He ran his finger over her name.
Grace Cooper.
Cooper? Had she lie to him about her last name?
No, Mark Stevens had been her husband. Clearly she’d reverted to her maiden name after their divorce.
But, Cooper...why did it sound so familiar? Cooper. Where had he heard the name Grace Cooper before?
A niggling sensation slid up his spine. He flipped down the lid of the toilet and sat, never taking his eyes off Grace’s license.
Grace. Cooper.
Grace...
He dropped the wallet as if it scorched his fingers.
“Oh, shit.”
Graceless. Why hadn’t he realized?
There was no reason he should have recognized the one girl he and his high school buddies had delighted in taunting. Fourteen years had removed all trace of the tall, awkward girl whose shyness made her an easy target for him and his popular friends.
Grace wasn’t shy now. Or awkward. Certainly not gangly—he’d had first hand experience with her sexy curves and smooth skin mere hours ago.
Keith hung his head, fisted a hand in his hair. He’d been a world-class jerk throughout his teenage years. His mother didn’t care what he did, as long as he kept the booze fresh and stayed out of her hair. Alcohol was readily available in his house, and he partook of his fair share from the time he turned twelve.
His friends loved him for that. Their supplier of booze. But Keith had wanted more than that. He’d wanted to lead the pack. Needed to show them who was really in control.
So he did. And shy, awkward, Grace Cooper had stood in his path. She was sixteen to his eighteen, and one of the few truly driven girls in the school. She had plans to become a doctor—a pediatrician. Her over serious nature made her boring, and fair game to his party hard friends.
They’d egged him on.
“Betcha can’t get Graceless Cooper to ask you to dance.”
He’d willingly rose to the challenge to prove that he deserved the unspoken title of leader. He coaxed her to ask for the dance then turned around and scorned her timid proposal in front of the entire school.
He’d humiliated her. She should have hated him. Yet, later that same night when his conscience finally thumped him in the head after years of lying dormant, he asked her outside to apologize. They’d walked around the school track and field, just the two of them, and he’d learned that Grace wasn’t boring. She was determined and unbelievably dedicated.
For the first time in his life, he’d wanted more than the endless round of alcohol and parties. He wanted to do something that mattered. The realization shook him so much he up and kissed her.
More than kissed her. He’d put the moves on Graceless Cooper. Took advantage of her naivety and slipped his hands inside her dress. He probably would’ve taken it further if she hadn’t hauled off and slapped him, running back to the school for her younger sister.
Her sister.
Recognition of the other girl’s photo socked Keith in the gut. He tried to swallow the huge lump lodged in his throat but it refused to budge.
He scooped the wallet off the floor, his chest tightening when he saw the photo of Grace’s sister for the second time.
Oh, yeah. He knew her all right.
She was the reason he’d been forced to join the Army.
“Keith?”
Grace sat up in the bed and blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness of the room.
Empty.
Her heart jack-hammered in her chest. Where was he? She checked the clock next to the bed. 3:00 a.m.
From outside, a short scraping noise broke the silence. Her pulse sped, her eyes shot to the curtain blocking the sliding door. The fabric fluttered from a light breeze, knotting Grace’s stomach. She twisted the brass knob on the light fixture, chasing away the shadows with the dim glow.
“Keith?” Her voice wavered. What if Ryker’s kidnappers had come to finish them off?
She slid out of bed and scooped her t-shirt off the ground, putting it on as she silently made her way across the worn carpet to the drapes. Closer. Where was Keith? Closer. She needed a gun. Closer. What if he’d grabbed the drive and run, leaving her alone?
She reached for the heavy cloth and tangled her fingers in the folds. Her gaze sought out the small table against the wall.
The flash drive was gone.
Keith was gone.
Oh, God, the bastard—
A creak from just outside the glass doors pushed the thought away. Her chest tightened. She held her breath and jerked the curtain aside. Keith sat in one of the rickety plastic chairs with his back to her.
