“Look at you? I’m lucky I can look at you because you almost died.”
Casey straightened his shoulders under the laser beams Henry shot his way. The move would’ve hurt with the pain he was in, but his face was like stone, giving nothing away. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d stayed away from Casey like I told you. He almost got you killed, Grace.”
“Enough,” Casey said. His voice was quiet but there was underlying steel behind the words. “I was going to talk to you, Henry, and I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I fucked up—”
“Damn straight you fucked up,” my brother interrupted. “I told you to stay away from Grace. Instead, you did the exact opposite and went behind my back.”
“Henry,” Dad said in his scary warning tone that always stopped me in my tracks no matter what.
Henry wasn’t deterred. “You didn’t even listen to what I said, let alone consider it, did you, Grace?”
“Because you can’t tell me what to do, Henry. Casey was all for telling you. Keeping it quiet was my decision. You and I went through a long, rocky patch. Knowing how you felt, I was scared to make it worse just when it was starting to get better.”
“And going behind my back wasn’t making it worse anyway?” he pointed out.
“Henry,” Casey began, beginning to sound pissed off.
I interrupted, not wanting him caught up in our fight. I took his hand and squeezed in silent apology. “You’re right, Henry, and I’m sorry, but it’s not up to you to decide whether Casey is good or bad for me; it’s my decision. And while I respect your advice, I need you respect the choices I make.”
“Like the choice you made to leave?” he asked, his tone still bitter when I thought we’d started to move past it.
“Enough,” Dad roared at Henry, his voice a whiplash that reverberated off the walls. “I won’t have the two of you fighting. Henry, you need to let it go. Grudges are ugly. I raised my son better than that.”
Henry went to open his mouth but dad didn’t let him speak. Instead his gaze shifted to Casey. He had his determined face on. His brows were drawn, jaw set, and he wanted answers. “My little Gracie was in your car at the time of the accident?”
Casey nodded. “Yes, sir, she was.”
“I see.” Dad folded his arms, giving his intimidating glare. I was impressed when Casey didn’t appear intimidated. Dad’s glare could part the Red Sea and was the only look that worked on me when I was in trouble. “And this other car, they rammed the side she was sitting in?”
Casey nodded again. “Yes, sir, they did. A hit and run,” he added.
Dad sucked in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he absorbed this piece of news. “And were they caught?”
My gaze shifted from Dad to Casey. I hadn’t known the other driver fled the scene. Who would do something like that?
“No, sir,” Casey answered with that steel back in his voice. “Not yet.”
“This car of yours, it have side airbags?”
“Yes, sir, it did.”
“I see,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring even wider. “I want to speak to the police. See what they’re doing to find the sonofabitch who would ram a car and then leave my daughter for dead.” I winced at dad’s dramatic turn of phrase. “I want to see the car too,” he added.
Dad knew a thing or two about cars. He’d been employed as a mechanic at Dave’s Family Auto from his teens, working his way up to the Office Manager position he was in now. That’s how he met my mum. She brought her car in with a broken thermostat and I guess he knew just the right way to fix it.
He still worked there because he didn’t like change. Dad was all about the status quo, and while they paid him for his loyalty, it didn’t pay enough to live a life of luxury. He still lived in the same house we grew up in. The only updates to the furniture were the wide-screen television on the wall and surround sound. Dad told me Henry bought it for him—sneaking in one day to have it installed while Dad was at work. It was the weekend of the Bathurst 1000 (Dad’s favourite weekend), where the V8 Supercars took to Mount Panorama Circuit in a festival of exhaust fumes, rumbling engines, and blazing testosterone. Dad had insisted the installation would stay only for the weekend, but the weekend came and went and the television stayed.
It was obvious he was a proud man, so when I covered mum’s medical bills, paid out the home loan and all our schooling, as well as contributing to food on the table, it almost broke him.
