I would come up here by myself most weekends when I was pregnant with you. The serene and calming affect always comforted me as I sat in the rocking chair, looking out over the priceless view of the lake. On cold winter nights, your dad would make a fire and we would cozy up on the couch when we would come up here together. There are so many memories that were made within these walls, and I hope many more will be made with your wife and my grandkids.
Talk to you soon.
Love,
Mom
XOXO
I drop the letter on the table as though it’s on fire and just burned my fingertips. How could I have been so stupid to open it? I quickly put it back in the envelope, but I have no way of sealing it. Panicking, I lick the sealant, hoping remoistening it will work, but the envelope is so old there’s no way I can pull it off. Just as I’m about to search the drawers for a white envelope, I hear the doorknob turn. Oh shit!
“I knew you were going to sneak another cinnamon roll,” Grant teases when he walks through the door. His face smile becomes a frown immediately when he sees me holding the opened envelope.
Not knowing what to do, I sit there staring at him like a moron, with the letter between my hands. “I’m sorry, Grant. It wasn’t my intention to pry,” I apologize to him, although I know that if I didn’t want to pry, I shouldn’t have opened the letter in the first place.
“Who’s it from?” he quietly asks. The cold air whooshes into the cabin from the open front door. Grant hasn’t moved an inch, his hand still resting on the doorknob.
“Your…it’s from your…Mom,” I stutter, embarrassed that I put us in this awkward situation. “I’m sorry,” I apologize again.
He says nothing, but finally shuts the door before slowly walking my way. As he nears me, I see the anguish that fills his beautiful blue eyes. I don’t know if he’s going to hug me, kiss me, or slap me. But when he reaches my chair, his feet stand alongside mine and he gently takes the letter out of my hand.
“So, I guess I have no choice but to tell you now.” He places the letter on the table and grabs my hand, the warmth of his touch making me believe that it’ll be okay.
“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to tell me, Grant. I wasn’t trying to find answers…” I continue talking until he places his finger on my lips.
“It’s time,” he sighs, and I can’t ignore the feeling in my gut that I’m forcing him to share with me. “You already know my mom died when I was fourteen. Well, she left a box of letters for me to read during specific milestones in my life. I don’t know what that one entails,” he says, pointing to the letter. “I thought it was from Mrs. Fletcher, but when I saw your face, I knew it was another letter from my mom.” He carefully pulls it out, reading the letter to himself before placing it back down on the table. “Does it scare you?” he softly asks.
“Does what?”
“The fact that a dead woman predicted that I would bring only one girl up here, and that she wants me to make my home here with her,” He says, his face serious.
“Am I the first?” I ask, my voice shaking because I’m hoping I am.
“And only,” he reveals.
“No, it doesn’t scare me,” I say, and a small smile graces my lips.
“Good.” His lips turn up in a wide smile. “It’s amazing how right my mom has been in the letters she left me. I only have a few left so I’m happy she surprised me with this one.” Although his smile appears genuine, there’s something there underneath it. He’s hiding more, but I have to decide how much to push. Not wanting to upset him, I decide to let it go for now.
“She sounds like a wise woman,” I say and he nods his head.
“She was.” He stands up and starts clearing the dishes, but I grab them from him.
“I’m sorry, Grant,” I tell him, praying he hears the sincerity in my voice.
“I know…everyone is. It’s hard losing a parent. God, I lost both,” he says and I scrunch my eyes in confusion.
“You still have your Dad,” I mention.
“No, he’s just a bankroller for school. He’s most definitely not a parent,” he says, his voice angry with a hint of sadness.
“It’s never too late,” I say, placing my hand on his shoulder. When he turns around, his eyes are distant and cold.
“It’s over, Jessa. Please, don’t try to mend my relationship with my father. I’m at peace with the fact that I don’t have parents.” The finality of the conversation hits me when he walks into the other room and turns the television on.