The breath whooshed past her lips. Her throat throbbed. After what he’d just done for her, why did she still always jump to the worst conclusion when it came to him?
He shoved a hand through his hair, the moon’s glow highlighting the strands. He’d proven himself nothing but honorable, yet she couldn’t shake the fear that the other shoe would drop.
“Want a drink?” Keith’s low voice rasped from the shadows. He tipped his head and her gaze followed the direction to the plastic cup on the table.
The word no formed on her lips, but before she could voice it, he uttered a name that stopped her cold.
“Graceless.”
Her stomach tightened. Oh, Lord. He knew. Her throat constricted. “How?”
He held up an object, the angle of the moon providing adequate light for her to catch a brief glimpse of her wallet before he tossed it on the glass topped table. She flinched at the slapping of leather hitting glass. A moment later he was there, invading her space, gun casually clutched in one hand, dark eyes piercing down to her very soul.
He slid open the screen. She fell back a step to get out of his way, but he was quicker and brushed past her with a callousness that tore at her heart.
“So. When were you going to tell me?”
“I—” She fought to come up with an explanation. But, really, what could she say?
He put his gun on the table, sliced her with narrowed eyes and curled his lip. “You weren’t, were you?” His gaze flicked to the rumpled bedding where he’d spent hours unselfishly holding her, then hardened back on her. “Not ever.”
“I didn’t intentionally try to keep it from you,” she said, although the lie burned straight to the tips of her toes. She’d had plenty of opportunities to spill the beans, but her fear that he’d skip out on her kept her mouth shut. “And what were you doing looking through my wallet anyway?” She forced a healthy anger to burble in her chest to obliterate the panic in her stomach.
He ignored her question and crossed his arms over his broad chest. The muscles in his forearms and along his jaw tensed.
She raised her chin. “I wanted to tell you. But, really. Would you have helped me if you’d known? Or would you have laughed your ass off over the thought of Graceless Cooper coming to you for help?”
He sent her a feral smile. “You’re right. I probably would’ve laughed my ass off.” His lips thinned, his face a mask, then turned his back on her. “But I’d still have gone AWOL for you.”
“No. Not for me.” She advanced on him, talking to his damn back, wanting him to understand her anger. Her fear. “For you. Don’t forget you have your own agenda here, too. Don’t forget for one second your own motivations in all this. Yes, you’re helping me find my son, and for that I will be eternally grateful. But you don’t fool me for a minute. You’ve been using me every bit as much as I’ve been using you.” She flattened her palm on his back. “You have no right to be angry with me.”
He spun to face her, capturing her wrist in a tight grip. His eyes raked over her and came to rest on her face with a chilliness that stole her breath. “I’ve been nothing but honest with you, Grace. Can you say the same?”
Her throat ached. She tore her arm out of his grasp, rubbed the spot where he’d squeezed. “No. I can’t. But can you blame me?”
“Jesus, Grace. We were high schoolers. Isn’t
it a bit long to harbor resentment over me calling you some shitty names?
“Oh, my God. Do you honestly think that’s all this is about? That you teased me in school?”
His gaze held hers for a tense, silent moment then slid away. “No. I...I’m sorry about your sister.”
Her heart sunk like a load of bricks. It’s what she’d wanted to hear for years. His apology. So why didn’t it suddenly make her feel better?
Because it wasn’t him she couldn’t forgive, it was herself.
The thought slammed into her and nearly brought her to her knees. She was the one who’d left Becca unprotected in a den full of wolves. She’d known exactly what Colby Longenbow had been capable of, and yet, when Keith had asked her outside, she’d jumped at the chance because she’d wanted to believe that maybe, if he was away from his cruel friends, he could like her after all. The thought that she’d been the one to cause Becca pain by holding onto her anger and resentment all these years made her more than a little ill.
She turned back on Keith, hoping to make the sick, twisted feeling inside her stomach go away. “Why didn’t you stop Colby?”
