Julia's Journey (A Coming Home Again Novel Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter
Five

Julia

He’s so boring. This trip is so boring. Ugh. I’m used to my
life staying in a constant chaotic motion. This sedentary lifestyle is making
me antsy. Greyson crashes and so I stomp out the door and begin walking loops
around the campground. Eventually the little fur ball shows up and starts
shadowing me. Little Mrs. Betty hollers for
Fifi
on
one of our many loops, but I tell her I don’t mind the company. It seems these
two are night owls, too.

Around one in the morning, I return
Fifi
and crawl into to my comfy bed, but am unable to settle into it. It’s like my
mind doesn’t know how to rest. I toss and turn and think about going into
Greyson’s room and bothering him. I feel lonely out here by myself. I’m not
used to being alone much and it’s a bit unnerving. I lay flat on my back and
place my hands on my concaved stomach, feeling the rumbles echoing in my
hollowness. My stomach is cramping painfully, so I surrender all of my focus to
that pain until sleep finally finds me…

Sadly, it only finds me for a few hours. I lay here,
frustrated. I don’t sleep much and only do so in sporadic stretches. I’m not
sure if it’s just time finally catching up with me or the weight of life
lately, but I’m tiring. I’m tiring a lot.

I try to be a good guest and stay put for another annoying
hour before I wander to the bathroom. I splash water on my face before giving
it a good inspection. My eyes are a bit puffy from the restless night and my
lips are dry. I help myself to some of Greyson’s lip balm after I brush my
teeth. He wants to harass me about all of my beauty products, but he has a
substantial amount himself. I plunder through his cleansers and moisturizes and
aftershaves until I’m bored with it. I can’t take it any longer so I tiptoe
into Greyson’s bedroom. It’s fairly roomy for an RV bedroom with an extra-long
bed. I’m guessing it was designed this way. It’s obvious this is a custom
motorhome. A regular bed would never accommodate this giant of a man.

Greyson is sprawled out on his bed with his arms slung over
his head and is lightly snoring. He looks so boyish and I catch myself smiling
down at him. I leave him alone for the time being and sit on the end of his
bed, so I can study the map pinned to the back of his door. He has a
well-charted course that begins here in Maine and zigzags all along the east
until it ends in Florida. Side notes of excursions are marked by lines drawn to
certain destinations. A lobster boat trip is scribbled by Maine. My nose
wrinkles at this one. That doesn’t do anything for me. The line then travels
down to Boston where a side note simply states
wicked
. Who knows what that means? The line then swerves to the
west and stops in Hershey, Pennsylvania.
Figures.
Greyson Stone has the biggest chocolate infatuation of any person I have ever
met. I think it’s the man’s only weakness. Or that’s what I thought until he
showed back up a few months ago. By the looks of him, he’s found a terrible
weakness more damaging than chocolate could ever be.

There is a star on the town of Intercourse as well.
Funny.
Maybe he does plan on having some fun on this
adventure after all. The line veers back to the east and stops in Maryland. The
side note says
fun with Mom
. That’s
sweet. Greyson has always been super-close with his mom. I’ve met Mrs. Barbara
and she’s a great lady. I envy their relationship. They make it look so
effortless to just love one another. This stop on the trip perks me up. I’d
like to foster some momma time from her. With all the tragedy going on lately,
I feel the need to be mothered some and that woman does it
right.

The course hops over to West Virginia, where fly fishing and
waterfalls are scribbled. The course continues on to Kentucky and ping-pongs
between Tennessee, Georgia, South Carolina, back to Georgia and ending in
Florida. The excursion in Atlanta catches my attention. It is a
Bleu
Streak concert.
Bleu
Streak
is the hottest band in the country at the moment and I feel some excitement for
this adventure finally beginning to build.

