The Bars Between Us

by A. S. Teague

Grace: I’ll be home Thursday night. I’ll tell you everything then.

  Me: So then, there is something to tell?

  Grace: Yes. A lot.

  The tightness in my chest grows the more vague responses she sends.

  Me: Then tell me now, I’ll help you.

  Grace: I just need some time to myself.

  Me: So you’ve said. Are you sure that you don’t need space from me?

  Grace: Jesus, Bronn. You’re being ridiculous. This has nothing to do with you. NOTHING. Please, just leave me alone for a little while.

  Fuck, why did that hit me so hard?

  Oh, right, because I don’t want to leave her alone.

  I want to be with her.

  I want to help her with whatever the fuck is going on right now. I don’t even know what it is, but I know that whatever this thing is, I could handle it with her. But she won’t even let me try.

  She’s the only person I’ve ever told about my mother. Dani knew, but not everything. She never asked the questions and I never volunteered the information. She didn’t need to ask anyway, she saw for herself how rough my childhood was.

  But I’d told Grace. She knows all about how my mother tossed me to the wayside and then my father.

  She knew exactly how that had affected me.

  And here she is doing the same goddamn thing.

  So if Grace wants to freeze me out, to leave me here while she does God knows what in Columbia, then so be it.

  I won’t beg her to let me in.

  Despite the burning desire, I have to do just that.

  Me: No problem.

  I close out the message thread and set my phone on the edge of my desk. Squeezing my eyes shut, I suck in a breath and then blow it out before forcing my body out of the chair.

  Dani’s watching me, her eyes scrutinizing my every movement. “What did she say?”

  I squeeze the back of my neck, trying to massage the kink from sleeping on the hard floor. “A whole lot of nothing,” I reply, shuffling over to my desk to pull my keys out of the top drawer.

  “Well, what happened then?” Dani’s concern grates on my nerves, but I make an effort to brush it off. At least she cares enough to give a shit.

  “No idea,” I reply honestly.

  Because no matter how many times I replay the last few days in my head, I don’t know what the fuck has happened between Grace and me.

  And worse, I don’t know what the fuck this is going to mean for us in the future.

  Dammit!

  I stare at the screen, the light glowing in the darkness of my childhood bedroom. I’ve sent Bronn several messages that have gone unanswered.

  I miss him.

  I want to talk to him, to see him, but I’ve got so much to try and sort out, my brain is a jumbled mess of thoughts and emotions and I just can’t focus on anything that isn’t related to my father.

  My very much alive father.

  It wouldn’t be fair to Bronn to dump all of this on him, this shocking twist of events in my life, without first having some idea of what the hell I’m going to do about it.

  And more importantly, how I’m feeling about it all.

  The initial shock has worn off, thankfully, but I’m still conflicted about everything. I’d wanted to go see my dad, to talk to him, but Riley had convinced me to wait until after the appeal hearing.

  He’d reminded me that I needed time to come to terms with the fact that my entire life had been a lie. That the things I thought I knew as truth were in fact falsities, force fed to me by a woman so cruel I didn’t understand how we could be from the same bloodline.

  Growing up with Nana had been hard, the loss of both of my parents as a child even more unbearable. But this, this blatant betrayal, was by far the most excruciating pain I had ever experienced.

  Not only was I mentally exhausted, but physically I felt as though I had been run over by a truck, several times.

  I’d torn Nana’s house apart, from top to bottom, searching every square inch of the mansion, looking for more of her secrets, but I’d come up short, not finding anything further. The house looked as though burglars had ransacked it. If she were still alive, my grandmother would have died of a stroke to see what it looked like.

  And childishly, that fact made me happy. I hoped that wherever she was, she could see me giving her the middle finger, leaving her pristine home in shambles, gleefully destroying the appearance that she worked so hard to maintain.

