For almost two years Grady chose alcohol over me. Over us.
But now…
Now he doesn’t drink. If Grady says he hasn’t had a drink in ten years, then that means not one drop. The man may not be perfect, but he’s scrupulously honest.
So if I’d held on another year…
But I have to stop that line of thinking. Going down that path would be stupid. I did what I had to do. I had small children to think about and my own mental health was hanging in the balance. There were so many sleepless nights, so many times I put the kids to bed alone and just cried for hours. My heart after Grady was a giant, raw mess, and eleven years of separation haven’t healed those scars, not really. That’s why I wasn’t able to commit to Adam and it’s why I’m still single, if I’m being completely honest. No matter how much I want to forgive Grady for the past and move on, I can’t. I just can’t.
CHAPTER TEN
Cassie
I’m putting away the freshly laundered towels when Grady trudges up the stairs. It’s nearly midnight, and the kids and Donna are asleep. We’re both pretty wiped out from yesterday. He’s like an old man on those stairs, stooped and sad, and it kills me to see him like this.
“You taking a shower?” I ask. “The towels are done. Still a little warm from the dryer.” I pull one from the stack and offer it to him.
His eyes are red-rimmed and heavy-lidded. He leans one shoulder against the wall, yawns, and then murmurs an apology when I follow suit.
“A shower would be great. Yeah, I’ll take one of those towels.”
“Grady…”
I haven’t said it yet, and I really need to. I need it off my chest, because not telling him would be a type of fraud. I have to do this, not only because it’s right but because I need to give him something. I need to extend the olive branch somehow so I can heal this rift between us and move on with my life.
He looks at me expectantly, and I close the distance between us and place the towel in his hands. My eyes fill with tears as I try to find the words I’ve been rehearsing all week.
When he closes his eyes and I see his dark lashes, so much like Caden’s when he sleeps, I find my strength.
“I know how much you loved him.”
He squeezes his eyes harder, and I realize he’s fighting back tears.
“I know he was the most important person in your life.” I take a deep breath and push on. Grady doesn’t move, not one muscle, even when I squeeze one shoulder.
“And I’m so sorry you’re hurting.” My voice breaks in the end and that’s what makes him look at me. “I’m so sorry, Grady.” I repeat myself and somehow he’s in my arms. I wrap my arms around his strong shoulders and rest my cheek on his chest as he tucks his face into my neck. He folds into me, as much as a man of his size can fold into a woman.
It isn’t until wetness trickles into the neckline of my pajama top that I realize we’re both crying. Grady is wordless, his throat working the way men’s throats do when they’re trying to choke back tears. I’m sniffling and my nose is running, but I don’t want to break the spell. I realize I’m swaying, too, the soft side-to-side rocking I used to do with the kids and still find myself doing when I hold other people’s babies. I rub his back, trying to soothe him, and he burrows further into me.
“I miss him,” he rasps against my damp skin. “Cass, why the fuck was it him? Out of all the people on the road that night, why the fuck was it my brother?” He sounds angry and confused and sad all at once.
“I don’t know, baby.” I say it without thinking, the old endearment slipping from my lips without hesitation.
He squeezes me tighter, taking the breath out of me, and I run my fingers through his messy dark curls, massaging his scalp the way I used to when he had headaches. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I feel him relax against me and sigh into my shoulder. I keep my fingers moving, soothing circles with just the right amount of pressure, as if I could absorb some of his pain into my own body.
He whispers my name and I twine my fingers in his hair and hold my breath as he presses his lips to the patch of bare flesh where my neck meets my shoulder. I feel it everywhere in my body at once, a high-voltage surge that bolts through my chest, sizzles down my spine, and settles low in my belly. His breath tickles my skin as his lips hover over my collarbone, and his almost touch is excruciating. I feel unbalanced, like the entire world just shifted beneath my feet. This shouldn’t be happening, but it is happening.
“Cass.” It’s a statement, not a plea, but I have no idea what it’s supposed to mean, only that I want him to say it again and again so I can pick it apart and let my heart process it. This isn’t about shared grief, I know that much. This is about us and whatever little thread has been stitching us back together since I walked into this house last Saturday.
His hands slide down my sides until they’re holding my hips. One thumb presses against my hip bone and the sudden sharpness of it makes me gasp his name, but it’s drowned out by the sound of Ares going crazy outside, barking his head off like there are a gang of ax murderers in the yard.
Instantly both of us are on alert, breaking apart.
“He never barks like that,” Grady says, face grim. He turns and takes the stairs two at a time, rounding the bottom banister with me on his heels.
“Oh my god, what if someone’s breaking in?” My heart is in my throat, my mind suddenly reeling with every news story I’ve ever seen about a violent home invasion.
“Hey.” He stops, sees the look on my face, and cups my cheek. “They’re not breaking into this house,” he assures me, grabbing the baseball bat his mother keeps behind the door to the back yard.
He turns back to me. “It’s probably just kids. But stay put, Cass. Do not step one foot out of this house, you hear me?” He tells me to call 911 if I don’t hear from him in two minutes and flings open the back door.