I go grab my phone and ease back into the bedroom to snap
some pictures of the map. I peep over at Greyson and he hasn’t stirred at all.
I focus back on the map and take several pictures so I can try to keep up with
the adventure. At least this will give me something to focus on, and I really
need a focus because all I can think about is having a drink. I can near about
taste
it,
the urge is so strong—even at six in the
morning.

I place my phone on the nightstand and crawl up the bed and
perch myself beside Greyson. It pains me to see him this way and I’m still
wondering what abusive poison he has indulged in. I hate that this dangerous
lifestyle has caught up to him. I find myself petting his soft, short hair.
It’s barely long enough to shadow his scalp. It really doesn’t suit him at all.
His features are so refined with a smooth complexion and strong jawline. Those
high cheekbones our industry covets are more pronounced with his thinness, but
they continue to evoke male beauty. Greyson Stone would definitely make for one
yummy vampire at the moment. I just wish so badly that really is what he’s been
up to, but I don’t buy it. His full lips are closely set and seem to always
have a smile playing along them—even now with him sleeping. His long eyelashes
are too graceful to be lying on the shadowy dark circles under his eyes. I give
in and run my fingertips along the side of his handsome face. He turns to my
touch and lets out a sigh, but continues sleeping. Even in this unhealthy
state, Greyson seems so at peace.

“Greyson,” I whisper, not being able to resist any longer.
I’m lonely and want his company even if it means I have to put up with a
grouchy version that is only going to bicker with me. I keep running my fingers
along the soft fuzz covering his head until he brushes my hand away. “Greyson…”

“Go away,” he mumbles.

His eyes stay shut so I decide to tease him. I peel the
covers back, but he quickly snatches them back up without opening his eyes.

“Do you find me attractive?” I whisper in his ear and press
my body close to him. He’s so warm and yummy and I could be content snuggling
up to him. He rolls on his side away from me, leaving a void.

“No. Now let me sleep.” His voice is so thick with sleep
that I know I should let him rest, but...

I run my fingers along his exposed bare back and he shivers
before scooting away from my touch. “Not even a little?” His body’s reaction
says yes, but I know he’ll deny it.

“I’m too tired to deal with you.” He pulls his pillow over
his head and buries deeper in the blanket.

Since he’s not going to play along, I give up and go seek
out coffee. It’s one of the few things I can do without having to place an
order. I’m rewarded with a nice gourmet selection. I have to give it to
Greyson—he has exquisite taste. I select the French roast and set it to brewing
while I attempt to inspect the weather outside, which is impossible. It’s still
early so the fog is hiding the day. I grab a cup and sit in my designated chair
from last night. Mrs. Betty’s place is a ghost town, too. I bet they sleep most
of the day. Isn’t that what the retirees do? Greyson fits right in with this
crowd.

It’s
late afternoon and I’m ready to come undone. I spent my
morning nibbling on an apple I swiped from the well-stocked fridge and ended up
drinking the entire pot of coffee. My caloric intake topped out at close to one
hundred. I also set out to walk the length of this small lake. It ended up
being a seven and a half mile round trip. I leisurely walked it to eat up some
time while I sipped a bottle of water and listened to Pandora on my phone. I
can’t sit still or things start catching up with me. It’s relentless. Ever
nagging and taunting. This is the time of the year I normally numb out
completely at any measure. I’m here though and I can’t numb it. Not right now,
anyway. My hands are trembling, so I keep wringing them together, hoping to rub
them still. It’s not working. It never works.

I end up at the small amphitheater and decide to do sprints
up the wood risers until spots start dancing in my vision. The dizziness is so
great that it is the only thing I can focus on. Good. Mission accomplished. I
am slowly heading back to the RV, trying not to let the dizziness overtake me
completely. As our site comes back into view, I’m relieved to find Greyson
sitting outside dressed in baggy shorts and a long sleeve T-shirt with a ball
cap pushed low on his head. He has another shake in hand and bowl of some sort
of food placed in his lap.

“Sleeping and eating. Is that all you’re going to do on this
trip, honey?” I ask as I plop in the chair beside him. I swipe his bottle of
water and slowly down the entire thing.

