by Laura Kenyon
Belle exchanged an amused glance with Gray, who was still soaked to the bone.
“Then they forced us all to play a murder mystery game for three hours, which mercifully ended just before the lights came back on.” He flipped mechanically through a pile of reservation cards and rapped them against the desk. “Now, she’s taken them all downtown for dinner and dancing. I fear for them. I’ll be going home now to forget this day ever took place, and will see you tomorrow at eleven.”
“Eleven?” Belle repeated as Nathan looked up. It was the first time she’d been on the receiving end of his infamous glare. “Oh right. Because you stayed late today.” She wasn’t going to argue. “Have a good night.”
After Nathan’s cheery departure, Gray returned to his cabin to shower and Belle decided the day’s adventures warranted takeout. She also opted to take dinner in the lounge, since Rapunzel always took clubbing to the extreme and her guests might need some TLC when they returned.
“I still don’t know what to make of that guy,” Gray mused as they sat in the lounge—him on the couch opposite the fireplace, her in the armchair right beside the flames, and Beast gnawing on pizza bones beneath the table. “Can you believe he actually called me pond scum the other day?” His eyebrows flipped as he knocked his head back in mock outrage. “Pond scum!”
Belle tossed her needle up and down through a cross-stitch she was making for the baby. “Nathan’s harmless. He’s just … particular. He’s like that with everyone. I’m not sure I’ve seen him take to anyone right away. Except me, of course.”
“Hmm. Well. That just makes him human.”
Belle smiled and waited for the jab that usually followed Gray’s compliments. When none came, she looked up to see him staring right at her. His entire body tilted forward and his eyes—wide and stormy now—seemed to pulse with her heartbeat.
“Would you mind closing the doors a bit?” she asked, motioning to the fireplace. “It is technically still summer.”
Gray crossed the rug in three steps and bent down to connect the glass slabs. Then he stood there, staring past Angus’s housewarming gift—a lifelike painting of the Braddax Hills—and poking a set of bronze bookends.
“Belle.”
She squinted into her needlework, as if it contained a bomb in need of diffusing. Something about his tone was different. Something about everything was different.
“Belle,” he repeated, as if she hadn’t heard it the first time.
But she’d heard it just fine. She’d heard the longing tone, the soft inflection, the way in which he made it half sigh, half question. It was just one syllable, which she’d heard a trillion times in a million different voices. But this one caused her stomach to flip inside out and her eyes to burrow deep into the tiny pastel Xs in her hands.
Unless someone performed a miracle for her, she was destined to return to Braddax Castle. She had to accept that now. She would have no choice but to put her wedding ring back on, go back to Donner’s bed, and pretend that everything was fine for the sake of their child.
“Nathan just doesn’t know you yet,” she said, playing oblivious. “Give it time and—”
“Belle,” he interrupted. “There’s something you have to hear.”
She pitched her chin up. If he really was as fearless as he claimed—if he really was missing some fundamental part that let him connect with other people’s emotions—would he not see the terror that was flashing through her entire body right now?
He wrung his hands together and perched on the arm of the chair right next to her. Something unfamiliar flitted across his face.
“I don’t want to insert myself where I don’t belong.” Belle gripped her canvas and the smooth metal needle pushing through it. If he said anything about feelings—anything that would turn their flirtations into something more—she’d have no choice but to push him away. But she didn’t want to. She’d prick herself before he could ruin what they had now. She needed it. Whatever it was. “But I care about you and—”
“Gray, please don’t—”
“What did he do to you?”
Silence dropped with the question mark. The needle plunged into Belle’s thumb but she bit back the yelp. Only the crackle of the fire had the nerve to make a sound.
“What?” She couldn’t rely on her voice to say even one word without cracking.
Gray sighed and bowed his head. “I just … The look on your face today, and the way he made you act.” He clenched a chunk of his shirt in his fist. “You’re way too strong and good to let someone do that to you. You have something—a light or something—like I’ve never seen before.”
“A light?” Was he serious?
