Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2)

by L. B. Simmons

  I’m lucky enough to be a part of their family too.

  Unconditionally.

  Grady,

  It’s been almost three months since we’ve seen each other, and there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about you. But as much as I longed to reach for you, to wrap myself around you and allow your arms to carry me when I thought I had no strength left, I couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

  I had to stop my own fall. It was necessary for me bear my own weight through this journey so I could finally see what you saw in me all along. I needed to finally realize my strength and discover my worth, on my own.

  You told me once that you couldn’t love me enough for the both of us. I get it now. I understand what you meant, because then, at the time, I didn’t really understand how to love myself. Even though I was beginning to learn, I think deep down I still couldn’t believe myself worthy of such a truly extraordinary gift.

  I never really knew what love was because, up until that point, love was a word used to manipulate. It was a term used to mask certain indiscretions. An expression used for the purpose of pacification.

  It was a word that for years I had identified only with the sexual abuse that ripped apart my childhood. Each time it was spoken, I lost another fragment of my youth. My innocence. I heard it so often, one day, the child inside me just vanished. She was gone, retreating into the safety of my mind . . .

  Until I met you.

  You helped me find her.

  Something about you called to her the instant your insightful blue eyes met mine. She was intrigued by the strength, the confidence portrayed in them as they assessed her from across the room. Because you weren’t just looking at me, you were seeing her.

  Little by little, you coaxed her out of the darkness, allowing her to experience the wonders of a childhood missed. You gave her butterflies and made her stupid-giddy. You took her skating and made her laugh. You held her pinky with your finger and played Twister with her. You jumped out of a plane with her, giving her the very first taste of freedom she’d had in years. You made her nervous, but in a good way. A youthful and innocent way. A way she so often longed to experience when she read her books.

  You gave her her first real kiss. A kiss that she will remember forever.

  But you also pushed her to see what you saw. The strength she thought she lacked. The life she was missing by remaining hidden. You gave her the courage to step into the light, allowing her to display her vulnerability while taking the first of many steps toward learning to trust. Toward learning what love really is.

  And once she understood, she loved you in return, wholly and completely.

  As did I.

  She came out of the darkness for you, and because of that, I was able to find her when I needed her most.

  I need you to know, if nothing else, that I was there with you, Grady. I was there. I did not lie about that. I gave myself to you in a way that I had never offered myself to anyone before, because I trusted you implicitly. I never want you to doubt where my head was in those very special moments shared between us.

  I loved you.

  I still love you.

  I know I said some things that I had no right to say. I hurt you with my words because I was scared. So scared. I was falling fast, spinning so out of control, and I couldn’t focus. I couldn’t see you. I couldn’t find your eyes.

  Without them to tether me, I was so afraid I would be lost forever in the darkness.

  But I wasn’t.

  Somehow, I found the strength to get my bearings and slow my world.

  I landed the fall.

  I found my focus.

  I found myself.

  I found that little eight-year-old girl inside me along the way, and I helped her too.

  I don’t know what the future holds for us, if anything at all after how I treated you, but if nothing else, I needed to tell you why.

  Why I felt unworthy.

  Why I rarely smiled.

  Why I was so guarded.

  I wanted you to understand, to finally know part of me, of my past.

  And I wanted to say thank you.

  It sounds so trite, so insufficient for the amount of gratitude I hold in my heart for you, but still, it needs to be said.

  I will forever be grateful.

  And so will she.

  Thank you, Grady, for showing us what real love is.

  Cass

  I’m a wreck. I must have changed twenty times before finally landing on the pair of dark blue skinny jeans hugging my curves, an oversized black sweater that hangs loosely off my shoulders, and of course, my kick-ass black patent-leather Mary Janes (four inches, not my standard five or six). My brown hair is loose, curled in tousled sections as it falls over my shoulders, tickling my skin. And my makeup is minimal, fresh and light on my eyes, with no blush necessary. The nervous flush warming the tops of my cheeks is enough. My teeth graze my lower lip, no longer coated with gloss because of the repeated action. I inhale, raise my arm, and knock three times on Grady’s apartment door.

