Amanda shut her locker door, and twirled around. “Save the mothering, Grace, you’re wasting your time.”
“Oh, knock it off. I’m your friend,” Grace insisted.
“Are you?” Amanda asked sarcastically, her glare a little ferocious.
“You’re seriously going to ask that? God, Amanda, I’m starting to really worry about you.”
With a hand on her hip, Amanda stared unseeing at her locker door. “Well, don’t. I know what I’m doing.”
“Do you?” Grace spat back. “Because the way I see it, the only thing you know you’re doing is another woman’s man. No, I take that back…another woman’s husband.”
Amanda’s eyes flew open wide and she gaped at Grace in disbelief. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t even know him. He loves me.”
Grace knew what she had to say. And it was going to hurt. Possibly ruin their friendship forever. Amanda was on a serious downward spiral, and needed to hear the dirty truth in all its gut-mutilating glory. “Sure he does. He told his wife he loved her too. He doesn’t love you, Amanda, he’s using you. And as soon as you get too clingy, too needy, he’ll toss you out with the morning trash.”
Tears covered Amanda’s eyes like glass, but she didn’t allow it to shatter in front of Grace. Seeing her start to cry caused Grace’s stomach to turn inside out. She couldn’t move when Amanda wheeled around and pushed past the few onlookers, then barreled out the front door. The click of the door reverberating through the hall left Grace with a hollow feeling. Her stomach heaved. She hated herself, and had to fight the urge to go after Amanda. Grace convinced her feet to move in the direction of second period, even though she was already a few minutes late.
At the sound of the bell, every student shot out of their seats like thoroughbreds from the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby. Grace was no exception. Quickly scrolling through her contacts on her phone, she hurried out of the classroom.
“Here, let me get that for you,” someone said, as the weight of her backpack lifted off her shoulder.
Startled, she whipped around. It was Zeke, trying to be helpful. “Thanks, but you don’t have to do that.” She watched him toss the heavy backpack with ease over his shoulder.
Shaking his head, he glanced at her with incredulity. “Don’t get me wrong, I get that you’re not the damsel in distress type, but you were just in a serious accident a couple of days ago.” The side of his mouth curled up, making the dimples appear in his cheeks. “Indulge me. We’re going the same direction anyway.”
He was right; she was supposed to be healing. While they walked, she divided her attention between Zeke and her phone, playing the familiar should-I-or-shouldn’t-I-call game, desperate to resolve the tension with Amanda.
“You waiting for a call?” he asked, pulling her away from her iPhone screen.
“No, why do you ask?”
“You haven’t taken your eyes off that phone. Is everything okay?”
It was far from okay. What she’d said to Amanda was the truth and she needed to hear it, but did Grace need to be the messenger? Amanda was eighteen and could do what she wanted—which she clearly was doing—but she was the “other woman.” How on earth could she have allowed that to happen? More than disappointed in her friend, Grace was truly worried about what she was doing to herself, and possibly her future.
“No,” she said, walking a little closer to his side. Enough people had already played witness to the incident. No one else needed to hear about it. “Amanda and I got into an argument, and I was hoping she’d try to text or call me.”
“Oh.” He’s such a male, Grace mused. “I’m sure you guys will work it out.” He even tried giving her an encouraging, albeit awkward, smile. With a slight chuckle, Grace grinned back, wrapped her arm around his elbow, and continued on to third period.
After class, Grace and Zeke got caught up in a little tug of war over her backpack. “Zeke, no. You’re going to be late to fourth period. I can carry it to lunch. Really.”
“The longer you fight me on this, the later I’ll be,” he said with a cocky grin. “Besides, Miss Stone loves me. She won’t care if I’m a little late.”
With an exaggerated sigh, she let go. “Fine, but if you get detention, it’s all on you, buddy.”
“Okay.” He chuckled.
When they arrived in the cafeteria, Emily and Tommy were already seated and eating. Emily’s purple cast waved like a look-what-you-did banner. “Hey, guys,” Grace said as she sat down.
