"Words were exchanged, he demanded I apologize and then insisted I was punished with detention." Grace explained, wishing she'd had the courage to show the coach just how she had broken the finger of one of his star players.
"Let's see how you feel in the morning, you have both had long days and need to sleep. And before you ask, yes Nate I expect you to stay here."
Grace was happy that he would be staying, hoping they would have further opportunity to talk. She wanted to ask him how he was doing, now that she was feeling more settled she could see the signs of fatigue, the tension in his shoulders.
"Mom is right, there is nothing more we can do tonight. Why don't you pick out a movie, and try and relax." Jack pointed in the direction of the family room, "just nothing too sappy please!"
"I need a few minutes and then I'll be with you," Nate whispered in Grace's ear, before stealing a quick kiss. She liked that he wasn't hiding their closeness, and that Jack and Mimi hadn't made any comment on their budding relationship.
Her eyes followed him as he spoke quietly to Jack, showing him something on his phone, but before she could ask any questions Mimi was by her side.
"Let's leave the clean up to the men folk!" She spoke loud enough for Jack and Nate to hear, both quickly agreeing with her, a little distracted by whatever they were seeing on the screen of Nate's phone.
"No lovely, leave them to it. For the next couple of hours I want you to put the day behind you. Tomorrow will be here soon enough." So that is what Grace did, she picked a classic comedy that was easy to watch and get lost in.
At some stage Nate sat beside her, curling her into his side. Everything else seemed to fade away whenever he was near, like he could shield her from the world. Right that minute there was no where else she wanted to be.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nate hadn't been able to sleep, the image of Grace huddled in a ball; almost catatonic, mixed with those he had seen on the school security feed had spun on a constant loop through his head. He was just so angry.
He had seen how the football players had found ways to corner her, had seen the shock and then the disgust that crossed her face at whatever it was that they had said to her. He was glad that she had the means to protect herself, but that did not take away the fact that she had had to defend herself in the first place.
It had taken him slightly longer than he would have liked to access the old system the school had in place on the day that Maddie had attacked Grace. When Jack had watched the footage, it was all that he could do to keep the older man in the house, so intent was Jack on seeking out those who had dared to injure Grace.
They had both noticed how Dylan had looked around, spotted Maddie and then began a conversation with Grace and another girl that Nate had only seen in passing around the school. Then with a signal so covert that he had almost missed it, Maddie pounced, and Grace was abandoned to her fate.
The second time they had watched through the footage, Jack had noticed two shadows in the distance, so Nate had looked for a different angle to see if it was possible to identify them. Ms Fields, stood with Dylan watching as Grace was injured, neither doing anything to stop the attack, neither of them appearing in any way shocked or surprised by Maddie's actions.
He had known that Ms Fields was capable of letting such behaviors go, knew from first hand experience how she had no trouble ignoring violence, so her blank expression was not that big of a surprise. Dylan on the other hand was watching the two girls, with an almost unreadable look. His focus was on his cousin, and as Maddie became more enraged, Dylan seemed to look at her with fear.
Once it became clear to both Ms Fields and Dylan that the fight was over, and that Maddie was walking towards them, the teacher bowed her head slightly, as if she couldn't look the younger girl in the eye. Dylan reached out a hand to his cousin, saying something to her that the cameras didn't pick up.
His words made Maddie stand up taller, and she stood still as Dylan removed something from her hand. With the use of the zoom function, they could see that Maddie had fashioned a weapon from a nail file. They also noticed that instead of throwing it away, as he had gestured he would, Dylan appeared to have pocketed it with some kind of sleight of hand.
He had to rush to catch up to Maddie and Ms Fields, who had stopped just around the corner, the teacher still showing deference to her student.
Now, a few hours later, he was in the small home gym that Jack had, running on a treadmill, hoping the miles would help tire him enough so that he could sleep without nightmares. His legs felt like jelly and he knew he had almost reached his threshold for the evening.
Hitting a button on the machine, he slowed to a walk, and reached over his head to pull off his tee shirt that was drenched in sweat. Finally coming to a stop, he used the material of his shirt as a towel, and stood just trying to catch his breath.
"Nate?" He heard her voice, quiet but shaking slightly, and he knew before he turned around that Grace was seeing his scars properly for the first time. It was a sign of how safe he felt in this house, that he had forgotten they were there, that there was a chance that someone might see them.
And by someone he meant Grace. Both Jack and Ms Riley knew about them, Jack had asked to see them at one of their earliest meetings. His stepfather had once told Nate that the multitude of scars that criss crossed the skin of his back, was some of his proudest work.
Charles had compared it to some random piece of art, and with no one to see Nate's injuries there, his stepfather was always extra vicious. Of course his stepfather had not been particularly concerned with keeping the wounds he caused clean as they healed.
There had been three occasions when the resulting infections almost led to blood poisoning. Naturally the blame had been place on Nate, as if a young traumatized boy knew anything about wound care.
