“We can nothing.” I reach for the door handle and pop the door open, climbing to my feet to make my way around the car. When I rip her door open, she just stares up at me with sad, hollow eyes. “You’re making this harder than it has to be.” I reach for her arm and pull her from the car, her feet landing hard against the damp street.
“Please don’t do this to me, Jack,” she begs of me, the tears finally pooling at the corner of her eyes, glistening.
I take a step back and throw my hands outwards. “What part of I don’t want you anymore aren’t you understanding? Look, I thought you were one of them. I fucked you because I thought it would make you soft. Pliable. Easy to manipulate. I went too far, and I’m sorry, but that’s all it was between us. Go, Grace. Go and don’t look back.”
She brushes her palm across her wet cheeks trying to clear away the evidence, but the tears just keep falling. She shakes her head once more before racing away from me and into her car.
The door slams shut behind her, and as soon as it does, I let out a heavy sigh and bow my head against the roof. I’ve never felt more awful in my life—not even when I’m taking lives—but this had to be done.
Not because I don’t feel anything for her, and never want to see her again.
But because I do feel something for her. Something more real than I’ve ever felt in my life.
And that’s the problem.
She’s too good for this. She’s too good for me, for this shitshow lifestyle I lead. I won’t put her at risk again.
I jump back into my car and speed away, my tires spinning against the wet pavement. And as her car disappears in my rearview mirror, I can’t bear the sight anymore so I launch a punch against the mirror, breaking it right off the window, the glass cutting slices into my hand.
I should have accepted those pain pills from the doctors, because this girl has left me wrecked.
24
Grace
Two Days Later
I’ve been under this same blanket for days. Most people are lucky enough to experience their first heartbreak when they’re younger, so by the time they’re my age they’re more emotionally equipped to deal with it.
That’s not me.
For whatever reason, Jack was the first. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize I loved him until it was too late.
Willow’s beside me on the opposite end of the couch, her eyes fixed on me and watching me with empathy. She’s always been my rock, and ever since I returned home the other night she hasn’t really left my side.
At first, I thought I could just go to school and change his mind in person, but then I received an email—as did all his students—that he was taking a sabbatical from school. The final nail in the coffin for real. The sound of it still echoes in my head like a funeral dirge.
I’m heartsick with absolutely no clue how I’m supposed to move on. Willow’s tried giving me a few pep talks here and there, but even she knows it’s no use. Still, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t try and I’ll always be grateful for that.
“You’re just going to have to feel it,” Willow says from beside me. “You’re going to have to cry it out, and slowly, over time, you’ll start to heal.”
“I’m not crazy.” I sniffle. “I know maybe someday I’ll feel better, but I wish I could stop thinking about him long enough to eat a damn pretzel, you know?”
“Yeah, sweetie, I know.” She’s so tender with me, which is nothing like her normal self. It’s as if she believes I could break completely at any moment and she’d be right. I’m in shock that she still hasn’t brought up the fact that she warned me not to get too attached.
“There’s stuff I didn’t tell you,” I say and hold my palm over my forehead. “I was too distraught by the entire incident, and it’s all been overwhelming my thoughts since that night and maybe I just need to talk about these things.”
“I’m all ears.” She shifts on the couch and props a pillow on her lap, either because it’s more comfortable that way or because she’s not wearing panties and she’s trying not to expose her snatch to me while wearing nothing but a t-shirt, which I appreciate. “Literally, even if it takes all semester, I’ll sit here and listen.”
“Good,” I mutter miserably, “because it might take a while…”
I recount the whole story, even about how I heard his conversation and stupidly followed him into the darker side of town. Every little detail that I can remember, she listens intently, gasping at points along the way. I even tell her about Scarlet, whoever she is, and it almost feels like a betrayal but I need to process this all. Maybe then I can start to heal.
When I’m finished with my story, her mouth is agape, her head shaking as she tries to take it all in.
“I know it’s a lot…”
“No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, it is, but it’s okay.” She clears her eyes with her knuckles, and I swear I’ve never seen her cry before. “That’s so sad that he lost Scarlet. So sad that he lost her in that way. And to think he survived that ordeal all on his own, with nobody close to him?” She laughs, not because it’s funny but because she’s always been uncomfortable showing emotions in front of others. She can’t stop the tears rolling down her cheek though. “I don’t know if I’d survive.”
“I know, right?” It’s a rhetorical question as I admire the strength Jack must possess to survive the loss of his love. “I wish I could go to him and comfort him.” I bite my tongue, because that’s never going to happen. It doesn’t matter what I want when Jack made it absolutely clear what he wants, which is to never see me again.
“I guess my only question is, what are you doing here? You should do it,” Willow says as she straightens herself out. “You should go to him.”
“I can’t,” I respond quietly. “He doesn’t want me.”
“Okay, so sometimes I think you’re too innocent for this world, sweet pea.” She shifts once again, this time throwing the pillow to the floor before climbing to her knees. “Did he end it for real? Or did he White Fang you?”
