Page 43 of Gravity

I laugh.

God, I’ve missed this: the banter—friendship. The ability she has to make me forget everything for a while and erase the tension from my shoulders is inexplicable. I’ve been naive in thinking I didn’t need her—that I didn’t need this.

“Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.

“Go ahead.”

“Have you noticed a change in Asher? He seems more… grizzly.”

“When is he not grizzly?”

“So, it’s just me reading into things.”

“No. It’s not you.” I think about the way he has behaved after returning home from Iraq. Although I’ve witnessed his struggles over the years and the shadows that cloud over him more, it’s these past twelve months that he seems to have fallen harder again. I question if he’s struggling with PTSD. Life as a SEAL was never easy and working with Cole’s Security now has its share of challenges too. His mood swings, the increased drinking… It’s not the Asher I once knew.

“War changes a man, Nora. God knows what they witness out there, and his job now is just as intense.”

“He’s not very forthcoming when it comes to things like that.”

“No. He seemed to be doing okay, but then a few months back he was acting strange. He said he wanted some alone time and I respected that but, I don’t know.” I remember that night so clearly. It was a Saturday night and we’d been here; I was working, and he’d just sat at the end of the bar drinking. He’d suddenly disappeared without a word. When I rang to check where he was, he’d said something urgent had come up and he’d catch up with me. With only a text to say he was doing okay, he’d emerged days later, looking like he’d never slept. I was never told what was so urgent.

“Do you feel he is drinking more?”

That makes me look up at her. Has she noticed, too? “More than he probably should some days, but then I wonder if I’m just overthinking.”

“Why?”

“Because when you watch someone drink themselves to death, you’re petrified of others doing it, too.”

She smiles flatly, reaching over and taking hold of my hand, rubbing her thumb over my knuckles. “I’m sorry, Gray.”

“Don’t be. It doesn’t mean Asher is drinking more. I could just be reading shit that may not be there. It’s just something I have to live with now.”

“You know you can talk to me, right?”

I’ve wanted to talk to her since the very day my mother died. I’d wanted to talk to her even before then because I’d known she’d be the only one to bring me back from the edge of the darkness I’d been falling deeper into. But I hadn’t been able to because I’d been engulfed by grief and believed I was better on my own—that she was better without me.

“I know,” I say quietly, right before our time together is filled with the unpleasantness that is Lacy.

“Well, doesn’t this look cozy?” She comes to stand by my side of the booth, her cheap perfume almost suffocating and her skin-tight clothing practically painted on. “Good afternoon, Grayson.” Her eyes dart to mine and Nora’s joined hands, and I pull away, disliking the broken contact.

“Lacy.” I acknowledge, already sensing the unrest coming from Nora at being ignored by her.

“How are you today, Gray?”

“Fine.”

“Good.” She slowly slides the tips of her fingers along the edge of the table toward me, and I can smell the seduction coming from her as she once again tries to lure me into her trap.

Not today princess.

“Those donuts look good enough to eat.”

“Well, there’s a reason why they are part of the food industry,” Nora deadpans, and I have to hold back a grin, predicting the glare that Lacy has no doubt given her over my shoulder.

“Would you like one?” I ask. Anything to have her leave us.

“I’d love one.” Knowing exactly what she’s doing, she leans over, brushing her body against me and turning herself a little so I get a full view of her cleavage as she takes the lime and crushed nut donut, licking it with a smirk on her face.