He promised me it would only be a loan. He saved every year, and at the end of that year, he would deposit those savings in my account as repayment, and every year, I would transfer the money into an investments account I had under his name. It was building nicely, and when he was ready to retire, I’d hand it over and tell him to do that trip around Australia Mum told me he’d been itching to do all his life.
“I can arrange a meeting with the police for you,” Casey told him. Then he picked up his phone from where it sat on my hospital side table and said, “I also have a photo here of the car that one of my guys took for me if you want to have a look.”
Dad’s brows rose in question. “One of your guys?” He held his arm out over the top of my bed, indicating for Casey to hand him the photo. “What do you do, son?”
Casey tapped at the screen, calling it up before giving it to him. Casey gave dad a brief rundown while Dad stared at the photo, his jaw ticking ominously.
“That’s a damn shame about your car. It was a real beauty.” His eyes narrowed on the photo. “You say they hit Grace’s side of the car?”
Casey nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“I see,” Dad replied for the millionth time, each time sounding more growly and tense than the next. He handed the phone back to Casey.
“Seems Casey’s car had enough side airbags to inflate the Titanic,” he told Henry. “Did you know that?”
Henry folded his arms, his expression mutinous. “No.”
“A beautiful car like the one in that photo, they don’t come standard with side airbags like that. Casey would’ve had those installed special.” Dad glanced at Casey. “Right, Daniels?”
Casey nodded and Dad continued. “After looking at that photo, it’s pretty obvious our Gracie could’ve died without them. You know what else, son? It was a hit and run. You know what that means?” He didn’t allow Henry time to answer. His voice gathered speed and momentum and we both knew to keep shut when that happened. “It means some goddamn sonofabitch hit my little girl and then fled the scene like a coward. Also,” he whipped out and Henry flinched, “the impact was on the driver’s side. Do you know what that means?” Dad didn’t wait to see if Henry knew what that meant because he was on a roll and stopping for no one. “It means Grace was the driver, not Casey here. So out of all that, what makes you figure this man here…” he jerked his chin in Casey’s direction “…almost got our Gracie killed?”
“Jesus,” Henry muttered when he could finally get a word in. He looked at Casey, his eyes full of apology.
Trust my dad to get to the heart of the matter in the most roundabout way possible. It warmed my heart that he wasn’t letting Henry be a right prick to Casey. It wasn’t deserved and being an outsider to the situation, it was easier for Dad to see that.
Dad sucked in a breath, indicating he hadn’t yet finished. “You a criminal?” he barked at Casey.
Oh no.
Casey was getting the inquisition now? I wanted to pull the sheet up and over my head and block it all out. “Dad!” I wailed.
They both ignored me, and Casey answered him with a, “no, sir.”
“Nate.”
“No, Nate,” Casey repeated. “I’m not.”
“You married?” my dad continued.
“No.”
“Divorced?”
“No.”
“Dad!” I interjected. “Do you really—”
“Kids?” he boomed over the top of me.
I squeezed Casey’s hand to get his attention. His eyes cut to
mine briefly and I mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
He winked at me and my heart squeezed. He turned back to my dad and answered, “No kids, Nate.”
“Do you own a chainsaw and a goalie mask and run by the alias of Jason?”
I smothered the snort of laughter. Dad might have checked out for a while after Mum died (and who could blame him because my mum and dad were the definition of crazy, stupid love) but when he’d checked back in, he did it with guns blazing. By that time I was embedded in my career, because like my dad I was content with the status quo and focused on trying to be the type of person he would be proud of: polite, calm and well-mannered.
“No, I don’t,” Casey replied, his eyes hiding a glint of amusement that I’m sure only I recognised. “Should I, sir?”
“Nate,” my dad barked again.
“Nate,” Casey dutifully repeated.
Dad shrugged. “Might come in handy for Halloween if you’re into that shit.”
