Because You're Mine
Page 20
“Oh, I am.” He laughs.
She cranes her head toward the painted ceiling. “It was all so simple when I first met Lee. Mason was just a baby, and she was still working at the salon. She was happy. Everything was going so well for her. I didn’t know she was a recovering alcoholic at that point—she was always so good at keeping things to herself—but, I don’t know.” She sighs. “We had a good time together. She was easy to be around. She fit into our group.” She pauses. “Now, every morning I wake up, I think, ‘Did that really happen?’ The thought of never telling her something that happened, or laughing with her, or getting coffee and going for a walk … I mean, you should have seen her at the bottom of that mountain, Noah.” She shakes her head at the memory. “And Mason.”
Noah dangles his scotch glass between the fingers of his right hand and loops his left around her shoulders. “Mason will be fine. He’s doing well.”
Grace massages the back of her own neck. “He is, isn’t he?”
Her cell blasts through the studio, cutting into the current song, and startles them both. She grabs the phone from the cup. “It’s Alice.” She forces herself to stay calm. Knowing Alice, she probably just wants to know where she keeps the good wine. She swipes to answer and instantly hears Mason screaming in the background.
“Alice? What’s going on?”
“I’m so sorry,” Alice hisses. “He woke up. He’s so upset. I didn’t know what to do. I…”
“I’ll be right there. Okay? Stay calm.” Grace disconnects the call. “He woke up.”
“Should I come with you?”
Grace stands and gathers her things. “You don’t mind?”
“Of course not. I’ll drive.”
Grace decides not to worry about her car as they pile into his and speed through the neighborhood. She shouldn’t have left Mason with Alice. She should be there for him, even if she does have to get things done at Lee’s. Twenty minutes later, Noah kills the engine in her driveway and shoves the gear into park.
She shuts the passenger door. The leaves blow gently against the trees, even though the air’s too warm for this time of night. She can’t even make out the stars from the thick smudge of clouds overhead. Mason’s voice rocks her walls, even from outside. She checks her watch. Has he been screaming this entire time? Noah enters before her. She takes a deep breath, prepares herself, and steps inside.
44
grace
Her living room has been completely dismantled. Throw pillows, cushions, toys, blocks, and books have been ripped and tossed across the open space. Alice grips her elbow and steers Grace toward the door, her fingers like ice.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what to do. I’ve tried everything I can think of to calm him down. But I’ve mostly just been ducking to avoid getting hit.”
“And Luca…?”
“I checked on him. He woke up and was pretty freaked out, but I think he fell back asleep. You’re lucky he sleeps like the dead.”
Noah kneels in front of Mason, his small face twisted and red.
“You okay?” Alice places a hand on Grace’s back.
“What do you mean?”
“You just look pale. Are you feeling alright?” Alice’s eyes trail to her stomach.
“Just tired.” She walks Alice to her car and thanks her for staying. “Sorry about this. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
She heads back inside, but Noah has already disappeared into Mason’s room. She starts to clean and sort through the mess, stacking books, organizing the G.I. Joes, rock collections, math cubes, and various toys, fluffing pillows, and replacing the books in their appropriate bins. What caused him to get so upset—a nightmare?
She moves to the row of banker’s boxes stacked against the bookcase. He’d gotten into these as well, flinging the contents with abandon. Grace moved all Lee’s documents to her house to sort through, but abandoned the project when she realized her quiet single mom moments were gone. She didn’t have time for side projects, organization, baths, yoga, or binge-watching Netflix. The time she has on her own is now spent taking care of logistics: Mason’s therapy sessions, the extra payments, school entry forms, extracurriculars for both boys, the last lingering court documents. Her life has become a series of appointments, paperwork, and new, expected compromises.
She dumps some of the files back into the box and primes her ears for Luca, but his door remains shut. He’s always slept like a rock, not even stirring when tornado sirens blast through the neighborhood on stormy nights. She tiptoes to the end of the hall to check on him. The sheets tangle around his legs, his arms flung above his head in victory. She watches him sleep for a moment, adjusts his comforter, and presses her cool palm to his forehead, hunting for fever. He’s had a bit of a cold and not much of an appetite the past few days. His skin warms her hand but isn’t hot. On her way back to the living room, she listens for Mason, but all is quiet.
Grace surveys the hall, the bathroom, and kitchen, satisfied that the episode hasn’t extended into any other part of the house. She resumes replacing Lee’s personal items back into boxes. There are so many documents to compose a life. Most have to do with Lee’s business: tax returns, write-offs, receipts, bills. She must take care of dissolving Lee’s LLC too. She sweeps through the thick manila folders and slices her middle finger against last year’s tax return.
“Shit.” She sucks the blood from the thin cut and replaces the lid.