“You left everything, Belle. Twice. With no idea where you were going. And yet this man has you running scared and reckless and acting like it can all be torn away at any second. I just don’t get it.”
Belle sighed and tucked her needle into the cloth. She’d messed up today—really messed up. She’d lost her temper in a way that put three lives in danger—Gray’s, hers, and her child’s. And Gray wasn’t coming on to her. He was just concerned—a true friend, despite all the ways in which he sold himself short.
“I wasn’t thinking straight,” she said. “I guess where you’re afraid of nothing, I’m afraid of far too much. Where your body doesn’t signal you to be alert, mine screams so many things at once that I can’t make out a single one.” She stared into her hands. It was suddenly so quiet. “Donner lit the flame, but I’m the one who exploded. It’s my fault.”
Gray pushed himself up forcefully and stopped by the fire. Pressing both elbows into the mantel, he squeezed the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. Minutes passed. Had she upset him?
“I wish I could be as brave as you were today,” she said. “I thought he was going to kill you but then—” Then what? Belle still wasn’t sure what had happened. Donner had focused on Gray’s forearm and backed down. “I actually saw fear in his eyes.” She waited. “Why?”
She heard a pained sigh. “Because he saw who I really am,” Gray said, his eyes still clenched. “Or at least who I used to be, who I’ve been running away from.”
“Was it because of the scars? On your arm?”
Gray unfolded from the fireplace and stared straight at her. His face was half in shadow, half filled with light. “I told you. People get hurt around me.”
“But not because you hurt them.” She perched on the edge of the cushion. “I can’t believe that. And you need to see that too.”
The air between them was so thick she feared the slightest movement might poke a hole in the universe. Then her phone buzzed on the table.
Gray let out a deflating sigh and turned back to the mantel.
The phone buzzed again.
Belle could barely bring herself to reach for it. Donner was probably texting her—making sure she’d heard his message loud and clear.
Reluctantly, she scooped it up and focused on the screen.
There were two messages, but they weren’t from Donner. They were from Penny.
1: Found it! Legit loophole! Donner’s fling with J voids the contract … You’re free!
2: (Commandeered by Letitia right now, so unless I stab her with her stiletto tonight, I’ll call you in the a.m. with details.)
She read it four times before raising her eyes. Could it be true? Donner had no claim on her baby? She could have a fair fight in a court of law? Loving, virtuous mother versus philandering beast? She’d have to win. Suddenly, all her fears about money and heritage and Ruby seemed so trivial, so unfounded. This had been the real problem. This was the fear that had been dragging her down all along. Now that it was gone, Ruby’s prediction was … well, it hadn’t come true. Too much time had passed. Certainly they would have seen concrete signs by now.
She felt so light, so bubbly, that she didn’t know what to do. She wanted to dance, to sing, to grab Gray by the cheeks and transfer all this happiness straight onto his lips.
Then she looked up and saw utter misery just three feet from her inexplicable joy. She felt four soft pops beneath her stomach—as if the baby was nudging her forward. She rose to her feet.
But hadn’t she just decided his concern came purely out of friendship? He’d called her strong, sure. Said she had “a light,” but what did that mean?
“Gray.” The word slipped from her lips as if coming from someone else.
He turned his head, still cushioned between his palms.
This time she was positive she saw fear. Maybe he was changing. Maybe all he needed to do, all along, was open up to someone.
He ran a hand slowly, forcefully, through his hair and started to back away.
“I’m not a good person, Belle. I’ve got demons I never want you to know about. But you don’t. You deserve to be happy. And it kills me to see you otherwise.”
Then, all of the sudden, she was sure. She’d gotten it wrong. Not only did Gray have feelings for her too, but they terrified him. They terrified him and he didn’t know what to make of that. As much as he thought he couldn’t feel fear, she was staring right at it.
“Belle,” he said, “you shouldn’t let a man like that hold you back from anything you want.”
“You’re right.”
