by Lexi Ryan
“I guess I didn’t realize how much you’d been drinking. I was pretty wasted, too. Sadly, I can’t even remember most of that night.” He grimaces. “Can you forgive me?”
“I never blamed you.” It’s true. When rumors started circulating the next day, Dad gave me the speech I knew well. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink. I shouldn’t have gone out looking for trouble.
He cocks a brow. “So if you get over your broken heart, you’ll keep me in mind?”
“You’re with Jewel now,” I remind him.
He sighs heavily. “Jewel. Yeah. She’s great, but she’s no Grace Lee. What about you and Chris?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Because he’s your brother?”
If he asked me this yesterday, I would have rolled my eyes. Instead, the question reminds me that in Chris’s mind, that’s the only thing that’s kept us apart. He doesn’t know the half of it. “I promise you that’s not it.”
He’ll be better with Olivia. They can have a normal relationship and a normal life, and she won’t have a crazy past that’ll haunt them both.
The idea leaves me hollow. Stepping away from Chris is emotional suicide, a sacrifice of the girl I want to be for the sake of the life he deserves.
“It’s something,” he says. “There’s something that brought you here instead of going straight to him to tell him your secret.” He skims his knuckles over my bare knee in a touch that might be friendly or might be more. “I don’t think we’re going to have a problem, though. You’ve always been good to me. I’m happy to return the favor.”
Confused, I move my leg away from his touch and press my knees together. “That’s not why I’m here.” If he thinks I came here for sex, that’s my fault, isn’t it? He learned from my patterns.
“Come on, Grace. You don’t have to worry,” he says, his voice low. “I won’t tell Chris. I won’t tell him anything you don’t want me to. About the past or about tonight.” His hand slides up my skirt. I scoot back on the couch, away from his touch, but his big fingers wrap around my thigh and he shifts onto his knees so he’s looming over me, a knee on either side of my hips. “Shh. It’s okay. It’ll be our secret. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. I’m so fucking glad you came over.”
A burst of adrenaline hits my blood and I shove him off me and roll over in one quick motion. He hits the floor.
“Fuck!” He grabs the back of his head. I recognize the anger in his eyes, but I don’t care. It’s not my job to make him happy, and I couldn’t give two shits whether or not he likes me. I’m so far beyond that. “What was that?”
I hop off the couch, look around, and grab my purse. “Jesus. Do you think it’s okay to touch girls whenever you want? Fucking seriously?”
“You came up here looking for it.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Why the fuck else would you be here, Grace? You and I both know what you’re looking for any time you get around me.”
Does he really believe that? Is that what I made him believe? The idea makes me sick to my stomach and feeds this festering wound of guilt and self-loathing. I shouldn’t have come up here. I should have said my piece downstairs and left.
Dad sent me to therapy for a few years after what happened in high school. One of the therapist’s biggest goals was to convince me I always have the right to say no and put a stop to a situation. She made it sound so simple, like social expectations and what people will think of you don’t factor into our lives or choices in any way.
I try to harness that simplicity of taking control. Right here. Right now. Regardless of what I said or did tonight or any night before, I don’t want his hands on me.
I shake my head. “I didn’t want you to touch me, and it’s not okay.” I head for the door.
“Jesus, Grace. Why are you being such a bitch about this? What happened to Easy Gee-Gee?”
I freeze with my hand on the knob. “Easy Gee-Gee was never real. She never existed. You assholes only wanted to think she did.”
“You could show a little gratitude, you know.” He practically spits the words. “I didn’t have to keep your secret. Just like I didn’t have to give time to the stupid stuttering girl next door who followed me around. You’ve never fucking appreciated me. I should tell your perfect boyfriend exactly who you are and the things you’ve done.”
I turn slowly, rage filling me from my toes to my eyeballs. Isaac is tall and broad and works hard to maintain his physique, but as I study him, I realize he’s the smallest man I know. He’s shallow and self-centered, and he’s spent his life manipulating people into doing what he wants. “Tell him whatever you want, Isaac. Maybe he’ll never be able to look me in the eye again, and if so, that’s something I’ll have to live with. God knows I’ve always blamed myself and my own bad choices. I fucked the high school boy next door when I was thirteen; I went to that party at fourteen; I drank too much, and I went into that basement.”
“Don’t forget last summer,” he says, his voice cold. “You were practically dry-humping me in the middle of that party.”
“Maybe that’s the way Chris will see it. Or maybe he’ll see what I’m starting to see. Every time I screwed up, every time I did something that made me feel cheap and dirty, you were the common denominator. You were four years older than me. What kind of seventeen-year-old sleeps with a thirteen-year-old? What kind of eighteen-year-old talks a drunk fourteen-year-old girl into going to her knees for six guys? And what kind of guy fucks a girl so drunk she doesn’t remember it the next day?” I open the door, my body vibrating with anger and grief for the girl I once was. “Maybe I’m a slut, but you’re something worse.”
I slam the door behind me and run to the stairwell so I don’t have to wait for the elevator. When I reach the ground floor, I realize that I walked here while the sun was setting and now it’s dark outside.