I can only nod, clutching my chest in a vain attempt to stop the hammering inside it as Grady steps outside to face the intruder. Please, God. I pray for the man I married for the first time in too many years. Please, God, keep him safe.
* * * *
Luckily our gang of ax murderers turns out to be a young raccoon that the dog has cornered between the garage and the trash cans. Its frightened eyes reflect the beam of the floodlight as Grady grabs Ares, who’s slavering and straining against his collar so hard he chokes himself. The raccoon blinks gratefully at us before lumbering away like a tiny bear.
“Our fierce protector,” Grady says wryly, stroking Ares between the ears. Ares whines and growls after the raccoon even though it’s already disappeared, reluctant to obey Grady’s orders to settle down and clearly quite pleased with himself for protecting the integrity of Donna’s trash cans.
I’m clutching my chest through my thin pajama top when I run up behind him. I couldn’t just stand there in the kitchen counting for two minutes, so I peeked out the window, and as soon as I realized there weren’t homicidal maniacs in the yard I came out after him.
“Oh, shit, that scared me,” I confess with a nervous laugh. In the forty-five seconds it took Grady to assess the situation I’d already created a scene in my head in which the entire family was slaughtered, including Ares who managed to avenge our deaths by taking down a couple of the murderers before they got him, too. I’m giddy with relief that it was just a baby raccoon.
“He must’ve smelled yesterday’s party in our trash cans.”
“Aww, poor little guy. He’s hungry!” Suddenly I’m sad for the raccoon.
Grady shakes his head at me and leads a still-agitated Ares back across the yard by his collar. “We’re lucky he didn’t wake the whole damn neighborhood. I shouldn’t have left him out there so late, but he loves this cool weather.” He strokes Ares again, whose ruff is still standing on end. Ares makes little woofing noises deep in his throat and stares back at the trash cans as if he’s a little doubtful the danger has really passed.
“I’m glad s
omeone loves this weather,” I grumble. “It’s really cold out here!” It’s barely forty degrees and I’m barefoot in my PJ’s hopping from foot to foot.
Grady scowls at me. “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”
“Um… yeah, you did, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured it was safe.”
“That’s not the point. You should’ve stayed put.” He shakes his head. “You’re a terrible listener. Stubborn as ever.”
“But—”
He interrupts me. “And no shoes and no coat.”
“Grady, it was an emergency.”
“It was a raccoon. C’mon, go. Get yourself back in there before you freeze.”
I scurry back in and hose my feet off in the mudroom, still shivering, heart racing from the shock of the past ten minutes. Grady leads Ares back in and locks the back door before striding through the kitchen to check Donna’s front door, as he always does before turning in for the night. I get a little flushed watching him move purposefully through the house to keep us all safe, and as he heads back upstairs and I’m finally alone I allow myself the memory of our almost-kiss. His hands on me, his breath hot against my throat, the words we both wanted to say.
I can’t give it head space, because it will overwhelm me. I want to dissect it, flay it apart and examine every bit of it, but it’s still too fresh and I’m emotionally exhausted. I can’t do this.
Instead, I busy myself by switching over the last load of laundry and folding the last few towels before I head upstairs. Ares is on the landing where the stairs turn, waiting for me to come upstairs. When I pass him he dutifully trots behind me up the stairs and plops himself down in the hallway just outside the bathroom, where I hear the hiss of the shower.
We always talked about getting a dog. Grady made a strong case, but the kids were too little and I knew I would’ve been the one to take care of it. No way was I adding one more thing to my plate. It strikes me that Ares is the family dog Grady always wanted us to have, and suddenly my eyes are prickling and my throat is tight. When the last of the towels is put away I slip into my room and climb into bed.
But I can’t sleep. Each time I close my eyes I’m tortured by the scene in my mind. The memory of his soft curls between my fingers and his skin pressed to mine is like a thousand other memories I have of Grady, all locked safely away. Touching him again feels like I’ve just opened the closet door and let them all come tumbling back out into my lap.
When I held him, Grady felt so strong and solid against me, bigger than he was when we split up. All muscle, the satisfying bulk of a two hundred pound man, no longer a hundred and seventy pound boy. His openness and vulnerability when he talked about Carl was also new. That wasn’t the Grady I knew from before, who clammed up about his feelings and got angry if you asked him. It was some new, improved Grady, and I’m not sure if I like that or if it’s too dangerous for me to handle.
His protectiveness when we were outside - I didn’t even realize I’d missed that, having someone look out for me all the time, just like I do for my kids. You can take care of yourself, the little voice inside my head whispers. You don’t need a man for anything. You’re living proof. But I ignore its admonishment. Instead I force myself back to the moment in the hallway when I touched Grady, and he looked at me like he was drowning and I was the only person on earth who could save him.
Grady
The house is silent now, but I can’t sleep. Too much running through my head, and although I should be thinking of a million other things, my mind has settled on a single thought.
Cassie.
How far would she have let me take things if the damn dog hadn’t interrupted? I was about two seconds from kissing her, and there was nothing about her in my arms tonight that told me she would’ve stopped me. She held me, and then she let me hold her. Touch her.
Which is confusing as hell.
