Cross My Heart

It had been two long, painful weeks since the birth of Findley Marie Sykes. A week after she’d arrived in the world, her mother had been buried six feet deep into the earth’s soil. Grayson had never seen Oliver as depressed as he had been the day of Fiona’s funeral, and although it made her feel like a disgusting human being – because, God, did it ever – she couldn’t help but to feel a little jealousy.

Fiona O'Dowd had been a stunningly beautiful girl, with emerald eyes and curly, red locks. Her skin was always the perfect shade of pale, never a blemish to be seen, and as far as Grayson knew, she’d never been larger than a size two. She’d been a runway model since the age of fourteen and it was all these things that had made Grayson feel inferior when Oliver first introduced her to Fiona nearly a year ago.

Grayson was the complete opposite of the Irish girl. She had long, wavy, and sometimes, unruly brunette locks that hung down to the middle of her back. Her chestnut eyes were plain, but large in size. Her skin held a natural tan year round; coming from her mother’s mixed racial background. She wasn’t short, standing at a full 5’8” and no matter how often she dieted, she'd always have wide, curvy hips and thick legs. Her appearance was far from that of what her best friend usually went for.

Oliver had always had an appetite for models, and with his good looks, charm and being the front man of a well known band, he’d never had a single problem with getting one. He and Fiona’s relationship had lasted all of two months before he’d grown bored and broke it off with her. And though this was nothing unusual when it came to Oliver and his women, it was the phone call that came two weeks later that would forever change his life.

However, Oliver had never been in love with Fiona, or, at least that was what he had told Grayson many times before, and so it was for that exact reason why she found herself stunned at his change of behavior. Of course she’d expected him to be sad – that was normal. But it was his distancing away and the lack of communication with Grayson that was beginning to tick her off. They were best friends through and through and although a large part of her craved for more than that, it didn’t make that fact any less true.

For two weeks, she’d tried nearly every tactic she could think of to talk to Oliver – more specifically, to get him to talk. Each of her attempts had been fruitless, though. It had been exactly six days since the two had talked, which, in reality, wasn’t an obscene amount of time to go without talking to someone, but for Grayson and Oliver, it might as well have been an eternity.

The harsh winter air of Sheffield smacked Grayson in the face as soon as she exited her car and she hurried across the lawn, walking up to the front door of the large house. She raised her right fist, knocking three times against the crisp white door of Oliver’s home. When no response came, she sighed and reached under the snow covered welcoming mat, grabbing the spare key. Quickly, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Almost immediately, she covered her nose with her hand, trying as best she could not to gag at the overwhelming musty scent that was lingering in the air. She breathed through her mouth as she glanced around, taking in her surroundings. There were various brands of liquor bottles lining the counter in the kitchen, along with a dark blue smoking pipe and a handful of crumpled receipts. Other than that, the entire place looked as if it hadn’t been touched in weeks.

The pitter-patter of an animal’s claws hit against the wooden floor, capturing her attention. Oskar, Oliver’s Doberman pinscher, came running up to her feet, his tail wagging furiously; he was obviously very happy to see her. She bent down, collecting the small dog in her arms and laughed as he licked all over her face. She glanced over at his food bowl, seeing that it was nearing empty. She sighed and set Oskar down before filling the bowl with food. He eagerly began chomping away and she patted his head before standing straight.

“Oliver?” Grayson called out, stepping into her best friend’s living room. When he didn’t answer, she debated on going up to his bedroom, but as she glanced towards the couch, she saw his lanky body curled into a ball, only clad in a pair of jeans that were hanging low on his hips, revealing the top of his boxers. His hair appeared to be greasy and was sticking up every which way. His mouth was slightly parted, and she could hear every time he would suck in a breath of air. There were dark circles rimming around his eyes and light stubble framing his face. “Oh, Oli,” she gasped, falling to her knees beside the couch. She reached a hand out, lightly touching his cheek and almost cringed at how cold his skin felt.

She watched as he stirred lightly, closing his mouth. His eyelids twitched a few times before finally opening. His honey brown orbs traveled around the room in confusion, before finally landing on her face. “Gray?” he questioned, his voice rough and hoarse.

She nodded her head. “Yeah,” was all she could manage to get out.

Oliver’s hands moved up to his face, rubbing his eyes. “Fuck,” he cursed.

Any other time, Grayson would have laughed at this. But unfortunately, taking in the depressing sight of her best friend, she could only frown. “You haven’t been answering my phone calls or texts,” she told him, watching as he struggled to pull himself into a sitting position.

“I ‘aven’t felt like talkin’,” he grumbled.

“Just drinking?” she pushed, motioning to the half-empty bottle of vodka sitting beside her.

“Don’ start, Gray,” he warned, his eyes narrowing in on her.

She bit her tongue and settled for a sigh. “You look horrible, Oli.”

“Well fank yeh,” he spat. “Did yeh come ‘ere jus’ teh talk shit?”

“No, but you certainly smell like it,” she stated, earning another glare. “When’s the last time you showered?” He shrugged and she rolled her eyes as she stood up. “Come on then,” she said, grabbing his hands.

Oliver didn’t budge. “’M fine,” he mumbled.

“Get up.”

“I said I‘m fine,” he repeated.

“Get the fuck up, Oliver!” Grayson shouted crisply.

“Piss off, Grayson!” he yelled equally as loud, pushing her hands away. “’Ow the fuck did yeh get in anyway?”

