desolate (Grace Trilogy, Book One)

by Autumn Grey

  “I haven’t been here in so long.” I smile, turning to face Sol.

  He flashes me a full grin, looking considerably better than he had a few minutes ago. “My uncle used to bring me here when I was a kid. I’d live on the beach if I could. I love it here.”

  He’s quiet, taking in the sight in front of us, and I’m eating him up with my eyes, the way the street lamp where we are parked illuminates his face.

  He flicks his wrist to look at his watch, then glances out the window again. “It’s almost time,” he mutters, exhaling deeply.

  “Time for what?”

  “The fireworks.” Sweat beads his forehead as he looks around like he’s trapped and can’t get out. “Fourth of July, remember?”

  “You don’t like fireworks?” I ask, trying to figure out why he looks scared. Then why did he bring me here?

  He nods, then shakes his head. “Reminds me of the day my parents died. We were driving home from watching the fireworks on a Fourth of July.”

  Understanding dawns on me, my mind going back to the way he snapped at me earlier. He was hurting, and I didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on with him. I shift closer, reaching forward and tugging his hand in mine, and whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

  He exhales loudly, then chuckles nervously. “I usually prefer staying home on the Fourth of July, but I wanted to bring you here today. You enjoy watching the fireworks, right?”

  “Yeah. I mean, sure. But you didn’t have to do this for me.”

  He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the space above my shoulder. “I want to. I have to get over it at some point.”

  “This is not something you just get over, Sol,” I say softly. “And it’s okay.”

  He presses my palm to his cheek. “You’re here with me. It makes it better.”

  Those eight simple words crash into me like a storm. I scoot forward and pull him into a hug. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

  He pulls back and kisses my forehead like he always does. I’m addicted to his touch, no matter how fleeting. I savor and treasure each one.

  We sit in silence when the fireworks start going off. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sol flinch every time the crackling sound pierces the air, and my hand squeezes his a little tighter in comfort.

  He tugs my hand, reclaiming my attention. What I see in his face has my heart beating wildly. He’s studying me so intensely, it’s giving me goosebumps on my arms.

  “What is it?”

  Instead of answering me, he gets out of the car and kicks his door shut. Within seconds, he’s rounding the front of the car and opening the passenger door. He holds out his hand for me.

  Intrigued and more than a little breathless, I unbuckle my seat belt and put my hand in his, allowing him to help me out. As soon as the door slams shut, he pins me against the car, holding my face in his hands. His scent mixes with the scent of the rolling sea, creating a delicious elixir I’d love to bathe myself in forever.

  His gaze roams my face as though he’s memorizing every feature, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking.

  “What is it, Sol?” I repeat the question, starting to get worried.

  “Have you ever wanted something so badly, then something that’s in complete opposition to that initial longing comes along, and suddenly, you find yourself forced to choose between the two?” He inhales slowly, then releases my face and shoves his hands inside the pockets of his shorts.

  Disappointment crashes into me, but I tuck it inside my chest and fall in step with him as he leads the way toward the beach, watching the last of the fireworks disappearing into the dark sky.

  I wanted him to kiss me. I want to kiss him. Why can’t I take what I want? It’s not like I’ll be kissing him for the first time. But I have a feeling I need to tread carefully this time.

  God.

  Have you gotten the memo yet, Grace? I ask myself because holy shit. My heart’s already invested in this boy, and every part of me wants to cling to him and never let go.

  As soon as we hit the shore, Sol kicks off his shoes and stands barefoot in the wet sand. His eyes squeeze shut, and his head falls back. He gives out a low, satisfied groan as a wave crashes gently around his ankles. That sound, no matter how innocent it is, is my undoing.

  I study his profile, taking in the way the lights from the pier play across his features. A sigh slips through my parted lips. Sol makes my heart trip over itself and my lungs fight for precious air. I don’t even want to think about how soon he’s leaving.