Neither one of us had that intention when she gave me that towel. I know that. She was just being Cassie, just being warm-hearted. There’s no doubt she loved Carl as if he were her own brother. His death hit her hard, too. Besides, she’s worried about me. I see it in her eyes. It’s not pity, it’s just an awareness of my emotional state.
I wouldn’t have touched her first, and she knows that. But being folded into her arms was like having the vise around my heart loosened, just a bit, just enough that I could breathe again. It was comforting and safe and warm.
And then something changed. It was still safe and warm, but it slid right past comforting into some other territory. Dangerous territory, because I’d been there before and so had she.
From our first date, Cass and I couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Although she was a virgin when we met and we took our time getting to the actual deed, we thoroughly explored the boundaries of every sexual act outside of intercourse for months and got damned good at it. As a result, our first time was off-the-charts hot, at least by teenage standards.
That’s just how it always was between us - hot. Didn’t matter if we fought - hell, the more pissed off she was the better she gave it to me. I could always count on her sweetness in the bedroom, but when she lost control of her emotions she also lost control of her inhibitions and she was magnificent.
She smelled the same and felt the same in my arms. I wonder if her kisses still taste the same and if she still likes to be nibbled on the back of her neck, right above her shoulder. I wonder if she still comes quietly, with just those throaty little gasps she always tried to bite back. That takes me down a path of fantasy I shouldn’t indulge but do.
Alone in the dark I’m tormented by a Cassie who’s equal parts fantasy and memory. Hot, satin skin yields under my hands, quivering at my touch. The taste of her sweetens my tongue, invading my senses. The lush heat of her surrounds me as if she’s really here, pressed up next to me in this bed. In my ears is the sound of her breathless voice begging Grady, please, let me touch you. My fist becomes her practiced hand and I give her what she’s asking for.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
May 1996
Cassie
The flowers sit untouched in their cello wrapping on my lap, the satin ribbon coming untied. They’re beautiful, but I’m still furious with Grady. When he called me, I almost said no. Almost. But he said he had something important to tell me and I wanted to hear what the asshole had to say.
Two weeks ago we had a huge fight. I had just gotten my freshman welcome packet from Ohio State and was super-excited about it. But Grady was in a pissy mood. We were supposed to have a date that night, but all we did was argue. We ended up yelling at each other, and when I told him we should just break up if our relationship was so much trouble, he shocked me by agreeing.
So we broke up. And it’s been thirteen miserable days.
A tiny part of me knows why. I know this is hard for him, because it’s just as hard for me. No one I know who already went off to college attached is still with their boyfriend or girlfriend, and I can’t bear the thought of us breaking up. I try to focus on the happy parts of this - new school, new friends, getting out of our small town.
But the rest of me needs him to explain. I’m not stupid; I know how cute Grady is, and I know there are girls lined up just waiting for me to go off to college so they can get their claws in him. Maybe he’s not ready to be tied down just yet. Maybe he just can’t say that to me, and he’s waiting for us to just fade out so he doesn’t have to break up with me.
I just want to hear him say the words.
“Just let me explain,” he says, and his voice cracks.
“So talk.” I look out the car window and keep my hand limp when he takes it in his, even though it’s killing me not to look at him when he’s touching me.
“This has been the worst two weeks of my entire life.”
I say nothing. He doesn’t need to know that they’ve been the worst two weeks of mine, too. He doesn’t need to hear that I cried myself to sleep every night, that I can barely eat because even the simple pleasure
of food feels like a betrayal to my heart. That my lungs won’t expand anymore and I feel like I’ve lost the ability to breathe. He lost that right two weeks ago when he said it didn’t matter if I broke up with him or not.
“I’ve missed you so much, Cass. I was so mad when you threatened to break up with me. I couldn’t even stand the thought of it. I figured maybe a break would be good for me. I thought I could forget you for just a little while. I had every plan to find some girl, any willing girl, and just—”
Something new in his voice makes me turn my head, and I see that he’s angry. He chokes back the words and then spits them out. “Just fuck her. I was going to fuck some other girl to get back at you for leaving me.”
Bile rises in my throat at his admission. I scramble for the door handle but he hits the power locks and grabs my wrist. “Please. Just listen. Just let me explain!” I struggle against him for a moment and then give up and lean against the door, my heart pounding.
“I didn’t,” he reassures me. “I went to a party and kissed someone, but it just made me sad.”
“Is that the stupid slut you went on a date with?” Oh, yeah. He doesn’t know I know about that. But nothing happens in this town without everyone knowing about it in five seconds.
His ears get red and I realize he probably wasn’t going to mention that particular detail. Asshole. “Uhh… No. That was— I went to the movies with Jana Lott.”
“Did you fuck her?”
“At the movies?” he asks incredulously, obviously forgetting some of the things we’ve done in movie theaters over the past seven months.
I glare at him and he looks away, out his window this time.
“No,” he murmurs.
I don’t believe him. “You did,” I spit, turning to my own window. “I hate you so much right now.” I can’t control the tears streaming down my face or the hollow twisting in my chest, worse than any pain I have ever felt. My nose is running and I want to smash his face into the windshield. And then go find the stupid slut he went to the movies with and smash her face, too.
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