I shoot her a confused look. “I didn’t read that book. It looked too sad.”
“Good point there, but basically White Fanging someone means that they’re forcing you away from them for your own good despite them wanting you to stay.”
I push my tongue against my cheek and purse my lips in contemplation. I’m immediately taken back to that awful night, trying to make sense of why exactly it was that he had to go.
He threw himself in front of me to make sure if there was gunfire, that he absorbed the hits into his own body. And he was so tender with me that night at his apartment. I could see his eyes laughing as we talked and played cards. I could still feel his body curling around mine protectively as he climbed back into bed, thinking I was asleep.
Could Willow be right? Could Jack have fucking White Fanged me because he doesn’t want me hurt?
I don’t know for sure, and finding out would require me to put my heart on the line again. But a life of risk and a chance to be with him is a way better life than one without him.
I look to Willow, heart full of desperate hope. “Help me find something to wear.” I jump to my feet, prepared to go and fight for him. “I’m going to un-White Fang myself or die trying.”
25
Jack
They say misery loves company.
As I sit and drink my coffee, I know that, in this case, misery doesn’t love it as much as need it. It’s noisy and congested. Just loud enough to drown out the voices in my head telling me what a fuck up I am. Not quite loud enough to dull the sharp ache in my chest, though.
I’m reading through the paper and finally come to the news story about Phil, which gives me a moment of peace. The entire world knows about his monstrous deeds by now and once the trial is over, he’ll spend the rest of his life not in the luxury of his golden estate but behind the bars of jail.
A great weight has been lifted from my shoulders now that I’ve finally truly avenged my sister, but t
hat weight has been replaced with a new weight pressed against my heart. Because I fucking miss her. Grace, I mean. It’s only been three goddamn days and I already miss her like I’ve known her my entire life. I’m sick without her and this is one wound I can’t imagine every truly recovering from.
I know that once she realized how close she came to dying because of me…that she never would have wanted anything to do with me ever again. Her pleas outside my car nothing more than the aftermath of shock. Once that wore off, she would have realized that she didn’t mean a word she was saying.
It doesn’t make this particular pill any easier to swallow.
The smooth, hot coffee trickling against the back of my throat seems to ease the ache there just enough to get through the next minute. The caffeine will keep me awake, but it’s not like I can sleep anyway. Since that night I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep, tossing and turning.
When the server strides past my table, I order another drink as she passes.
“It’s kind of late for more caffeine, don’t you think?” I hear a voice from behind me. A voice that is a punch in the gut. A voice I’d know anywhere.
I crane my head over my shoulder to see Grace standing there.
She just smiles at me like nothing’s happened between us, but her face gives her away. She looks like I feel. Pale and tired looking. Empty and aching.
Somehow she still manages to look beautiful, strong, and determined even in that pain. She takes a seat without me prompting her to do so, showing a level of confidence that’s becoming more and more her normal.
I’m proud of the woman she’s becoming and full of grief that I won’t get to be a witness to her life and growth.
I bite the bullet and speak first. “I’m so sorry again for everything—”
She holds a finger out in front of me and shushes me like she’s the Professor and I’m the student. “How is your leg?”
I nod, trying to ignore the hum in my blood at her presence. “Healing well.”
“And what about the pain?” she questions. “How is that?”
“It hurts like hell but I’m becoming numb to it for hours at a time, almost forgetting that I have a hole in my leg.”
“Do you have a limp?” she continues as if we’re playing a game of twenty questions.
“As of right now, yes, I do.” I can’t help but to smile briefly, no matter how bittersweet, because being in her presence again for even an instant is like a balm to my soul. “But it shouldn’t be a problem long-term.”
“I see,” she says with a nod and then purses her lips. Apparently the questions have run dry.
My brain is buzzing trying to figure out why she’s here, so I ask her that very thing.
She frowns and sighs. Shaking her head before she speaks, “According to my calendar, we still have twenty-five days together.”
I stare at her, mind reeling as my brain puts together her meaning.
Our little proposal.
“Grace, that’s not—you don’t have to do that. Jesus,” I mutter, still disgusted with myself that I’d dragged her into this mess. “I’m sorry I ever even said that.” I lean across the table to whisper discreetly to her, “If you need the money, I can—”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she snaps, showing a fiery part of her I never knew existed. “I never needed the money, asshole.”
I lean back in the booth, taken aback by her words. Coming from anyone else’s lips, it’d be natural. Coming from hers? It was like fire and brimstone.
“Student loans are part of life and I will deal with them on my own. I don’t need the money, Jack,” she reiterates, her voice lower and more restrained as her cheeks flush red from embarrassment at her outburst. She bows her head and wets her lips. “But I need you.”
I try to calm the wild beating of my heart as I shake my head again. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“I know you better than you think.” She reaches across the short width of the table and places her palm on top of mine. I look down momentarily just to see the way it looks, our flesh together once again. Then my eyes are back on hers as she continues, “I’ve seen who you really are, and it’s not a monster who’s defined by who he is in the dark.”