“You deserve someone—”
She was inches away before he could finish this sentence. Driven to him like a magnet, she wrapped her fingers around his neck, pulled him close, and let her lips crash into his. He hesitated, frozen for a split second, and then pressed back, melting into her with a tenderness and a desire that she’d only ever imagined.
“I’m sorry,” she said in the pockets of air they allowed each other. “I thought I was trapped. I couldn’t let this be something.”
He pulled away, cupped her cheeks with both his hands, and pressed their foreheads together.
“Belle, I don’t know what’s happening, but I was so afraid for you today. I can’t stand the thought of—”
“Wait.” She pulled away and repeated one word. “Afraid?”
He laughed and said he wasn’t sure what it was, but she made him feel something he’d never felt before—something that made his heart clench in his throat when she was inside Braddax Castle and he had no idea what was happening.
Before she knew it, they were both on the couch. His hand rested protectively on her stomach, her arms wound through his hair, and their lips locked in an embrace she never wanted to end.
She didn’t even look up when her phone buzzed for the third time.
“I’ll get it later,” she said.
That’s when the pain began.
Chapter Seventeen
RAPUNZEL
Rapunzel punched open the double doors and immediately shook off the stench. Chlorine and puke. She couldn’t stand hospitals.
“Dr. Frolick,” she demanded, flinging her upper half into the bleach white countertop.
The nurse turned her chin slowly away from the computer, but her eyes stayed glued to the screen.
“Lady! This is an emergency! What floor’s Diggory Frolick?”
Rapunzel rapped the counter with her palm.
Finally, the nurse took a labored breath and looked at her. She took in Rapunzel’s one-shoulder top, her sweaty butterscotch waves, and her raging glare. Her eyes flickered in recognition. “Oh, hey,” she said, pressing one finger against her temple. “Aren’t you Ra—”
“Looking for my friend? Yes, I am. Glad you asked.”
Rapunzel flinched as Ethan, who’d stayed back to pay the cabbie, came up behind her. He rubbed the top of her back, as if she was a wild animal in need of taming. “Did you find Belle?”
The nurse ogled both of them and gave a star-struck smile. Rapunzel wanted her head. She’d just cost them a whole … forty-two seconds. Couldn’t she tell this was an emergency?
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” Rapunzel hooked both arms over the far side of the counter and hoisted herself up. Their noses stopped inches apart. A few months ago, she would have grabbed this woman by her hideous, sea foam green collar. But she was trying to do better. So instead she exhaled, smiled, and asked in her gentlest voice, “Where can I find Diggory Frolick?”
Despite Rapunzel’s restraint, the young woman’s eyeballs grew a good quarter-inch on all sides. She curled a finger to the right. “Thirty-fifth floor,” she said. “Elevators are that way.”
Each second felt like an eternity as Rapunzel watched the numbers light up, one by one, then fade. “You’d think they could get a faster elevator,” she muttered, bouncing up and down while Ethan chewed the inside of his mouth. “We might as well have walked.”
“Did the nurse say anything about her condition?” he asked, plunging his hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. It looked perfect, somehow, despite their frenzied escape from Club Dahlia as soon as she received Gray’s call.
“That nurse?” Rapunzel’s cackle sounded miles away. Her ears were still pounding from the nightclub. “That nurse could hardly tear herself away from her solitaire game. You think she’d actually have looked something up for me?”
Ethan rolled his sleeves back down to his wrists, but didn’t bother securing the buttons. He’d probably roll them up again in five minutes. “Well, at least she’s not in the ER. That’s a good sign.”
“That’s only because Diggory’s her doctor and Belle’s his favorite. She laughs at every one of his jokes.” She pressed the orange 35 a few more times and crossed her arms. “Plus, this makes her harder for reporters to find.”
“Still. If it was really bad, she’d be in the ER.” He put one hand on her shoulder and tried to draw her into an embrace.
She pulled back and yanked out her phone. She didn’t want to be comforted right now. “That’s it,” she muttered, jabbing at the screen. “Cindy needs to know about this.”
“What? Where did that come from?”