  My phone rings in my hand, and my heart leaps before disappointment washes over me when I realize it isn’t Bronn. Not that he would have any reason to call. I’d been clear when I told him that I needed space. He got the message loud and clear, and I hadn’t heard a single word from him since yesterday morning.

  I know that I hurt him, shutting him out. He’d told me once that he’d always felt alone, even though he had Dani. That the wounds his mother had inflicted cut deep, and even though he knew that it was because she was worthless and should have never had a child, it didn’t stop him from feeling like he was the reason she had never loved him the way a mother was supposed to.

  It wasn’t that Bronn expected me to be his mother, but we’d come to depend on each other over the last few months. And my sudden disappearance, without a reason why, probably reminded him of the years he spent wondering if his mom was going to come home or not.

  Shit.

  I messed up.

  I send the call to voicemail and then dial Bronn’s number, holding my breath that he answers. After three agonizingly long rings, he picks up.

  His voice is gravelly and I glance over to the clock on my nightstand. It’s only nine p.m., too early for him to have been in bed.

  “Grace?”

  “Bronn,” I whisper. “I’m sorry.”

  He clears his throat, and I can hear his sheets rustling in the background.

  “Are you in bed?” I ask.

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t elaborate and I don’t have the chance to ask why when he continues, “You okay?”

  “Yeah…no. Not at all.”

  The rustling becomes louder and I can almost picture him sitting up in the bed. My heart aches, the desire to be there with him instead of in this house that’s full of sad memories overwhelming me.

  “What’s going on?” he asks, his voice much clearer than it was just a moment ago.

  “I…” I want to tell him everything, to cry in his ear for the rest of the night, to have him tell me how sorry he is that I lost out on so much over the years. I want to have him hold me, to rub circles on my back as I soak his shirt in salty tears. I need to feel his strong arms around me, holding me together, both physically and emotionally. I want to be on his worn-out boat, wrapped in his scratchy sheets, our naked bodies intertwined so that you can’t tell where one of us begins and the other ends.

  I want to tell him that my father isn’t dead. That he’s in a prison just ten miles from where I’m currently sitting in the dark, crying my eyes out. I want to tell him that I’ve just spent the last three hours searching the internet for anything and everything related to my dad’s incarceration.

  But I don’t.

  “Grace?” he asks again. His voice is laced with worry, and guilt rolls over me in waves, knowing that I’ve caused him to worry for the last few days.

  “I’m here,” I whisper. “Listen, I can’t talk,” I choke out.

  “What do you mean you can’t talk?” he barks, his sharp tone causing me to flinch. “What in the hell is going on with you? Is it because I was mad about Riley before you left? Is it Riley? Did something happen with you two?”

  He fires the questions, and I don’t have a chance to answer before he asks the next one. I can’t blame him for assuming that it has anything to do with him, with Riley, with us.

  “No! None of that. It’s just something from my past, something I’m having a hard time understanding myself, let alone explaining to someone else.”

  “Well, try dammit!” he all but shouts
into the phone.

  The ache in my chest intensifies, until I worry that I won’t be able to get a breath into my lungs. This isn’t how I imagined this phone call going. “I can’t!” I scream, my voice breaking off in a sob.

  “How could you think that I wouldn’t understand?” he asks, his voice much calmer, an abrupt change from the angry man a few seconds ago. “There is nothing you could ever tell me that I wouldn’t believe, that I wouldn’t accept and understand. Whatever it is, Grace, you can fucking tell me.”

  “And I will. I swear to you, I will tell you everything as soon as I get home. But right now, I just can’t. Please, be patient with me,” I beg, desperate for his assurances that he will be waiting for me in a couple of days. “I’ll need you more than ever when I get back.”

  His voice is sad, and my gut twists as he promises, “I’ll do whatever you need. If you need time and space, I’ll give it to you blindly. But dammit, don’t shut me out.”

  “I won’t,” I tell him. Even though I want nothing more than to hide out until after the hearing tomorrow, I know that it’s not fair to him to expect him to sit at home wondering if I’m even alive here. If the roles were reversed, I don’t know that I would be quite so understanding.

