This time Lacy does smile.
“So, you’ll help me, right?” I poke her arm, and she smiles wider.
“Yeah, I’ll help ya.”
“Perfect.”
CHAPTER 20
Graceland
It feels like I just fell asleep, in that place where dream and reality mix, but right now neither is the place I want to be. A soft knock on my door makes my body jerk awake and sit up. A shadow passes on the other side, cutting the moonlight and making my heart thud. I wipe my eyes, still wet with the tears that I couldn’t stop after Bentley brushed me off, after his sister gave me that little smirk like I was some dumb kid. After Lacy slapped me and told me she was done with me.
Throwing the covers off, I walk to the door, curious as to who just knocked. Something soft but crinkly slides under my foot, and I bend down to pick it up. Paper.
Under my bedside lamp, I let my eyes adjust to the new light before unfolding the note. The clock beside my lamp flashes. 11:45.
I smooth the paper out on my lap and hold it under the light.
I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have done that. Please meet me at your spot. Wear your most perfect dress. Don’t be late.
His name scrawled across the bottom of the page.
I look up at the window. My face scrunches into confusion. My most perfect dress? Don’t be late?
Orange light in the window catches my attention, and I hear Rasp’s hoarse whimper, the one he uses when he wants attention and isn’t getting it. I crawl onto the window seat and push back the curtains to see Ben standing in the middle of the dirt drive, a flashlight pointing at the ground. He’s looking at me, but I can’t really see him in the shadows. Even three stories, a glass window, and the fact that I can’t see his eyes don’t stop me from getting the Ben Feeling. Pushing the emotion down, I resolve I’m not meeting him. He’s right. He’s an asshole, and I don’t know why I ever thought to waste my time on him.
Ben turns away and starts walking to my barn. I feel the pull. Like he’s taking me with him. He always takes me with him as if part of me is trapped inside him. That part of me doesn’t want him to let me go. I have to meet him, even if just for curiosity’s sake.
It takes less than a second to pick my most perfect dress, and I slide it on before quietly pulling open my door.
Sitting outside are my shoes, a flashlight and, a sweater. He really does think of everything. A smile happens before I can stop it, and I reach down to scoop up the sweater and flashlight and slip the shoes on my feet.
It’s 11:57.
***
Something about the barn looks different. It seems softer somehow. Brighter. Even in the black night sky that swallows the world.
The rock is out of the way, so I push aside the board and can swear there is light from inside, not just my flashlight. I push myself through the opening, sliding it closed once I’m inside.
“You’re late,” Bentley states, and I turn to argue that I don’t know what late is but I can’t.
All that comes out is “I, uh–” with some strange gasping noise as my eyes adjust to what he’s done to my barn. Candles. Everywhere candles, imitating that soft light I saw. Shadows dance on the walls as the flames flicker from, I swear, at least a hundred candles. They’re lined along the edge of the loft, on the floor, on the old stable gates. It makes everything look soft and beautiful, but I can’t stop myself from thinking about how this is the most flammable building on the farm.
Ben sits on top of a long workbench that runs parallel with the edge of the loft above. He’s leaning forward, his hands under his thighs and his hair shadowing his face. He’s wearing dark jeans and his blazer over a dark button-down shirt. For the first time since I met him, he actually looks L.A.
I try to make sense of what’s happening, but I can’t stop gawking. This doesn’t happen to normal people. Guys don’t do stuff like this. Cheesy romantic things. Things I’ve always secretly wished for.
“Bentley?” I finally breathe out. “What is this?”
He slides off the bench, holding out his hand, and I place my shaking hand inside his. He curls my fingers as he pulls me closer to him and presses his lips to the flat spot right above my knuckles. The feel of his skin on mine shocks me back to reality, and the Ben Feeling takes over big time as I stand almost nose to nose with him.
Fifteen minutes ago, I was sleeping.