“Wait—what? I had no idea—”
Her anger spiked. Because he had to have known. She wanted to believe he wasn’t that person anymore, but first he had to be willing to admit his part in Becca’s assault. “Damn it, Keith, you don’t say you’re sorry in one breath and deny you knew about it with the next. Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your tiny community think you’re a slut? Any concept of what it does to a family to have an entire town whisper about ‘those Cooper sisters’?”
Memories of whispered taunts clouded her brain forcing the long ago pain she’d worked so hard to bury to slice through her anew.
“I actually thought you were something special once. Behind the taunts and the cruel jokes, you were...” She shook her head. “I convinced myself it couldn’t have been you who started the rumors about Becca and I. But it was, wasn’t it? We weren’t even in your league so what did it matter if people thought we were willing to spread our legs at the drop of a hat?”
She looked up and caught the tinge of remorse that clouded Keith’s hazel eyes. It sliced through her heart, making it bleed as it had when she was sixteen.
“You know, that night of our dance, out on the school track and field, I thought I’d finally seen the real you. And when you really looked at me for the first time, I was prepared to do almost anything for you.” She thrust out her chin in an effort to keep it from trembling. “But...you sat there up in the bleachers with me, talking to me, kissing me, as if I mattered, when I was nothing more than some stupid decoy so Colby Longenbow could take my sister out to his car—”
Keith stepped forward, his hands reaching for her, imploring her. “No, Grace, I never would’ve agreed to something like that.”
She backed away, so sure she’d crumble if he tried to touch her now. Her throat burned with anger and unshed tears but she scraped the words past the pain. “Tell me the truth. Please. I want to believe you’re not that same person now, but I need to hear it from your lips.”
His arms came around her and she dropped her head against his chest. Her tears refused to be denied any longer and they spilled down her cheeks.
“Ah, Grace.” His chin gently scraped the top of her head. “I was an asshole.”
She buried herself in the warmth of his embrace. “Yes, you were.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in the harsh sound. “I deserve that. Even then, I always had to be the fearless head of the posse. I had to take charge and show everyone I was worthy of attention. God, the lengths I went to and the trouble I caused, just to prove that.” He shrugged. “Who cared, anyhow?”
A pang of sympathy pierced her heart. Keith hadn’t been just a rough kid. He’d been truly messed up, looking for love and attention from a neglectful mother. While she’d stayed up late with a plate of cookies and warm milk, he partied hard, drank too much alcohol and raised hell.
“Rebecca was fourteen, Keith. Fourteen. At her first dance. Now...,” tears clogged her voice, “she can barely manage to leave her house.”
He fisted his hand in his hair. “You know, I...I don’t remember half the things I did back then.” He blew out a breath, his voice coming out strained. “I’m not trying to make excuses. My behavior was...distasteful.”
“To say the least.”
“I won’t even try to argue with you about the rumors. Yeah, I probably started them. I’m sure I probably told everyone how I scored with you, too. Talked it up big to show my friends I was the king of the pack. I was such a little shit.” He clenched his jaw. “But, you have to believe me, I never knew that Colby intended to do...that...to your sister.”
“Rebecca. Her name is Rebecca,” she enunciated. “Colby raped Becca.”
He flinched at her blunt statement.
Heck, it still had the power to make her flinch. “And I was the only one who gave a damn. My father didn’t believe her. My mother was embarrassed that her well-mannered daughters would sully the pure Cooper name.”
A chill ran through her, despite the warmth of Keith’s arms around her, as her past assaulted her. Poof. In a heartbeat, her perfect family had gone up in smoke. Her mother resigned from her respected teaching position and they all left town. Moving from one sorry little town to the next. Never connecting with each other as a family again. Providing the essentials for Becca and Grace but nothing more.
“I dropped out of school,” she said. “Did you know that?”
Keith answered with a barely perceptible shake of his head.