He shovels a spoonful of oatmeal in his mouth and glares at
me. “Is starving yourself and exercise all you can do?”

“Ouch. Play pretty,” I say in my sweetest voice.

He pushes the shake in my cup holder. “Here. I’ve already
drank one.”

I try to appease him and take a sip. It’s chocolate flavor
and is quite rich. I’m guessing this is around a two hundred calorie shake,
maybe three hundred. I drink this and I will be good for the day and maybe he
will lay off me. We sit in silence as he works his way through the oatmeal and
I nurse my shake.

“Yoo-hoo,” we hear and both snap up our heads towards the
sound of Mrs. Betty’s voice. “You young’uns got supper plans?”

I hold up my protein shake. “I’m good. Thanks.”

“No ma’am,” Greyson pipes in at the same time.

“Good. The both of you look to be in need of a good home
cooked meal. Stan and I would like
y’all
to have
supper with us around seven. That time good?”

“Okay,” Greyson agrees. He stands and walks over to her.
“I’m Greyson, by the way.” He motions towards me. “And this is Julia.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, young man. Julia and I spent a
good bit of time together yesterday.” Mrs. Betty smiles over at me.

“Really?”
Greyson looks back at me skeptically and I have to fight the
childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. It’s what he gets for sleeping so
much.

“Why yes.
Fifi
is in love with
her.”

“Well. She tends to be irresistible.” That sounded like a
compliment coming from Greyson Stone.
Wow
.
“
Fifi
?” he asks.

“My Pomeranian,” she answers. The little fur ball tumbles
our way as if on cue.

Greyson places his bowl on the picnic table and swoops up
the little thing. “I think
I’m
in
love.” He cuddles
Fifi
close to his face. Picture
perfect shot right there. “Well, if you are so kindly cooking us supper, the
least I can do is take care of your
Fifi
until then.”
He’s grinning. I can’t believe this little pooch has cheered him up so quickly.
What I would give to have been able to light him up like that. He annoys me and
I know I annoy him, but I never want him to hurt. Watching him, my eyes tear up
at knowing he has hurt recently, and there’s nothing I can do about it to make
it better. I’m scared I will just hinder him more, but right now I’m too
selfish to leave.

Mrs. Betty laughs, breaking me out of my reverie, and heads
back to her camper. “Okay. But I expect you to return her at seven.”

“Deal,” he says and eases back towards me. He sits his long
self right
down in the grass and starts frolicking with
that little white fur ball. She yaps at him playfully and licks his face every
chance she gets. He keeps giggling like a kid.

“You look like a pansy, Stone,” I tease.

He doesn’t bother to look at me as he tickles
Fifi’s
belly. “Tiny dogs make me happy. I could care less
what people think of me. Life’s too short to worry about nonsense like that.”
He stands and sweeps the little dog up in his graceful arms and begins walking
away from me.

“Where are you going?”

“Taking
Fifi
for a walk,” he says
over his shoulder with the little dog cradled to his chest.
Lucky dog.

“It works better if you actually let her walk.” I chuckle.

“Nah.
She’s good.” With that he heads to the lakeside trail.

I guess I’m not invited, so I finish the shake and go get
cleaned up. After the shower, I give my bags a thorough looking through and am
pretty ticked that no makeup and no flat iron can be found. There are also no
pretty clothes.
Just a hodgepodge of shirts and pants.
All plain and none coordinated together. It looks like he just opened my
dresser and threw things in. Well, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what he did.
None of my bra and panty sets match, either. Ugh. I’m sitting by my suitcase
fuming when Greyson comes in.

“You did a lousy job packing. I need a flat iron and I
have
to have makeup.” I growl the words
at him.

He sets
Fifi
down and heads to the
fridge for a water. “We’re camping. Just tie your hair up or let it be. I like
the waves, actually,” Greyson says as he inspects my hair.