by Nicole Helm
Kyle was trying for her. Her family was trying for themselves. She couldn’t blame them. She’d probably be acting just like Jacob if the situation were reversed, but it wasn’t reversed. This was her life. And it was suffocating. The situation. Her family’s reaction to it. The fact that there was no way to make either better.
“I thought we could go see a movie tomorrow night, sweetie. We haven’t done that in ages.”
“Oh.” Grace wiped her fingers on her napkin and tried to smile at Mom. “I...um, have plans.”
“I’m sure plans can be rearranged,” Dad offered with a smile. Not a real smile, though. The weird, threatening smile he kept sending Kyle’s way.
“She’s coming to my book club,” Leah piped in. “Susan and I started it and Grace wanted to join.”
Both her parents looked relieved, and Grace would have to remember to thank Leah later. She’d go to a movie with Mom on another night. But she needed a break, and she needed Leah and Susan’s “book club.” It had been too long since she’d been at the gun range.
“What book are you reading?”
Grace coughed on a piece of biscuit, but Leah smiled brightly. “Oh, you know, that crazy sex book everyone is talking about.”
It was Jacob’s turn to choke on his food. Dad looked down at his plate uncomfortably, and it took every ounce of control for Grace not to bark out a laugh.
“Well... How nice.” Mom’s smile looked pained. “So how did your out-of-town meeting go, Jake? You never did tell us.”
As Jacob started to talk about work, Grace mouthed a thank-you to Leah, who winked in response. Grace’s gaze moved to Kyle. He was staring at her. She smiled. He smiled.
God, he was cute.
Dad cleared his throat and Grace practically jumped. “So, Gracie, how many paintings have you sold now?”
And so went dinner, and the rest of the evening. It was nearly ten before she convinced her parents to head home.
“We can take tomorrow off and—”
“Mom, go home. Go to work tomorrow. Take Dad to a movie. We can do something this weekend, okay?”
Mom managed a wobbly smile. “All right. All right. Call me tomorrow, though?”
Grace nodded, accepted yet another hug from Mom, then Dad. Once they were out the door, Grace turned back to the living room. Kyle and Jacob stood, hands shoved in their pockets and a considerable distance between them. Leah was curled up on the couch, having fallen asleep sometime during the third round of Trivial Pursuit.
“Should I wake her up?”
Jacob picked up a blanket from behind the couch and put it over her. “Eh, let her sleep.”
Then the three of them stood in the living room staring at one another. In silence. The only sound was Leah’s heavy breathing and the occasional groan of the house.
“Well, it’s late.” Jacob rocked back on his heels. Looked expectantly at Kyle.
Grace nodded. “Yes. It is late. You should go to bed.” Grace mustered up her best death glare, but Jacob didn’t notice. He was too busy staring at Kyle.
Kyle let out an audible breath. “All right,” he mumbled. “I think I’ll head off to bed.” Briefly, way too briefly, he touched her hand, squeezed. “Good night, Grace.” And then he walked to the stairs and disappeared up them.
“You know you’re still being an ass, right?”
Jacob smiled. “Brother’s prerogative.”
“And what exactly is your prerogative trying to prove? You like Kyle. A week ago you couldn’t have cared less if I got involved with him. Now suddenly you and Dad are glaring at him and being rude.”
“Maybe I do like Kyle, but that doesn’t mean he’s right for you. That doesn’t mean you should be getting involved with someone with everything else going on.”
“Oh, my God.”
“I’m just saying—”
“Yeah, I’m not interested at all in what you’re just saying.” Grace turned on a heel. If she was going to get through however long it took for this whole ordeal to end, she would have to keep as much distance from Jacob as possible, or their once-close relationship would be gone.
Grace hurried up the stairs. She had planned on calling it a night, heading to her room, maybe indulging a little self-pity, but as she walked down the hallway from the front stairs, she had to pass Kyle’s office. Which had a light on and the door cracked open.
Grace looked behind her. No Jacob to be seen. Grace slipped into the crack, doing her best to close the door silently.
“Grace—”
Grace put a finger to her lips. At this point, she wouldn’t put it past Jacob to barge right in if he had in fact followed her up the stairs.
It was tempting to crawl into Kyle’s lap, but he stood before she could act on the impulse.
“I feel like I’m too old to be sneaking around. Especially in my own house. Especially from your brother.”
But he whispered. Grace smiled and moved so they were close enough he could touch her if he felt so inclined. She really hoped he was so inclined.
When his fingers lightly brushed the hair at her temple, she grinned. “So that was some date.”
His expelled breath almost sounded like a laugh. “Yes, some date, indeed.”
“When are we going to reschedule?”
“Perhaps when your family moves to Alaska?” His hands smoothed over her shoulders, down her back, a delicious warmth following the movement as she had to step even closer. “I don’t think they’re going to give us much opportunity.”
“No. Doesn’t seem that way.”
“I was thinking you could be my date to MC’s anniversary party next Friday. Your family will be there, but by then everything should...die down.”
