Grey Waters

30: Greyson

Hi guys!! So since I've started writing this book, I haven't taken a chance to read through it yet so I'm hoping it's all flowing well and that this chapter (because it's like kind of a gear shift lol) isn't too much of a jump or something. Hope you enjoy the much wanted Greyson chapter:)

PS. I'm not from Seattle so I didn't include a name for a bad neighbourhood just incase what I looked up isn't accurate.

I turn on the sink and splash some water on my face, debating if it's too late to go for a run.

Kennedy would tell me it is, and there's a high change I'll get jumped again.

I shake my head and look at my bruises in the mirror. They've faded a lot, and aside from the cuts, they're barely noticeable. Of course Kennedy likes to point them out as often as she can because she thinks it will "knock some sense into me."

I tried telling her time and time again that I didn't get jumped. I even almost told her that they're from paying those guys who harassed her a visit, but I knew she'd either cry and yell at me, so I didn't say anything and let her believe I got jumped.

Me. Getting fucking jumped.

Walking to the door, I lean against the frame and stare at my bed. Or more specifically, the blonde head barely visible beneath the blankets.

Her and Sam got under my duvet after they finished their pizza, claiming it made for a better viewing experience. An hour late, Kennedy fell asleep with her head buried against my arm, and I didn't move. When Sam and Sanders called it quits an hour after that, I still haven't moved.

I didn't move until 5 minutes ago when she pulled away and burrowed under the blankets.

I watch her for longer than I should, before I head into the living room to get the dogs and bring them to bed. Kennedy likes when they cuddle with her.

God, I need to go to the gym or something.

Charlie and Addie shuffle into my room automatically, so I grab some leftover pizza and sit on the couch, hoping some distance will make me less of a pussy.

My mind drifts to the phone call from my dad and I feel my chest tighten all over again.

It's been years since the last time I heard from him. We've moved, changed all our numbers and changed any records that might have him as a contact or guardian. He shouldn't have found my number and he shouldn't have known I go to UW or that I have a fight in just over two weeks. He fucking shouldn't.

I could tell by his voice he was drunk. That piece of shit promised my mom 15 years ago that he was going to rehab. That he was going to get better. He never came back.

I know now that my mom never believed him. That's why she moved us out of that apartment two weeks later and used all her savings to put a down payment on a house in the suburbs. That's when she met Jeremiah and I was too naive to think my dad was going to come home and be different. Be like Jer.

Last I heard he landed himself in jail for assault. That was four years ago.

Like it always does, my mind drifts to Kennedy and I smile a little, remembering how worried she was when she found me having a panic attack. I don't think she even needed to ask me all those questions, just her being there helped.

God, if Sanders knew the shit going on in my head he'd never shut up about it.

I don't really care though, it's not like he doesn't already suspect. I mean, I'm not exactly subtle about how I feel, at least to him. Kennedy's fucking oblivious as shit, but it's not all that surprising. Plus she's got so much shit going on right now, the last thing she needs is to add my shit to it. I've have 6 panic attacks in the last month, that's more than I've have collectively in the past two years.