desolate (Grace Trilogy, Book One)

by Autumn Grey

  We’ve been driving for a while when I see the arcade up ahead. Excitement courses through me. I haven’t been there in a long time. It’s time to rekindle some good memories. My mom and dad used to take me to the arcade back in Boston every Saturday afternoon.

  “Ready to have some fun?” I point at the green building with different colored lights flashing.

  “I’ve never been to an arcade before,” she says, sounding unsure.

  “There’s a first time for everything, Grace Miller.” I grin at her.

  After finding a parking spot, I jump out of the truck and jog to the passenger door to open it for Grace. She hops down and swivels around to face me, moving closer.

  “Have I thanked you for being my friend yet?”

  “Y-you don’t need to do that.”

  She steps closer until our toes touch, then slips her arms around my waist. My entire body shudders as air rushes out of my mouth. And then, she just hugs me, and my arms move of their own accord because this is Grace. When it comes to this girl, I can’t resist her, no matter how hard I try. But this time, I’ve mastered control. I won’t let my mind wander like before.

  The world falls away, and for these few seconds or minutes or hours, it’s just us. Then Debra’s words flash through my memory, making me lose my breath for an entirely different reason. I’m about to take a step back when Grace snatches the cap off my head and plops it on her own, stands on her tiptoes and presses a quick kiss to my lips. She spins around and skips away, leaving me frozen on the spot, my stupid rebellious body a riot of nerves and hormones.

  “You coming or what?” she asks over her shoulder, and I find myself grinning wide, despite the chaos her kiss left inside my head.

  My Grace is back, and I couldn’t be happier.

  Dear God, help me. Please give me the strength to resist her.

  I sigh, trailing after her while plowing my fingers into my hair and muttering a prayer under my breath.

  After our trip to the arcade, Grace and I hung out at her place for an hour. We were just chatting when she suddenly opened up to me, telling me she was worried her children would end up being like the man who fathered her.

  Pain stabbed in my chest just thinking about her future without me, and my own panic threatened to swallow me alive. I pushed that image out of my mind and told her I couldn’t imagine her children being anything other than honest and loving and kind, just like her and Debra. And as we continued chatting, I saw a fierce determination settle in her features, and I knew any child of hers would be lucky to call her their mother. She’d do anything for the people she loves.

  On Sunday after evening Mass, I put away the alb, then head to Luke’s office. His back is to me when I enter. He seems distracted as he stares at something out the window.

  I sit down in my usual chair across the desk and stretch my legs in front of me. “You okay?”

  He looks over his shoulder at me, and an uneasiness creeps into my chest at the concern darkening his features. Walking away from the window, he settles in his chair and watches me carefully for several seconds. Instead of answering my question, he asks, “You ready?”

  I frown. “Ready? Ready for what?”

  He drags his fingers through his brown hair, and I notice he has more silver now than he did a few months ago. “You haven’t withdrawn your application to attend the seminary, so I assume you’ve made up your mind?”

  I swallow hard and nod. “Yes.” Going away to the seminary, putting some distance between Grace and me, is what I need to completely clear my head.

  His eyebrows rise slightly. He covers his mouth with one hand, looking thoughtful. “So, Grace?”

  Not this again. “What about her?”

  Both of Luke’s brows shoot up, and something in his eyes shifts. Disbelief, maybe? I’m about to call him out on it when he says, “You two at the confessional a few weeks ago . . .?”

  I snap my mouth shut as heat burns my cheeks and ears. Shit. How does he know I was in there with Grace? I got out before he entered the booth. And why did he wait so long to ask me? Maybe he was waiting for me to tell him?

  My brain scrambles for an excuse, any excuse, but it’s pointless. My fingers dig through my hair, the need to hide from his knowing eyes overwhelming. Why did I leave my cap in the truck?