  As if he can hear my thoughts, his eyes fly open. He turns to look at me with mesmerizing eyes, and I lose my balance. His hand darts out to steady me even though I wasn’t in danger of falling.

  I’m only falling for him.

  “Whoa. You okay?” he asks, his eyebrows lowering in concern.

  “Yes,” I mutter quickly, giving him a nervous smile. “Thanks.” I should move away, but his hand on me feels like an anchor.

  His touch loosens, then pauses as if he doesn’t want to let go just yet. After another wild thump of my heart, he releases me. He leans down to pick up his shoes from where he dropped them, letting them dangle on the tips of his fingers.

  “You should try it.” He jerks his chin toward my toes.

  I’m about to kick my shoes off when I remember the state of my toes. I shake my head. “I’m good.”

  He smirks. “I don’t believe you. You want to do it.”

  “Oh?” I raise a brow, eyeing him. “What makes you think that?”

  “You’re looking at my feet longingly. Unless . . . you have a foot fetish.” His eyes widen, mouth falling open. “Do you have a foot fetish?”

  “Oh my God, no!” I laugh. “Chipped nail polish.”

  He looks down. “I bet your toes still look cute regardless.”

  “You’re so good for my ego. I think I’m going to keep you,” I joke, kicking off my shoes and bending down to pick them up. When I straighten and look up, his gaze is on mine.

  “Keep me?” he asks in a low voice that sweeps down my spine like a caress.

  “I mean, I didn’t mean keeping you like a pet or something. It’s just—”

  All of a sudden, he laughs the kind of laugh that comes from deep within his stomach, shaking his entire body. I forget I’m horrified by his suggestion and just stare at him, trying to remember the last time I laughed that hard. These moments with Sol are worth everything, so I steal them and tuck them in the pockets of my heart for later.

  He notices me staring, and his laughter dwindles to a stop. His eyes, Lord, his eyes soften, heat replacing the humor.

  “You’re so cute when you’re flustered,” he says with a chuckle, but I’m still watching him, mesmerized. “You’re staring, Gracie.”

  I snap out of the hypnotic moment. “I love the way you laugh. It’s beautiful.”

  He scratches the back of his neck, his mouth quirking to one side. I’m certain he’s blushing, too. “Thanks.” His voice is a husky whisper.

  We walk along the beach in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

  “What’s your story?” Sol asks over the lulling of the crashing waves. “Tell me something about yourself that you haven’t told me before.” He pauses, unhurried. It feels like forever is ours at that moment. With a soft voice, he continues, “Tell me, who is Grace Miller?”

  Dread is quick to make a nest in my throat, and it feels as if I’m choking on my own memories and emotions. Talking about myself is not something I like. In fact, I hate it. But I understand his eagerness to get to know me, the real me, because nobody wants to befriend a brick wall. In my core, I know there’s nothing malicious about his intent. He’s genuinely intrigued.

  “Um, yeah . . .” I cough, trying to think of something, anything, to say, and when my mind goes blank from the anxiety, I laugh nervously. “I don’t know. I’m not that interesting, I guess.”

  He shakes his head. “Quite the contrary. You’ve had my attention from the second I first s
aw you. Believe me, you are interesting. You intrigue me.”

  I shake my head and inhale a shaky breath. “I grew up here. I’m terrible at making life decisions, and I love baking, love making origami . . .” Damn it, that all sounded really lame. I scramble to find something more interesting to say. “I love cliff jumping.”

  He grins at me, probably remembering our day at Ranger’s Cove.

  “And I love kissing you.”

  His grin grows even wider as he pushes the locks of hair off his forehead. He didn’t wear his usual baseball cap, like I asked. “You do?”

  I give him a shy smile. “I do.”

  Those two words hang in the air between us. A breeze blows softly across the shore, sweeping the words up to the stars. A familiar shiver runs down my spine as I lift my nose, breathing in the scent of the sea. But there’s a new scent mixed in. I smile happily, and his eyes seem to sparkle at that.