His next comment made me cringe because I knew he was revisiting the time Dalton and I took him to dinner in the city. It was winter so Dalton had his blond highlights for the summer fashion shoots and a dusting of bronzer on his face. Dad only picked up on the bronzer because there was a smear on Dalton’s collar. Dad thought it was from me and remarked on it. Dalton replied that it was winter and he wanted a bit of colour on his face. Spending all of his life working with grease and metal, Dad couldn’t relate and it showed.
“Do you get highlights or wear makeup?”
Ugh.
Dad!
So what if he was divorced, had kids, got highlights, or ate only white food. It shouldn’t matter. Either Dad was just being a big old meanie, or he was trying to make a point somewhere in there.
Casey scratched at his short, scruffy beard, hiding a grin. “No, sir.”
Dad, it seemed, finally got to the point. He turned to Henry with disbelief written all over his face. “This is the type of man you tell your sister to stay away from? Did you not meet Dalton? That man was about as useful as a Hyundai Excel,” he said, spitting out the words with distaste. Dad hated cheap import cars so that insult was huge. “When Grace rang and told me she’d given him the boot, the whole workshop erupted in cheers. We closed a whole half hour early that Friday and everyone stayed back for a beer to celebrate. Even Warren,” Dad said to me pointedly, “who you know always goes straight home because he’s whipped by that wife of his.”
“Dad, you’re being dramatic,” I told him, embarrassed to hear about the celebration and all warm on the inside at the same time. “The workshop always stays back for a beer on Friday afternoons.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he waved me off. “But that Friday we lashed out on the good stuff.”
“Good stuff, schmood stuff,” I muttered.
Dad dragged the chair from the corner towards the side of my bed. The sound of it scraping along the linoleum floor was loud. He picked up the newspaper that someone must have left in the room. Then he sat down, put on his reading glasses, and snapped it open. He glared at Henry over the top of the pages. “I don’t know what your issue is, young man, but you need to leave your sister alone.”
“Dad,” I said in warning.
Dad ignored me, focusing on the page in front of him. “I understand your protective instincts, but your sister’s worked hard. Grace is entitled to live a little so you need to give her space to do just that. She’s been there for you more than you know, so—”
“Dad!”
“There for me?” Henry shouted. It was clear he’d had enough of Dad shoving the wonders of Casey down his throat. It was also clear he wasn’t ready to let go of that grudge just yet. “She hasn’t been there for any of us! Not since mum died.”
“Screw you, Henry,” I snapped, because I damn well had.
“Not there for you?” Dad crumpled the paper in his lap, and I knew he was ready to swallow his pride and tell Henry the truth. I really didn’t want him to because I didn’t want to see my brother hurt over it.
“Daddy,” I whispered. He glanced at me and I gave a brief shake of my head. “Don’t.”
“You think after everything you did, I’d sit back and let you take that kind of hit from your brother?”
“Everything she did?”
Dad sighed heavily. He put the paper back on the table and tucked his reading glasses into the pocket of his shirt. “Grace paid out our mortgage and all your mother’s medical bills because the debt was about to put us on the streets.” Henry blanched. “She helped pay for the food you ate, the clothes you wore, and the university education you and your sisters got. That was so you could keep your weekends free playing guitar with your band and going to parties rather than working to earn your education and the apartment you rented with your friends.”
Henry stared at me, tears building in his eyes.
“You think your sister wanted to be a model? You think she wanted to leave a family still in grief to trip around the world, get pinned and poked, and miss out on being a teenager? All those years of sneaking into clubs underage, getting detention for wagging school, being taught how to drive, and hanging out with friends on the weekends. You got all that. Grace got none of it. You think her life was so great? She had no friends because it turns out teenage girls are a pack of jealous bitches who can’t stand seeing another girl prettier than them do well for themselves. She gave up regular school for tutoring. She didn’t go to movies, or parties, or cut loose at all, because she was working. If you think—”
“Enough!” Henry shouted at Dad without taking his eyes from mine. Dad shut up, glancing at me with guilt. I don’t think he’d meant to lay it all out so harshly.