  “I have big news,” he tells me brightly. “But, I want to share it in person.”

  Good news would be welcome, but I don’t push him. “I can’t wait to hear it.”

  “I miss you, Grace.” He drops his voice, the husky timbre shooting straight to my core. “I was dreaming about you when you called.”

  My pulse begins to race. “Yeah?” I squeak. “Were we naked in your dream?” I tease, hoping that the answer is yes. That he’ll tell me all the dirty details, giving me a much needed distraction.

  “No.” He sounds as disappointed as I feel. “But we were alone at The Sands, the sun just beginning to rise over the horizon. Your head was in my lap, my fingers lazily running through your hair, and we were talking about our future, about where we were going to go from here.”

  I close my eyes, picturing the scene, a smile forming on my face for the first time in what seems like a week. I can almost feel his calloused hands on my head, hear his slow, even breathing, and smell the salt air.

  “God, that sounds amazing,” I murmur. “I wish it wasn’t just a dream.”

  “I’m pretty sure that we were about to get naked though. Your call just interrupted that.” He chuckles and I laugh with him.

  “Well, I’m so sorry to have ruined that,” I tease.

  “Nah, it’s okay. Besides, hearing your voice is better anyway. Gives me something to think about while I’m in the shower.”

  “You don’t have to just remember my voice, you know,” I tell him, my voice low, and what I hope is sultry. “I could talk to you now, maybe you can tell me what would have happened on that beach if I hadn’t woken you up.”

  He groans. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

  I lick my lips, swallowing hard. “I am.”

  A rumble of pleasure escapes his lips. “Fuck yes.”

  My lids flutter shut, and I slip a hand inside my panties, my fingers going to my clit. I’m wet already, and I tell him, “Well, I’m waiting.”

  “Don’t go,” she pleads, her eyes wide.

  I don’t want to, but I have no choice. “You know I have to go, Dani.”

  “No, you don’t,” she snaps, her worry causing her ordinarily laid-back demeanor to be on edge. I don’t blame her. It’s never easy, and each time I come back it takes weeks to recover. I spend my days surly and my nights drunk. She spends hers cleaning up my messes and taking care of me, which is no easy task.

  Blowing out a breath, I push to my feet and cross the distance between us in two long strides. Taking her by the shoulders, I pull her to my chest and hold her tight.

  “I promise, this time won’t be like the others.” I try to reassure her, but even I’m not entirely convinced.

  Even though I’d spoken to Grace last night, I still had more questions than answers. I was on pins and needles, waiting for her to come home and explain what was going on. It went against every fiber of my being to give her the space she’d requested, but I understand her need to work things out herself first.

  Just knowing that I had Grace to come home to had me convinced that this trip wouldn’t be like the others. Unlike all the other times, I had something and someone to come home to. Grace made the bad times easier, the good times better. I didn’t want to waste any of our time together in a depression-induced haze. I wouldn’t subject her to my misery, because she deserved the best version of me. I may not know what exactly that was yet, but I was working on it.

  Dani loops her arms around my waist and squeezes tight, pressing her face into my chest. I hug her back, holding her for as long as she needs. There was a time in our lives when her touch would cause me to recoil. I would pull away, the contact more than I could stand. Or worse, say something nasty, forcing her to stop trying. Which she had, time and again, only to come back even more determined to forge a relationship with me.

  Even as recently as a few months ago I would have taken this fight between us and her desire to help me and twisted it into something ugly.

  I wasn’t worthy of love. I was only deserving of misery. Or so I’d been told. And when you’re told something enough, it begins to feel like fact.

  But then Grace had blown into my life and calmed the stormy sea that I’d become. I’ll be damned if I was ever going to go back to the person I was before she strutted into my life.

  Still squeezing my waist, Dani tilts her head back, her eyes searching my face. “I’ll go with you.”