“Someone had to care for Becca. My parents were incapable of seeing that she needed help. Becca’s panic attacks...they’ve never gone away. She...she’s a mess, Keith.” Her throat ached and she couldn’t hold back any longer. “I was supposed to watch out for her that night. That’s the only reason she was allowed to come to the dance in the first place. I wasn’t there for her when she needed me.”
He touched her chin, nudging her head up with the gentle caress of his fingers. “It wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. Colby’s the only one to blame here. When I found out what he’d done, I was furious. Sick. I wanted to fix it. But I just screwed up worse.”
His voice rasped in her ear, forcing her heart to skip a beat. “Wh-what do you mean?”
He snatched his hands from her, but the imprint of his fingers still burned through her thin t-shirt.
“I can’t...I’ve never talked about it. Not to anyone.” He stalked to the window, pushed the curtains aside. “Have you ever wondered what happened to Colby?” he asked, his voice as casual as if he’d asked her about the weather.
“I tried to find out how I could press charges. But Becca was adamant about keeping it quiet and my parents kept moving us around from one dead-end town to another. I didn’t know what to do.”
“Colby wanted to follow in his dad’s and brother’s footsteps and join the Army. He enlisted right after graduation.” Keith dropped the curtains and stared past her as if lost in his memories. “That summer before he was scheduled to go to basic was like one long continuous party. I think Colby stayed wasted the entire time.”
He moved away from the window and started pacing. She watched, her breath trapped in her throat at his frenetic movements that were at odds with the Keith she’d come to know.
“When Colby got drunk he got diarrhea of the mouth. We’re talking nonstop, here. So, he slaps me on the back and we start reminiscing about the highlights of our senior year.” He swallowed, visibly pushing down his disgust. “And Colby starts bragging about how he bagged this great piece of ass during the winter dance.”
Her stomach churned, twisting into knots, her legs wobbled and she dropped into the nearest chair, head in her hands.
He swore and followed her to the chair, where he knelt in front of her. “I hit him, Grace.”
She lifted her head to meet his stormy eyes, her own stinging wit
h fresh tears. “What?”
“When he told me what he’d done to your sis—to Rebecca—I...I went crazy. I lost it. We were at this old mining cabin with our buddies. It had this loft we’d decked out in party shit, everybody was drinking and God knows what else. And suddenly I hauled off and punched him. Broke his damn nose and knocked him off his feet.”
He pushed away from her again and stood, covering one shaking hand with the other. “Blood poured from his nose but he was so drunk he just laughed. Like it was all a joke. I was so pissed, so disgusted, I told him I was leaving. And he got to his feet and jumped me and I shoved him, just to get him off, you know, but instead, he stumbled back into the railing. The house was old and suddenly the rotted railing just...just separated from the floor. Colby shouted, his arms flailing like a drunken fish. I lunged for him. And even though at that moment I hated him, I...I tried to grab him.”
“He’s...dead?” She could barely push the words past her tight throat.
Keith shook his head. “The fall broke his back. Fractured his skull. The cops and paramedics were called and they hauled me in for assault. I was brought to court for sentencing. The local judge, Harris Raines, was a former Army Ranger who believed my story and took pity on me. He gave me a choice: the Army or jail. At eighteen, I sure as hell didn’t want to get acquainted with the inside of a prison. I took the deal and never looked back.”
He turned to her, deep lines of guilt and shame stamped across his face. “I’m so sorry, Grace.”
And then he waited. For understanding. Forgiveness.
She wanted to give it to him. He wasn’t that boy anymore, deep down he’d confirmed that. But how could she absolve him when she still felt so guilty? She’d cost Becca so much, and had spent her life trying to make up for it. Trusting Keith implicitly or worse, falling for him—which she was in danger of doing if she wasn’t careful—would be a magnanimous betrayal that Becca would never recover from.
Keith’s eyes bore into hers, showing her exactly what she feared. He wanted everything from her and more and she just couldn’t give it to him. For Becca’s sake.
Her Own Best Enemy (The Remnants, Book 1) Page 14