Internship with the Devil (Shut Up and Kiss Me Book 1)

by Jaqueline Snowe

“Exhausting, yes. Fun, too.” I patted his arm as he pulled into the driveway. He turned off the car, and I waved him off. “Stay in the car. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Nonsense. Stay there.” He held up his fingers, giving me his don’t-mess-with-me-stare. I obeyed, waiting as he opened the door for me again that night. He held out a hand again, and my chest got a heavy, funny feeling in it.

  We walked in sync with me up the path. “You didn’t have to walk me to my door, Brock.” I rolled my eyes, grabbing my keys from my pocket. “I appreciate it, but it was unnecessary.”

  “You trip more than anyone I know. It really is a safety hazard. And, what are good friends for?”

  “Right,” I said, the worst f-word to ever reach my ears. I put the keys into the door, sliding inside without touching him. I looked up into those deep blue eyes, and the air left my lungs. He was perfect. With a shaky voice, I mumbled, “Good night, Brock.”

  “Have a good night, Grace. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave me a small, almost sad smile and walked down the stairs. I shut the door and slid down it like I would in a damn rom-com movie. The unfairness of my situation brought me to tears, but I sucked it up. Sure, I had grown massive, massive feelings for someone I couldn’t be with. That happened all the time, right?

  “Girl, what the hell is wrong?” Gilly had a bottle of wine and wore pajamas but marched over to the door with a concerned look on her face. “Shit.”

  “It’s nothing. Well, nothing I can do anything about,” I said but knew she’d see right through it. “Brock dropped me off. We got dinner.”

  “Holy shit, you’re in love with him.” A smile formed on her cherry red lips.

  I sighed, wide-eyed with my emotions swirling all over the place. “Give me some of that wine.”

  “Fuck wine. We need something stronger. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in love.” She trailed off, walking into the kitchen to come back with two glasses and amber liquid.

  “I’ve never been in love before,” I admitted, the unrequited feeling haunting my insides. “He’s my boss. He’s my friend. He’s made that clear.”

  “I think it goes both ways. Look at how he reacted about the guy in the bar.”

  “It’s because the guy put his hands on me, Gil.”

  “It’s more. Patience. Give it time, G-spot.” She handed me a glass and joined me on the floor. “Good things come to those who wait.”

  “Don’t quote some bullshit at me.” I leaned against her, downing the drink. “Let me pout.”

  “Message received. Pout away.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The date snuck up on me. It hit me hard in the face the day before as I went to the calendar to see how many weeks were left until the end of the internship because my life had become a blur of working, Brock, sleep, repeat. October 23rd flashed at me, the numbers growing larger and spinning in my mind. “Shit.”

  I gripped the edge of the desk, putting my hand behind me until I found the chair. I scooted onto it, clutching my chest right above my heart. It beat her blood, her love, her words, and I’d almost forgotten about her. Tears poured down my face, pooling on my chin and falling onto the desk making wet spots. I stared, trying to figure out how I almost got the worst date in my life? How selfish was I? My eyes stung, and my body became numb as I sat there, unmoving, for hours.

  “Grace, God. Are you okay? I tried calling and—” Fritz walked up to me and put his warm arms around my middle. “Jesus, you’re ice cold. You’re freaking me out, G.”

  I pointed to the date and let my head fall onto his shoulder. “The date, Fritz. I almost missed it.”

  He grimaced and squeezed me tighter. “What do you need? Chocolate? Wine? Disney movies? Tell me.”

  I shook my head. “What time is it?”

  “Nine,” he said, continuing to rub my arms. “Let’s go to the couch. Gil should be home soon.”

  I didn’t respond. He pulled me into the living room. He set me on the couch with a deep frown and handed me a blanket. I knew he was worried. I had never acted like this before, a blithering hot mess. Well, I had, but it had been a good while since I’d had a breakdown. My normal routine used to be walking around like a zombie and disappearing for hours at a time. The sobbing and numbness was new. I blamed my exhaustion.

  Fritz came back with some water and sat on the couch next to me. I appreciated him, but I needed to deal with this myself. The guilt of enjoying my life too much to forget my mom? I swallowed the bile. It was an insult to her memory. A wave of self-loathing shot through me, and I gulped it down, welcoming the grief.

