by Lexi Ryan
Mason’s still holding on to my arm. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head. I’m not okay. I know it’s irrational, since it happened five years ago, but I’m going to crawl out of my skin if I have to give her any space at all. She’s my Grace, and that girl in the basement was so vulnerable and lost. I don’t know how I didn’t make the connection before, but in this moment, with that memory searing itself onto my brain, I just want to wrap her in my arms and protect her from the whole damn world.
I’m already reaching for my phone. “I have to get out of here.”
* * *
I call Bailey and Mia, but neither has seen Grace. I check the drama department and the library, but she’s not at either place. I decide to check Bailey’s and find her on the little playground outside the apartment complex. She’s swinging, her gaze fixed on the grass sliding beneath her feet.
“Grace?”
She looks up and sighs when she sees me, as if she knew I’d come to find her but she wasn’t ready.
“That night. In the basement.” I have to get it out there, have to speak her secret so it can’t wrap her in chains anymore.
She flinches. “I should have told you. I should have told you who I was.”
“Does it change anything?” There’s a fist in my gut that says it does. Her past matters more than I want it to, but I’m not willing to let it change us. We can figure this out. If we can figure out the pregnancy, her past is a speed bump in comparison.
“It changes everything.” She bites her lip and grips the chains tighter in her hands. A cardinal lands on the beam over her head, and she follows it with her eyes as it flies away. “For a couple of weeks we were just Chris and Grace.” She swallows.
“I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”
“I’m not,” she says. The color is gone from her cheeks. Even her lips are pale, and everything about her, from her voice to her slumped posture, speaks of complete exhaustion. “I can’t even make myself regret not telling you, because the reward for my omission was those weeks. I liked not being Gee-Gee to you. I liked our days where you were just Chris, not the guy who stopped everything that night, not the sweet guy who swooped in right when I needed a hero the most.”
“The way I feel about you hasn’t changed.” It almost feels like a lie, but I won’t let it be. Her past doesn’t matter. I won’t let it get in my head, and I won’t let it get between us.
“You’re wrong.” She tucks her chin to her chest, hiding her face from me. “You don’t want to believe it changes anything because you’re good and kind. But it does. Now the truth is out there.”
“What can I do to make this better?” Desperation draws my words tight, makes them snap the air like flames instead of wrapping around her like the comfort she needs.
“Did you ever buy a lottery ticket?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
She releases a dry laugh, but she doesn’t smile while making the sound, and it’s empty and hollow. “Of course you wouldn’t gamble.”
I wince. That hits too close to home after what the sports analysts had to say about my play, and I wouldn’t expect Grace to hit so low.
She’s focused on the ground, seemingly unaware she’s just landed a blow to my gut. “I have a few times. You know, when the Powerball gets really high.” She shrugs. “It’s fun. There’s this period of time when I have the ticket but don’t know the winning numbers yet, and I can pretend I’m going to win. I can pretend I’ll get the carefree life of the independently wealthy, that I’ll always have time to write and can make my dreams come true with my checkbook. I can buy the theater and pay for the actors. In those moments, the odds don’t matter. I can tell myself I didn’t just throw away ten dollars on stupid lottery tickets, because until I know otherwise, there’s still a chance.”
“I can understand that.”
She doesn’t look at me. It’s almost as if she’s talking to herself. “The second I look at the numbers and compare them to mine, it’s over. The dream is gone. Snatched away. And I can’t go back. But that’s why I buy the tickets—for those minutes between when I buy them and when I find out I didn’t win. Sometimes I don’t look at the numbers for days, weeks, even. Because once you look, it’s over.”
Over. I hate hearing that word in the context of us. And more than that, I hate that I understand what she means. “It’s not the same thing.”
“We can’t go back. We can’t go back to who we were before you knew.”
“We’re the same people we were yesterday.”
A tear slides down her cheek, and she shakes her head. “No. Because now I’m the girl who got drunk and dropped down on her knees for six guys.”
The words make my chest ache. She’s confirming what I already knew, but my brain wants to go to war with the information, find any way it can to prove it’s not true. My Grace wouldn’t do that. She’s not that kind of girl. And yet she’s never pretended to be any other kind, has she?
I clench my fists as I try to chase the thought from my mind.
“And now you’re the guy who’d never touch her. We can’t go back.”
“Why do you say I’d never touch you?”
“That’s what you said that night.” She lifts her head, but she won’t meet my eyes. “You were my hero. I was drunk and I’d never fit in, and I just wanted all these popular, cool guys to like me. First, when they took me down there, I felt special. They were flirting with me, giving me all sorts of attention I’d never gotten before. I didn’t realize what they had planned, and then everything happened so fast, and I knew I couldn’t get out of it without them all laughing at me. I was on my knees and terrified, but more terrified that if I ran away, they’d go back to making fun of me, go back to calling me Juh-Juh-Gee-Gee. And then there you were, and I didn’t have to do it. I don’t think I ever could have come back from that night, but I didn’t have to. You made it stop.”