  “It’s going to rain soon,” I announce.

  He steps in front of me, and I stop abruptly. “How do you know? I’ve been wondering how you knew it was going to rain ever since that time when I was leaving the diner.”

  “Can’t you smell it in the air?”

  He shakes his head, his forehead creased in a frown. “What does rain smell like?”

  “It’s earthy, fresh. I can’t really describe it. According to my mom, my great grandmother had the same . . . gift. Well, that’s not the right word. But you know what I mean.”

  “Are you sure you’re not supposed to be a scientist?”

  “God, no. I wish.” I laugh. “I’m not too fond of science.” Looking into the distance, I say, “I’ve always been able to tell when the weather is about to change.”

  “Superpowers, huh?” He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re badass, you know that, right?”

  “I am, aren’t I?” I toss him a smile.

  “Charming, Gracie.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I mean, the way you accept a compliment. Very graceful.”

  I swat his shoulder with the back of my hand. “Ha! Ha! Very funny.” I roll my eyes playfully at him. “Are you looking forward to sharing a room in the dorms with someone you’ve never met before? What if he ends up being weird or snores? Or likes to walk around naked?”

  He huffs a laugh, but his gaze turns somber as he glances down at our ankles, deep beneath the surface of the water. “Yes, actually. Well, not the naked part.” He chuckles. “I’m excited and nervous. But living with people who have the same goal as I do is going to be great for me. Have you decided what you want to do?” he asks, swiftly changing the topic and tilting his head to look at me. “In college, I mean.”

  I shake my head, crossing my arms around my middle, gaze focused on the ocean ahead.

  We watch the way the green, blue, and yellow lights from the pier bounce on the undulating waters in silence, both lost to our thoughts. It looks magical, as though I could just wade over there and be swept into a different world. But, like most things, it’s just an illusion.

  I look at him. “You know when you’re a kid and never thought you’d be required to make decisions because your mom or dad would always make them for you? Then suddenly, you’re eighteen, and there’s this pressure bearing down on you. Everyone wants to know what you want to do. Which college you’ll go to, what your plans are . . .”

  I press my right foot into the wet sand, digging deeper with my toes. “It’s . . . that’s when you start realizing you’re not a child anymore. That the little bubble of innocence and bliss you’d been living in up until that point has well and truly been popped.” I sigh loudly. “My mom and I argued before I left the diner today. I said some really mean things to her, Sol. I was such a bitch. She’s been doing her best to protect me my whole life, and what do I do? I bitch and moan like a spoiled brat.”

  “What happened?” he inquires, frowning.

  I tell him everything. How I want to choose my own path and not the one my mom has already decided for me. How I need more time to figure out who I am and what I like. And how I love her, but I need to live my own life.

  “Can I say something?” he asks.

  “Of course.”

  “Your mom wants the best for you, which is perfectly understandable. She loves you, and that’s why she says and does the things she does. Out of love.” He scrutinizes me intently, as if gauging my reaction. What he sees must make him comfortable or something because he continues to talk. “But you have the right to follow your own dreams. And if you make mistakes along the way, you’ll learn from them. From what I’ve seen, you two are very close. Maybe you need to sit down and really talk? Tell her how you feel. What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. She’s my best friend, too, so I don’t want to hurt her. I think seeing me struggle to find my path makes her want to push me toward hers even more. I’ve toyed with the idea of going for business maybe. I’ve worked most of my life at the diner, helping with some business management stuff, and I really enjoy it.”

  He steps toward me, bringing his face closer to mine. “Yeah? Then do it, Grace. Whatever you choose, make sure it’s something you want.” He’s speaking with so much passion, it makes me feel like I can do anything.

  “Why do you have to make so much sense?”

  He drags a hand through his hair. “I’ve been there, so I know what you’re going through.”