I grab my phone and see I have missed texts from Chris and Bailey. I dial Bailey.
“Hey, sister.”
“I’m at Gossamer Inn, the one just off campus. Can you come pick me up?”
“Damn, I’m stuck at work. I’ll call Mia. She’ll be there.” She doesn’t ask questions, just steps up to help. Can she hear the panic in my voice? How did I get so lucky to make such amazing fast friends?
* * *
Chris
When I knock on the door to Olivia’s parents’ small ranch, Sebastian opens it with a scowl.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you when we were together.” My voice is as rough and raw as my emotions. Sandpaper would be softer. “She didn’t want you to know.”
“She’s my sister,” he says in a low whisper.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” I draw in a deep breath. “I need to talk to her.”
His nostrils flare, and his jaw goes tight. “She’s fragile right now.”
I hold up my hands. “Yes, but I think she needs to know that she doesn’t have to do this alone.”
His shoulders sag as he exhales. “You mean that?”
“My dad wasn’t around for me. I won’t do that to a kid. If she’s pregnant and there’s any chance it’s mine, I won’t walk away.”
“What about Grace?”
My stomach cramps, and I can only shake my head. “I don’t know. I’m just trying to take it one step at a time right now. I’m not saying I’m going to marry your sister, but I promise you Olivia won’t have to do this alone.”
Nodding, he steps back and motions me in. “She’s in her room.”
The house is small and modest but meticulously clean. The old hardwood floors look freshly polished. There’s a well-loved old sofa in the living room, and Olivia and Sebastian’s school pictures hang over it.
I follow him to the back hallway, where he knocks on a door.
Olivia pulls it open. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face pale and tired.
Sebastian studies me, and I can tell he’s trying to decide whether he can trust me with her before he leaves us.
Olivia turns back into her room and sin
ks onto the side of her bed, burying her head in her hands.
My chest feels too tight with a tangle of conflicting emotions as I stare at her. The pity for what I know she must be feeling is nearly suffocated by my regrets. We did all the right things and used all the right protection, and yet here we are.
“I took a test,” she says. She releases a puff of air that might be a laugh in a different moment, but in this moment it’s just a sound full of disgust. “Actually, I took four tests. I have a doctor’s appointment next week.” She sets her jaw. “And before you ask, yes, it’s yours.”
There are so many thoughts going through my head that I’m not sure where to start. Why are we so damn unlucky? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Have you told your parents? How did this happen?
She lifts her head and wipes tears from her eyes. “I didn’t want to end up pregnant, but I’m going to have this baby.”
Stepping forward, I pull her into my arms, squeeze my eyes shut, and take a deep breath. Before this moment, it never crossed my mind that she might get rid of the baby, and the possibility is as terrifying as the possibility of becoming a father before I even finish college. “Good.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Grace
Five minutes after I hang up with Bailey, it’s not Mia who pulls up but Mason. He looks at the hotel then to me. “Bailey called me because she knew I could get here faster than Mia. Get in. I’ll take you home.”
“I don’t want to go back to the apartment.” I don’t think I can look at Chris, knowing what Olivia told me tonight. Knowing I need to let go will hurt too much. “Take me to Bailey’s?”
His gaze shifts to the hotel again. There are questions in his eyes, but he doesn’t ask them. “Whatever you want.”
I climb into the car, and he drives me to Bailey’s apartment complex, where he parks, turns off the ignition, and turns to look at me in the semi-darkness.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Are you okay?”
I nod. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I just wanted to get out of there.”
“Were you with Isaac?”
“We were just talking. No big deal.” I know those words are poison. No big deal. They’re the poison we feed ourselves over and over again. We kill ourselves slowly in order to protect ourselves from the truth.
“Do you want me to walk you up?” Mason asks.
I shake my head. “I know where she keeps the spare key. I’m okay from here.” When I open the door, the dome light floods the car. I swing one foot out and hesitate. “Are you going to tell Chris where I was?”
He draws in a sharp breath and swallows. “I won’t lie to him if he asks.”
I nod, staring at the asphalt beneath my feet. “I understand.”
“Wait. Grace?”
I stop but keep my back to him.
“You need to understand how torn up Chris is about you right now. I’ve never . . .”
I look over my shoulder, needing to hear the end of the sentence he cut off.
“You need to start taking his calls, okay? And just be honest about what happened tonight—whatever it was.”
“Nothing happened. We were talking.”
“Have you been drinking?”
Would that excuse me? If I’d bought his lies and excuses and let him touch me? Would alcohol excuse my actions? “No.”
What if I had been drinking? What if I’d drunk for courage before facing Isaac? Would I have let him touch me? Would I have bought into his manipulations?
I’m different now. I’m stronger, and I know Chris played a role in that. But the girl who would have felt she owed Chris something isn’t so far away that I can’t see an alternative ending for this night.
“You know about Olivia, don’t you?”
I swallow hard. “Yeah. She ran into me tonight and told me.”
Mason rubs the back of his neck. “I know it sucks, but it doesn’t change how Chris feels about you. Talk to him. Tell him how you feel about him. I honestly don’t think he knows.”