  Shaking my head, I protest. “Not a chance.”

  The day is hard enough on me, there’s no way I’m going to subject her to that. She may be older than me, and we may not have always seen eye to eye, but I still feel the need to protect her. There are so many things that I can’t save her from, but this is definitely one of them.

  She lets go of my waist, her hands flying to her hips, and comically stomps a foot. “You can’t tell me that I can’t go!”

  “The hell I can’t.”

  Her eyes narrow and she snaps. “I’m not kidding!”

  Holding my hands up, I shrug. “Sorry, Dani. But, no. You’re not going with me.”

  Her eyes are still narrowed as she pushes past me and pulls open the door to my refrigerator. She scans the contents, her mouth tipped down in a frown. Not bothering to turn, she asks over her shoulder, “When was the last time you ate something other than frozen pizza and beer?”

  I sigh and prop a hip on the bar stool, my forearms resting on the counter. “It’s been a while.”

  She grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, the only non-alcoholic beverage that’s in there, and slams the door before leaning against it. “Let’s grab breakfast when we get on the road.”

  I roll my eyes but don’t protest. I don’t have the energy to argue with her anymore and there’s no point in trying anyway. When Dani Williams makes up her mind about something, there’s nothing that anyone can do to change it.

  I smile, realizing how alike she and Grace are. It’s no wonder I fell for Grace. She reminds me of the one woman in my life that’s always been there. Stubborn and strong.

  Grace had been gone for five days and I fucking missed her.

  I hadn’t realized how much a part of my everyday life she had become until she wasn’t there. The nights that she wasn’t perched on a stool at the end of my bar had been long and boring. When she wasn’t reading she was watching me with a small smile on her face or teasing the regulars.

  Even some of the old timers had asked about her, wanting to know where she was, and then accusing me of running her off. Not that they blamed her, they would joke, she was way too pretty for me anyhow. And they were right, those cranky old bastards.

  I chuckle to myself, shaking my head, wondering how the fuck I got so lucky.

 
“What’s so funny?” Dani asks, interrupting my thoughts.

  I roll my shoulders and stand, grabbing my truck keys from the counter. “Nothing. If you’re gonna buy us breakfast, we better get going.”

  Her face splits into a triumphant grin and I point a finger at her. “Oh, don’t get all cocky. I’m only letting you come because I’m hungry and you’re buying.”

  She follows me through the door of the boat, and I help her onto the dock. Looping her arm through mine, she beams at me. “I like this Bronn.”

  My brows knit and I ask, “What Bronn?”

  With a laugh she chirps, “Oh, you know. The one that’s finally experienced the love of a good woman. And knows that the way to keep the lovin’ is to keep her happy.” She winks. “Cause it’s not just Grace you’re giving in to these days.”

  I can’t even fault her for her assessment of me, because it’s one hundred percent correct. I was willing to do just about anything to keep Grace happy.

  As long as that meant I got to keep her.

  I hadn’t slept at all, the uncertainties of what today would hold keeping me awake all night long. Several times I’d reached for my phone to call Bronn. I knew that he would answer my call and listen to my worries before saying all the right things to make me feel better, but that would have meant explaining everything to him at three a.m., something my tired mind wasn’t up to. So, I’d try again to get comfortable and beg whomever was listening to just grant me a few hours of sleep.

  The sleep never came though, and when my alarm sounded I was already out of bed, working on my second cup of coffee. I was going to need a whole pot to make it through the morning.

  I went through the motions of getting ready, picking out a gray pencil skirt and pairing it with a soft pink blouse. I slid my feet into my favorite pumps and gave myself a once over, deciding that I looked good. I was going to see my father for the first time in years. I wanted to look my best, but more than that, I wanted him to take one look at me and be proud of what he saw.

  I wasn’t even sure that he would recognize me. Riley had informed me that I wouldn’t have the chance to speak to him at all, not even after the hearing. I would have to go to the prison, register as a visitor, and that process could take time.