by A. S. Teague
“Anyway, we were almost there, could just barely see it in the distance. Dani and I were racing, and even though she was older, I was in the lead.” I smile at the memory, it was the first time I’d ever beaten her in a race. She was freakishly fast, on foot and on bike. But I was winning that day, and I was so damn excited. “I would have won probably, except a car was heading in our direction, and fast. I was in the road, so I had to slow down and move over.”
I stop pacing and stand directly in front of him. “I was so mad that I had to slow down to get out of the way. Until I recognized you in the car. I know you saw me, you slowed down. But you didn’t wave, didn’t smile like you always did. You looked the other way, pretending you didn’t notice the boy waving wildly at you. As soon as you passed us, you sped up, sending a cloud of dust flying.”
He clears his throat, his gaze darting around the room, avoiding my eyes. “Yeah, I remember that now that you mention it.”
I saunter back over to my bar stool and prop a hip on it. “You were hauling ass away from the station because you didn’t want to be there when the cops showed up, weren’t you?”
It hadn’t taken me long at all to put the pieces together when the memory of almost being run over by my dear old Uncle Tony had come back. I’d done some digging, gone over the arrest report, and realized that the surveillance system that my dad had installed wasn’t working properly that day.
Or, at least, that was what the police have claimed.
“Bronn, what are you trying to get at?” he asks, again wiping a hand on his thigh. When he sees me watching his movement, his hand stills.
“You were there. You know what really happened that day. And it wasn’t a fucking robbery gone wrong, was it?” I sneer, jabbing a finger in his direction.
His face reddens, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Now, you just slow down a damn minute, son.”
“Stop calling me that!” I shout. “I’m not your damn son. Just tell me the goddamned truth.”
I’m done beating around the bush. I’m done hoping he’ll fess up. I want answers, I want the facts, and I’m not waiting for him to tell me any longer.
“The truth is exactly what it’s always been,” he replies, his voice rising. “Mickey Chumley showed up to rob the place that day. Your daddy managed to get a shot in before he died. That piece of shit is gonna rot in prison the rest of his life, just like he fucking deserves.” Spit flies from his mouth, his face nearly turning purple as he continues to yell. He heaves his large body from the stool and takes a step in my direction. “You need to let sleeping dogs lie, boy.”
I’m sure that he’s trying to intimidate me, but I’m not scared of him. He’s a fucking coward.
I push to my own feet, my chest bumping his. My face in his, I growl. “I know you have the fucking tapes, Tony.”
His eyes widen and he stumbles back.
“And, I fucking want them.” He continues to back away from me, but I keep advancing.
“I, I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but—“
“Grace fucking Monroe is what’s gotten into me.”
Confusion washes over Tony’s face, so I clear it up for him.
“You probably know her better as Grace Chumley. The daughter of the man that was falsely imprisoned for murder.”
He shakes his head. “He killed your daddy! He’s right where he needs to be.”
I slam my fist down on the bar beside me, the glasses rattling from the impact. “He killed my father because my father was a goddamn loan shark and was threatening his family!” I hit the bar again. “My father threatened a five-year-old girl! My father threatened Mickey’s wife! My father shot him first!” I bang my fist again and then stab a finger in his chest. “And you were there! You saw it all! And you took the fucking surveillance tapes and got the fuck out of dodge so you wouldn’t get in any trouble!”
With one final hit of my fist on the bar, I lean into him, my voice so low it’s almost a whisper. “And I want those tapes.”
My hand is throbbing in tempo to my pounding heart, but I don’t feel anything but the rage that’s been building in my gut.
Rage at the piece of shit standing before me, his jowls wobbling as his mouth opens and closes, trying desperately to make up some bullshit story to get himself out of the situation he’s in.
Rage at my father for being a complete scumbag who caused a little girl to lose her hero and a woman to lose her husband.
But more than those two combined, the rage that boils in my blood is at myself, for not fucking believing Grace, for putting her through even more hell. She spent her entire life living in hell, but that wasn’t enough to keep me from being a complete asshole and putting her through even more shit.
I didn’t deserve her, and I didn’t deserve her love, and yet, she’d given it to me. And I’d gone and fucked that up. But even if she never forgave me, I was going to make it up to her.
Starting with getting the tapes that proved Mickey Chumley acted in self-defense, the way he’d always claimed.
Tony holds his hands up in surrender. “I’ll send ‘em to ya.”
I shake my head. “Fuck that. We’ll go get them. Now.”
He nods. “Sure, yeah. Let me just—“
“Fuck you.” I snatch my keys from the bar. “You think I’m dumb? I spent almost a week trying to track you down. You live in this town and yet I couldn’t find your ass. You really think I’m going to let you do any goddamn thing without me right behind you, closer than your fucking shadow?”
I shove his shoulder, pushing him toward the door. He doesn’t resist, but I still don’t relax. I won’t feel any measure of relief until I have the evidence that proves Mickey’s version of events in my hands.
No matter what I have to do to get them.
