by J. H. Croix
When she stiffened, I lifted my head.
As it was, I knew I had already pushed my luck. In another time and another place, I would’ve told her to loosen up. Not tonight. Not in this time and place, not when she was giving me the shot I so desperately wanted.
Opening my eyes, I found her eyes open and waiting, yet still hazed with the need I knew was reflected in mine. Although my entire body was screaming to let this keep going, I forced myself—much to my body’s dismay—to pump the brakes.
I had spectacularly fucked things up with the way I handled what happened before with Grace. I didn’t want to blow it again by rushing ahead.
I’d never fallen out of love with Grace. In fact, the years in between had only solidified the certainty of that awareness. Like that summer, when we tried to tell ourselves we should spend a little time apart had only shown us what we really wanted. The years without her had crystallized just how much she meant to me.
The first few years after we broke up were just a muddle of confusion, fear, and pain as I watched my father get sick and die. In hindsight, I wish he hadn’t even tried three rounds of chemo because all they did was make him miserable and ill. It was his choice to make, but I wished we could have known the outcome ahead of time. But then, life never did offer up guarantees.
Tangled up in that weary mix of emotions was the mess with a baby that had never been mine. Hell if I knew why Diana decided I was a better bet than the actual father, but that was what she had done. I hadn’t wanted to be with her. She had tried to create the impression we were together when we never were. Not after that one night.
And then, for fuck’s sake, I’d grown to care about a baby I believed was mine. Only to have her ripped away in a late miscarriage.
All through it, I was trying to keep my shit together. I felt as if I’d lost my footing on the edge of a cliff and just kept falling. I missed Grace like crazy and wanted to set the record straight. Yet, when all was said and done, I thought it best just to leave her alone and let her move on because I’d made such a mess of it.
Grace and I stared at each other. It almost felt as though there was another presence in the room with us—our intimacy had been jumpstarted back to life with our kiss. Her eyes coasted over my face, her gaze careful and wary. When I felt her body start to soften again, I almost—so fucking close—kissed her again.
A very small voice of sanity somehow got through to me. “We’re not going to rush this, Grace,” I heard myself saying.
I eased my hand away from her bottom, although I didn’t want to. Damn, it felt good to touch her again. She carried herself so tightly. It was easy to forget she was all soft curves that gave under my fingers when she let go.
Lifting my hand, I brushed her hair away from her face, a smile kicking up the corner of my mouth when that streak of purple in her hair glinted from the light above the kitchen counter.
“Purple suits you.”
Grace’s breath came out in a rush, her cheeks pinkening slightly. “Evie does my hair. She likes to have fun with it. She did a rainbow once,” she said, her voice raspy and low.
“Your hair was a rainbow?” I let my fingers slide through her silky locks.
“Not a bright one. It was a subtle shimmer. You could mostly see it when it moved,” she explained as she lifted her other hand to demonstrate her point.
Her hair was cut in a long bob, curving at an angle just above her shoulders. She ran her fingers through it, her hair falling in a tumble.
“I’d like to see it. Maybe you can ask her to do it again.”
“Just for you?” Her voice sounded slightly surprised, pitching up to a squeak at the end.
Yes, just for me. Please.
I’d give anything to be that guy to her.
“Only if you want to,” I hedged.
Grace’s lashes swept against her cheeks when she looked down, her fingertips tracing a tattoo on my bicep. It was a set of wings, feathering out at the edges.
“When did you get this?”
“The summer after.”
“The summer after what?”
Her eyes locked on mine, swirling with questions. Fuck me. She was so damn beautiful. With her lips puffy from our kisses, her cheeks a little flushed, and her tension finally easing, this was the Grace I hadn’t seen in years.
“The summer after I didn’t come back to Stolen Hearts Valley. You know what it is.”
Grace’s breath caught in her throat when she looked down again. Her finger traced along the bottom tip of one of the wings. Her eyes whipped to mine. When I saw the doubt flashing there, I added, “To remind me of you. You always loved birds. Remember—”
Grace nodded quickly and cut in. “I remember. The drawing I gave you.”