“Hi!” Emily nearly squealed. “How are you feeling?”
“I was just about to ask you two the same thing.” Zeke carefully placed her tray of food on the table in front of her and put the backpack at her feet. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled down to her. “Hey, man,” he said to Tommy. “How’s the head?”
“Better. Still have a hellacious headache.”
“You’re not driving, are you?” Zeke asked, sounding concerned.
Tommy shook his head slightly. “Nah, my mom dropped me off.”
“Good,” Zeke said. “I have to get to class before I get detention.” Winking down at Grace, he waved good-bye to the others.
Emily eyed her from across the table. “Just friends, huh?”
Grace’s gaze instantly went to her lips, wondering what flavor she was wearing. “Yes, Em, just friends.”
“I’m not so sure he thinks so.” She smelled like cinnamon, but Grace wasn’t sure. Cinnamon was bad.
“Actually, babe,” Tommy spoke up through a mouthful of food, as usual. “He does. He’s just hoping she’ll change her mind.”
Grace hoped he continued to understand she only wanted to be friends. Otherwise…well, otherwise she had no clue. She’d worry about it then. “How’s your arm?” she asked Emily trying to forget about Zeke and cinnamon.
Emily glanced down at the purple plaster covering her arm. “Not throbbing as much, thankfully, but I have to keep this stupid cast on for six weeks.” She slurped a big drink from her chocolate milk through a straw. “You should have seen the colors I had to choose from…awful.” Grace laughed when Emily scrunched her nose.
“It’s a good thing you wear a lot of purple then.”
“Not enough,” Emily said mid-bite. “Now I have to go shopping. You want to go with me?”
“Sure, when?”
“This weekend sometime.”
“Yeah, that works,” Grace said.
Leah showed up a few minutes later, looking exhausted. “Hi, everyone.” Her voice was subdued, nowhere near its normal ear-piercing decibel level.
“Hey,” they all said in unison. “How are you feeling?” Grace asked as Leah sat next to her. Like Zeke, Brian placed Leah’s tray in front of her, but sat down in the open seat next to her.
“My head still hurts a little and I’m kind of tired, but I feel a lot better.”
The all too familiar danger of guilty tears threatened. While pretending to focus on something on the ceiling, Grace blinked them fast away. When she was able to talk without crying, she replied to Leah. “I’m so glad you’re alright.”
Nope, she spoke too soon. Tears assaulted Grace’s eyes a nanosecond after uttering the word “alright” and trickled embarrassingly down her cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Grace.” Leah handed her a napkin. “We’re all okay.” That was true for today, but what about tomorrow?
“Babe, don’t cry.” Emily put her hand on top of Grace’s, a few tears escaping her eyes as well. Leah sniffled softly next to her, and slipped her hand on top of Emily’s in a show of solidarity. Grace smiled at both of them, grateful they were safe.
Grace sat there in the uncomfortable, emotionally charged silence, waiting for someone to cut through it by saying something. Finally, Tommy cleared his throat. “Uh… is everyone still going to the party this weekend?”
“I’ll understand if you guys aren’t up for it,” Brian said quickly. A unanimous chorus of “W
e’re going” made him beam with pleasure.
After lunch, Grace wasn’t too surprised to find Zeke outside the double doors of the cafeteria, waiting to relieve her shoulders of the burdensome backpack.
By the end of fourth period, she was getting used to seeing him. As fifth and sixth periods rolled around, she was expectantly looking for his face, which she found waiting for her outside every door. He even insisted on helping her unload stuff at her locker. She closed her locker door, and thanked Zeke for all his help.
“No problem.” He twirled his keys from his lanyard, round and round his finger.
“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” Grace smiled and spun on her heel.
“I’ll walk with you,” he said, catching up to her in a few quick strides. “I’m parked out there too.” He winked down at her. She came to the conclusion in that instance, Zeke needed to go to winker’s anonymous, or get an eye flush. A small chuckle escaped her lips.
“What’s so funny?” he asked, a smile on his own face as if he got her inside joke.
