Disgrace

by Brittainy C. Cherry

  One breath, one beat.

  Two breaths, two beats…

  “Jackson,” I whispered as his fingers played with my hair. “Can I ask you to do something crazy?”

  “Say the words.”

  “Can you carry me to your bedroom and lie down with me and just…hold me for a little while?”

  Without another word, he placed his hands beneath my legs and lifted me into the air. We moved to his bedroom and he gently lay me down then climbed right beside me. As he pulled me closer, I curved into his body. His warmth covered me whole, and I took in his scents. He felt like my favorite blanket, and I wanted to stay wrapped in him as long as I could.

  There were no sounds around us, only his inhalations and my exhalations. He nuzzled his lips against my neck, and for the first time in a long time, I felt as if I were exactly where I was meant to be.

  “Jackson?” I whispered, moving my body even closer to him. We were from two different puzzles, yet still, we seemed to fit perfectly together.

  “Yes?”

  I took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “I like the way your heart beats.”

  32

  Jackson

  “Hey,” Grace said, standing on my front porch on Tuesday afternoon, beaming ear to ear with a sly look. “Want to do something crazy today?”

  * * *

  “Okay, wait, wait, wait!” Grace cringed in Alex’s tattoo parlor as he was seconds from putting the needle against her left shoulder blade.

  “We’ve been waiting for the past thirty minutes.” I laughed. “It’s now or never.”

  “Will you hold my hand?” she asked.

  I took hers in mine. “Always and always.”

  She stared at me for a moment as if she’d seen a ghost, her lips parting as if she was going to speak, but she didn’t say a word. She tilted her head Alex’s way and nodded once. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  That was a lie.

  The moment the needle touched her skin, she screamed bloody murder and nearly hopped up as she squeezed my hand ridiculously tight.

  “Think happy thoughts, princess,” I told her.

  She inhaled sharply and nodded. “Eggs in cake, puppies, dresses, tacos.”

  “Pizza, waffles, parks…”

  “Bookshops, Christmas, Hallow—holy fudgeknuckles!” she barked, squeezing my hand tighter.

  “You okay?” Alex asked. “Are you sure you want seven of these hearts with wings? We can do fewer of them.”

  “No,” she said sternly. “I can do this. I just…” She took a breath, and I took her other hand into mine. “I can do this.”

  “Okay, and while we’re doing this, can we discuss the fact that instead of cussing, you just said holy fudgeknuckles?” I asked.

  She laughed. “I’ve been staying with my sister too long. I’m starting to express things like her.”

  “Are you two close?”

  “She’s one of the only things that gives me faith in humanity. Judy is a saint, a truly good person.”

  “I’m glad you have her.”

  “Yeah, me too. Ouch!” She jumped slightly.

  “Focus on me, princess,” I told her. “Talk to me. Ask me questions—anything to keep your mind off the needle.”

  “I can ask you questions?”

  “Anything.”

  She bit her bottom lip then nodded toward my wrist and the band around it. “What does that mean? Powerful moments?”

  I grimaced a bit. “Just diving right in, aren’t you?”

  “You don’t have to tell me. I just always notice you snapping it against your wrist.”

  I moved around a bit in my chair. Alex gave me a look and nodded once, almost as if telling me it was okay to open up a little. To let someone else see my scars.

  “I got it from rehab. Whenever I felt like using, the doctor had me snap the band against my wrist as a reminder that this life is real, and the pain I felt from the snap was to remind me that the next step I took would be real. It was my chance to be powerful in dark moments.”

  “Powerful moments,” she whispered, nodding slowly. “I like that a lot.”

  “Yeah. It works for the most part.”

  “Do you ever almost fall off track?” she asked.

  “Only every single day.” I smiled. “But I think it’s a fight worth fighting.”

  “It is,” she agreed. “Can I ask you another question?”

  “Will it stop you from thinking about the tattoo?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then yes.”

  “Why did you start using drugs in the first place?”

  My brows knitted, and I shrugged. “Because I was tired of hurting, and I thought that was an easy fix.”

  “Was it?” she asked.

  “Yeah, it was…until I came back down from the high. Then I ended up hurting even more. The higher the high, the greater the fall.”

  “I’m really proud of how far you’ve come,” she told me. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’ve been through, but you’re here and strong now. That’s amazing.”

  That meant more to me than she’d ever know. “Thanks.”

  As Alex hit a sensitive spot on Grace’s back, she squeezed my hands even harder, and I let her. “You’ve got this. Powerful moments, okay?”

  She nodded. “I can do this.”

  And she did. It took some time, and a few tears slipped from her eyes, but the final product was perfect. As she stood in front of the mirror, glancing over her shoulder to see the artwork, a small smile crossed her lips. “Do you like it?” she asked.

  “I love it.” I placed my hands on her waist and kissed her cheek. “It’s perfect.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” she agreed as she turned to face me. “There’s one more thing we have to do,” she stated.

  “What is it?”