I laugh. “Look at us. Pot and kettle.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Have you told Bailey how you feel?”
He sighs. “She knows.”
“She knows you don’t just want to be fuck buddies, but I’d bet money she has no idea that you’re in love with her.”
He sets his jaw and turns away from me. Maybe we both miss the darkness. There’s no hiding our feelings in this light.
“It’s not that simple, see?” I say.
He exhales slowly. “Be careful. Text me when you’re locked inside.”
I nod and walk up to Bailey’s apartment, use the key she keeps hidden under the mat to let myself in, and lock the door behind me. When I look at my phone, I have a new text from Chris.
Where are you? I need to talk.
I take a deep breath and type in my reply. I’m at Bailey’s. I’m staying here. I need some space.
* * *
Chris
My room felt too empty without Grace in it last night, and I didn’t sleep at all.
“Has she called?” Mason asks. He sinks onto the couch next to me and nods to the phone in my hands.
“No.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Shit. Do you think this is about Olivia?”
“Maybe,” I mutter. For the last twelve hours, I’ve felt as if I’ve been walking along the crumbled floor of a reality that’ll give way beneath my feet at any moment.
Everything is so surreal I can hardly process it. The bomb Sebastian dropped in the locker room, Olivia’s tears when I held her last night, and then Grace’s text declaring she needed space.
Space? Does that have something to do with Isaac or with Olivia? Logic tells me it’s reasonable for her to back away with Olivia’s pregnancy announcement, but somehow I believed her feelings for me were strong enough to allow her to stand by me through this.
When I got home, all I wanted was to talk to Grace. She’d understand why I’d be so screwed up by the possibility of an unplanned child in any capacity, but especially one with a girl I’m not involved with anymore. She’d say something that would help me feel less trapped. She’d make me laugh.
“Are you sure she wasn’t with someone else?” Mason asks.
Sleep deprivation is getting to my brain, because at first I think he means Grace last night, and I immediately think of her reaction to Isaac. When I realize he’s talking about Olivia, I just shake my head. “She kissed Keegan, but that’s it. She said it’s mine.”
“You’ll figure it out,” he says.
Then why do I feel so trapped and confused? “I know.”
“We need to get to practice.”
I nod. I’ve never struggled to do what I’m supposed to do, but this morning, the thought of following Mason to his car and riding to practice is a struggle. I don’t want to do what I’m supposed to do. I want to find Grace and demand to know what’s going on in her head. I want to pull her into my arms and kiss her so hard I stop feeling like the world is crumbling under my feet.
But I can’t do that until I figure out what to do about Olivia. She’s afraid she’s going to end up a single mom, and she’s freaking out. To be honest, so am I. Jesus, I can’t do to a kid what my dad did to me. I can’t, and I won’t, and if Olivia’s having my kid, I don’t know how Grace will fit into that picture.
By the time Mason and I get to the field, I’m caught up in my thoughts. It’s as if someone’s punched me in the chest and left their fist inside me, and now my heart has to learn how to beat all over again, figure out how to pump around this foreign object.
When Isaac Owens passes us on his way to observe with the rest of Dad’s team on the bleachers, I grab his arm to stop him. Frustration has me wrapped in its fist, rendering me so damn powerless. I tell myself that Grace’s silence is his fault, that her not coming home when I needed her most has something to do with hi
m. Everything changed when he showed up, and I just want to know what their history is.
“How do you know Grace?” I ask.
He chuckles. “I told her you didn’t remember her because you didn’t want to.” He shrugs. “But she asked me not to tell you, so my lips are sealed.”
“She asked you not to tell me what?” Were they an item? Why wouldn’t she want me to know that?
“It’s not like I’m real proud of that night anyway.”
That night? I scan my memory for a night Isaac might be ashamed of. A memory floats to the surface, and my stomach lurches with it. I stumble backward, and Mason steadies me.
I shake my head.
It was a party at Isaac’s house. We were all hanging out back around the bonfire, and autumn was coming in full force. I remember the girls complaining about being cold and Isaac telling them they couldn’t go inside because his mom had said the party had to stay out back. Then it seemed like a bunch of the guys disappeared all at once.
Isaac’s mom had come home early from her shift at the hospital. She was dead on her feet and wanted to talk to him. I told her to stay put in the living room, and I’d get him for her.
I went into the basement to find him, but instead found a circle of guys—all upperclassmen, maybe six or seven of them including Isaac, all with their pants unzipped and their dicks out—and one red-haired girl on her knees in the center of the circle. Her mouth was on Isaac and the others were cheering her on quietly, some laughing nervously while they waited their turn.
“What the fuck do you guys think you’re doing?” I hadn’t even known when I said the words that it was a freshman they’d talked into their little game. It was bad enough that they’d pass any girl around like that, but when I found out she was some kid, a freshman who lived next door, it made me sick. I never regretted what I did that night, never regretted breaking up what Isaac had started in the basement, or having his mom call the girl’s dad.
“You do remember,” Isaac says, watching my face. He sighs. “For the record, I didn’t tell you.”
