We were all dressed in black: Gray, his mother, and me. His father had no other friends. The Jones' extended family wanted nothing to do with the man.

With solemn, heavy steps, I approached Gray and his mother after the service.

"I'm so sorry for your loss."

Gray grumbled, "Don't be sorry. He was a fucking asshole."

"He was still your dad," I said softly.

Gray's hands closed into fists. A cocktail of emotions clouded his handsome face. Anger, grief, confusion...

Disappointment.

Disappointment of the deepest kind.

It hurt to look at him. Gray was so young. Barely eighteen. Yet, he had been forced to shoulder the burdens of an adult man since he was a child.

This made me angry—at God, at the universe, at whatever fate had decided to make life so fucking unfair. The author of Gray's story clearly had no sense of compassion. She had placed a most senseless and anticlimactic period to a decades-long tragedy.

Two years ago, Stephan Jones barely survived when Gray fought back and stopped his father from beating his mother to death.

Two weeks ago, Stephan Jones drank himself into an early grave.

His death left behind chapters upon chapters of loose subplots and years upon years of unresolved violence, rage, and hurt between father and son.

Now Gray would never be able to salvage any part of their broken relationship. He wouldn't be given the opportunity to right past wrongs—and that, alone, was perhaps the saddest part about his father's passing.

As we left the cemetary that afternoon, my heart ached for Gray.

Like always, I carried his pain as though it was my own.

✦

Too scared to respond, I stared at Gray's message for a good two hours as my mind ran through all the possible scenarios that might have prompted him to contact me—of all people.

His text had seemed friendly enough, but I doubted that he was reaching out just for the hell of it.

Gray and I hadn't spoken since he found out about the proposal. He didn't know that Craig and I were no longer planning to get married. He didn't know that Craig had broken up with me because of my POI.

✦

"I love you."

"I love you, too. But..."

"But?"

His voice caught. "I need some space, Gracie. I feel all kinds of fucked up right now."

We broke up later that day.

✦

Frenzied thoughts churned through my brain.

Why did Gray want to talk to me all of a sudden?

Wasn't he supposed to be deployed overseas right now? How did he even have access to his phone?

Was he in trouble? Was he in danger?

Oh, God.

Did he find out that Lydia was keeping the baby?

✦

Five days after his dad's funeral, Gray left town for the entire summer.

He rarely answered my calls and texts.

After I started my first week of class at Arizona State, Gray finally let me know that he had come back home. I had missed him like crazy for the past few months. I intended to let the boy know that I still wanted him—as long as he would have me.

We met up for lunch.

I wore my white strappy linen sundress from Zara, the one that Gray said I looked really pretty in. I put on makeup. I curled my hair.

"It's so good to see you again, Gray."

"Good to see you, too, Gracie."

"I... really missed you."

"I missed you, too."

The next string of words tumbled out of my mouth in a bumbling rush, "I'm not seeing anyone right now. Just so you know."

There was an awkward pause.

When Gray wouldn't look at me, I knew something was wrong. I stared at him quizzically.

He still loved me, right?

In the gentlest voice possible, Gray answered as though he had read my mind, "I enlisted in the Marine Corps, Gracie. I start boot camp next week.

✦

The suspense was killing me. Finally, I worked up the courage to text him back.

I stuck with something safe and boring: I'm doing well. How are you?

Gray's response lit up my phone almost instantly.

When I read it, my heart skipped a beat.

✦

It was my junior year of college.

Gray was three years into his contract with the Corps.

We talked almost every week. Like clockwork, Gray always called as long as he wasn't on duty, and I always picked up as long as I wasn't sleeping or in class.

I didn't tell Lydia that we were in regular contact. I knew my sister would probably bully me into ghosting him altogether. Lydia didn't approve of Gray. She often urged me to forget him. She thought I could do better. She wanted me to move on.

I suppose my sister's animosity towards Gray wasn't unwarranted. I had been waiting for three years, after all. My relationship with Gray kept teetering somewhere between friends and lovers. Gray wouldn't commit to anything, but he never let me go entirely, either.

Lately, I was beginning to wonder if Lydia was right.

On Friday night, my phone rang. It was Gray.

I picked up and winced as his voice boomed through the earpiece, "Gracie Anne Katz! Who the fuck is that asshole all over your Instagram account?"

"What? Calm down, Gray! Who are you talking about?"

"The tall, skinny one. With blue eyes."

"Oh. You mean, Craig?"

"Yeah! Fucking Craig."

I sighed. "You're the one who said that... I'm free to hang out with whoever I want, right?"

"Are you... hanging out... with Craig?"

"Yeah... I am."

✦

All those years ago, after I chose Craig over Gray, I simply assumed that Gray would never want anything to do with me again.

I glanced down at Gray's message again.

I'm going to be in town next week. Are you free?

Alarm prickled across my skin. It seemed like Gray wanted to meet up with me.

Why?

Gray didn't care about me anymore. He wanted nothing to do with me.

Which meant...

This had to be about Lydia and the baby.

I cursed under my breath.

Shit.

This wasn't good. This wasn't good at all.