray turns the water to full blast, then steps under it next to me. The water is cold. It hits my bare skin like icy knives. But I don’t move, embracing the chill and then the numbness.

“What time are you leaving again?”

“I’ve got to be at the base by noon.”

“Where are you going?”

Something shimmers in his gaze. “You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Then, tell me the last time you had sex with someone else.”

His gaze flicks away, toward the neat line of soap bottles, then back to me. “The night before your parents’ anniversary party.”

“The threesome?”

He coughs. “I mean, if we’re getting technical, I only had sex with one of them. The other just sucked me off.”

I nod, then look away. The tears sliding down my cheeks mix with the water pounding over us that’s turned tepid. “I can’t picture it. Having sex with someone else. With Logan, there were moments we got close. I always found some excuse.”

Gray steps closer.

“I didn’t tell him no because of you. I told him no because it’s never felt this way with anyone else—with him—and it wouldn’t have been fair. Asking him to measure up when I already knew he’d fall short.”

I tilt my head up. He looks down at me. Water falls over us. I watch droplets roll down his face and shoulders. Feel it plaster my hair to my neck and my forehead. It’s warm now, turning hot. Steam starts to swirl. He leans one forearm above my head. Reaches for a bottle with his other hand. He drips some clear liquid onto my chest, then returns the bottle to its original spot. His palm lands between my breasts, catching the soap and spreading it. Over my shoulders and along my arms. Around my breasts, down my stomach, and between my legs. I arch against his touch.

“So fucking responsive,” he murmurs.

“I’ve never had shower sex,” I inform him.

“Never?”

“Everything I’ve done…it’s been with you,” I remind him.

Something flashes across his face, but he crushes his lips to mine before I can get a good read on it. In minutes, we’re both coming again. We rinse, towel off, and end up back in bed.

“I can go,” I offer.

“You should stay,” he replies.

“I should?”

He rolls, so he’s spooning me. I feel the brush of his breaths on my shoulder. But he doesn’t say a word. He holds me and lies here.

I’m not sure if I can say anything past the lump in my throat. If I should. I lose track of time as I study the shadows cast by the moonlight.

I fight my heavy eyelids. I don’t want to miss a moment. It’s not until I feel exhaustion start to spread that I speak the words that have been sitting on my tongue ever since he told me I deserve more.

“This is everything.”

He says nothing. But the arm splayed across my stomach tenses for a second, and I know he heard me.

I close my eyes and let sleep pull me all the way under.