“Is it true?” my brother whispered. “You did all that for us? Paid for everything all those years when it was all I could do to get Dad that damned television?”
“Henry,” I said softly. I didn’t know what to say. I never wanted him to feel what he felt right now.
“Is it true?” he shouted, his knuckles white.
“Yes.”
“Fuck!” Henry’s chest heaved up and down.
“Son.” Dad went to grip his shoulder in a supportive gesture but Henry’s hand flew up, halting him. “Screw all of you for this,” he hissed. He spun on his heel and took off out the door.
There was a pause and then my father piped up with, “Well that went as well as expected.”
“Dad! Go after him.”
Dad shook his head. “He needs time to cool off, Grace.”
“I’ll go,” Casey said.
“No!” Henry obviously had a lot of anger to work through. I didn’t want him working through it on Casey. “You need to go lie down, Batman. Not fight our family battles.”
“I’ll be fine.” He bent over my bed, not without a wince, and in full view of Dad, kissed me. It wasn’t a polite peck like you’d give your nanna either. There was a quick sweep of tongue too—enough for me to forget myself and grab his hair with my good arm, holding him there for a second longer. Then he was gone.
My dad arched a brow at me. “Batman?”
“Yeah,” I replied on a soft, drawn-out sigh.
“I like him.”
“Henry!” I called out after shutting Grace’s hospital room door behind me. I checked left and right, but the man must have been quicker than I realised because I didn’t see him. What I did see was my nurse bearing down on me and she was breathing fire. I’d already nicknamed her Houlihan from M.A.S.H because the woman had a take no prisoners attitude with a glare to match. She would’ve been better placed inside a war zone.
“Back in bed, Mr Daniels,” she instructed in her gravel voice.
“In a minute,” I told her. “I just have to—”
“How about I give you a minute to get your butt back in bed?” Her drawn on eyebrows pinched together, creating one long squiggly line. I tried not to stare and forced my gaze down to her eyes. “This is a hospital, not command central like you and your posse seem to think it is.�
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My brows flew up. “Posse?”
“You heard me.”
Travis appeared behind her and I widened my eyes in silent communication to help a guy out.
Using his middle finger, Travis rubbed at his brow in silent reply to let me know I was on my own. My eyes narrowed and Houlihan glanced over her shoulder to see what I was looking at. Travis quickly snapped his arm back down by his side.
“Visiting hours are over,” she barked.
“Yes, ma’am.” He disappeared quickly, no doubt waiting until Houlihan returned to her station.
Because it was easier not to argue, I let the nurse hustle me towards my room. Deposited back in my bed, pain meds delivered, and chart checked, I was ordered to rest, and then she was gone.
I lifted the blankets and was half out of bed when Travis materialised.
“Pussy,” I muttered at him, wincing and holding my ribs as I slid the rest of the way out and to my feet.
“Bitch.”
“As delightful as this conversation is, I need to find Henry.” I started for the door, opening it cautiously as I asked, “Did you see him?”
“I passed him in the hall on the way to your room,” he replied as I stuck my head out and peeked left. No Houlihan. “What was up with him anyway? I said hey and he shot past as though I wasn’t even there.”
I looked right, not even knowing where to start with that question. “Don’t ask,” I muttered.
Travis stuck his head out beside me. There she was. Houdini Houlihan. Her back was to me and she had Jared barrelled up by the wall. He looked nervous. Travis snorted beside me when he caught sight of his trapped brother.
“Jared’s a pussy too,” I muttered with a smirk sent his way. Jared’s caged glance caught us and relief swept his features.
“Quick,” I muttered and shoved Travis back inside and shut the door, sacrificing Jared for the greater good. “Fucking Houlihan.” I turned around, facing my friend. “What are you two doing here anyway?”
Give Me Grace Page 27