He heard Grace move closer to him, but couldn't make himself turn around to face her. Nor did he make any effort to cover himself up. He sensed, rather than saw her hand move, could tell when she hesitated to reach out to him.
"It's okay Grace, they don't hurt, not any more," he whispered. He could feel her breath against his skin now, and still he didn't move. Again he knew instinctively when she lifted her hand, and when her delicate touch moved over him, it was unlike anything else he had ever felt before.
That one touch seemed to send out a series of currents, lighting up areas and nerves he had always thought broken and defective. When he felt her lips against one of his worst scars, his knees almost buckled, and his hands trembled.
"Nate, look at me. Please." He was torn, wanting to see her face, but dreading any pity or fear she might have. He had survived against the odds, the boy in the basement had survived, had escaped and was now in the process of bringing the guilty to justice. Not that Grace really knew anything about that. At least not yet.
But things were changing, no they had changed. And Grace was a part of that. So he should have known that she would not have pity for him. Nor would she fear him. Rather her face showed acceptance and compassion, and something else that he chose not to identify just yet.
Just as with his back, she ran her hand gently over the damaged skin of his torso and arms. She seemed particularly interested in the tattoo that ran along his rib cage, her finger tracing the script as if trying to understand the words and their meaning.
Her attention came back to the one scar that Nate hated above all others, the one that in spite of laser therapy never fully went away. The one he still had nightmares about receiving.
His stepfather had branded him like he was a piece of livestock, taking great pleasure in Nate's cries of pain, in reminding him that he was little more than property, that anyone who saw him, would know exactly who he belonged too.
It was, Charles insisted, a way of keeping Nate safe from the real evil in the world. That so long as his mark remained on his skin it would be a sign of protection.
Where once the flames fro
m the branding iron had caused unbearable pain to Nate, now the skin burned from the caress of Grace's lips. Her touch was igniting fireworks and it was becoming a struggle to keep his reactions under control.
She stepped backwards, away from the treadmill, seeming to know he needed a little space, but not wanting to leave him alone either, and for that he was grateful.
"Can I hold you?" Her words were cautious, just like her touch had been, and he didn't know how to refuse her request. He closed the distance between them, his eyelids drifting shut as she wrapped her arms around him.
He wondered if she could feel the rapid beating of his heart, caused in no small part by their closeness and the way her fingers still traveled lightly over his skin.
"It started almost immediately," he began to speak without meaning to. At some level he knew that he would have to have this conversation with Grace, but he hadn't thought it would happen so soon. For her part she stayed silent, although she did move even closer, so that there really was no distance between them.
"The first day I met him, Charles said things I didn't really understand, like it was a test. I knew what he was saying wasn't right, but my mom, well she let it pass, and I guess that was the beginning of everything. At first it was all in the way he would talk to me. Talk about me. The less my mother reacted the more he saw it as a challenge, he wanted to know at what point, if any, she would stop him. She never did." There were other words he wanted to say, now that he had started to tell his story he wanted it over with.
"Shh, it's okay Nate. I'm right here." Grace said softly.
"I tried to tell people what was happening, both sets of grandparents, the housekeeper, my friends' parents. Then Charles had me taken out of school, told everyone I was having trouble adjusting and that my mom wanted to home school me. I was constantly grounded so I couldn't go to my games, or practices and soon I couldn't leave the house unsupervised."
"I wrote letters and tried to call my grandparents, but never got anywhere. It was only later that my grandfather told me he'd never gotten the letters. And my dad's parents, as far as we can tell left town, and disappeared off the grid."
That he couldn't find his paternal grandparents was a source of frustration to Nate. He chose to think that they were in hiding, that they had gotten out of Silver Glade, but that wasn't always enough to stop the dark thoughts in his mind that his stepfather had done something to them. Otherwise why had they left him.
"I was alone for so long. Stuck in that mausoleum of a house. One time; soon after he first moved in, my stepfather caught the housekeeper giving me water, and he had her fired. One of the maids was given the job, and though she was scared of what he might do to her, or her family, she still found ways of looking out for me. She helped me when I eventually got away, but even with Maria, it was me against Charles."
"It took courage to survive that Nate," Grace whispered.
"Actually I think it was my stepfather's greed that saved me. He is the cliché, a gold digger, a conman. He thought that by marrying Amelia he would have access to all the riches of the Henderson Foundation. Then he discovered that I was the one who would inherit the majority of the money, so he kicked things up to another level."
"He would have me starved, would beat me, and then throw me into a small locked box in the basement. Hours, sometimes days would pass, and if I wanted to get out, if I wanted food and water I would have to sign every paper he put in front of me. I always refused. So the punishments would go on for longer."
"Then he brought in some friends of his to help convince me to behave. Then it was his mark. And then, then there was that last night in the house. The night I got out." His words died away, the memories fighting their way to the surface and for a moment it was like he was right back in the box in the basement.
"Hey Nate, stay with me."