After I wash the dishes, I make my way over to him and sit on the couch. He reaches for my hand and I let him grasp it in his. I love how his large hand consumes my smaller one. Pulling on it, I follow his lead and shift closer to him. “I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head back and forth. “I didn’t mean to be an ass, it’s just that my dad’s an asshole, and I won’t waste my time on him.” He leans over and kisses me, and I let his lips graze over mine. “Please don’t let him ruin this,” he murmurs and I nod my head, remaining silent.
Chapter 13
Grant
I never told Jessa that when I opened the cabin door, a flash of the future hit me again. A small blonde-haired girl waddling toward me with pigtails and one of those sucky things in her mouth. I scoop her up in my arms, carrying her over to Jessa, who’s sitting on the couch. After kissing Jessa, I relax down with them, happy and content to be home.
I can’t believe how my mom nailed it. I’ve never brought another girl up here before. It never even crossed my mind until Jessa came along. But as much as I’d love to make this our home, my mom is right. There’s no way I can make any money living in the boondocks.
In a way, I’m glad Jessa found the letter. She needed to know about them, but I still chickened out about revealing the whole story. How I wasn’t there for my mom when she needed me the most. Or how I disappointed Lizzy. I know I’ll have to tell Jessa eventually, but I just didn’t want to ruin our weekend.
We pack up the bags and load them in the truck after spending the afternoon curled up in bed, watching television and making love. I was able to control myself better and take it slow with her. Her eyes shift endlessly as I lock the door and she releases a breath before walking back to the truck. I’m upset we have to leave, but Jessa appears to be on the verge of tears.
I climb in and notice she’s strapped in by the window, instead of next to me. Reaching across, I unbuckle her, pulling her over next to me and strapping her back in.
“You want to tell me what’s wrong?” I ask, purposely not starting the truck until she’s honest with me.
“It’s just…I’ve only spent one night here and it feels like home.” She stares intently at the cabin, almost as if trying to embed the image into her memory. I pull her into me, kissing her on top of the head.
“We’ll be back,” I assure her. I wish I could tell her that it’s her home if she wants it to be. The words rest on the tip of my tongue, but I refrain from saying them. If I keep admitting how badly I need her, she’s bound to leave me.
“Promise?” she asks with a shaky voice.
“Promise. We’ll plan for another weekend as soon as we get back.” I squeeze her hand and start the truck.
By the time we roll back into Western, it’s dark and quiet, not unusual for a Sunday night. Most students stay in, preparing for the week. The thought of dropping Jessa off is excruciating. I love sleeping next to her; she keeps my memories at bay. She nuzzles up to me as though she just read my thoughts.
“Stay with me tonight?” she asks and my body screams yes, but my mind shuts it down.
“I can’t, I have to finish a paper,” I lie. The whole situation is going too fast, and I need to slow it down a little. We’re heading straight for a roadblock. No turn around, no u-turn. It’s either happily-ever-after or heartbreak, and from my experience, it’ll always end in heartbreak.
“Okay,” she says. I automatically know she assumes I’m lying. We haven’t
spent a night apart in weeks. She releases a breath while staring out the window. Once we pull up to the Carsen’s, she grabs her bag, kisses my cheek and rushes out of the truck. She doesn’t say she loves me or that we’ll talk later…nothing.
Shaking my head, I throw the truck in park and open the door.
“Jessa?” I yell after her, but she continues walking toward the house, ignoring me.
Like a dipshit, I call out to her again, “Jessa!” Same reaction. My fist slams on top of the hood.
Following her up the steps, she shuts the door in my face, so I turn the knob and walk into the house.
Trey’s standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at Jessa’s back before turning toward me. “Trouble in loveville?” he asks and I don’t respond, continuing to follow Jessa.
“Wait up, Jessa,” I pleadingly call out to her again, before jetting up the stairs and getting another door closed in my face. But this time, when I turn the knob, it’s locked.
I knock on the door. “Jessa, talk to me,” I beg.