“Happy sixteenth birthday, Graceland Marie Holloway.” He kisses my cheek and turns my hand over in his, placing a small box in my palm.
I look down at the little box and back at his smiling face several times before he nods at it.
“Are you going to open it?” he asks.
There are a million things running through my mind about this, about him. Mostly about this. This whole...I don’t know what it is.
Out of everything I could say, what comes out is, “It’s not my birthday until 2:42. Technically.”
Ben laughs, and my cheeks burn. I distract myself by focusing on the little box. It’s small. Like a ring box. This does not make me happy fluttery; it makes me feel like I’m going to barf.
Shakily, I pull the ribbon and lift the lid. The shiny metal is the first thing I notice, and my heart seizes before I realize what I’m looking at. A key. A shiny silver key attached to a little keychain with a charm in the shape of a guitar.
“I, uh—,” This is the second time I’ve said that.
“Your car. It’s done. I finished it for you. The keychain. That’s what I got you for your birthday.”
My lungs tighten and crush out the air. “Oh my god, I thought you got me a car.”
Ben laughs, and it makes me smile. It’s a full, rolling, boiling laugh.
“Are you crazy?” he asks.
“I thought you were for a second,” I reply, smiling wider and laughing with him. My fingers run over the little silver key chain, and I pull it from the box.
“It’s one of those key chains you can buy charms for. The guitar is to remind you of me. There are lots of other kinds of additions, like dance shoes and such. You can put all your memories on there.” He runs his hand though his hair.
Tears sting my eyes, and I’m completely at a loss as to why. My mind starts to burn through thoughts faster than I can make sense of them, so I just rub my thumb over the little gemstone guitar and look at him through the loose strands of hair that hang in his face. My memories.
“Thanks.” It’s the only thing I can think of to say.
He reaches out and uncurls my fingers off the keychain and takes the gift box from my other hand. His touch is so light and careful it puts my body into overdrive, and the light hurts my eyes. The smell of straw and smoke and Ben’s perfect guy scent combo burns my nostrils. I have to clench my fingers into a fist to get the tingle of his touch to go away, but it doesn’t. He moves away from me to set down my gift, and he pulls his phone out and sets it down. He taps the screen a few times, and a familiar tune starts to hum faintly from the built-in speaker.
My head lifts. “Hey, this is my favorite song.”
Ben looks over his shoulder at me and smirks.
“I know.” He turns and steps up to me again, running his fingers down my arm and taking my hand. His other arm slips around my waist and pulls me into him. His face is inches from mine. My jaw is slack, limbs shaking, brain still foggy and unsure what’s happening.
Ben lifts my hand and places it on his chest, holding it in place. He starts to sway slightly pulling me with him.
My cheeks burn hotter. The tears are back, stinging just behind the lids, and I hope he doesn’t notice because I don’t know why they’re there.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Dancing. It’s your favorite thing to do, is it not?”
“No, I mean, yes. But this, Ben. I mean this, all of this. What are you doing?” The thick iron gate that is my internal fortress is poised to slam shut based on his answer. At the same time, I want to cling to him. Crawl inside
him and get lost there.
Ben steps back, and a wave of cold passes over me, making me shiver.
“Part of it is because I feel bad for earlier. My sister just shocked me, especially after what happened in the truck. Sash’s not supposed to be here, and I didn’t know what to do. I shouldn’t have introduced you like that.”
The tears are back, hot and wet, but clinging to my lashes with everything they have. I don’t cry. Not in front of guys. But I want to. He won’t mind. This guy. This guy is different, somehow. He must sense it now because he’s toe to toe with me in one step, his hands cupping my face.
“Gracie, please, don’t worry about Sasha. She’s really not as bitchy as she seems.” He pauses and smiles. “Okay, she is as bitchy as she seems. But you have to know it’s not you. I’m her little brother. She tries to protect me from girls who use me for money.”
My eyes lock onto his. “I wasn’t—”
“I know. But she’s just looking out for me. Like your brothers do for you.”