“Yeah. That’s what I took to the tattoo artist.”
Grace stared at me. Hard. “What?”
“I missed you, Grace. It was a shit year, and I wanted to remember the best parts of my life. When I decided to come back, I told myself if you had found someone else, I wouldn’t plead my case. I’m not going to rush you though. It’s got to be what you want too.”
Grace’s mouth fell open before snapping shut as her cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink. On that note, I decided the time was right for me to take my leave. I reluctantly let my hands slide out of her hair and pushed my stool back, slowly enough that it wasn’t abrupt. Being honest, I knew damn well I was trying to give her a chance to reach for me.
For a few beats, she hesitated, her hand tightening on my arm right over where she’d been tracing my tattoo. My heart thudded rapidly in my chest. But then, she stood, looking away. Awkwardness fell over us. I didn’t quite know how to handle this. Grace spoke first.
“I’m sorry about what you went through, Boone. With your dad, and everything else.” She seemed uncertain how to define the “everything else.” I sure as hell didn’t know how to explain it easily. How do you summarize a one-night stand turning into an unexpected pregnancy just when you’re trying to get back together with the girl you’re in love with? Only to later find out that you were never the father to begin with, but only after you went through the emotional pain of a late miscarriage?
Suffice it to say, there was no real easy fucking way to explain all that.
I shook my head slightly. “You don’t need to be sorry. Life is messy sometimes.”
Grace’s eyes searched my face, and I felt suddenly exposed. “No matter how you slice it, it was sad. You didn’t sign up for that kind of mess.”
I knew then she wasn’t speaking just of my father getting cancer and dying. Because no, I certainly hadn’t signed up for a one-night stand turning into what it did. Holding her gaze, I nodded. “If there’s one thing I know, you can’t change the past.”
Grace was quiet, and then there was a little sound in the background, and I knew Wayne was moving about in his bed on the windowsill.
“Does this mean I have visiting privileges now?” I asked, attempting to lighten the moment.
Grace bit her lip, and I wanted to kiss her again. “I suppose so.”
Dipping my head and exercising more restraint than I knew I had, I pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight, Grace.”
As I walked past her, her voice caught me. “Boone.”
When I turned back, she said, “I don’t know what this all means, so…”
When I shook my head, her words trailed to a stop. “Just like I said. I’m not going to rush this. Sleep tight, Grace.”
I forced myself to turn away and walk through that door, walking all the way down the stairs and up the set of stairs on the other side. I guessed I’d be sleeping in a bedroom immediately opposite hers with only a single wall separating us—probably two-by-four studs, eighteen inches apart, and two pieces of drywall on either side with nothing else but air.
I knew I’d be finding my release with Grace on my mind before I fell asleep.
Only moments later, I lay in my bed. My mind spun on a loop—the feel
of Grace’s soft, plump lips moving under mine and her sweet body close. The sound of her breath catching in her throat played on repeat. My cock was so hard it ached. It was a cheap substitute, but I knew there was only one way sleep would find me tonight. I curled my fist around my shaft and found a quick, mechanical release.
Hours later, I woke in the darkness with Grace filling my mind. The insistent buzz of my emergency phone punctured the haze of sleep and Grace.
Chapter Nine
Grace
Days passed in a busy blur. Late winter when spring was on the horizon was a time of stunning beauty in the Blue Ridge Mountains, and tourists poured into the area. The restaurant at Stolen Hearts Lodge had truly found its stride within the last year or so. After Dani hired me, back when the place originally opened a few years ago, she had high hopes. With Jackson scrambling to resurrect his family’s old farm into a high-end outdoor resort and more, he’d desperately needed help when he hired her as manager.
In the last year since Shay had come along, things had kicked into high gear. Not only was Jackson in a much more cheerful mood—what with being head over heels in love with Shay—but Shay had taken over with managing the rescue program, the vet clinic, and the reservations for the lodge.