  “You left your phone on the counter.” He handed it to me, but I just turned it off and set it on the table. “You know, I don’t think your mom would want her death to paralyze you.”

  I let his words hit me, like small punches. Rationally, I knew he was trying to help. “I know that,” I snapped. “I forgot. Who does that?”

  “G, you’ve been so busy having fun, working, and hanging out with Brock. It’s okay.” He spoke softly, putting his arm around me for one of his famous hugs. I leaned into him and laid head on his shoulder. “I personally think it’s healthier that you were busy and not moping weeks in advance.”

  “You don’t understand— “

  “Yes. Yes, I do. Because I love the shit out of you. I know how you work. You feel guilty, fine. We all have things that make us feel guilty on our own. I can’t blame you for that. But, Grace, you aren’t expected to be miserable year after year. I only know your mom through you, and I know for a damn fact she wouldn’t want you being this body-wracking sad. No one would.”

  “I forgot her, Fritz. I’ve been in my own bubble.” My lip trembled and his arm tightened to support me. “What kind of daughter am I for that?”

  “One who is living her damn life and enjoying it. Hello. Isn’t that the point? Why would we be put on this earth just to work and pay bills? We should be able to enjoy each moment. God, can you imagine life without food?”

  I sob-laughed. “No.”

  “Exactly. Life is made up of moments that are varying levels of flavor.”

  “Are you comparing my grief to bad food?”

  “Yes. Not all food is going to be as fantastic as chocolate or pizza or slow cooked ribs,” he paused, moaning at the thought of them. My stomach growled, too. “You’re going to get stale bagels and zucchini or poorly cooked chicken sometimes. Will that stop you from eating?”

  “Uh, never.”

  “Then, I rest my case,” he said, smugly. “I would’ve made a hell of a good lawyer.”

  “Fritz, I love you, but I don’t think comparing life to food works.”

  “It does. You’re going to have the best slow cooked ribs sometimes, and other times it’s going to be the salmonella chicken. It makes perfect sense, but you’re irrational right now. You can congratulate me tomorrow.”

  I rolled my eyes, appreciating his ability to cheer me up. “I love you, you wacko. I think I’m going to try to go to bed.”

  “Let me know if you need anything.” He patted my leg, watching me with worried eyes as I shut myself in my room. I needed to deal with myself. The guilt, the unwarranted feelings toward my boss. I was a flipping mess.

  Time does not heal all wounds. That is an utter, bullshit lie. I learned to live despite the wounds. It was what made humans so complex and troubled. I sat, cross-legged on the roof of my car. I couldn’t build up the courage to enter the graveyard just yet, and my pounding headache didn’t help. My crying jag had messed with me, majorly. Forgetting her even for a moment was unacceptable. I clenched my eyes shut and listened to the crinkle of the bouquet of roses I gripped.

  My phone sat in the front of my car, turned off, and I needed it that way. Every year, on this day, I shut off from the world. Thankfully, it wasn’t a game day, and I could miss work. I thought nothing of texting Brock to say I wouldn’t be in. Today was my day of mourning. Fritz and Gilly left me two beautiful bouquets of flowers outside my
room that morning, letters telling me how much they loved me. Fritz also wrote something that kept swirling around and around my head.

  Loving and living happily IS your mom’s wish. Stomach the bad chicken today; get the ribs tomorrow.

  Some days their kindness and love was enough family for me. Others days, like today, it made me sad that I wouldn’t smell my mom’s lotion or have her laugh with me again. I pulled my legs tighter up to my chest as the wind picked up, and my body trembled. The freezing cold didn’t deter me. I promised myself I would never forget even for a moment all my mom had done for me. Dry sobs took me again, and I slipped off the hood of the car. I didn’t stumble onto the ground, but I did lose my balance and shouted when strong arms surrounded me. “Gah!”

  “Hey, it’s just me.” The familiar, deep voice warmed my heart. His scent enveloped me. “It’s just me.”

  “Wh-what are you d-doing here?” My teeth chattered, and his hands held my head against his chest. “How d-did you know?”