“She can’t stay mad at me forever.”
Ethan rubbed the scar that ran down his cheek—the scar he’d received when Grethel tossed him from the tower. “I agree. But do you really want to do that now? You don’t even know what to tell her yet.”
Rapunzel unleashed a highly exaggerated groan and shoved the phone back into her purse. “Fine. But I wasn’t calling Cindy right now anyway. Grace has to tell me how to reach her first.”
“Just wait till morning.”
Rapunzel twitched but opted to let it go. She was still learning how to be part of a couple—and to distinguish friendly suggestion from command. It wasn’t easy.
“I think I remember hearing that Grace has trouble sleeping,” he added, “so you don’t want to—”
“What? Why on earth would you know about my friend’s stepsister’s sleeping habits?”
Ethan shrugged—even though, as a private investigator, it wasn’t really that preposterous. “I just remember Cindy saying something about it.”
Perhaps it was the adrenaline of the evening. Or the stink of the hospital. Or the terror and helplessness that wouldn’t fade until she saw Belle in person. But Rapunzel looked over the debonair figure beside her—the only one who’d ever managed to break through the iron walls around her heart—and made the following remark: “So you remember that but you can’t tell me a single thing that will help me find Grethel?”
The elevator bell chimed just as Ethan’s jaw dropped and he did a miniscule sway of disbelief. He didn’t say a word as the doors slid open, but Rapunzel knew exactly what was going through his head. He’d thought that discussion came to a close days ago, and was now wondering if it ever would. He wasn’t the only one.
“Looking for Belle?” the receptionist asked before they even reached her desk. She was wearing a lime green flower that matched the waiting room chairs, and a smile bright enough for commercials. Rapunzel nodded. “Room 12B. Follow the orange hallway till it turns pink. Her door has the fuzzy blue triangle. Dr. Frolick is there now.”
Dr. Frolick, a potbellied dwarf who’d once lived w
ith Snow, had more energy than a two-year-old on an all-sugar diet. Rapunzel was convinced that his veins did not pump with blood, but with maple syrup.
“Rapunzel Rapunzel,” he sang, trotting wide figure-eights between her, Ethan, and Belle’s hospital bed. “So good to see you, Rapunzel! And a brunette today! And a brunette in tow!” He paused to smack Ethan on the hip, since his stubby hands wouldn’t reach any higher. He stopped and balanced his right elbow on his right wrist. “You know, I’ve always wondered. Do we call men brunettes, or just say brown-haired? Ah, well.” He tossed both arms up and resumed scurrying. “Good to have you either way.”
Is it? Rapunzel wanted to ask. Even with his triangular smile and boundless cheer, she saw something moderately serious in the doctor’s eyes. And with Diggory Frolick, serious was no small cause for alarm.
But before she could open her mouth, Belle’s voice struck up to greet them. She was propped up in the bed, wearing a pink hospital gown sprinkled with tiny blue diamonds. An IV line connected her forearm to a system of computers and a metal tree on wheels. She was white as the sheets, but she was smiling.
Gray, on the other hand, was a shadow leaning pensively by her side. He was the night sky where she was the sun. He could have aged a year since Rapunzel last saw him.
“Hey guys,” Belle said, her voice slightly slower than usual, and a tad weaker. “You really didn’t have to come all the way—”
“Belle!” Penny flew in wailing, a huge bouquet of black roses cascading from her arms. “Oh, Belle!” She tossed the flowers onto a plastic chair. “Holy crap! Are you okay? What happened?”
Rapunzel, who’d probably gone overboard in alerting all of their friends, eyed the bouquet. “I don’t know what’s worse,” she said. “That you stopped off for flowers on your way here, or that you bought dead ones.”
“What?” Penny looked down at the bundle. “Oh, these aren’t … they’re Letitia’s. I was with her when you texted. And they’re not dead, they’re just black.” Penny’s lips hung apart for an extra second, as if she wanted to add something nasty but decided against it. “So what happened?” She paused and eyed Gray suspiciously. “And have we met?”