I want to reach for her and pull her into my arms, but I know she wouldn’t let me. The most important thing I can do right now is listen. So I swallow hard, trying, like I have all day, to stomach the idea of the woman I love being cornered and manipulated into that horrible position, trying to bite back the rage I feel toward those idiots and the protectiveness I feel for the girl she’ll never be again.
“I always liked you.” She releases the swing’s chains and wraps her arms around herself. “I had such a crush on you, and then that night you saved me.”
How self-centered was I that I never noticed her? I was so caught up in my world, and my only memory of that redhead at the party is what happened at the party itself and people talking about “Easy Gee-Gee” after. She’d had a crush on me and I hadn’t even known who she was. And this is my punishment for being so blind. “I wish I could have stopped them from taking you down there at all. If you’d have spent the night hanging out with me, it wouldn’t have happened.” And we wouldn’t be going through this now. I wouldn’t be standing here so close to her and unable to shake this feeling that she’s out of my reach.
“You wouldn’t have wanted me with you.”
“I didn’t know you. I wish—”
She tilts her head and finally meets my gaze. The tears in her eyes are a knife ripping through my gut. “Do you remember what you said about me? After?”
I scan my memory over and over, but the night’s a bit of a blur. I remember what I saw in the basement, and I remember the guys being pissed at me for weeks after, telling me I was jealous they hadn’t included me, or that I must be a faggot. I don’t remember anything about Grace. “I’m sorry. I don’t.”
She shakes her head. “I was in the dining room, waiting for my dad to pick me up, and you were in the living room with Isaac. He asked you if you stopped them so you could have me for yourself.”
The memory slams into me. It’s like having a mirror shoved in front of me that shows me only the worst of myself, and I squeeze my eyes shut. My stomach churns. It wasn’t the first time I�
�d been asked, or the last. “Grace—”
“You said, ‘As if I would put my dick near that.’” She speaks the words without emotion, as if she’s reciting a grocery list.
The dull knife in my gut yanks up hard and fast and saws into my heart. “I was an idiot kid. I was a fucking immature asshole who was thinking of himself, trying to do some damage control because they hated me for what I did. All those guys were pissed at me. Anything I said had everything to do with me, and nothing to do with you. I’m sure I didn’t even mean it.”
“But didn’t you? I wasn’t the kind of girl you dated. You weren’t interested in girls who’d suck six dicks in one night just so the boys would like her.” A tear rolls down her cheek. “In that moment, I wished you hadn’t come down there. I thought that maybe enduring the horror of what they’d planned for me might be less painful than knowing how you felt about me.”
“Don’t say that. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for what I said.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “I didn’t want you to find out. I asked Isaac not to tell you because I knew once you found out, you’d feel like you couldn’t let me go. You’re so honorable, and right now that honor shouldn’t be wasted on me.”
I shake my head, scrambling for footing. “It’s not a waste. Come home. Don’t let that night destroy what we have.”
“And if Olivia’s pregnant, what do we have?”
My stomach knots because I don’t have an answer. I still haven’t figured out anything other than that I want Grace by my side through whatever’s next.
“Bailey said I can stay with her for a while.”
“Is that what you want?”
She dries her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Yeah. I think that’s best.”
“I don’t understand.” My words are a series of broken syllables strung together by sheer will. I’m desperate to put this back together, but mostly I just want to return to how we were yesterday morning, with her in my arms and the past far from our minds. “Maybe I didn’t remember that night, but you did. You knew who I was. How does this change anything?”
“Because now you know, too.” She shrugs. “And you’re a nice guy, Chris. You’re far too nice of a guy to learn the truth about the girl you’ve been screwing around with and allow yourself to back away. I’m not going to let you trap yourself in this”—she waves a hand between our bodies—“whatever this is when you have something so much bigger happening.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chris
With the memory of the night in Isaac’s basement burning holes in my gut faster than battery acid, and Grace not returning my phone calls, I’m in no shape to face anyone tonight, so I’m fucking lucky our mandatory team meeting was canceled. I’m already in deep enough shit for leaving practice this morning.
When Mason gets home, I’m on the couch with a beer, wishing I were the type of guy who could drink his problems away. Since I’m not, I’ve only made it through a quarter of the bottle, and might not bother finishing it.
Since he gave me a lift to practice, I didn’t have my car with me, and he refused to give me his keys so I could track down Grace this morning until I told him what was wrong, so I told him about the night in the basement, about the girl I hadn’t thought about in years. I told him about the drunk high school freshman girl, and the rowdy upperclassmen. I told him so he’d give me his damn keys, but I also told him because I know I can trust Mason with anything, and it was tearing me apart inside.
Now he gives me a long, hard look. I can’t tell what he’s thinking and don’t have the emotional fortitude to care. I stay silent.
He drops into a chair and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. “Listen. I get that it’s weird. But does it really change who she is? Look at me. I’m in love with a stripper. I fucking hate that she shows her body to anyone who pays the cover to walk into that club, but it doesn’t change who she is. It doesn’t change the way I feel about her. Grace just made a mistake when she was a kid.” He sighs and shakes his head. “Okay, and maybe another, if what Isaac said is true and she really stooped low enough to sleep with that douchebag last summer.”
