Beneath His Darkness (Healing Hearts #3)

by Renee Dyer

  The man I know is kind and thoughtful. He always puts me first. He’s never been rough with me. Well, except for that one kiss, and man, I wish he would do that again.

  Should I wish that?

  What do I really know about him? What do I know about Tucker?

  Since he told me this about Grant, I started doing research on both of them. I took a few days off from work, saying I had the flu. Grant had soup delivered from Joe’s every day I didn’t go to work, which made me feel like a complete bitch. Here I am, trying to find out anything I can on him, and he’s sending me soup because he thinks I’m sick. He called me several times a day, too. I didn’t answer once, but I texted him telling him I wasn’t up for talking.

  I learned that Tucker and Grant were both from Kansas. In fact, they grew up a couple towns over from each other. That couldn’t be a coincidence. When I called Tucker to ask if he knew Grant growing up, he said no. Actually, he seemed surprised by the information. I couldn’t believe Eddie never mentioned it to him. I know Eddie is tightlipped about his employees, but I would have thought he would have said something to his best friend about another cast-mate growing up a couple towns over from him. Maybe he legally couldn’t…I don’t know. Something feels very wrong about this whole situation.

  There’s a connection here and I plan to find out what it is—whether I have to keep digging or figure out how to get Grant to trust me enough to tell me the truth.

  I haven’t mentioned anything to Grant yet, but that’s mainly because I don’t know how to approach the conversation. How do you ask someone why they hate another person? He told me why he went after Victoria, but now I believe that was only part of the story.

  Tucker has me wondering what I really know about him, too. How could he be so clueless about Grant? If a person I work with set out to sleep with my significant other and then continued to show such open dislike for me, I would go through hell and high water to find out why. At the very least, I would find out every bit of information I could about that person.

  Tucker warns me away from Grant, but is so lackadaisical when it comes to himself. It makes me wonder if some of what Grant has said is true. Does Tucker really think he’s better than everyone around him? Does he view himself as untouchable?

  How does he not see there are messed up people out there that could seriously screw up his life, or worse, hurt him? My hands start to shake as I realize Grant could be one of those messed up people. I don’t want to think that way, but why would he send paparazzi to stalk Tucker?

  My heart is screaming at me to remember the man who has been by my side from the moment I arrived here, the man who brought me into a restaurant knowing there was a chance he’d be verbally attacked, and the man who pushed me away because he was afraid he wasn’t good enough for me. He’s not a cruel person. I place my head against the window, allowing the cold to seep into my skin while trying to calm my frayed nerves.

  The cab stops in front of Petey’s. I pay the fair and reach for the handle. I’m not in the mood for this tonight, but I promised Eddie I would be here. He knows what’s going on with me because I was honest with him. His advice was to follow my heart. That’s the problem. My heart loves both of those men—in two very different ways—but it loves them, nonetheless.

  I step from the cab, careful not to lose my footing in the accumulating snow. I’ve always loved this time of year back home, especially when we got an early snowfall. It makes it feel like Christmas. I make sure my feet are steady on the pavement before I start to take a step toward the restaurant. I almost slip on the slick surface, faltering mid-step.

  Standing against the building, in a grey wool jacket with a black and cream plaid scarf around his neck, is Grant. Snow has started sticking to his hair and shoulders, but he doesn’t seem fazed by that. As he starts to approach me, a smile stretches across his gorgeous face and I instantly forget all the bad thoughts I had about him.

  Thump!

  What the hell? Did he just? Oh hell no, he didn’t!

  I laugh and grab at some snow, quickly rolling it into a ball and throw it back at him, not caring for one second that we’re on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them he started it. It will be the truth. That little shit threw a snowball at me.

  Our laughter rings through the night as we continue to create and throw snowball after snowball at each other. People walking by laugh with us, but no one joins in. They probably think we’re crazy.