  “Um, about that, I’m really sorry—”

  He lifts his hand and stops me, his expression stern. I’ve never seen him like this before. It’s terrifying. “I’ll ask you again, son. Think carefully. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  My eyes fall shut as the full weight of the decision I’ve been avoiding settles heavily on my shoulders. What I feel for Grace and my desire to serve God in the only way I know and ever wanted clash together. I know who I am when I’m with Grace, but without God, without finding out if He’s truly calling me to serve him, I don’t know who I am.

  “I’ve thought about it, reflected and prayed, Luke. I’m ready,” I declare confidently, hoping he doesn’t hear the lies weaved in those words.

  “All right,” he says, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “I’ll have the final papers for tuition signed and ready. Orientation is scheduled for next week, yeah?”

  I nod. “I’ll spend the weekend there. I plan to visit Mom and Dad and also check on the house, just to make sure everything’s running well.”

  I was never able to bring myself to sell it or even rent it out. It’s the place where I grew up for the first ten years of my life, and there are so many memories in that house. Sometimes, when I miss my parents, I like to drive to Boston and visit with them at the cemetery, then spend a few days in the house and watch videos of the three of us. Other than the church, that place is my haven.

  After leaving Luke’s office a few minutes later, I head to my truck in the parking lot, trying to breathe through the panic tightening its hold around my throat. I’m meeting Ivan and MJ at the apartment, just to hang out and have fun. I whisper a prayer under my breath, asking God to ease the ache in my heart. That my heart won’t pine for her like it did before, like she’s the missing link that completes me.

  Sunday after Mass, I head home and slip on my favorite faded running shorts and T-shirt, then join Ivan at the Xbox. We’ve been playing for a half an hour when a knock on the door has me pausing the game. Ivan groans, running his fingers through his hair. “I was this close to beating you, man.”

  “Er. Dream on, dude. Are we expecting someone?” I ask, cutting a glance to MJ. She grins and winks at me, while shoving her current project inside a plastic bag. She’s taken up crocheting as a new hobby, courtesy of her grandmother.

  “Yeah. Grace. I thought she could use a little cheering up after, you know . . .” she explains, scrambling off the couch and skipping to the door. “Put away the toys, boys.”

  After MJ returned from visiting her parents, she and Grace talked about what happened while she was away.

  I drop my controller on the table and stand just as I hear the front door open. I’m really glad they’ve gotten close. Grace needs people like MJ. People who’ll readily offer her genuine friendship. At least she’ll have someone else she can talk to when I’m gone.

  Within seconds, MJ and Grace are walking into the room, arms around each other, Grace with a plastic bag in her free hand.

  I’m about to move toward her, but end up freezing on the spot as I take her in. My dick went from sleeping to “Hey there, gorgeous. Wanna play?”

  She changed from the beige dress and heels she was wearing during Mass. Now she’s wearing white shorts, a hot pink T-shirt, and low-heeled white shoes. A large, striped bow tie decorates the front. Her dark curls fall beautifully down her shoulders, and dear Lord, her lips are painted in a red lipstick that outlines her full lips perfectly. Every single thought I’ve ever had about her—the thoughts I’d safely locked away inside that little box in my head marked ‘Gracie’—comes slamming back with a vengeance. Every single kiss we’ve ever shared flashes inside
my head. I can’t stop staring at her lips, or the way those shorts hug her—God help me.

  Stop stop stop. Don’t backslide now, I reprimand myself. You’re better than this. Remember what you told Debra at the diner about never wanting to hurt Grace in any way.

  She trusts me. She thinks I’m a good man.

  I want to deserve her trust. I want to prove to God, to myself, and to Debra that I’m the person they believe me to be.

  I shove the thoughts about Grace out of my head.

  “Hey,” I greet, watching as she walks over. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

  “Thought I’d drop by with this.” She lifts the plastic bag, smiling shyly, and that little gap between her teeth makes my knees weak. MJ grabs the bag from her, and she flashes me an impish grin as she heads to the kitchen.

  Grace throws her arms around me in a hug. I can’t help it; I pull her to me. This close, she smells so good, like fresh waffles and Sunday morning, the memory of sitting between my mom and dad as we ate brunch after church.