“Nothing.” Grace shook her head, grinning.
On the way home, Grace wondered where Amanda had run off to, and hoped it wasn’t to the married jackass. The thought enraged her. She didn’t have to know the guy to know he was using her. If only Amanda could see that.
Grace was again thankful for the embracing arms of the air-conditioning when she walked through her front door. Quentin wasn’t too far behind her.
“How was your day?” he asked as he walked into the kitchen.
Rooting through the refrigerator for string cheese and apple juice, she said, “It was alright.” She got a glass out of the cupboard, poured some juice, and put the bottle back into the refrigerator. “I got into an argument with a friend.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Another lie. “I’ll be fine.”
Later, she tried calling Emily, who said she and Tommy were studying—uh-huh—and that she would call her later. Grace didn’t expect a call back. All Emily had time for anymore was Tommy. Before Tommy, she and Emily were practically joined at the hip. Since Tommy, Grace had started feeling pretty lonely. It more than surprised her when Emily asked her to go shopping. Apparently accidents had a way of making people reorder their priorities, and behave in ways they normally wouldn’t. Grace had wanted to accept Emily’s invitation with the caveat, “as long as it was a girl’s trip only.” But considering how everything went down with Amanda, she didn’t want to risk an argument with another good friend.
The sick, inside-out hollowness had Grace’s stomach churning again. She gazed down at her phone, forcing her fingers to move across the screen and texted Amanda.
Grace: U ok?
After twenty minutes of telepathically sending Amanda messages to respond, she gave up. Hunkering down into the corner of the sofa, she forced herself to read. It only took her ten minutes to finish the book. Emily never returned her call and Amanda didn’t text her back, neither of which was a huge surprise.
Laney wasn’t home from work yet, and Grace assumed it was because of her mystery friend. Quentin had been somewhere other than where she was ever since they got home.
Before she realized where her feet were taking her, she found herself in front of the office door. Grace didn’t have her key, and almost turned to walk away when she changed her mind and tried the door anyway. Shocked it was unlocked, she tiptoed in, and closed the door behind her.
Staring at the linen closet, she wondered if it was smart to go down below alone. She opened the door, slid the towels over, and pushed the button like she’d seen Quentin do. With a click, the door slid back. Inside was nothing but an inky blackness. Barely inching inside, she waited for the door to shut and the angels to light up. Briskly, she made her way down the passageway, and continued past the branching hallways until she reached the gym door.
From outside, she heard manly grunts and sounds of objects being smacked against a wall. Slowly, and trying to be as quiet as possible, Grace turned the door handle and snuck inside. Stunned by what she saw, she leaned against the door. Quentin whirled about, alternately beating and kicking punching bags that surrounded him in a large circle.
So this is where he’s been hiding, she thought, as she watched his graceful but lethal movements, completely mesmerized. Quentin wore only boxing shorts. His hands were wrapped in tape, and his feet were bare. He prowled around the bags, rage in his eyes. His movements were lithe and fluid—beautiful—and he moved faster than she should be able to track. Sweat glistened along every line and swell of his muscles. A flurry of naughty butterflies wrestled in the pit of her stomach.
Suddenly, Quentin snapped his head in her direction. This sharing feelings thing is getting out of control, she decided. His gaze demanded her attention. His steel-colored eyes no longer burned with rage. Instead, they glazed over with a liquid silver longing. As he stalked toward her, the beating of her heart pounded so hard, each beat swooshed deafeningly in her ears. Grace couldn’t tear her eyes away. Once again, her lungs quit working about the same time her heart stopped beating.
When he passed where she expected him to stop and marched right into her personal space, Grace searched frantically for a possible way out. She didn’t move though, and he didn’t stop coming. Grace gasped when he cupped her face with a hand, not caring about the rough edges of tape wrapping it.