The pounding on the door startles me and I nearly jump out of my skin. I’m not expecting anyone, and I’d just talked to Riley, so I knew it wasn’t him that was practically banging down my door.
“Grace!” The shout causes my blood to freeze in my veins.
Bronn.
My first instinct is to rush to the door and throw it open before leaping into his arms. Walking, or running as it was, away from him yesterday was gut-wrenching. I’d had to force myself to keep driving and not to turn back and go to him. It had been a mistake to look in the rearview, to see him standing there looking so devastated.
He’d looked almost as crushed as I felt.
But once I’d put some space between us, I realized that it was for the best. I needed to get away from him so that I could think clearly. And once I had, I knew that I made the right decision.
Bronnson may love me, and I may love him, but there were times in life that love was not enough. It didn’t matter that I felt our connection in my soul. It didn’t matter how badly I wanted to be with him. Sometimes, people were just not meant to be. And this was one of those times. And we were one of those star-crossed couples. A modern-day Romeo and Juliet.
I hadn’t cried when I’d come to that conclusion. I’d simply accepted it.
But now, here he was, beating on my door and I didn’t know what to do.
“Grace! I know you’re home. I can see you through the door!”
Shit.
In my panic, I’d forgotten that there was a big glass window on the door that I was standing in front of.
So much for pretending I wasn’t here.
“Go away, Bronn,” I shout back through the door. “I don’t want to see you.”
It’s a lie.
I do want to see him.
More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my entire life.
“I need to talk to you,” he shouts back.
“There’s nothing left to say,” I tell him, still shouting through the door.
“I have a lot to say. Starting with I’m sorry.”
My heart begins to pound.
He’s sorry?
He isn’t playing very fair.
“If y
ou open the door, I’ll tell you more,” he pleads, his voice sounding so sincere I can’t stop my fingers from turning the deadbolt.
I don’t remove the chain though and crack the door open. His face fills my vision, and my stomach dips. It doesn’t matter that I want to hate him, that I want to tell him to get lost. Every time he looks at me, the schoolgirl butterflies come back.
“What do you want, Bronn?” I ask, unable to conceal the exasperation in my voice.
His eyes roam my face before he tells me fiercely, “You are so fucking beautiful.”
Caught off guard by his compliment, I blink several times before whispering, “What?”
Now he’s just playing dirty.
“I didn’t tell you that enough,” he tells me, leaning into the door. He doesn’t ask me to open the door any further, doesn’t ask why the hell I’ve still got the chain on. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever known.”
I’m confused. I have no idea where he’s going with this. Narrowing my eyes, I purse my lips. “Are you trying to compliment your way back into my good graces?”
He shakes his head, his eyes soft. “Nope. Just telling you what you deserve to hear.”
“Oh,” I say lamely, at a complete loss for words. “Is that all you needed?”
“When I was a kid, I used to believe in superheroes.” He leans one arm against the doorframe. “I used to think that this guy who was a mix of Superman and Batman was going to swoop in and rescue me from my shitty life.” His eyes are pointed at me, but he’s not focused on my face. Instead, he’s lost in the memory. He chuckles. “I was going to be the sidekick.” He blinks, clearing the faraway look and focuses on my face. “You know, like Robin.”
I nod, because I’m not sure what else to do or say.
“But of course that never happened. And when I got older, I stopped believing in heroes. My life wasn’t going to be extraordinary. I was destined to be a loser, never amounting to more than what everyone thought I was.”
He pauses and swallows hard. I have to swallow the lump that’s in my own throat, his words hurting my heart. Despite everything, I still wish that I could go back in time, to that broken little boy, and reassure him that he was going to be okay. I’d tell him that he was worthy of love, that his life was important. If not to anyone else, it was to me.
“Then, one fucking day, one shitty fucking day, a real life superhero strutted into my bar.” He smiles at me, his crooked tooth peeking out between his beautiful lips. “It had been a bad morning. I’d gotten notification that the man who had killed my father was filing an appeal.”
I wince, but he shakes his head. “My head bartender had quit. I’d been turned down for a loan that I’d been working my ass off to get. And in walks this woman who’s dressed in expensive clothing. She screams money and class. And she sits her perfect ass down at my bar and doesn’t even look at me as she orders an ice water, extra ice, no lemon.”
I flush, remembering how rude I’d been. I had no idea that his morning had been so bad. Not that it would have changed anything, but if I had known, maybe I would have tried harder to get him to smile. Maybe I could have said something to turn his day around.
“I thought that I had you all figured out, from one look I thought that I knew exactly who you were. And I dismissed you as nothing more than another stuck-up girl with more money than manners.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I whisper.
He reaches into the crack in the door and puts a finger to my lips, silencing me.
“Then she almost fucking ran me over.” He laughs loudly, and I can’t help myself, I laugh with him. That had probably been one of the scariest moments of my life, thinking that I’d hit someone with my car.
“And, I swear to God, it was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He’s smiling again, his face so open and honest.
My chest squeezes, the wave of emotion washing over me. It was the best thing that had ever happened to me, too.