  “Shh. Take a breath. I’ll tell you; don’t worry. Relax.” He positioned himself behind me on the hood of the car, moving my body between his strong legs with a gentleness that almost caused another round of tears. “Your skin is like ice. Do you have a blanket?”

  “No. I didn’t th-think that far.”

  “Crazy, crazy girl. Stay here.” He squeezed me tighter, something soft touching the side of my head before he set me back on the car. It disturbed me I’d never heard his car enter the lot. To be fair, I was lost in my own demented thoughts. If I hadn’t fallen, I doubt I would’ve known he was there. “I have one. Here.” He held out a fleece blanket, and I ran to him. He wrapped it around me like a burrito before he picked me back up and repositioned us, so we sat on the car. It took several minutes for my body to warm up, and when it did, I leaned back into him with a deeply satisfying sigh.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” His arms circled around me, and his hands rested on my thighs. We had never touched like this before. Ever. My heart hurt, the pain and grief of the day taking its toll. But, when his hands brushed against my legs, an entirely new feeling took over. I sighed, closing my eyes and living in the moment. In Fritz’ terms, this was a slow-cooked rack of ribs moment.

  “If you want to talk about it, I’m here. If not, I’m here, too. I brought cards, but with the wind, I don’t think that’s possible.” His soothing voice penetrated the mental walls I had built in the past twelve hours. “The first time for me, we uh, came out to the plot and sat there all day. My dad brought cards, and we ended up playing rummy for hours. It helped, somehow.”

  I sniffled into the arm of my sweatshirt, the story breaking out a small, tiny wave of laughter. “Did you win?”

  “No idea. We all were a blubbering mess.” His voice lowered, our shared grief not making it better, just a little easier.

  “Do you play Egyptian Rat Screw with your parents, too?”

  “We all used to play. My sister and I learned it when we were young. While you were dressing like crayons in one color and playing with yo-yos, we were playing cards.” His calm, steady voice reassured me like the blanket. I focused on it. He told stories about him and his sister fighting over who won and how they both got grounded from cards for an entire summer. I sniffled, laughed, and a little tension left my body. It was a small break in conversation when he pulled me tighter against him. He lowered his head, so his mouth was near my ear, causing my pulse to race.

  “Do you want to go in?”

  “I never do,” I said, looking at the gate. It was a gloomy, chilly October day, and I wanted to go in. I really did, but would it be worse? Harder? Did I want to see the awful stone that was supposed to represent my mother’s decaying body? I didn’t know. Another wave of guilt and nausea overtook me.

  Brock simply held me. I’d never needed anyone else before. Not like this. When I settled down enough to take a normal breath, I wiped my eyes and looked up at his face. My heart constricted at the emotion swirling in his blue eyes. I swallowed, loudly. “Do you go visit your sister’s and niece’s graves?”

  He nodded, slowly and ran his hands over his face with a pained expression. “Yes. I like to bring flowers. They loved daisies. I know my parents don’t like to come. They only do on the anniversary.”

  “Do you come more than that?” The thought nauseated me. I could barely handle one miserable week a year, let alone opening the floodgates more than that.

  He gave me a sad smile. “I go a couple of times. When it’s nice out, I like to come out here. You know,” he stopped and cleared his throat. “My sister and niece are in here too. Some day—not today—I’d like to take you to their spot.”

  I didn’t respond, instead I admired him. I remember during a counseling session Fritz forced me to go to where the counselor said people grieve in different ways. There was no right or correct way to grieve. Some people never went to the gravesite, some went every day, some had their loved ones cremated and put into jewelry or released into a storm. This wasn’t multiple-choice. There was no right answer.

  He broke the silence. “It’s your decision, but I’ll go in with you if you want me to.”

  I nodded, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of him. The sound of the wind and leaves the only thing intruding on our moment. Until my stomach growled. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. Brock’s hands went to my stomach, patting it with a laugh. “Did you bring any snacks?”

  “No. I didn’t plan anything out. I just needed to be here.” I shifted my weight and slid to the asphalt, an unfamiliar pang of curiosity coursing through my veins. “I think,” I paused looking at the gate. “I want to try.”