“Nothing to talk about, Grant. Good luck on your paper,” she sarcastically says from the other side of the door.
“I’m sorry, Jessa,” I respond, leaning against her door.
“Fucked it up, didn’t you?” Brady walks down the steps from his room. “What happened?” he asks.
“I’m a shithead,” I admit, knocking again for her. “Please, Jessa, just open up the door.”
“Tried to run?” Brady confirms. The way he knows me, you’d never think we haven’t been friends for the past six years.
“No…just needed space.”
“Same thing. Come on downstairs with me,” he says, placing his arm around my shoulders, leading me away from the door. “SADIE!” he shouts upstairs. “Grant fucked up, can you talk to Jessa?”
I don’t hear Sadie’s response, but hear footsteps walking above me, signaling she heard. Brady leads me down to the music room in the basement. He grabs two waters from the mini-fridge and makes his way over to the couch. Soon, Trey and Dex make their way down too. I didn’t realize this was going to turn into ‘Operation Fix Grant’s Fuck-up’.
“I warned you, Grant. If Jessa’s upset, Sadie’s upset. If Sadie’s upset, I’m upset. What do you have to do to fix it?” he asks, while leaning back into the couch.
“It really wasn’t a big deal. She asked me to spend the night and I told her I had a paper to finish.”
“First off, it’s a big deal if she isn’t talking to you. Second, why would you not want to spend the night with her?” Trey chimes in, pulling two beers out of the fridge. He tosses one to Dex before turning his attention back to me. “I’ve been rooting for you guys this whole time, but you have to get your shit together,” he says, sitting down.
“I’ve got it together,” I tell him, standing up. “Listen, I appreciate this whole intervention thing, but if I’m going to solve the problem, I have to get up there.” I point my finger upstairs to where she is.
“Oh, you have at least twenty minutes,” Dex says. “Sadie’s with her, and everything you did or didn’t do will be picked apart and searched like it’s evidence at a crime scene,” he laughs and Trey joins in.
“You could be fucked after that discussion,” Brady jokes, but I see no humor in this whole situation. All I want to do is march up those stairs and convince her what a scared asshole I was.
The boys and I sit around for another five minutes bull-shitting about girls they’re either seeing or fucking. I stand up, unable to take it any longer. “There you go, boy. Get your girl,” Trey shouts up the stairs and I hear the room I just left fill with laughter.
Her door is shut so I lightly knock. Surprisingly, it opens this time with Sadie in the doorway.
“Last time,” she whispers, squeezing my forearm and walking downstairs.
Jessa’s lying on her stomach on the bed when I walk in, staring at her phone.
“Jessa,” I say, joining her on the bed. She doesn’t pick up her head so I continue. “I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass…again. This is hard for me, but I’m trying my best. As fucked up as I am, I do love you. I’m not trying to hurt you. I just don’t know what the hell I should do.”
“You know what you should do, Grant?” She gets on her knees and faces me, staring into my eyes. The red, puffy hazel ones I see punch me in the gut. “Let me in,” she says, clearly angry. “Do you have any idea what it took for me to open up to you?” I know I can’t fault her for being mad. She’s right.
“It’s hard for me, Jessa. I didn’t have a great example of how to show your feelings like you did,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.
“Grant, do you love me?” she asks. The fact that she might be doubting my love for her makes me want to kick my own ass.
“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” I assure her.
“Then please. Let. Me. In.” She scoots my way, placing her hands over mine.
“I’m trying, really I am. Please, just have some patience with me,” I plead with her.
“Okay, Grant, but never do that to me again,” she says. “Never make me doubt you again. I felt as though this whole weekend was just another reason to get in my pants. I know I have my own insecurities, but don’t play me.” She climbs into my lap.
“Believe me, Jessa, I’m not playing you,” I honestly answer her. “Not even close.”