  “It feels good to talk to someone who understands.” I smile softly, but I can’t stop thinking about the pained look on Mom’s face. “My mom is everything to me. She’s so brave, Sol. One of the bravest people I know. And wise.

  “I remember when I was seven years old, back in elementary school, and we were on the playground during recess. All of a sudden, one of the black kids stood in front of me and frowned. He put his hand next to mine and asked me why my skin was lighter in color than his. He asked me if I was white or black.” I shake my head, remembering how confused I was by the end of the day. “That evening, I asked my mom why my skin was different than hers. I asked her if I was black or white. Do you know what she said to me?” I don’t wait for his answer because I’m too swept away by the memory. “She told me I was whoever I wished to be. That beneath our skin, we all bleed red.”

  “She’s pretty amazing, Gracie.”

  “She’s the best.” I hear wonder in my own voice. “She’s my hero.”

  “Good.” He bumps my shoulder with his. “We need more of those nowadays. If you want to talk to her, I can take you home.”

  I shake my head. “I’ll do it tomorrow. She and I need a few hours to calm down.”

  “Of course.” He drags his hand through his hair, then asks, “Okay, you have got to tell me how you handled Levi. I’m dying to know.”

  I cut through the air with a slanting stroke with the side of my hand and yell, “Karate chop!”

  His lips twitch, his eyes dancing with amusement, and his eyebrows hit his hairline. “Good to know. I’ll keep that in mind.” He winks at me. “Let me guess. Your mom made you take classes?”

  “Yep,” I say, popping the “p.” A small laugh slips through my lips. “She signed me up for self-defense classes when I was ten years old.”

  “Great thinking on her part. Not everyone you meet has good intentions these days. Better to be safe than sorry.”

  We walk in silence, our hands brushing lightly. I squint at the ground and try to make out the shape of our toes covered in water while gathering the courage to open up to him.

  From of the corner of my eye, I notice him watching me. He swallows hard before tossing his shoes aside and taking a step forward. His arm slips around my waist, turning me to face him. He pulls me flush to his body, making me go up on my tiptoes. His forehead touches mine, and his air becomes my air. The rapid beating of his heart mirrors mine, and I wonder, for just one second, if our hearts are telling each other what our mouths can’t.

  “I try so hard to stay away from you, but like a boomerang, I keep coming back to you. What have
you done to me, Gracie?”

  His words steal the oxygen from my lungs, and the steel bars around the cage housing my heart liquefy a little.

  “Bewitched you with my womanly charms?” I joke, closing my eyes and brushing my nose against his.

  “You sure did.” He chuckles softly but turns somber fast. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I do,” I say, pressing my lips on the edge of his mouth, forcing myself not to go farther. If he wants this, then the decision has to be his. “Maybe we should stop spending too much time together. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult this is for you.”

  He swallows, his gaze veering off to my left shoulder, probably considering my words. “Maybe, yeah.” His arms tighten around me for just a few beats before they fall away.

  Stepping back, he grabs his shoes and hands me mine. We continue walking, the air between us sparking with tension. How does someone come back from a revelation like this?

  I clear my throat and attempt to form my thoughts. As much as I enjoy spending time with Sol, the constant tugging of the invisible thread connecting us becomes too much sometimes. It’s like we’re two magnets, drawn to each other the way only opposite poles can. We pull apart, but the magnetic field between us always draws us back together. It’s inevitable, like the rising and setting of the sun.

  I sigh. Time to change the subject.

  I’ve never told anyone about my father. Maybe talking to someone else other than my mom will help ease this hurt, this feeling . . . as if something is missing in my life. I need to get it out before the words roll back down my throat and churn acid into my stomach.

  “When I was six, my mom finally told me—after I bombarded her with questions about my father’s whereabouts—he left before I was born. So cliché, right?” I laugh, but it sounds bitter even to my own ears. “My mom was eighteen. She was due to start her undergraduate program at Brown University, but then, I happened. My father, whoever that person is, packed and left town, leaving my mom alone and pregnant.