“Spare key,” she admitted.

He rolled his eyes. “Figures.”

“Oli, will you please just get up?” she asked, her voice softer than before.

“I don’t wanna showeh, Gray.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” he said simply.

“That’s not a reason,” she argued.

“Is the fact that the woman 'oo gave birth teh meh babeh died, good enough?” he questioned with venom in his voice.

Although his words saddened her, Grayson couldn’t allow herself to become emotional. If she was going to help Oliver, she couldn’t appear weak. “Will you just get up for me, Oli – please?” she begged.

Without saying anything, Oliver lazily stood from the couch, his balance staggering a bit as he landed on his feet. He allowed Grayson to take his hands, though, and she led him up the stairs and into the bathroom that was connected to his room. He took a seat on the lid of the toilet as she got the water running, using her fingers to test the temperature before turning around.

“Stand up,” she told him, and was slightly surprised when he did so without any protests. Her hands reached for the button of his jeans and it wasn’t until she was pushing both the denim and his boxers down, that she felt herself blushing. It certainly wasn’t the first time she was seeing Oliver naked, but that didn’t make the sight any less unnerving. “Come on,” she cooed, helping him step into the tub.

He lowered himself into the filling water, and simply sat there as Grayson used an old Solo cup to wet his hair. She grabbed a bottle of shampoo and poured a decent amount into her left palm before rubbing her hands together and lathering the foam into Oliver’s hair. Trying not to be too rough, she scrubbed his scalp for a good minute before collecting another cup of water.

“Close your eyes,” she told him before rinsing the wash out. She grabbed a rag and wet it before lathering the material with the body wash Oliver had in the corner of the shower. She ran the rag thoroughly over his upper body, back and stomach before biting down on her bottom lip. “Think you can manage the rest?” she asked softly, blood pooling to her cheeks once more.

The smallest of smirks tugged at Oliver’s lips before he nodded his head and took the rag from her hands. Grayson turned around and counted the seconds that went by in her head, trying her best distract herself from what was going on behind her. At thirty-two seconds, she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned to face Oliver once more. She grabbed the red towel that was hanging from the rack beside the shower and Oliver stood, allowing her to lightly run the fabric over his wet head a few times before wrapping it around his waist.

In silence, they walked into his bedroom and Oliver took a seat on the edge of his bed as Grayson dug through his drawers. She grabbed out a pair of clean boxers, a plain black tee shirt and flannel pajama bottoms, handing all three to him.

“I’ll make some tea,” she told him before leaving his room, shutting the door behind her.

Grayson knew every inch of Oliver’s house like the back of her hand, and easily found the silver kettle she needed in the first cupboard she opened. She filled it with water and set it on the stove before grabbing the empty bottles of liquor and dumping them into the trash. She looked underneath the sink, finding the cleaning supplies she had purchased for Oliver nearly two months ago. She almost laughed as she reached for the cleaning spray, noticing how full it still was.

She went to work on wiping down every counter before going through the contents in his fridge; tossing out whatever was expired, leaving the appliance damn near empty. Just as the kettle began to squeal, she noticed Oliver descending the stairs and smiled at how much better he already looked. She finished preparing the tea before grabbing two mugs from the cupboard and filling them with the hot liquid.

She fixed both to each of their likings before bringing them to the counter, taking a seat on the stool next to Oliver. She handed him his cup before holding hers up to her mouth, blowing on the steam before taking a sip. She watched as Oliver merely wrapped his hands around the cup, staring into the dark water.

“Your mom called me this morning,” Grayson said, attempting to break the silence between them. “She said Fin-“

“Don’t. Just, please … don’t, Gray,” he pleaded quietly, still not looking at her.

Although she wanted to be upset at the fact that Oliver didn’t want to even hear about how his newborn baby girl was doing, she understood why and nodded her head. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, biting down on her bottom lip. He shook his head. “Oli, I know that it hurts and that you must-“

“For fuck’s sake, Gray, can yeh jus’ shuddup?! Jus’ close yeh damn mouf!” he yelled suddenly, banging his right fist against the countertop, making Oskar bark.

Grayson shrank back into her seat, bowing her head as tears began to hoard her eyes. She’d never seen Oliver so angry, and to think that she had provoked that anger in him, made her stomach turn. She set her mug down and stood from the stool, not looking at the man before her. “I’ll … I’ll …” She inhaled a sharp breath of air, trying to keep the tears from falling. “I’ll just leave. I’m sorry,” she quickly apologized, going for the door.

“Wait!” Oliver’s voice shouted after her, his hand wrapping around her forearm a second later. “Don’ leave, Gray. Please,” he begged. “I need yeh.”

Slowly, Grayson turned on her heels, coming face to face with him, and it was then that she saw the gloss in his beautiful eyes. She reached her hands up to his face, cradling it gently. “I need you to talk to me, Oli. I understand that you’re going to need some time, but you have to talk to me, okay?” she breathed, bringing the pad of her right thumb to wipe underneath his eye.

“I promise, Gray. Jus’ don’ leave meh,” he urged with sadness, and without saying another word, Grayson led the way back to his couch.

She sat down and a moment later, Oliver’s body was spread across the length of the cushions, his head resting in her lap as he silently cried. Grayson could do nothing but run her hands through his hair and allow him to grieve, feeling her own heart breaking the entire time.