He heard Grace calling to him, as from far away, but it was enough to bring him back to the present. He loosened his arms slightly so that he had space to tilt her head upwards. There was something in her eyes that he couldn't quite read. Even though he knew it was wrong, that it was unfair to her, he wanted to lose himself in her arms, if only for a short moment of peace.
"Oh my Belle," he whispered the words like a prayer, then he lowered his head to kiss her. She returned his kiss with enthusiasm, her hands holding on to his arms, as if to anchor him in place. He ran his tongue over the seam of her mouth, coaxing her to open for him, which she did. He heard her sigh, and then moan as the kiss continued, and soon Nate wanted more.
"Can I touch you Grace?" He couldn't help the rasp in his voice, capturing her lips again as she gave her consent. Even with all that was happening, he kept a tight reign on himself, not wanting to do anything that she was not ready for, that she would regret.
His hands moved over her upper body, gentle caresses, and he marveled at the gift she was giving to him. When she stepped back slightly he thought he had maybe pushed too far, only to watch in wonder as she removed the hoody she was wearing, her curves more visible in the camisole she wore.
Then she was back in his arms, and Nate couldn't resist running his lips over her neck, nipping at the skin then laving at it with his tongue.
She pulled him towards her again, trying to reclaim his mouth, sighing when his hand found a particularly sensitive area. It was this response that had Nate slowing down, knowing that if they continued they might go further then she was truly ready for.
"Grace, my Belle," he whispered, his voice sounding harsh to his ears. "I. You," he was completely lost for words as she kissed the skin just over his heart.
"I see you Nate. I see who you were. Who you are. Who you can be. Your scars are part of you, but they don't define you. No one owns you Nate." The words were like a balm to his soul.
"That's not strictly true my Belle." At her confused look, he continued. "If you're not careful you might just steal what's left of my heart."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Grace's head was spinning. She had heard little snippets of Nate's history; Jack and Mimi had both spoken to her about some of his potential triggers. Hearing about them was one thing, but seeing his actual scars was another thing entirely.
That he had been able to survive the years spent under the control of his stepfather was, she believed, a sign of his strength; both physical and emotional. And there was no denying that Nate was physically strong.
She felt her cheeks heat as she remembered the feeling of his muscles as her hands ran over them, the way the planes of his chest contracted at her touch.
"Okay, calm down," she admonished herself. There was more to Nate than just his beautiful body. "Oh hell!" she whispered to herself, embarrassed by her wayward thoughts.
"Everything okay?" She heard the concern in Nate's voice. He was always so careful with her, never losing control, even when she was prepared to let her hormones override her common sense. Currently they were curled up on one of the sofas in the lounge, the television on, although the sound was turned low. Even though he had put his tee shirt back on before they left the gym, he was still very warm, or maybe it was only her that was in danger of overheating.
"Damn," there she went again. Pesky hormones. Noticing that he was still waiting for an answer Grace spoke, trying to ignore the blush that no doubt stained her cheeks.
"Honestly my thoughts are a little jumbled, so I can only guess how you are doing." From her position on the sofa, she could only see his face in profile, but she felt how his hands, which rested over hers, tensed.
"You don't have to tell me anything. I just want you to know that you can." She said quietly.
"It was an interesting few days. There were a few board members who had been contacted by agents of Charles, some mild threats had been made, but there was nothing to cause concern, just annoyance. I mean these are people who have built their own businesses from scratch, who both my grandparents trusted and respected."
"A forensic accounta
nt went over my mother's trust fund, how much she has spent, advances she has requested, that sort of thing. Charles has been spending it like it's Monopoly money, and there were a few questionable attempts at seeking loans from banks in the city, using the Henderson Foundation as guarantor"
"Surely that triggered some kind of alarm?" Grace asked.
"This was just after my Gramps died, when it would have been assumed that my mother would be the head of the foundation. As far as we can find out, when Charles isn't creating the stories of my being mentally unstable, he has tried to convince people that I am still too young to inherit anything. Naturally he, as my loving adopted father, is the only trustworthy person capable of guarding my assets."
Grace couldn't help the rather unladylike snort that escaped her. Father of the Year was not a title Charles Sinclair was ever in danger of winning.
"You should have seen Victoria in action. She kept asking Brad where he went to school for his degree, and that was just for some light relief in the middle of all the B.S."
"Jack told me a little bit about that. I still can't believe that for all his scheming, your stepfather didn't at least double check the validity of..." Grace stopped herself from finishing her sentence.
"My adoption, you mean?" She couldn't fully identify the emotions in his voice, cursing herself for being so thoughtless. She tried to move away from Nate, but instead found herself pulled closer.
"Hey, look at me," he reached out to tilt her head up so that he could look into her eyes. "For all his skill at physical torture, dear old Dad sure lacks the intelligence to carry out most of his nefarious plots."
Unable to help herself, and wanting to distract him, she hugged him, her hands running over his back, while she kissed along his neck. He growled in response, capturing her lips with his own. It was only when they were both breathless that the kiss ended, and Grace couldn't stop herself from running her thumb over Nate's top lip.
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