  As I wait for him to answer, I agitatedly fan my face with the envelope concealing his letter. I chose to come in person to deliver it, not because I wanted to see his response, but because I have something to show him when he’s done.

  Then it’s up to him whether I leave or stay.

  It hurts knowing there’s a very good chance he may ask me to go, and honestly, I wouldn’t blame him if he did. But I pray that doesn’t happen. That he still feels the same way. That he still loves me.

  I hope.

  I hope.

  I hope.

  The door swings open and I pause mid-fan. I don’t think I will ever get used to my initial reaction when seeing Grady Bennett. His hair is loose, light brown waves framing his face as they gently brush against the shoulders of the white polo covering them. It pulls taut across his chest as he presses his elbow against the frame of the door and leans against it, the sleeves fully stretched around his bicep with its support of his shifted weight.

  The corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile and the edges of his familiar blue eyes crinkle as they drift downward to take in my appearance. The other side of his mouth finally rises along with his stare, forming a knowing smile as his right brow arches.

  “Miss me?”

  My lips pinch tightly against the laughter, but I’m pretty sure he spied the beginnings of my smile before my measly attempt to hide it.

  I lift my bare shoulder and offer in a nonchalant voice, “Maybe.”

  His smile widens and he steps to the side, allowing my entrance. The door closes behind me, and even though Grady’s standing three feet away, his presence engulfs me. Warmth races through my veins, and my cheeks heat as he passes. I breathe in the familiar smell, revel silently in its aftermath, then follow him to the kitchen.

  As he opens his cabinet, I eye his perfectly shaped ass, beautifully accentuated by the designs on the back pockets of his jeans. My view only gets better when he lifts his arm, inquiring over his shoulder, “Wine?”

  I bite down on my bottom lip to keep from drooling, then shake my head even though he can’t see me. “Nah, water would be great though. Thanks.”

  Grady twists his body, smile still present on his face. “Water it is, then.”

  He snags two glasses and fills them while I approach the island, placing the letter on top. He turns to face me, and his stare drops to the envelope. He pauses, then places both glasses on the island, one on each side of my letter, and raises his eyes to meet mine.

  I clear my throat and my hands anxiously worm into my front pockets as I meekly offer, “For you.”

  Grady reaches forward, dragging the paper across the granite countertop with the tips of his fingers. Once it’s in his possession, he lifts it, his eyes inquisitive.

  He definitely doesn’t seem angry anymore.

  Maybe I still have a chance?

  I nervously shift my stance. “You can read it.”


  He seems to pick up on my nervous energy, because his expression falls serious as he takes a seat and hooks his finger under the flap to open it. The cream-colored paper is extracted.

  I watch nervously as he begins to read. His face gives nothing away with the exception of a clenched jaw as he reads, which later relaxes toward the middle of my letter. I remain silent, watching his reaction to my words.

  Once he’s done, his eyes remain trained on the paper held in his hands, absorbing everything I’ve shared. Once through, he remains silent as he creases the letter between his thumb and forefinger and places it gingerly back into the confines of the envelope.

  Only then does he raise his eyes and as he does, glistening, caring eyes meet mine. I grind down on my teeth, but my tears are stubborn. They surge, coating my lashes.

  I clear my throat and finally remove my hands from my pockets, gesturing toward him as I say, “Well, that’s it. Now you know everything.”

  Grady shakes his head, disengaging his gaze from mine to look back at the letter in his hands. “I suspected, but I didn’t know. Not for sure.”

  “You suspected?” I inquire, already realizing his answer before he speaks it out loud.

  His eyes remain locked in the direction of the island. “The first time I ever touched you, in Krav Maga, remember?”

  I know exactly to what he’s referring. “You put your hands on my waist, and my entire body froze.”

  “It did.” He finally looks back to me, his stare furious, yet equally heartbroken. “I’m trained to recognize these things, Cass. I just . . . fuck. I hoped it hadn’t happened to you.”