She knew what “everything” was, and hoped he was right. Every time her phone rang she jumped with the hope the police had caught Barry. Or proved he hadn’t done it and his disappearing meant he was dead in a ditch somewhere.
It probably made her a terrible person, but she was really hoping for the dead-in-a-ditch scenario.
“You don’t have to, of course. I just thought—”
“It sounds perfect.”
“Well, good.” He smiled. She smiled, and then she had to laugh.
His mouth brushed hers. Lingered. The good kind of shivery feeling wiggled its way down her spine, so she pressed closer, as close as she could. “We could sneak into your room,” she whispered against his mouth.
“The room in which I share a wall with Jacob?”
“We could sneak into my room?”
His breath sighed across her face as he pulled his head back a little. “Grace.”
“I’m not used to a guy playing hard to get. I didn’t really think that happened.”
“I’m not used to...” He trailed off, cupped her face with his hands. “I’m not used to anything this important. I don’t want to have to sneak, Grace.”
That was nice. Sweet. One of these days sweet and nice wouldn’t totally cut it, but for now it was really comforting.
So she kissed him again, sank into the feeling of nothing else mattering, and maybe one of these days it would actually be true.
Kyle squeezed her shoulders, then gently pushed her back a step, but then he rested his forehead on hers. “Good night, Grace.”
Grace chuckled, took the last few steps to the door. “Good night, Kyle.” She slipped back out the door and took a breath. The hall was dark; her room would be darker. Fear snaked its way around her lungs, but she pushed her legs forward, chanting her new mantra over and over.
Fear will not win.
* * *
KYLE DID HIS best to smile at the Martins, but they were driving him up the wall. Customers being overbearing or unreasonable didn’t normally bother him. He usually had nothi
ng better to do than sort out the problems and complaints.
Usually didn’t live here anymore.
“I’m sure Jacob will be here momentarily.”
“He’s been missing a lot of meetings lately.”
One. One meeting. If he missed this one, that would be two. Hardly a lot. Kyle smiled blandly. “Unfortunately, he’s been dealing with a family emergency requiring some of his attention. Leah and Henry said everything went well at your meeting yesterday.”
“Yes. I suppose.” Mrs. Martin rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Though I think we’re paying a rather hefty sum, and that should give us the right to deal with the contractor directly.”
Kyle’s bland smile tightened. “Yes, of course. Why don’t I go see if I can find Jacob. Can I have Susan get you something to drink while you wait?”
The middle-aged couple sighed together. “I’ll take some coffee, black.”
Mrs. Martin waved regally. “Nothing for me.”
Kyle nodded and left the living room. He walked over to the formal dining room where Susan had her “office.”
“Could you make Mr. Martin some coffee?”
“Jacob and Grace are in the kitchen.” Susan chewed on her bottom lip and wrung her hands together. “With a police officer. Do you know what’s going on?”
Kyle’s heart stuttered for a second. Good news, he hoped hard for good news. “You can use the single-cup machine in Jacob’s office.”
Susan pressed her lips together. “The alarm thing, now the police. What’s going on, Kyle?”
“Nothing. Nothing for you to worry about. If Grace wants to tell you, that’s her choice. Now, the Martins are waiting, and they’re in a pissy mood.”
Susan glanced briefly at the kitchen, then sighed. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Kyle took a step toward the kitchen, but it wasn’t his business. It wasn’t his place. Barging in there or even eavesdropping would be wrong, but it took a lot of willpower to listen to that reasonable voice in his head.
Before Kyle could decide the best course of action, Jacob stomped out of the kitchen, then stopped short when he saw Kyle.
“News?” Kyle prompted, unable to wait and let Jacob tell him of his own accord.
Jacob nodded. “The police said they found the stuff used to start Grace’s fire in his trailer. Still no Barry, but all evidence points to his having done it.”
Kyle’s hands clenched into fists. “What can I do?”
Jacob looked at him, stared for a while longer than Kyle thought necessary. “She’s not taking it well, but she didn’t want me around.” Jacob took a deep breath and loudly released it. “I’ll take my meeting with the Martins. There’s nothing else for me to do. Will you—” Jacob shook his head, practically gritted out the words “—check on her?”
Though it surprised him, Kyle wasn’t about to ask questions. If Jacob was letting up, that was really all that mattered, especially if Grace needed someone.
“If she tells you to buzz off, you do it, got it? Only stay with her if she wants you to. Don’t be pushy. And nothing overly friendly. Be her friend. That’s it. A hands-off friend.”
Kyle refrained, barely, from reminding Jacob that pushy was exactly what the McKnights had been for the past two days. He kept his mouth shut and nodded. “I can get Leah to take the meeting if—”
Jacob shook his head, pushing past him. “No. I’ll do it. Maybe if I do it I won’t want to punch something.”