  I hide behind signs. Grant runs behind cars. We both slip a few times, but I can’t remember when I’ve had more fun. My stomach starts to hurt from my non-stop giggling and tears have frozen to my face, but I don’t care.

  “It’s white wash time,” Grant yells out.

  “Eek! Don’t you dare, Grant Andrews!” I yell back, but I’m still laughing so I know he doesn’t take me seriously. He starts chasing me as I weave in and out of the parked cars and signs. A few people we work with are walking into Petey’s and they chuckle as we run around them. I think I’ve gotten the best of him when he slips. I turn to stick my tongue out at him just as he grabs me around the waist.

  How the hell did he stay on his feet?

  “Don’t you shove snow in my face,” I try to warn, but my smile doesn’t falter. It can’t.

  “You really don’t want this, buttercup?” he asks, holding up a handful of snow.

  I shake my head no, but I see the glint in his eye that tells me he so wants to smear me.

  “Tell me I’m the snowball champion then.”

  “What?!” I huff. “Never!”

  “Wrong answer, buttercup.” His hand comes down toward my face and with his other arm holding me around the waist, I have nowhere to go. Not once did I think to block his motion with my hands because they were holding onto his arms.

  His warm laughter rolls through the night and mine joins the sound. He gently starts wiping snow off my face with one hand while he keeps me held in his other arm. I watch his face intently, seeing how he takes great care in cleaning me up. How could I ever think he’s messed up? He’s fun and gentle and I love this man.

  His eyes lock on mine and I know this is it. This is the moment we’re finally going to have our kiss. Not that we haven’t kissed before, but this is going to be the kiss. The one that all women dream of. The kiss that sweeps us off our feet, leaves us breathless, and gives us something to write fairytales about.

  His face starts the slow incline toward mine and I lick my lips. They’re cold from the snowy air. I wonder how quickly his will warm mine. I’ve wanted him for what feels like forever and having him in this intimate moment feels like moving mountains. His breath fans over my face and I close my eyes. Any second, we’ll connect and I can imagine the fireworks that are going to set off all over my body. My hands start to shake on his shoulders and my heart starts to race. The anticipation is killing me.

  Any second now…

  “Grant, are you and Cammie an item now? Is she your replacement for Victoria?” Light bulbs flash around us and Grant forces me to start walking. We don’t answer any questions, but I can only imagine what the headlines will say as he pushes me through the doors of Petey’s.

  Feeling defeated, I hang my jacket up and head in to have dinner with my co-workers. Grant walks off to find Eddie. I can see the irritation on both their faces. Tucker is watching me and them from across the room.

  What a clusterfuck!

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Grant

  Thanksgiving was quiet for me…well, aside from the call from Gloria. After I gave her the typical “you’re a betraying whore” line, she was easily dismissed and I could go on enjoying my quiet time. Davyd has been unusually absent the last couple months, only calling on me a few times. It’s starting to worry me. I’m grateful he’s not coming around, but him not throwing his weight around means there’s a shit storm brewing.

  Cammie went home to see her parents. With all the time we have off between Thanksgivin
g and New Year’s, it was the perfect time for her to see her folks. You only had to be around if you had scenes to reshoot and this is the week for that. I feel bad that she has to come back because she has been enjoying seeing her old friends and her time with her mom and dad. She calls me every day and texts me before going to bed.

  Every night, except one. That night, I was a wreck. I must have texted her a couple dozen times trying to find out if she was alright. Luckily, I didn’t have her parent’s phone number. I don’t think they would have appreciated my late night, frantic phone call. Turns out, she slept at her friend’s house and her cell was dead. It was innocent and she apologized to me when she had no reason to.

  She returned to Vancouver five days ago and aside from when she’s at the studio, we’ve been inseparable. She even spent the night at my place last night. I slept on my couch and offered her my bed when she said she was too tired to go home. I know she wanted us to both sleep in my bed, but I couldn’t. I don’t trust myself being that close to her, especially for that many hours.