  “Do you want to go alone?” His kind, sweet voice made my eyes sting again. He waited with all the patience in the world. I shook my head and held out my trembling hand for him to grab it. He gave me a pained smile and joined our hands. “I’ll be what you need me to today.”

  I squeezed his grip and took slow tentative steps toward the gate. I gulped, pausing at the entrance. I had no idea where her gravestone was. I blocked out the funeral years ago and tried to survive. “I don’t know where. I can’t remember.”

  “Can your stomach handle walking around?”

  “Y-y-yes.” My teeth chattered harder than ever, and my heart pounded. “I ne-need to.”

  “Okay, let’s do it.” He fit me right underneath the crook of his bad arm. It was oddly poetic; the injured arm was giving me strength. “Let’s just walk.”

  And we walked. We walked around the outside then circled the inner portion. My heart hadn’t calmed down yet, but I felt ready. It wasn’t until we reached an inner row by an old oak tree that I knew it was there. A solid black stone with familiar lettering stopped me. I read the name, and it was like a hand reached into my body and tore out my heart. I froze, not sure if I could go further. I could see them lowering the casket as neighbors and friends looked at me with pity. The sheer panic might’ve gone away, but the pain of missing someone so essential to my life hadn’t.

  Brock didn’t say a word. He gave me a silent strength, one that reverberated through my body, battling the sorrow. “Th-th-that’s it.”

  He squeezed me tighter, pulling out a pen and paper from his pocket. “You might be angry with me, but I’m going to leave this with you and stand back here.”

  I looked at the paper he shoved in my hand like it would give me advice on what to do. Tears blurred my vision, but he grabbed my hands and reassured me with his voice. “Write to her. If you can’t talk or are unsure what to say, write. Leave it there. Throw it in the wind.”

  “Have you done that before?”

  “More times than you’d imagine.” I met his gaze as he admitted it and saw caring. I gulped to stop all emotions coursing through me. He continued to stare, so I nodded, hoping that was what he was looking for. “I’ll wait however long you need.”

  I took a breath and a new resolve came over me. He was right. I needed t
o do this alone. I gripped the paper so tight it crinkled, but I didn’t care. I put one foot in front of the other until I stood at the edge of her grave. Her name mocked me, such a lively name for an amazing woman.

  KLARISSA ELIZABETH TURNER.

  THE BEST MOM A GIRL COULD ASK FOR, KEEP BEING THE LIGHT

  Tears streamed down my face and fell on the ground that covered her coffin. I had multiple thoughts race through me. Was the coffin okay? It rained a lot; was it ruined? Was it stupid to talk to her? Could she really hear me? Would she be mad that I got distracted? I fell to my knees, staring at her name and twirling the pen. Brock’s words made sense then. Leaning against her stone, I decided to write to her.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m so sorry.

  I can’t believe I forgot, Mom. I’m sorry.

  I miss you, Mom, every day. Every time something good happens, I send a prayer of thanks to you because I know you’re up there, cheering for me. Work is good, school too.

  I have a make-shift family who love me like their own blood. Don’t worry about me being alone. I’m not. I have all these wonderful people in my life, filling it with color and noise, making me laugh and roll my eyes. I got my dream internship with the school’s football program, and Mom, I met someone who lights my soul on fire.

  I would give anything to talk to you, to hear your voice, to hold your hands and listen to your guidance. I could teach, work with kiddos, or go into the sports world. How do I know what’s the right decision?

  Your voice is getting harder to remember, and that kills me. When I dream about you, it’s a gift because I can see you and hear your voice again, even if it’s temporary. I wish I could tell you how I might be in love with someone. It’s all consuming and terrifying, yet it fills my stomach with butterflies because so much could go wrong. But you taught me that life without hurting is a life without joy or love.

  I love you. I miss you. You’ll always be a part of me.

  I wrote until there wasn’t any room on the paper, and I folded it up into a little ball and set it on the spot right above the grass. It shouldn’t blow away, and it was perfect for the first time seeing her grave. I suddenly remembered the roses on the car, and I turned to get them.