  She pulled out a small card. “I hope this is okay, and if you hate the idea, we don’t have to do it, but I saw that the veterinarian sent you a card for Tucker with his paw prints inside. I thought maybe you could get his paw print tattooed somewhere in his memory.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and cleared my throat. “Are you always like this?”

  “Like what?”

  “Perfect.”

  I got Tucker’s paw prints on my shoulder blade, and beneath it, I added the words powerful moments. Grace added the same words beneath her angel wings.

  She didn’t have a clue how much comfort she’d brought me that afternoon. She didn’t have a clue how much comfort she’d brought me over the past few weeks.

  “Okay. Now what?” I asked, kissing her forehead after we finished everything up.

  She smiled ear to ear, and her grin made me find my own. “Ice cream, but first I’m going to run to the bathroom.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll meet you up front.”

  As she left, Alex smiled my way and shook his head back and forth. “What?” I asked.

  “Nothing. It just looks good on you, that’s all.”

  “What looks good on me?”

  “Happiness.”

  33

  Grace

  “You have to choose, Grace,” Jackson told me sternly. “I know this is really hard for you, but you have to do it. In the next thirty seconds, you have to make a choice.”

  “But…” I bit my lip as I stood in line at the ice cream shop, staring at the menu. “I don’t know. What are you getting?”

  “There’s no way I’m telling you what I’m getting because then you’ll just get the same thing.”

  “That’s not true!”

  He cocked his eyebrow.

  Okay, that was true. Even though I’d discovered how I liked my eggs, I was still learning other things I enjoyed on my own without the influence of the people around me.

  “Fine, fine. Okay, I can do this.” I took a deep breath, and when we made it to the counter, I told Jackson to order first, but he wasn’t falling into my trap. I looked at Mary Sue, the cashier, and gave her a big smi
le. “Hey, Mary, I’ll have the peanut butter swirl sundae, please.”

  “For sure, and what can I get for you?” she asked Jackson, and I saw it in her eyes—the way she drooled while looking at his face.

  While the men were saying rude things about Jackson Emery, many women secretly yearned for him.

  “I’ll have the same,” he told her.

  “What?! You just got what I was getting!” I hollered.

  “That’s what he gets every time,” Mary Sue said, smiling at Jackson with her flirty eyes. Gross. “Are these together or separate?” she asked.

  “Separate,” I said quickly.

  “Together,” Jackson replied, handing her his credit card.

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I know.” He gave me a small smile before taking his card back. “I’m gonna run to the bathroom. I’ll be back.”

  I moved to go grab a table, but Mary Sue called out to me. “Grace! Grace.”

  “Yes?”

  She bit her bottom lip and placed her hands on her hips. “Not to pry, but are you and Jackson on a date right now?”

  “What? No. We aren’t—we don’t—we’re not…we don’t date. We’re just…” My words faded away. “We’re not seeing each other.”

  “Oh good!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Well, I know this might be too forward of me to ask, but as I’m sure you know, Peter and I recently broke up, and Lord knows I’m heartbroken over it. So, I was just hoping maybe you could put in a good word for me? I just feel like if I got a chance with the fixer, I might be able to get Peter back into my life.”

  What a screwy little town we lived in.

  “Oh, uh, well, I don’t know, Mary Sue. I think maybe that’s something you should do for yourself.”

  “Oh, please, Grace! You know how shy I get. I just couldn’t face him and ask him to hang out with me for a little while.”

  “Well, okay. I’ll see what I can do.”

  Not a chance in hell will I help her.

  “Thank you! You’re such a sweet little peach! It truly means a lot to me. Also, do you think maybe we could keep this between us girls? I don’t want to be a part of any rumors.”

  “Trust me, Mary Sue, your secret is safe with me.”

  She thanked me again then handed me the two sundaes. I walked over to an available table and sat down.

  It might’ve been the most uncomfortable conversation I’d ever had in all my time in Chester, Georgia. Mary Sue was asking me to be her wing-woman to help her snag the man I was sleeping with.

  “Why the weird expression?” Jackson asked, walking over to me.

  “Mary Sue wants to sleep with you,” I told him flatly.

  “Who the hell is Mary Sue?”

  I gestured toward the cashier, who was staring our way, smiling brightly. She gave Jackson a nervous wave before blushing and turning away.

  “Why does she want to sleep with me?”

  “To fix her relationship.”

  “Oh,” he said, sitting down. He began to eat his ice cream. “Not interested.”

  Those two words brought me more comfort than I’d thought they would. “But why not? She’s pretty, and well, I’ll be heading back to Atlanta soon enough.”

  “So?”

  “So, you’re free to do whatever you want when I’m gone.” Just saying that made me want to vomit. The truth was, lately, I’d been coming up with hypothetical situations where Jackson and I somehow found a way to make something real work between us.

  But that was just my silly mind messing around with my heart.

  There were a million reasons Jackson and I couldn’t work…but my heart kept telling me I only needed one good one to give it a try.

  He grimaced. “You want me to sleep with Mary Sue?”

  “What? No. I’m just saying, there’s a line of women waiting for you once I leave.”