  I look where MJ is pulling takeout boxes from the bags, then glance down at Grace, grinning wide. It’s like Christmas and my birthday all rolled into one. “You brought waffles?”

  “Waffles Sunday. I thought we could eat brunch together because you’re leaving. I mean, I should have called . . .” She twists her fingers nervously.

  “Shush, Gracie. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean you can’t stop by whenever you want. We were friends before, before things got weird, remember?”

  She nods, hiking on the tip of her toes and kissing my cheek. “We’ll always be friends, no matter what. Always, Sol.” Then she walks away and tosses her keys and purse on the coffee table and heads for the counter. Her scent lingers, teasing me, reminding me what I’ll be leaving behind.

  I remind myself she’s better off being with someone who’s clear about what they really want, not doing things half-assed. Sometimes loving someone means letting them go, no matter how much it hurts, because you know you are not good for them.

  With that decision in mind, I join my three friends in the kitchen, making sure to keep a healthy distance between Grace and me by staying on the other side of the counter.

  We end up taking the food with us in the living room where MJ suggests we watch a movie. After we all agree—or rather MJ and Grace—to watch 10 Things I Hate About You, MJ and Ivan end up on the loveseat. Grace grabs a pillow from the couch before her friend can protest and tosses it on the floor. She plops down cross-legged and digs into her waffles and ice cream with vigor. It’s a treat to watch her eat.

  Finally, I settle for the ugly green plastic chair Ivan bought from a flea market downtown last spring and take a bite of my food. The movie starts, and from the corner of my eye, I see Grace kick off her shoes and wiggle her toes. I can’t stop staring at her toes. They look adorable. I’d totally kiss them and—

  Oh my God.

  Kiss her toes? What on earth is wrong with me?

  Why the heck am I thinking about her toes?

  I sigh, scooping another bite into my mouth, and force my gaze to the screen just as one of the female actors—I’m not good with names—rips a poster from the wall. On my right, Ivan and MJ are feeding each other waffles and whispering to each other. If they start calling each other kitten or any other name, I’m out of here.

  At some point, I find Grace watching me with heat in her eyes, but she bites the corner of her mouth and quickly looks away when our gazes meet. Then she sets her plate on the table and stands. Grabbing her pillow, she walks toward me. Then she’s arranging it at my feet and tugging my hand, urging me to join her.

  I start to shake my head, letting her know it’s not a good idea, but she mouths, “Please. Please,” and whispers, “Come sit with me.”

  And I do because I still haven’t learned how to say no to her. I mean, it’s not like she’s asking me to touch her boob or something.

  Seconds later, I carefully wrap my arm around her shoulder. She sighs, burrowing deeper into my chest. I haven’t held her like this since the time she left my apartment after the revelation. I’m not sure if she wants me to, if she’s comfortable with me touching her. It’s just, I don’t want to overstep.

  I squeeze her shoulder to get her attention. When her gaze meets mine, I ask, “Is this weird, you know, after what your mom . . .”

  She quickly shakes her head. “No. I was worried it would be weird for you.”

  “I-I missed my best friend,” I finally admit, kissing her hair. “Cute toes, by the way. Pink looks good on you.”

  She giggles. “Now who has a foot fetish?”

  “Should we leave you two alone or something?” Ivan asks, setting their plates on the table and standing up while pulling MJ to her feet. He drags her toward his room, tossing me a wink from over his shoulder.

  Chuckling, I roll my eyes at his persistence, like a dog with a bone. He still doesn’t get it.

  Settling in my arms and letting out a sigh, the tension in Grace’s body melts away slowly. “Are you going to miss me?” she asks.

  “Of course, I will.”

  She’s quiet for a few seconds. She lifts her hand and runs her fingers through my hair. She opens her mouth to say something, then stops, a frown on her face.

  “What is it?” I ask her.

  “I can’t stop thinking about you. Us,” she says in a low voice, eyes on the floor as though admitting it makes her weak. Or maybe she’s ashamed?