I flinch. “He told you that?”
“Yeah.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “But it shouldn’t change how you feel about her.”
I blink at him. For being one of my best goddamn friends, I’d think he’d know me better than that. “You think I’m sitting here because I feel differently about her tonight than I did when I woke up this morning?”
Mason lifts his palms. “I don’t know. You were kind of freaking out.”
“Mase, I’m in love with her. And if I’m freaking out right now it’s because she’s not returning my texts or my calls. It’s because when she saw Isaac here, she was so afraid I’d remember that she wouldn’t look me in the eye. It’s because I never blamed that girl for what happened that night, and I can’t fucking stomach the idea that they used her like that. If I’m freaking out it’s because I’m trying not to find Isaac, finish what I started, then fly back to Texas and beat the shit out of the other motherfuckers who took her to that basement.” I draw in a long, ragged breath. I feel like I’m being sawed in half. “I’m freaking out because Olivia’s pregnant and I should be glad that Grace is walking away, and instead I’m desperate to figure out how to get her back.”
“Jesus. You need to go out. I’m depressed just walking into the same room as you.” When I shake my head, Mason holds up a hand. “I’m serious. You had one hell of a week, and I get that this is all really fucking heavy, but I’m not going to let you sit here and stew. Everyone’s getting together at Arrow’s tonight, so you can’t just sit around here licking your wounds. It’ll be good for you to be around your friends.”
* * *
Grace
Bailey sits in the chair beside me and clears her throat. “Chris is here.”
And that’s exactly why I didn’t want to come tonight. Where there’s one Blackhawk boy, there are more, and I can’t look Chris in the eye and pretend I don’t want to be with him. I can’t pretend the idea of him having a baby with someone else doesn’t break my heart, even if I know I did the right thing.
She squeezes my wrist. “Keegan’s acting nuts since the news came out.”
“Because he’s in love with her,” I say, my throat thick. “It sucks to be the odd man out when the person you love is about to have a baby.”
She hums. “Maybe. Or maybe he thinks it could be his.”
Something too much like hope surges in my chest. “She said she never slept with Keegan.”
“That’s what she said.” She grabs my hand and squeezes. “Just don’t give up on Chris yet, okay?”
I love my friend, but I wish she wouldn’t try to give me hope. What I need now is someone who can help me cut it off with Chris. “Maybe this was for the best.” God, the words break my heart, but it’s what I keep telling myself. “I’m going back to New York next month, and breaking it off now means nobody gets hurt.”
Bailey releases my hand and sighs heavily. “Does it?”
I can’t help it—I follow her gaze across the pool, even knowing what I’ll see. My chest goes tight at the sight of him. I can see the hurt all over his face. He can’t hide his feelings for shit.
He tips a bottle to his lips and drains it, and when he brings it down, his eyes lock with mine. There’s an achy pull in my chest where my heart’s been cracked open. He tosses his beer bottle into a recycling can and stalks toward me, and when he stands by my chair, his legs wide, his hands tucked into his pockets, his eyes searching my face, I want to throw myself at him.
“We should talk,” he says.
I swallow. “What else is there to say?”
He sets his jaw and looks away for a breath, then takes my hand and pulls me out of the chair. “Come on.”
“Chris—”
“Please.” There’s too much pain in his eyes for me to deny him, so I follow him through the house
and he leads me into the back hallway, only letting go of my hand to press me against the wall.
His head is tipped forward, his hands on either side of my head, his mouth close to mine. “Why?” he asks.
I’m playing with fire by letting him this close to me, but I don’t have the strength to push him away. He’s warm and smells good, and I just want him to kiss me. “Why what?”
“Why are you running from me? From this?” I watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, and then one of his hands comes off the wall and strokes my jaw.
I lean into his touch, loving the heat of his hand and the shivers he sends through me. “I’m not running. I’m stepping back.”
“Then why does it feel like you’re so far away I can’t reach you?” He slides a hand into my hair and twists it, but he might as well have taken my heart in his fist. “I know we’re complicated and maybe just got more so, but I’m all in, Grace. I had no idea how much I needed you until you walked into my life.”
“Don’t,” I whisper. Can’t he understand how hard this is? Can’t he see that hope is only going to hurt me more in the end? “Don’t make this harder.”
“I’ll give you whatever you need.” He steps closer. “Ask me for space if I’m not what you want, ask for it if I don’t make you happy or if I’m hurting you, but don’t ask because you’re afraid we can’t figure this out. I’m not walking away from you.”
My throat is thick, and my heart is raw. The last two days on top of our intense weekend together—it’s all just too much. “I can’t, Chris.” He may deserve better than Olivia, but he definitely deserves better than me. “You’re off the hook. I’m not who you thought I was.”
“No.” He tugs lightly on my hair, tilting my face up to his. “You’re more. I want to know all of you, and I’ve only just gotten started.”
I close my eyes. “Let me go.”
I’m not strong enough to look into those blue eyes and tell him to walk away from me. So I close my eyes and keep them squeezed shut until I feel him release my hair, until the air cools as he steps away, until I hear the click of the back doors opening and closing.