My heart speeds up, and I take his wrist. “Did my brothers threaten you?”
“A little, yeah. They more warned me, actually. They know you better than you think they do.”
I smile through tears, and one escapes its place floating in the mass and slides down my face. Just like he did the first day I met him, he swipes his thumb over my cheek, and I shake harder. Nerves spark and sputter through me, and I can’t figure them out.
“So, what’s the second part?” I need to keep talking. I can’t handle this feeling. I can’t stand how out of control I am. How strange I feel. How unstable.
“Huh?” His voice perfectly reflects the sideways look on his face.
“The reasons you’re doing this. You said the first part, so I want to know the second part.”
“I like you.”
“Huh?” We instantly switch roles.
“The second part is that I like you. Like, like you, like you. I shouldn’t. I didn’t want to. I tried not to. But I do.”
“Well you just know how to melt a girl’s heart.” I laugh half sarcastic, but I get it. I get it more than I want to.
Ben’s hands slide down my arms again, and he laces his fingers with mine.
“I find reasons to be near you, to touch you. I want to ask you a million questions. I want to know things about you I’ve never wanted to know about a girl. From the first time I saw you at the stable, I knew something about you was different. But it wasn’t until you dropped your guard that day you first brought me here that I saw what it was.”
My jaw hangs open. Chest heaving. Heart pounding. Hands shaking. He’s watching me, and his distant neutral icy stare is gone, leaving pools of ocean blue that I want to dive into head first. No safety, no depth check. Nothing. Just jump.
I want to know what he means, what he saw. I want to ask how he could possibly know that after seeing me once, but like every other time I try to say or do something tonight, the opposite happens. I start to cry.
Ben pulls me into him again and hugs me tight to his chest, which only makes me cry harder. Happy and sad mix so perfectly inside me I can’t distinguish them. I don’t know which I feel. I don’t know which I want to feel.
“When happy is sad…” I whisper into his chest, and he pulls back.
“What?”
I can’t look up at him. “And fear swallows joy...When the imperfect glares...it’s all around, all around. It never leaves, it’s always there.”
“Gracie, what are you talking about?” Ben has his hands on my face again, but I won’t look at him. Suddenly, I feel like I’m suffocating. The air is too thick. The heat is too much.
I step back out of his grip.
“I can’t.” Another role reversal. “I’m sorry, Ben.”
I turn to leave, forcing myself not to run. Not to start running and never look back. To push out this feeling. The Ben Feeling. This was a bad idea. The whole thing is a bad idea. I don't know why I ever thought this would turn out okay.
Not halfway to the broken board, Ben grabs my hand and swings me around. Pulling me straight into his chest, he grips the back of my neck with one hand and presses my body into his with the other hand on my lower back.
I’m unaware that his lips are on mine while my brain catches up to what’s happening, but my body doesn’t need my brain to know what to do with him. My fingers are in his hair, my mouth moving in time with his.
It’s amazing. More than amazing. The feel of his lips, his touch and how he slides his hand from my neck and puts it around my waist. He doesn’t grab at me. He doesn’t reach for my straps or my thighs. He runs his hands up and down my back, slowly. Like he cares. Like he’s taking his time. Not trying to get to a destination, but savoring. Exploring. It’s more than I’ve ever felt.
And it's crushing me.
I put my hands on his chest and push. He stumbles back, shock rippling across his face.
“I, uh—“ I say again. “I have to go.”
This time, I do run.
***
But I don’t go to my room. I reach in through the screen door and grab the keys to the quad, not caring if I’m quiet. As soon as I start it, the whole house is going to wake up. I don’t care. I can’t breathe, and I need to get out. To get away.
I turn the key and flip the little knob to turn on the one headlight. Dad will kill me when I get home, but it’s my birthday so I hope he only kills me a little. I back out slowly, and Rasp comes bounding from around the house, dopey looking, like he’s partly asleep but mostly excited for a midnight adventure.