“You don’t know that. You don’t know anything about me other than I have a serious problem with my morals.”
“You’re loyal,” she continues, pretending as if I hadn’t said anything at all. “You’re fierce and you’re not afraid to make your own rules. And I admire you so much for that because I’ve always been the girl who follows the rules exactly as they’re outlined in the syllabus and school handbooks. You make me not want to be that girl. You make me want to make rules for myself, and… And I…”
“And what?”
She dips her head lower, the words unspoken like a shadow hanging over the both of us. When she cocks her head back to me, there’s restraint written all over her face but a glimmer of something in her eyes. Her lips purse, like she wants to speak but she’s hesitating because maybe she’s afraid.
I’m afraid too.
And then finally, she says the words, quiet and sure. “I love you.”
I’m stuck in place. If I took a sip of coffee right now, I’d probably crack like a frozen glass dropped into a hot tub. I’m humbled. I’m stunned. Beyond belief that she actually feels this way…That she feels the same way I do.
It’s all fucked up, there’s so much to work out. So much in the way that could cause us trouble down the line, but I know one thing. I was a fool to let her go and I won’t do it again without fighting for it.
I stutter, fumbling over my own words. Only just now realizing that I’ve never really said them to any girl in my life, and maybe that has something to do with losing my sister at a young age. I don’t know. What I do know is that…
“I love you too. I shouldn’t. I know you’re too good for me, but there it is. And, selfish prick I am, I can’t bring myself to push you away again.”
“Oh my God. Willow was right. You White Fanged me,” she says, her head nodding at a furious pace as she tries to keep her emotions in check. The tears staining her face betray her, but I know they’re not of sadness. Those are tears of happiness, and they’re beautiful. “You son of a bitch,” she laughs softly, grips my hand tighter. “You White Fanged me.”
“I did.” I nod back. “And I’m sorry. I was just terrified of you getting—”
She basically lunges across the table, planting her lips against mine and throwing her arms around my neck.
This is not the same girl who came into my office that fateful day. Not that I’m complaining. I kiss her back, passionately and not caring who sees us. One thing is certain, and that’s that I will not be going back to that college anytime soon because the Dean will have my head on a platter. That’s okay, though. I’m thinking maybe fighting crime is still the way to go, but maybe with a badge going forward. I tuck the thought away because there is plenty of time for that. I pull back because I just want to enjoy this moment as I look into Grace’s flushed face.
“Want to see my place?”
As we’re leaving the café walking side by side, her are fingers interlaced with mine and I can’t believe my luck.
A few minutes later, we are in my apartment and for the first time I can remember, all feels right with the world. She’s hanging off the ledge of the bar with her bare feet swinging over the sides. In one hand, she cradles a beer while I sit beside her on the bar.
She points to a picture on the wall of my sister Scarlet. “I don’t remember that being there. Is that new?”
“Yeah.” I scratch nervously at the back of my head and take a swig of beer. “I just put it up this morning.”
She frowns. “She looks like you. Your sister?”
“It is.” I nod and take a long look at the picture. “For the longest time, I couldn’t bear to see her face because in the back of my mind it was always like I failed her or something.”
; “You didn’t fail her,” she says softly. “That bastard victimized her and then world failed her, but you didn’t.”
“I know that now.” I set my beer beside me and fold my hands together in my lap. “But the memories never really go away.” I turn to her with a smile as I remember our teenage years together. “You would have loved her, probably would have been best friends with her. She was funny and silly and nutty. Until they took her from us and they broke her.” The anger is still there but there is something else too. The comforting presence of Grace.
She bows her head as if she doesn’t know what to say, which I totally get. It’s hard to not feel like you’re intruding when it comes to grief. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“I spent so many years being sorry.” I grit my teeth and shake my head. “I spent even more of them being angry, but I’ve found peace now.” I nod contemplatively before jumping to my feet. “I’m always going to be that guy though, Grace. If I see someone being victimized, I can’t say for sure how I’ll respond. I need you to know that.”
She shrugs. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And then she’s jumping to her feet and joining me in the center of the living room, the early evening sunset lighting the scenery behind us in beautiful hues of pink and orange. She looks up to me with pure adoration in her eyes. “Everything you hate about yourself are the things that I fell in love with. I wish you could feel the same way about yourself.”
“I’m vindictive,” I grind out, trying one last time to allow her a way out. It’s not that I want her gone. I’ve had a taste of that and it was a special kind of hell. It’s just that I want her to know with certainty who I am for real. No more lies between us. “Sometimes, I go to these dark places—”
“We all go there. We all slip into the shadows sometimes.”
“That’s poetic.” I reach for her waist and pull her close, unable to look away for even a moment. “But I can’t see you having a dark side.”
Saving Grace: A bad-boy virgin romance Page 16