  My mouth dips into a sad smile and I shrug. “Well, it did. But like you said, I think you knew that. And honestly, I think I knew that you knew, but I wasn’t ready to admit it to myself yet.”

  I pin him with my gaze. “That’s why you gave me Aubrey’s card, isn’t it?”

  Grady’s mouth lifts into a rueful smile and he dips his head slightly in affirmation. He exhales deeply before adding, “I followed you, you know. I was worried when I couldn’t get hold of you. So I got your parents’ names from Spencer and tagged their address. I just needed to know you were okay.”

  He clears his throat. “I was outside your house that morning, when you went to the cemetery. You were upset, angry, so I followed you. I stayed in my car, watching from the periphery while you cried, but when you rose to your knees and pleaded, goddamn Cass . . . it took every bit of restraint I possessed not to get out, haul you into my arms, and bring you home with me.”

  He becomes blurry in my vision as I watch his pained expression.

  “It was him, wasn’t it?”

  I nod, the movement ripping the tears from my eyes. They begin to flow freely, coating my cheeks in damp warmth.

  He mirrors my gesture, his head dipping downward before he continues. “I waited for you to finally get back to your apartment. I wanted to ask you about it, but as soon as you opened that door, I knew you were already gone. Too far for me to grab hold. And I blamed myself. I was so pissed, so angry because I was losing you right in front of my eyes. I spoke out of anger, and I’m sorry for that.”

  I laugh and wipe a tear drifting down my face. “If anyone spoke out of anger, Grady, it was me. I said things I can never take back. Horrible, awful things. Then you left and I rationalized it. I convinced myself it was for the best, that it was better for you not to have to deal with my baggage, with my pain, with my past. Things I couldn’t even deal with at the time.”

  A shy smile crosses my face as I shrug. “But when I woke up, and I saw my belongings in front of me, then Roger staring at me with his beady eyes, all I could think was I really hope Grady Bennett waits for me to finish falling. I wasn’t able to admit that to myself for a really long time, but it’s true. I think at that moment, somewhere in my consciousness, I knew I would make it, that I would conquer my fears, but I wasn’t ready. Not then. It had to be my decision to make.”

  I grin, then pull up the bottom of my shirt, exposing my reason for coming tonight. I could’ve easily left the letter for Grady to read on his own, but I really wanted to show him this.

  My smile broadens until my cheeks ache, and I feel giddy as a teenager as I hook my thumb in my jeans and tug them down gently, displaying the fresh ink on my skin.

  Right above my hipbone is the image of a parachute, just as I remember when I looked up from beneath Grady, watching as it caught air and flared open. The top is a very light orange and morphs gradually into a deep red toward the bottom, symbolizing not only my very own spark, but the way Grady makes me feel. The color of warmth.

  And in paying homage to the shade of his sapphire eyes, the very eyes I found my initial focus in, are two words written in navy blue right in the center.

  Landed strong

  “I landed strong, Grady. I was in one hell of a free fall, but I found my strength and righted myself. It was you who helped me to be able to do that. You made good on your promise and with the help of Dr. Miller, of Aubrey, you put me in the position to be guided slowly, safely, until my feet finally hit the ground. And when they struck, I felt pure power with the knowledge I had faced my fears and conquered my own personal hell. I landed strong because of you.”

  I lower my shirt and release my jeans, shrugging my shoulders. “So, thank you. That’s all I wanted to say. That’s why I came. I just . . . I needed to see you for no other reason than to let you know I landed the fall and to thank you for getting me there.”

  And I really hope you still love me.

  Because I do still love you.

  I will always love you.

  Grady remains seated, his expression stoic, giving nothing away as he watches me nervously tug at the bottom of my shirt. I hold his stare, and when he says nothing, disappointment drowns any hope I had for his forgiveness. For his love and acceptance. For a future.

  Our future.

  I will always love you.

  My thumb flies over my shoulder, indicating the door. “I’m just gonna go ahead and go . . .”