“Most superheroes save people, and yet mine tried to back over me with her car. A fuckin’ import at that,” he scoffs lightheartedly.
I clear my throat. “How am I your superhero?”
“How are you not?” he replies quickly. “You swooped in––“ he grins, that crooked tooth that had endeared him to me peeking out, “well, it was more like squealed in, and rescued me. Just like a superhero would.”
“Rescued you from what?”
“From myself.” His eyes twinkle, his lips tipped up in a sly smile. He covers my fingers that are gripping the doorframe with his own. “Please, let me in Grace.”
If there were any hope at standing my ground, it all crumbles away when he whispers my name. Without hesitation, I close the door and throw the chain off. When I pull it open, he steps inside, crowding me and pulls me into his arms.
I bury my face in his neck, breathing deep for the first time in weeks as his strong arms hold me tight against his body. I’d been dying to feel him again, to have him hold me close, and I thought that I wouldn’t ever feel this again. I thought that I’d managed to accept it.
But now that he is here, gripping me tight around my waist, I know that I’ve been foolish to think that I will ever be able to go on living without him. At least living a life of happiness. It would be impossible. And I don’t want to try anymore.
He sets me away from him long before I’m ready to let go, but I press my lips together to stop the protest from escaping.
“I don’t deserve you,” he tells me, his fingers laced in mine.
“Bronn, not this again,” I moan, not wanting to have this fight with him.
“No, it’s true. I don’t deserve you. But, that doesn’t mean that I’m letting you go.”
“But, Bronnson, my father…” I trail off.
He squeezes my fingers. “Right. Your father. Not you. I shouldn’t have let that get in between us and what we have.”
My heart squeezes. He’s saying all the right words and I want to believe him, but I just don’t know how we can get through the obstacles in front of us.
“Grace. I love you.” His words cause the air to leave my lungs in a whoosh. “I loved you that day in the stairwell. I should have told you then. But I’m telling you now. And I’ll keep telling you for as long as you’ll listen.”
Bronn pulls me to him, my body flush with his, and puts my hand over his heart. Its beat is strong and steady, and I long to rest my cheek against his chest so that I can hear his heart beat. It feels like it’s been an eternity since I’d fallen asleep in his arms, and I ached to do just that.
“You feel that?” he asks.
My bottom lip between my teeth, I look up through my lashes and nod. I’d done the same thing to him not long ago.
“That’s what a heart full of love feels like.”
My smile stretches impossibly wide and for a minute I forget how hurt I am. “My heart’s full of love, too, you know that, right?”
He grins down at me and nods.
I struggle to fight back the laughter as I tell him, “Well, good. You won’t be mad when I tell you that that was quite possibly the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
His face falls and he pokes his bottom lip out.
I push to my toes and kiss his pout away. “But remember, I love cheese,” I whisper.
Bronn pushes a hand into my hair, anchoring my head in place. Crashing his lips to mine, his mouth is hungry. His tongue plunges into my mouth, the kiss deepening instantly. It had been too long since I’d last felt his lips on mine, but the moment our mouths collide my body responds. I pull him closer to me, all the while my heart hammering in my chest, wanting more of him. I’m breathless when he pulls away. Opening my eyes, I see him watching me intently.
“Grace, I was wrong. I should have never pushed you away. When you ran away from me yesterday, I swear to God, I have never felt so low in my entire life. I thought that was it, that I had finally fucked up so bad that there was no fixing it.”
/> I drop my forehead to his chest, swallowing hard. “I almost turned around,” I whisper.
“God, I was praying that you would.”
I lift my head and step back. The longer I stand in his embrace the harder it to say what I have to. We can joke and kid, but it doesn’t change the fact that there’s no chance for us. He can kiss me until I turn to a puddle of mush, but it won’t make the outcome any different.
“But it was for the best, because we can’t be together,” I tell him, my voice shaky. The brick that was in my stomach feels even heavier as the words leave my lips. “It doesn’t matter how much I love you, it won’t ever work.”
I take a step back, putting distance between us. I need the space to be able to think clearly. But he follows me, not giving me the room I need.
“That’s not true,” he insists. “Your dad’s not lying. I know that now.”
My mouth falls open and I blink. “I, I don’t think I heard you correctly,” I sputter.
His lips tip up in a sad smile. “It fucking hurts to say it aloud. To admit that I was wrong. But not because I can’t own my mistakes. When it comes to you, I’ll always take responsibility for my fuck ups. And I’m taking that responsibility now.” He grabs my wrist, gently pulling me back to him.
No matter how many times I try to get away so that I can breathe and think, he’s there, crowding me and making it hard to focus on anything but the way he makes me feel when he’s close.
“What are you saying, Bronn?”
He brings my hand to his lips, kissing my fingers. “My dad’s best friend was a guy named Tony. We called him Uncle Tony. He was the man your dad saw in the gas station that day.”
I gasp, my free hand flying to my mouth.
He keeps talking but it feels like time is moving in slow motion, his words muffled and drawn out, like the teacher from the Muppets. All I hear is noise, no actual words.