That had given Dani time to really make the restaurant shine. And, shine it did. Dani was a spectacular chef and the best kind of boss. To me, she was more friend than boss, and that was perfectly fine. Waiting tables here and pocketing tons of tips made it possible for me to keep working on my graduate degree in data analytics. I loved data, and I loved studying it. Yet, without finishing my graduate degree, it wouldn’t pay me too much. This job made it possible for me to juggle work and classes.
As luck would have it, I was scheduled for three days straight after the evening of THE KISS. I’d come to imagine THE KISS in all caps and bold in my mind. I needed something to distract me. Because when I wasn’t distracted, I was replaying THE KISS in my mind on a repeat loop—the feel of Boone’s lips, the bold stroke of his tongue, the way he simply took over, his control so complete that I could lose myself for once.
I knew I had a hard time letting go. I was that kind of girl. With kind of flaky parents, much as I adored them, I had always craved a bit more structure, a bit less of the go with the flow attitude.
Like Boone, I knew quite well that things often didn’t work out. I, too, had lost my father at a fairly young age and missed him dearly. I didn’t know what it meant that both Boone and I had both lost our fathers to cancer. I wasn’t quite ready to consider that anything more than coincidence.
Unlike Boone’s father, mine had elected not to try chemo beyond the first round, which had been unsuccessful. My father had been all about accepting what came your way. Parts of me respected his attitude, while most of me craved anything to do to take control of difficult situations.
The gift Boone had given me years ago and still seemed to have the ability to do, was taking control and giving me permission to let go. I had always hoped I’d find another man who could give me that same gift, but no such luck so far.
An elbow nudged me in the side, kind of hard.
“What?” My head whipped over my shoulder to find Dani eyeing me, her gaze quizzical. Her unruly brown curls were pulled up into a ponytail, and her snappy brown eyes coasted over my face. “Are you feeling okay?”
I looked down to realize my hands were resting on top of the stack of folded napkins I’d just brought from the laundry up front to put on the shelves in the work area for the wait staff. Glancing back to her, I nodded quickly. “Oh, I’m fine. Sorry, just zoning out.”
“You sure?”
I knew she was prodding because I’d had a few migraines strike abruptly in the last few months. Dani was a bit of a mother hen. Actually, “a bit” didn’t quite describe it. She was a full-blown, bossy mother hen.
“I’m sure,” I insisted, feeling my cheeks heat slightly. It wasn’t as if Dani could see into my thoughts and realize I’d been zoning out over Boone. But still.
“Okay. Well, get moving. You know I don’t like to nag, but we’ve got a line at the door waiting, and we need to get some tables moving.”
“On it,” I said, quickly placing the stack on the shelf and checking the small computer tablet tucked in my apron. “I’ll do a loop and see if I can move things along to open up some tables.”
Dani was already hurrying away, turning and blowing a kiss over her shoulder. “Thank you!”
See, that was how bad I had it. In the middle of a shift, at the height of madness during dinner, I was zoning out.
I made it through that busy shift, spinning from one table to the next, and even picking up an hour behind the bar when the bartender had to leave early. It was only when I had collected the tip from my last table and was helping carry a final tray filled with empty dishes to the back that I felt the first ping of one of my dreaded headaches.
I didn’t quite know why I was feeling so irrationally private about these headaches. Maybe it was because they scared me a little bit. I didn’t like to feel out of control, and when ibuprofen didn’t even touch these, it was a bit frightening.
I thanked the stars tonight’s headache didn’t kick in until the end of my shift. I didn’t need Dani to worry any more than she already was, or the rest of my friends. Evie stopped beside me as I was sliding dishes into the rack of the massive industrial size dishwasher in the back of the kitchen.
“Do you want to head out to the bar?” she asked.
“No. I’m pretty tired. Who else is going?”
“Me,” Dawson said as he came up behind Evie and looped his arms around her waist, dropping his chin to her shoulder.