  The edge of his mouth quirks slightly. “So there’s no other reason you came then?”

  I grip my bottom lip with my front teeth and lift my shoulders. A nervous rush of energy erupts through my system. “I mean, well, I had hoped—”

  “Come here.” Grady rises, the chair screeching with his movement. Persistent eyes lock onto mine, brimming with intensity.

  Another wave rushes through me and giddy excitement pricks my veins. I don’t move an inch, though. I remain where I stand, but my bottom lip is pulled from my teeth as I give him an ornery grin.

  Grady’s brow lifts, he raises his hand, and crooks his finger. “Come here. Please.”

  My feet make the decision for me. They’re insistent in their strides as they pick up pace, and once I’m within launching distance, I fly into his arms. My arms wrap around his shoulders as he catches me, squeezing me tightly in an embrace. One arm hooks around my waist, while the other positions his hand at the base of my neck. He weaves his fingers into my hair and his warmth floods my body as he holds me securely against his chest. Soothing heat from his mouth sifts through my hair when he presses his lips to my temple, the sensation increasing as he releases a long, contended breath.

  We grip each other tightly, our bodies pressed firm with our lengthy embrace.

  I. Have. Missed. This. So. Much.

  God, how I have missed him.

  “I’m so fucking proud of you, Cass.”

  His mouth hits the shell of my ear with his whisper and my throat clogs, not with sadness, but with pride in myself.

  Suddenly, his body tenses within my hold and he presses away, his arms still clenched tightly around me as he squints down at my face. His eyebrows are pressed together, clearly confused as he inquires, “Wait . . . who’s Roger?”

  I laugh—really laugh—and its release is freeing as the rush of air leaves my chest. “I have so much to tell you. A lot’s happened over the past th
ree months. And it all started with Roger, the green, plastic paratrooper. The stubborn bastard who wouldn’t crash no matter how hard I threw him.”

  A full grin remains on my lips as I toss Grady a very Grady-like wink.

  His face relaxes and his mouth curves beautifully before he states, “You’re so goddamn beautiful when you smile, but when you laugh, it steals my fucking breath every time.”

  He leans his forehead against mine, centering his lips just centimeters from my mouth as he whispers, “I love you so much. These months apart haven’t been easy for me, knowing you were fighting battles on your own, but I knew you could do it. And you were never really alone, Cass. I was watching, making sure you were landing safely, because I knew as soon as you hit that ground, sweetheart, you were mine. You are mine. And regardless of what you said in your apartment, you are my purpose. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”

  Just like that, I turn into a girly puddle and melt to the floor.

  And I love it.

  I love him.

  He closes the distance and captures my mouth, his full lips grazing mine ever so tenderly as his soft tongue gently probes the seam. I open for him, angling my head to the side as he does the same. Our mouths fuse as we wordlessly communicate the depths of our love for each other with each moan, with each growl, with each press of our bodies, as though we can’t get close enough.

  Hours later, when we’ve shed our clothes, along with every last one of our vulnerabilities, we communicate much the same way. With each gentle trace of his fingers along my skin, with each tug of the hair wrapped around my fingers, with each clench of my body and each low rumble I receive in return, we continue to express our love through action.

  No words are necessary.

  But a very distinct one comes to mind.

  Home.

  I feel as though I have not only found myself—found I can love myself—but that I have finally found my home.

  And as he holds my stare from above as he pumps his length slowly into my body, he takes his time to show me how much he loves me. He gently runs his fingers up and down my body as if he simply can’t not touch me. He reacquaints himself with the softness of my skin, with the texture he’d missed so much. He tells me how he had waited patiently for me from afar, how hard it was to wait, having already tasted me. And after he takes his time touching my skin, he shows me exactly how much he’s missed my taste. He kisses me senseless, tonguing and sucking me into oblivion. Ecstasy. Every action is a demonstration of how precious I am to him. He fills me completely, in heart, soul, and body. He consumes me with his passion, his need, his desire. And I let him take me.