  Tonight, we’re celebrating Christmas together. Obviously, not my idea. She doesn’t seem to get that I despise holidays. I’m only doing this because she loves them. I think she’s hoping she can change my mind and I’ll magically find the spirit of the holidays.

  Things are going to be different tonight. Normally I grab food from Joe’s, but I cooked for her instead. I do know how, I just prefer not to do it. I’ve made lasagna with a side of steamed asparagus and bruschetta. I have her favorite drink, but I also bought wine and sparkling cider. I want to give her options. For dessert, I’ve made a chocolate and Andes Candies trifle. I know she loves Junior Mints, but I couldn’t find a trifle recipe I liked, so I improvised.

  I don’t have a traditional table, but the island in the kitchen can double as one. I took the time to buy a festive tablecloth, a centerpiece, and some candles. The wire reindeer felt somewhat masculine to me and I could picture Cammie smiling when she saw them.

  I even got a damn tree that I put lights and a few ornaments on. I only had a few that Gloria gave me when I moved out. It’s a pretty pathetic looking tree, but it’s up and Cammie should be happy to see I’ve tried. There’s only one present underneath it and I hope she loves it.

  At six o’clock exactly, there’s a knock on my door. I want to run to her, but I keep my calm and slowly saunter over. I lower the lights before I allow her to enter and watch her face as she takes in what I’ve done. It’s not much, but she’ll understand this is huge for me.

  “Grant, I love it.”

  She turns back to me and lunges into my arms. I couldn’t have asked for a better response.

  I take her jacket and scarf and motion for her to take a seat at the island. She smiles at the reindeer, as I hoped she would. Her eyes lightly mist over and I start to worry. Then she looks up at me and I can see complete happiness shining on her face.

  “I’m so proud of you,” she says, sounding choked up.

  I can’t respond. I feel lame hearing her say that. I really didn’t do much, but it felt like a lot to me. As I gaze around my apartment, it seems miniscule.

  “It smells wonderful in here.”

  “I hope you’re hungry,” I say. “Dinner will be ready in just a few minutes.”

  She nods and then watches me as I move around my kitchen, getting our dishes and pulling the food from the oven. Her smile never falters and I feel like the luckiest man in the world. She hasn’t realized what a piece of shit I am yet. At least I have tonight to spoil her and give her something wonderful.

  We enjoy dinner together and she tells me more tales of her trip home. We laugh over her friends telling her how fun it is to know a famous person. Cammie doesn’t see herself that way. Even if she were to become as big as Julia Roberts, she would probably never think of herself as famous.

  “You’d think I did something great, ya know? It’s like I saved a village of sick kids. I didn’t do anything like that. I just stand in front of a camera and pretend I’m someone else. So weird,” she says as she goes in for another bite of lasagna.

  The rest of our dinner is more of her talking about her time with her parents and what she plans to buy them for Christmas. She gets giddy when she talks about cutting down their tree and decorating it. By the tales she tells, I can tell she grew up in a loving home and how much her parents adore her. She doesn’t stop gushing about them throughout the entire meal and as much as I hate to admit it, I resent her for having everything I lost. I try not to feel that way. I want to be happy for her because she deserves this life and so much more, but the bitterness seeps in.

  I’m glad when dinner ends and I get a reprieve from her never-ending happiness. Cammie helps me clean up and we head for the living room. She grabs the present she left by the door and I silently wonder what the hell she could have picked out for me.

  I catch her eyeing the lone gift under the tree. She must know it’s for her, but there isn’t a smile on her face. Instead, she’s worrying her bottom lip between her teeth and thinking hard about what she wants to say. I beat her to the chase.

  “I told you I don’t do holidays, buttercup.”

  She offers me a small smile, but sadness wafts off her and it makes me hate the life I’ve been living.

  “You want to give first or open first?” I ask, hoping to lighten the mood.

  Her face instantly lights up, brighter than my Christmas tree. “Ooh, can I give you your gift first? Please?”

  Her enthusiasm almost makes me want to celebrate this holiday. “Of course.”