My best friend’s cheeks went pink with her smile. “Well, we are, and I think a few others.”
“Boone will be there,” Dawson added as he straightened and stood beside Evie with one arm firmly wrapped around her waist. “I hear you’re actually on speaking terms with him now.”
I couldn’t help but wonder what Boone had said, although I had already admitted as much to Evie. “Where’d you hear that?” I teased in return as another wave of pain throbbed at my temples.
Evie rolled her eyes. “I mentioned to him that y’all might be making peace. That’s all I said.”
“It’s not a secret,” I replied with a shrug. Evie didn’t know about my crazy hot kiss with Boone. For now, I wanted to keep that little bit to myself. I had told her about my conversation with Boone, finally clarifying everything that happened that summer, but that was it.
“You know Dawson. He just has to comment on things,” Evie said, elbowing him in the side.
“Hey, I’m all about peace and friendship. Why do you have to go and give me a hard time about it?” he countered.
“Because you tease about everything,” Evie countered.
Dawson nodded solemnly, although there was a gleam in his eyes. “Sorry. I do tease about everything.”
I laughed softly. “Go have fun. I’m gonna go home. I’m too tired to go out.”
A short drive later, I cut the engine to my car and pocketed my keys, leaning my head against my seat to take a deep breath. My headache had increased in intensity on the drive home. The pain was now encompassing my entire head and throbbing incessantly.
I took several deep breaths, hoping to get it under control. All I needed to do was walk inside. I had taken one of my migraine pills before I left the lodge to drive home. I had yet to really dial-in on the best time to take those. Sometimes I managed to take them early enough to cut the headache off at the pass, almost like a detour on the highway. Other times, it was too late, and I had to wait a little bit for them to kick in and knock the pain out.
After another deep breath, I straightened and climbed out of my car, taking care to move slowly and not jostle any part of my body too much. Whenever I got one of these, any abrupt motion could send sharp bolts of pain radiating to my head.
I was startled when headlights angled across
me, and I stumbled a bit. I froze after I caught my balance, waiting until the pain subsided from that jolt. Looking up, I saw Boone’s truck. I couldn’t even be frustrated at his presence. I mean, he did live here. It was just I hadn’t expected him right now and didn’t want him to see me like this. I lifted my hand in a wave and turned to walk in, hoping I could get inside and up the stairs before he got out of his truck.
No such luck, but then I supposed that was an unrealistic wish considering how slowly I was moving. As I stood by the door and fumbled to get the key in the lock, my keys slipped from my hand with a loud clatter. I flinched at the sound. Pain blinded me as I leaned forward, just as I heard the sound of Boone’s truck door closing.
“Dammit,” I muttered to myself, fighting the tears that threatened as I curled my hands around the keys. I really, really did not want Boone to see me like this.
Looking down, I tried again to slide the key into the lock. Yet again, it just didn’t fit. I held my palm open flat and splayed the keys out, trying to make sure I was using the right key.
“Keys look too much alike,” I mumbled to myself.
For about the fourth time, I selected what I thought was the correct key, but my mind was fuzzed with pain. Once again, I couldn’t get the key in, and I leaned my head against the door, swallowing a sob.
I felt Boone when he approached behind me. “Are you okay, Grace?” he asked, his hand resting at the base of my neck and sliding down my back in a soothing stroke.
Without even lifting my head from the door, I replied, “My head hurts, and I keep using the wrong key.” My words came out almost slurred.
“Jesus, Grace. You do not sound okay.”
My keys slipped from my hand again, the sound of them hitting the porch making me flinch. “Don’t lecture me,” I mumbled, finally managing to lift my head from the door.
Opening my eyes, I found Boone’s concerned gaze peering into my face. “Sweetheart, you need to get inside and in bed. Should I take you to the doctor?” He brushed my hair away from my face. I became aware of the clammy feel of my skin, if only because his calloused palm was dry and warm against the cold, sticky surface of my face.