  His brows knitted. “I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to just hook up with random women.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why not? Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”

  He lowered his spoon. “Come on, princess…” He gave me a look. “You don’t really believe that’s all we’ve been doing, do you?”

  “I know we just had it yesterday, but it’s a craving,” a voice said as someone walked into the ice cream parlor. As I looked up, I saw Autumn walking in as Finn held the door open for her. The moment they saw me, their faces went pale, almost as if they’d walked straight into a ghost.

  “Grace,” Autumn muttered, her voice shaky.

  My eyes fell to her stomach where a small bump was forming, and nausea overtook me.

  Finn was quick to drop his hand from her lower back, which he had been massaging as they entered. His eyes darted back and forth between Jackson and me then he cleared his throat, but he didn’t say a word.

  Autumn’s eyes watered over, but I groaned. “Don’t do it.”

  “Don’t do what?” she asked.

  “Cry.”

  “I…I won’t. It’s just…” She began crying, and she was still beautiful.

  That made me want to cry.

  “I’m just going to run to the restroom,” she said, hurrying away.

  Finn kept standing there, and he awkwardly stuffed his hands in his pockets. “So, you two are like…buddies now?” he asked, his voice deeper than it had ever been, which was odd.

  “Finley, don’t do this,” I warned. “Just go.”

  “It’s just a question,” he said, moving in closer. He tilted his head my way. “I’ve been calling you.”

  “I blocked your number, remember?”

  “We should talk.”

  “I think you should go,” I said sternly. The wave of comfort that washed over me as Jackson placed a hand on my knee and squeezed it under the table was shocking. I needed that. I needed him there.

  “Yeah, but—” Finn started.

  “You should do as she said,” Jackson said harshly.

  “Or maybe you should mind your own business,” Finn shot back. He looked at me, then toward my ice cream. “Since when do you like peanut butter ice cream? You always get strawberry.”

  “I’m trying something new.”

  “Yeah?” he huffed, glancing at Jackson once more. “Is that what you’re doing?”

  “All right, on that note, we’re leaving. Enjoy your date with Autumn,” I said, standing up from the table.

  “It’s not a date. It’s just…ice cream. She’s been having cravings.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “What’s that on your back?” he inquired, seeing the plastic covering my new tattoo. “Jesus, did you get a tattoo? Your mom’s going to flip out.”

  “Finn, can we stop this? We aren’t having conversations anymore, okay? Come on, Jackson. Let’s go.”

  As we began to walk away, Finn quickly grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me closer to him. “This isn’t you, Grace. Whatever’s going on between you and this guy…this isn’t you.”

  “You have no clue who I am,” I told him.

  “Maybe not, but you have no clue who he is.”

  “Let me go, Finley.”

  “No. I can’t let you go with this guy,” he insisted as I tried to twist out of his grip.

  Jackson stepped forward and lowered his voice as his gaze pierced Finn. “You have five seconds to let her go before I rip your arm from the socket.”

  For a moment, Finn debated, uncertain if he should believe the threat or not.

  “You better listen to him,” I warned. “Last time a guy stepped out of line, he snapped his cell phone in half.”

  Finn dropped his hold on me and took a step back. “It’s only a matter of time before he hurts you, Grace. People like him always snap.”

  “And people like you always let people like me down.”

  “You’re acting like a fool,” he barked, but I didn’t even give him a reply.

  I was so tired of being in his presence.


  I took Jackson’s hand in mine and we walked out, my stomach in knots and my mind spinning. I hated how Finn still had that effect on me, how he could make me feel so small and naïve.

  That was the biggest difference between the two men standing in front of me.

  Finley always caged me.

  Jackson allowed me to fly.

  34

  Jackson

  After the run-in with Finn and Autumn, we went back to my place where I had a night of watching Game of Thrones planned. I had everything ready—popcorn, cherry cola, and her favorite candy: Reese’s peanut butter cups.

  It amazed me that I knew her favorite candy.

  I’d never let anyone close enough to learn their favorite things.

  I hoped the distractions would help get Grace’s mind off the interaction with the two people who’d hurt her the most.

  After I set everything up on the coffee table, I went to grab the cola from the fridge, and I stopped when I saw Grace glancing at the tattoo in the mirror. There was a small smile that looked more like a frown upon her lips.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just…” She turned to me and lightly shrugged. “Today’s my anniversary.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know…” A knot formed in my gut at the thought. I’d been pretty stupid lately—letting my feelings for her grow. There was no real point, really. She was still a married woman, and she could go back to her husband at any moment when she got sick of doing whatever it was she and I were doing. Plus, it wouldn’t be long before our summer fling came to an end, and she went back to her reality in Atlanta.

  We’d made a deal, and it was perfectly clear that come the end of August, she’d go her way and I’d go mine.

  She owed me nothing.

  Still…I wanted all of her.

  “Seeing Finn in town with Autumn must’ve been hard for you,” I remarked.

  “No, Jackson.” She shook her head, placing her hand on my forearm. “Not that anniversary. It’s the anniversary of my first miscarriage.”