A light flashes brightly through a second story window. Asher’s room. Dammit.
I take off through the dark, and Rasp keeps up easily, his tongue, like my hair, flapping in the wind. It would be so much easier to be a dog. Eat and sleep and chase things.
Not feel and hurt and be consumed by confusion. It never used to be this way. I’ve always known exactly what I want. I’ve always gotten what I want. It’s always been perfect.
Tonight should have been perfect. Ben surprised me. He found out my favorite music. He knows I love to dance. He got me a gift he knew I'd love. It should have been perfect.
Tears escape my eyes, and the wind blows them back into my hairline. I slow the quad and pull into the drive that leads to the stables. I pull up next to my car and jump off. Running my hand along the black paint of the hood as I walk by makes my stomach tighten again. He fixed it for me. I feel heavy, tired. Like I want to sit down right here and never get back up again.
All I can see is whatever’s reflected in the moonlight. The silver haze glints off the hood of my car, lights up the old rusted partial tractor that leans against the stable, and the shine in the black eye of my horse, Belle. She looks at me over the thick metal fence with that understanding gaze. I click my tongue at her, and her ears perk straight up. Rasp wiggles at my feet before squeezing himself through the bars of the fence.
I can’t help but smile at him. Excited to run, now excited to ride. Excited to be scratched, or fetch a ball, or just sleep on his back with his legs straight up in the air, trying desperately to stay cool.
I climb the fence and sit on the top rail. Belle snorts, and her breath blows the hair around my face. I reach out to touch that really soft spot right on the end of her nose and she closes her eyes, leaning into me. Moving against my hand, it’s as if she’s been waiting her whole life for me to touch her.
The motion does something to me. The way she trusts me, the way she leans into me and enjoys my touch even though I barely ride her anymore. The way she loves me even though I don’t visit her as often as I should. I’ve all but left her, and she still loves me.
I throw my arms around her thick soft neck and a sob escapes. Burying my face in Belle's mane, I don’t just cry, I full out body-shaking-if-I-let-go-of-my-horse-I’ll-fall-in-a-heap-in-the-mud, sob.
Belle stands silently beside me. She doesn’t move or make a sound, as if she knows I need her. As if sh
e wants me to lean on her, cry on her, wants me to know that she is still here for me when I need her. Her tail swishes once to brush the flies off or to cool herself down in the sweltering night heat.
I pull back and hiccup a few times, trying to catch my breath. I don’t remember the last time I cried like this.
No, that’s a lie. I do.
The day I found my mom’s journal.
The day I found out she never wanted me.
I can hear the rumble of the engine long before the light of the second quad shines in my face, pulling up beside mine. It’s Asher. I’m not positive at first because both of my brothers have this muscled hunch to their shoulders from throwing footballs and crushing people against turf in their spare time.
“Bug?” Asher says as he makes his way to the fence.
“Asher. What are you doing here?”
“I thought someone stole the quad, but when I checked to see if you heard anything, you weren’t there. I knew this is where you’d come.”
I quickly wipe away the remaining tears from my eyes, trying to make it look like I am just rubbing them or scratching at them.
Asher easily scrambles onto the fence and sits next to me.
“Why are you wearing a dress? It’s like one in the morning?” His face screws up, and his head cocks to the side.
My heart stutters for a second as I try to think of something to say.
“Better yet, why are you out here at one in the morning, in the dress or not?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You know Dad’s going to kill you? That’s why I came. He had that look on like when we were kids and he’d get so mad his face would turn that red color and we’d call him—“
“Santa Claus, but it would just make him more mad,” I finish for him, laughing a small, weak laugh. “Well, thanks for saving me.”
I try to hop off the fence, but Asher abruptly grabs ahold of my elbow and I turn to face him, my eyes wide.
“Gracie,” he starts and clears his throat. “When I went to check if Bentley heard anything, he wasn’t there, either.”
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