  “Yay! Oh, gosh, I hope you like it,” she says, clapping her hands together. I can’t imagine not liking anything she gives me. Just knowing she thought of me has me rubbing at my chest. This woman makes me feel things I never thought possible.

  She puts a bag with a big, smiling Santa face in my lap. There’s red and green tissue paper sticking out in varying angles and I’m not sure why I’m so drawn to the festivity of the colors or the way Santa seems to be telling me, “It’s about time you accept a gift, Grant.”

  I hesitantly pull the paper away and peek inside. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to find, but the picture frame I pull out certainly is not it. I’m lost in the pictures before me. The memories of our snowball fight are laid out before me and I can’t figure out how she got these pictures. They were taken by the paparazzi. What frazzles me the most is the image of our faces nearly touching. I was going to kiss her that night. I wanted to kiss her, and it was not in the way a friend should feel about a friend.

  “How?” It’s the only word I can manage to say.

  She places her hand over mine. “I asked Eddie if he could help me get them. He has connections.”

  Such a simple answer to a thoughtful gift. I don’t know if anyone has ever put this much thought into anything involving me.

  “Thank you, Cammie.”

  I’m too emotional over her gift to say more. Instead of stammering and saying things that make no sense, I place the frame on the coffee table and go to the tree for her gift. Her excitement is palpable and it makes me worry that my present isn’t enough. I slowly walk back to her and sit down. As I place the bag on her lap, I say, “If you don’t like it, I can always get you another gift card to Joe’s.”

  She shakes her head at me and starts tearing at the tissue paper. Mine was nowhere near as fancily done as hers, and thank goodness for that. She’s ripping it out of the bag like a little child. A smile touches her face the entire time and as she pulls the gift from the bag, a gasp leaves her lips. I’m not sure what to make of that.

  “Buttercup?”

  Cammie looks up at me as a single tears falls down her cheek. She gently rests the ‘Grow Your Own Buttercups’ kit I bought her on my coffee table and jumps into my arms. “Thank you, Grant. That is the most perfect gift I’ve ever gotten.”

  We stay in the embrace for what feels like hours, comfortably holding each other. It’s really only minutes, but I’
m not letting go until she does. When she pulls back, she doesn’t fully let go. She backs up just enough to look me in the eye. “I have another gift for you. Well…it’s really a gift for me.”

  “Yeah, and what’s that?” I ask, curious as to what she’s talking about. I don’t see anymore presents to unwrap.

  “I want to be with you, Grant.”

  I stiffen beneath her touch. “Cammie, no. I’m not the g—”

  “Shh. Please hear me out before you deny me the gift I asked Santa for.” She smirks at me and all I can do is nod. “I’ve heard you tell me you’re not a good man—many times. I’ve heard you tell me you’re no good for me, but I want you to listen to why I think you’re the perfect man to give me this gift.”

  “I’m not perfect at all,” I argue, shaking my head.

  She lays her fingers over my lips. “You are and this is why. From the moment I got here, you have been by my side, making sure I fit in. You’ve been the person who has made me smile no matter how bad my days have been. You make sure I’m comfortable in every situation, even when you’re not, and you’re willing to walk away from me if you think it’s best for me. You love me.”

  “Cammie, I… I…” I can’t think of what to say to her. If she’s asking me to tell her I love her, I can’t do that. I do love her, but I’m in no way comfortable admitting that. I’m far too fucked up to give that kind of control over to someone.

  “It’s okay. I’m not asking you to admit anything. You love me as a friend and that’s enough for me. I see how you are with everyone else. You tolerate them, but me…you let me in and opened your heart. We may joke about being besties, but I truly believe I am that to you and I know you are that for me. I have watched my friends back home lose their virginity to boyfriends they thought they’d be with forever, only to have the relationship end soon after. They loved each other so much and weeks, maybe months, later, they hated each other. To me, the love of friendship is much stronger and means more.”