“Hey.” Noah squints into the living room lights.
Grace turns, her finger still in her mouth. “Is he okay?”
He eyes her finger. “Are you okay?”
“Paper cut.” She drops her hand and glances down the hall. “He asleep?”
“Yeah.” He collapses on the couch.
“Thank you for that.” She wedges in beside him. “Did he say what he was so upset about?”
Noah scratches his neck. “He said he was looking for something.”
“Looking for something?” Grace inspects her finger for more blood.
“Of his mom’s. Probably something personal he could keep.”
Grace drops her finger. “Of course he probably wants something of hers. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.” Tomorrow, she will sort through and ask him what he wanted.
“I think you’ve had other things on your mind.” He rests his hands on his thighs and stands. “Look, I was thinking I’d keep packing back at the house if you’re okay with that? Unless you want me to stay?”
“No, go. We’ve got to have everything out of that house in two days.” She walks him to the door and suddenly stops. “Oh shit. My car is at the house.”
“We’ll get it tomorrow.” He tugs her against his middle and kisses her passionately. His hands trail the lower part of her spine and wind around to her belly. She pulls away. “You feeling okay? With the baby and everything?”
She folds her hands across her stomach, a barrier. “Yeah, why?”
He smiles and steps back in to kiss her, his tongue grazing across her neck. “Just making sure.”
Her skin erupts into goose bumps. She pulls him tighter, and he kisses her again. They break apart. They haven’t said they love each other yet, even with his baby inside her, but she knows it’s coming.
“Sleep well. Call me if you need anything.”
“’Night.” She closes the door, collapses against it, and then heads to bed.
45
noah
He makes it halfway back to Lee’s when he realizes he doesn’t have his phone. “Shit.” He thinks about leaving it but won’t have any way to contact Grace in the morning. He turns around, hating how naked he feels without it, how addicted to technology they’ve all become. The ultimate crutch.
When he pulls up, the house is dark. Has she already gone to bed? He flicks Grace’s key around on his key ring and lets himself inside. He whispers her name, but her room is at the back of the house. She sleeps with a sound machine. He knows he won’t startle her. It’s Ma
son he’s worried about.
He flips on the interior light and searches for his phone. It’s not on the entry table or on the couch. He hopes it didn’t fall out of his pocket when putting Mason to bed. He sweeps the living room and pauses near Grace’s desk. It’s a beautiful antique they’d found together at the Nashville Flea Market at The Fairgrounds Nashville. He’d haggled on the price and gotten the dealer down, loaded it up on a cheap Budget rental they’d secured for the day, and helped her situate it in front of the bay window. His fingers trace the wood until he spots a corner of his phone edging out from beneath a banker’s box.
“Gotcha.” He assumes Grace placed it here. He lifts the box off the edge and notices the word personal scribbled in Grace’s handwriting across the top.
They have both handled so much paperwork lately. All of Lee’s business accounts, Mason’s guardianship, the court documents, and taxes. Noah has done his part to arrange, label, and file all of Mason’s physical, medical, and therapy files to make it easier on Grace.
Though this is private, curiosity gets the best of him. He flips open the lid and peers into the box. A few photographs are scattered over some journals and a folder labeled HARRY. Who’s Harry? He prepares to close the box but hesitates. He eyes the photograph on top. For reasons he can’t articulate, his heart begins to race. He plucks it from the pile. His heart gives a physical kick against his chest. Two women stare back at him—one of them is Lee. Their arms are looped around each other playfully, and Lee is cocked forward, mouth open, laughing. The women are virtually the same height with similar haircuts, painfully thin limbs, pale skin, and large eyes.
“What are you doing?”
He drops the photo and rearranges his face to neutral. “Hey, sorry.”
Grace stands in silk pajamas. The outline of her body peeks beneath the thin fabric. He lifts his phone. “Must have fallen out of my pocket.”
Her eyes flick to the box. “Was it in the box?”
“No, under.” He glances again at the photo. “Sorry, I was just curious.” He picks up the photo. “There’s been so much paperwork lately that it’s nice to see an actual photo of her. This is a great shot.”
“Which one?” Grace walks to the box as he hands her the photo. She emits a painful smile and traces Lee’s outline with her fingertips. “It is. This is before I knew her.” She sets it down and replaces the lid. “I don’t really know what to do with this stuff. These are all so personal. It feels wrong to toss them, you know?” She flattens her palm against the top of the box. “And I thought Mason might like to have them someday.”
“I’m sure he would.” Noah cocks his head. “Who’s that with her? Her sister?”
“Lee doesn’t have any siblings. That’s her best friend.”
“I thought you were her best friend,” he teases. He attempts to keep his voice calm, his actions nuanced.