“I wouldn’t guarantee it,” Kyle muttered. He hurried up the stairs and down the hall to Grace’s room. Her door was closed, so he knocked lightly on it. When there was no answer, Kyle struggled to decide what was the best course of action.
Just as he was talking himself out of barging into the room or knocking until she opened it, the door slowly creaked open.
“Hi,” Grace offered. She’d been crying, but had obviously tried to hide the evidence. Then she let out a shaky sigh. “Well, I can tell by the pity on your face you already talked to Jacob.”
“Yes.”
She opened the door farther. “Might as well come on in, then.” She hugged herself as he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. She walked over to her easel, keeping her back to him the whole time.
“If you don’t want me here, I’ll go. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”
She snorted. “All right? Yeah, I’m fantastic.” She poked around at the brushes she kept in a cup on the tray of the easel. “Barry burned my house down and I’m perfectly all right.”
“Grace.”
She picked one of the brushes out of the cup and twirled it in her fingers. “But we knew that, right? I wanted to believe it was some freak accident. I kept saying, what if it wasn’t him? What if? What if?” She threw the brush across the room, where it clattered against the wall and thudded to the ground.
Kyle’s stomach pitched, as it always did when startled by violence, no matter how small. Luckily her back was to him, so she couldn’t notice his body go rigid.
“Idiot. I knew. And now here it is, and damn it.” She took the cup of brushes and heaved it against the wall.
Kyle swallowed down the discomfort jangling through his veins. “Grace.” His voice was too rusty, too weak.
She pressed her palms to the wall, head hanging low. Kyle was too rooted to the spot to move, to offer comfort. He tried to work some words out, but he couldn’t. Unease and a familiar fear worked through him. It didn’t match the situation, but he couldn’t convince his brain of that.
She turned to look at him and must have seen the discomfort on his face, because her anger seemed to leak out of her. Limply she leaned back against the wall and slid into a sitting position. “I don’t want to be this girl anymore,” she said, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I don’t want to be me anymore.”
He knew the feeling so well it cracked his heart down the center. A painful, throbbing ache. But what could he do? The only thing that had ever made him feel like he wanted to be himself was MC and...Grace.
Since the violence had leaked out of her, he found he could move once again. He took a spot next to her on the floor and put his arm around her, drawing her close.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” What possible reason could she have to apologize to him?
“I... I’m sorry for throwing things.” She shifted so her eyes met his. Her fingertips brushed across his jaw. “It bothered you.”
He looked away, trying to hold on to the feel of her hand on his face over the cold tension that wanted to creep into his muscles at the concern in her expression. “No. Of course not.”
“I saw your face when I turned around. You were pale. You were...”
He didn’t like the way she trailed off, as if she was going to say afraid. He hadn’t been. Not afraid, only...surprised. He’d expected tears and he’d gotten rage and it had surprised him. That was all.
“I was, and am, fine. This isn’t about me. It’s about you.”
He swore he could feel her gaze, as though it was a touch. He could feel her desperate attempt to search his face, his expression, and find some answer. An answer he could never, ever allow her to have.
“You don’t have to do that with me,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. Quiet, but fierce. Determined. The core of Grace that was the center of why he cared for her, and the absolute reason why she terrified him.
“You don’t have to pretend it’s not there. Not with me.”
She didn’t understand. That was exactly what he had to do. To survive. To move on. To be him. This better version of himself. The version of himself that was almost worthy of her.
“You’ve had a rough day.” His voice was rustier than he intended, and his muscles were tight with tension, but he forced himself t
o move. He ran a hand over her hair, her cheek, her neck. He kissed her temple and willed himself out of the equation.
This was about Grace. Not him. “Maybe you should lie down.”
“You don’t have to shut me out.”
He forced himself to look at her, directly in the eye. To touch her face. The lie was hard, but the truth would be harder. “I’m not. I’m worried about you. Not wanting to be you.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, because that wasn’t a lie. Those words from her did worry him, when he saw her as so brave and strong—braver and stronger than him—and she didn’t want to be herself.
Yes, that killed him. Far more than an uncomfortable reminder of his volatile past.
Eyebrows drawn together, she studied him. He knew she saw a puzzle, and that she thought she could fit all the pieces together, but he’d never allow her to have those bad pieces of him, the ones with the jagged edges and violent images.
“But you understand how I feel, don’t you?”
“Yes. Yes, I understand.”
It seemed to appease her, because she rested her head on his shoulder and they sat there for a very long time while the world went on outside her bedroom door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
GRACE WAS A little raw and a lot angry. She didn’t understand it, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t eating her alive. Something about the police confirming the fire was set by Barry, and still not having Barry in custody filled her with more anger than fear.
Crying on Kyle’s shoulder had helped ease some of the self-pity. Vocalizing it and crying over it had taken away some of its power. But the anger...the anger still burned.
So Grace knew she had to act. Even if it was foolish. Even if it was a silly, empty gesture. She needed it.
She looked at her reflection in the hairdresser’s mirror.
“Do you like it?” the perky, young stylist asked.