Jessa
I let him hold me in his arms. Although he’s still keeping so much of himself hidden from me, I can’t help the feeling of safety and security he brings over me. It just scares me that his hesitation in sharing means he isn’t as vested in this relationship as I am. He starts kissing behind my ear, knowing it drives me crazy. The chills move fast across my body, but I refuse to have sex with him tonight. I have to guard myself too, and I’m not going to let him use me like Jason did.
He lays me down on my bed and starts to kiss me. “I promise, Jessa, I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. I’m nestled between his arms as he lies on top of me, giving me short kisses along my jaw and chin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “So much that I can’t believe your mine.” His tongue licks down my throat and his hands start roaming up my shirt.
“Glad to see you were able to talk yourself back into her bed,” Dex teases, walking past the door. Grant gets up to shut the door.
“Mind your own business, Dex,” he shouts.
“Shut your fucking door,” he yells back, and Grant laughs, slamming the door shut before coming back to me.
By the time he gets to the bed, I know in my heart that I can’t let this go any longer. I wish I could give him the time he wants, but I can’t continue to put my heart on the line without him doing the same.
“Grant,” I sigh, staring at him with pleading eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m trying, but it terrifies me that I’m just going to get hurt again. That one day you’ll walk away from me and I’ll be crushed.” I sit up, crossing my legs. He sits down on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands.
“I’m terrified of the same thing,” he reveals to me. “My past, Jessa, it’s not something I like to talk about. I’ve failed people, people I loved.” He doesn’t lift up his head and I place my hand on his shoulder, hoping it will encourage him to continue.
“Grant, you can tell me. I love you and nothing will change that,” I say sympathetically.
He remains still and quiet, and I wonder if he’s ever going to trust me enough to share his secrets. The silence in the room starts to make it feel small and confined. He picks his head up and studies my face before placing his palm on my cheek. The puddles of water that have formed in his eyelids are evident, and I suddenly fear that this might be something I won’t be able to handle. Not to mention, it might break the man I love in the process.
“Promise me, Jessa? Promise you won’t leave me when you hear it,” he asks of me quietly, and I nod my head.
“Never,” I promise him, reaching my hand up to meet his. I tangl
e our fingers together and hold them in my lap, scooting next to him.
He takes a deep breath and I notice he’s summoning every ounce of courage he has to divulge this. I squeeze his hand harder and he finally looks at me. His blue eyes find mine and he begins speaking with sadness. “You know my mom died when I was fourteen.” I nod and slowly rub my other hand on top of our joined hands.
“It was a long and painful sickness for her. She was first diagnosed when I was ten. My mom used to wait for me at the bus stop and walk me home after school, asking about my day. A snack would be waiting for me, and I sat and did my homework while she would make dinner. After she got sick, things changed. I started walking home alone, letting myself in the house. I’d grab a snack and head to my room alone, because she was usually in bed, either sick or asleep. A few times I came home to find her on the floor of the bathroom with her head in the toilet. Mrs. Carsen would take her back and forth to chemo, and sometimes Brady would take the bus home with me and his mom would make dinner for my dad and me.” He pauses, taking another deep breath, and my heart breaks for him.
“She beat it though, and my dad took us on vacation to celebrate. Just like that, I had my life back again. She was happy, my dad was happy, we were all happy. Then a year later, it came back, and devastation doesn’t even come close to describing the way we felt. My mom quickly spun into a depression, but after about a month, she became optimistic that she’d beat the fucking disease again. But eventually, she ended up in a hospital bed in our family room anyway.
I remember coming home from school and the nurse would have a snack ready for me and I would eat it by her bed, talking about my day. She always seemed so hopeful that she would get better and everything would go back to normal again. Since she believed it, I did too. About a month before she died, I noticed a shift in her though. She finally gave herself up to the cancer. She wasn’t angry anymore, but seemed content instead. I pulled away, unable to accept the fact that she was ultimately going to die. I would retreat to my room a lot, or go over to Brady’s. Anything not to deal with the inevitable future.” He shakes his head with obvious regret.
Let Me In (The Invisibles #2) Page 13