  She bites her bottom lip and inhales deeply. “I’ve been thinking. Um, I know we almost did it in your truck . . . and I haven’t stopped thinking about it. Do you think we could, I mean, do you want to. . .” She clears her throat and coughs twice, her hands wandering up my chest in cautious light strokes, then down my abs. They stop on my thigh, causing every nerve in my body to stir eagerly. I understand her meaning even without her saying it out loud.

  My heart races in my chest, my pulse thudding in my ears. I drop my arms and jump to my feet. “No, Gracie.”

  She nods, looking resigned, and mutters, “Okay.”

  “What I mean is—”

  “Forget it, okay? I just thought . . . Sorry I asked. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know you said—”

  I raise a hand in the air, cutting her off, not in the mood to simply forget it. “Why did you offer it if you’re going to take it back?”

  Why am I pissed off anyway?

  She sits up on her knees, her eyes dark with irritation. “I’m sorry, okay? Jeez. What’s gotten into you?”

  I stare at the TV screen, wondering where this conversation went wrong. Sure, Grace is spontaneous. And sometimes, she says whatever is running inside her head. I should be used to it by now. But sex?

  “So you’d give up your virginity just like that?” I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. God, I’m an asshole. When did I become this guy?

  She leaps to her feet and props her hands on her hips. “You think I haven’t thought this through? You think I’d just do away with it like I’m scratching an itch?” She inhales deeply, her nostrils flaring. “You think, after all this time, after refusing to give it up to Gavin and whoever else thought I was easy, asking you if you want to have sex is no big deal? As if it meant nothing?”

  Okay, so I didn’t think this through before accusing her.

  Holy shit. She’s so pissed.

  She whirls around all of a sudden, storming to the spot where she left her shoes. After slipping them on, she grabs her keys and purse from the coffee table and twists around to glower at me. I brace myself for the torrent of words I’m sure she’s ready to throw at me, given that fierce look on her face.

  Instead, she shakes her head and walks out of the apartment. The sound of the door slamming reverberates inside the small space, and the ferocity of her anger still crackles in the air.

  I take a step forward, ready to follow her, but instead, I sit my ass back on the couch. I drop my head in my hands, confused by my own
reaction.

  I open my phone to send her a text, but every time I go to type, words fail me. Eventually, I settle for a piss-poor I’m sorry.

  She doesn’t reply.

  I don’t blame her. When I first thought out this little plan about becoming Grace’s friend, I guess I underestimated how complicated everything would be later.

  I yank the cap from my head and throw it on the couch, then bury my face into my hands. What the hell am I going to do? Regret churns inside my stomach as sweat beads my forehead.

  We can’t part like this. I need to talk to her.

  God, what a mess.

  I dial her number and press the phone to my ear. The call goes to voicemail after five rings. I try again, and the same thing happens. On the third try, I wait until I hear the beep, then say, “Grace, I’m so sorry. I should have explained myself better instead of biting your head off.” Inhaling deeply, I forge ahead. “I meant to say that doing it is not a good idea. I have a feeling if we do it, I won’t be able to get you out of my system. And I need to see this through. I can’t do that to us, Grace. Please call me when you get this, okay? It’s okay to be angry with me, but please, please don’t shut me out.”

  I disconnect the call and storm to my room. After changing into a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt, I grab my cell and headphones and head out for a run.

  I’m sorry.

  Guilt knots in my belly as I stare at those two words.

  It’s been four days since I stormed out of Sol and Ivan’s apartment. The thing is, I can’t stop thinking about him. And I can’t stop the ever-present weight on my chest, pressing and pressing until I feel like I’m suffocating. I drop my head in my hands as another wave of guilt washes over me, causing my hands to tremble.

  God, I feel so stupid. It wasn’t fair to ask him to have sex with me. I realized that the second the words left my mouth. But I couldn’t go back and apologize. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t want him to hate me. When I’m around him, it’s like my brain short-circuits.