“I am. I meant before we met.” She shoves the box to the edge of the desk and he reaches to help her lower it. She rolls her eyes at him. “I’m fine.”
He lifts his hands in surrender. “I know you are a strong, capable woman. But you’re also pregnant.”
“Barely pregnant.”
“Still.”
“I’ll fight you.” She playfully leans into him, and his arms close around her waist. His question about the photo bounces around his mind as he inhales her intoxicating scent. He closes his eyes and focuses on the woman in his arms, not the one in the photo.
“I’m thirsty.”
The two break apart as Mason appears from the hall and edges to the kitchen without asking for help. They hear the ice dispenser, a thin stream of water, an exaggerated yawn, and then he pads back to his room.
Noah smiles. “I’m so glad he’s comfortable here.”
“We’re getting there.” Grace glances at the clock. “Come to bed. We can finish up at Lee’s in the morning.”
“You sure?” He casts a cautious look down the hall. “What about the boys?”
“What about the boys?” She grabs his hand and looks at him suggestively.
“Will that be confusing for them to have me here in the morning?”
“Don’t be silly. They love having you here.” She tugs him down the hall, and he obeys.
The boys know they are dating, and so far, they haven’t had an issue with it, but he still worries about blurring boundaries and introducing too many changes at once. Grace hasn’t told Luca about the baby yet, and he respects her decision. She wants to get far enough along in the pregnancy to make sure it’s safe. He gets that. But every part of him wants to scream from the rooftops that he’s going to be a father.
He undresses down to his briefs and slips into bed beside her. His body is suddenly exhausted, but his mind is frantic. He tries to forget about the box, the photograph, the puzzle that’s scrawled across it. He needs to know, but the last thing he wants to do is to give himself away. Grace is dealing with so much—too much. She wouldn’t understand. She would be confused, maybe even angry. But he knows they have to talk about it. He will not keep secrets from the mother of his child.
He tosses and turns for hours as Grace sleeps beside him. He sees the women in the photograph. How had he never known Lee had an almost identical best friend? He hasn’t let himself think about Lee since the accident, because he’s trying to be strong for Grace. But the sadness challenges him now, and the guilt. Noah knew Lee liked him. Instead of dissuading her or just telling her the moment he and Grace became involved, he dodged and deflected. He pretended. He ignored the obvious. He kept secrets.
But at what cost?
If they’d just been honest right up front, Lee and Grace wouldn’t have gotten into that fight. She wouldn’t have had a reason to drink. She wouldn’t have taken that dreaded hike.
He rubs his eyes. He can’t keep doing this to himself. He can’t keep obsessing over the same handful of thoughts. Wyatt was enough. Wyatt was more than enough. Though years have passed and he has forgiven his family, the hurt still burrows around in his heart like a defect.
He can’t do anything to bring Wyatt back, just like he can’t bring Lee back. But if he’d had all the information, he could have prevented Wyatt’s death. Could he have somehow saved Lee too? He replays their relationship as if on a reel, wondering if he once again missed obvious signs.
He exhales and blinks at the ceiling, waiting for early morning. He should just go back to Lee’s and finish the job. It would be better than torturing himself here. He clings to his secret and thinks of what’s in the box. He works his way back to the party. Of what came after.
Of what happened that night in the dark.
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
&n
bsp; the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
the truth will set you free
but the lies are what keep me safe.
46
grace
The next morning, Luca wakes her by shaking her shoulder.
“Mom, get up. Mason’s door is locked, and he won’t open it.”
“What?” She was in a deep, dreamless sleep. She fumbles for her phone on the nightstand, but her fingers swat air. “What time is it?”
“I don’t know, but Mason won’t come out of his room. I’m hungry.” He runs down the hall. She hears the sharp scrape of a stool toward the kitchen cabinets. The bang of a plastic bowl as it slips from his fingers. The clumsy way he opens and shuts the fridge and ransacks the silverware. She really needs to start keeping his bowls and cups in a lower cabinet. Grace’s joints stiffen as she heaves herself out of bed, a dull ache nipping the base of her spine. She plucks her sweater from the dresser, walks to Mason’s room, and jiggles the knob.
“Mase?”
She presses her ear to the door. Images flash through her mom brain: he’s hurt himself. He’s stopped breathing. He’s climbed out the window and been missing since last night. “Mason?” She attempts to keep the fear out of her voice as she knocks harder against the wood. “Open the door, please.” Noah says if she is firm and uses action words, he’ll be more likely to do what she says. She peers down the hall. Where is Noah?
After a few minutes, he unlocks the door. “You know what a locked door means, right?”
She doesn’t warn him about his tone. Unlike Luca, Mason speaks factually, not always emotionally. “Luca and I were worried about you. We don’t lock doors in this house.”
“Fine. Can I go back to reading?”