The corners of his mouth lifted in triumph. Like a cat with a mouse, he toyed with her. His thumb caressed her jawline as he moved it softly down her face. Slowly, but purposefully, he leaned down, never taking his eyes from hers. His hand pulled her face closer, bringing their lips close enough together to touch, but only hovered there. Her mind ran in circles, confused by his hypnotic touch. She squeezed her eyes shut, torn apart by her warring instincts. Her heart started beating again, and didn’t let up. It pounded fiercely against her breastbone, and probably against his as well. Grace licked her dry lips.
“Look at me.” The feel of his breath against her mouth caused goose bumps to rise all over her body. She opened her eyes, but only because he told her to.
The moment Quentin pressed his soft, parted lips against hers, a tingling surged through her veins, causing every nerve ending to fire off in rapid succession and awakening her from within. Her head was screaming at her to stop, but her body begged for more. Her lips were his to command. She followed his lips’ urgings and slightly parted her own to welcome more of him. Grace moved her tongue with his as she rose up on her toes to get closer. More. Quentin tasted like chocolate and mint; the best combination in the world. He was all consuming. The smell of fresh night air and water was all around her, Quentin’s scent. All of her senses were bombarded with everything that was him and she didn’t want it to end.
Taking his hand away from her face, he braced himself against the door at Grace’s back. Slowly he pulled away from her. Sadness replaced the longing that had filled his eyes moments before. “I’m sorry, Grace, I shouldn’t have done that.”
“What? Why?” She thought it felt rather perfect and had to swallow the whimper that almost escaped her lips when he stopped.
“I’m your Guardian. It’s wrong.” He looked away, focusing his gaze somewhere above her head. “Besides, you were sad and I—”
“Okay,” she said, pushing him away from her with a hand at his chest. Her embarrassment felt like a heat wave as it replaced the tingles and the goose bumps and moved like an out-of-control wildfire up her face. “I don’t need your pity. I had a bad day and you felt it. I get it.”
“No, that’s not—”
Apparently, he didn’t hear her. “Quentin, I said I understand. Now, please move so I can go to bed.” When he didn’t budge, she insisted, “Please! I really don’t want to do this tonight.”
When he finally moved aside, she ran past him and out the door, not looking back until she was in her own room. Grace flopped down on her bed and thought back to the kiss. Men, she hissed in her head. She needed to stay aw
ay from all of them. If she ever was in a situation like that again, and that was a big if, she’d make sure she touched him first—to check his emotions and make sure he wasn’t playing with her.
A few minutes later, Quentin could still feel the effect of Grace slamming the door as he held on to either side of the door frame. It too was humming with frustration. Pressing his forehead against the steel door, he banged his head against it repeatedly. He couldn’t do anything right when it came to Grace. Every which way he went was a wrong turn.
He had come to the gym to keep his distance from her. Hell, they both needed it. Instead of putting on a shirt when he felt her getting closer, he pushed himself harder to work up a sweat, knowing what it would do. Yeah, he was all kinds of a jerk. What he wasn’t prepared for, what he didn’t expect, was feeling her reaction to seeing him like that. Desire collided with desire, spinning out of control and exploding like a star. And he couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to.
“Damn it!” he yelled out loud, slamming the palm of his hand against the door.
He was the one who was supposed to protect her from harm, not hurt her in irreparable ways. Scars of the heart last an eternity. No matter what he might want, his focus should only be about being her Guardian…even if it broke his own heart.
An intrusive, ear-piercing shriek ripped Grace from the black nothingness of sleep. She lifted a heavy arm from under the comforter, trying to feel her way to the snooze button. Finally, the small machine surrendered to her fierce pounding against it. Done with the day in and day out soap opera drama, she thought of attempting to smother herself as she covered her face with a pillow. The only thing that accomplished was confirming her teeth needed a serious minty toothpaste scrubbing. Yuck!
She sat up on the edge of her bed, and couldn’t deny the one positive from the prior night. No, it wasn’t the kiss, even though that technically could be considered a very good thing. If he weren’t such a freaking jerk, she corrected herself mentally. For once, something had gone the way she wanted…her dreamless night.
Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) Page 19
