For Life (Reclaimed Hearts Book 1) (8 page)

Grady

The irony of it kills me. Quit drinking in the hopes you’ll win your wife back, and she doesn’t even notice and offers you a fucking beer.

She didn’t know.

And how would she, unless someone told her? She and I have been nothing but polite strangers for eleven years, saying little more than “hi” and “bye” and making small talk about the weather or who’s doing what with the kids. We used to exchange a lot of e-mails - every one of them businesslike - but as the kids have grown there have been fewer reasons to write. There was really never any cause to say, “Oh, and by the way, I’m not drinking anymore.”

Now that Chloe and Caden are in high school there’s even less communication between us. Chloe pretty much runs interference, sending group texts to both of us, keeping us apprised of important information. She gets the organization gene from both of us, so she’s a master planner and hounds us with endless reminders.

Cassie knows I got my shit together right after she kicked me out, which is good, but I wish she’d known about the drinking. For some reason that detail in particular is important to me. But she wouldn’t have known. Not with us living such separate lives and no one but us knowing how big a part my drinking played in the death of our marriage.

Her voice at my elbow startles me. “Here you go. Eat up.” When she slides the steaming, fragrant food in front of me I realize I’m starving. I can’t remember the last thing I actually ate. Just now, her fixing me a plate feels like everything is normal. It felt normal when we were cleaning up the kitchen together, too. Hell, it’s felt normal all day. We were the host and hostess of my brother’s wake, and we made a damn good team.

When she walks toward me, the glass of wine in her hand, she asks me if the food’s okay, and there is genuine concern in her eyes. She’s worried about me. I must look beat. I
am
beat. But I don’t need her worrying.

I smile as best I can, and the smile she returns is soft and sad and entirely unconvinced. She pauses for a minute inside the doorway and sighs as she walks past me on her way to the living room.

That fucking sigh.

The self-control it takes for me to stay in my seat and keep chewing instead of going after her is more than I thought I had in me. I want to pour out my gratitude to her, thank her on bended knee for taking care of my family.
Our
family. I want to taste the wine on her lips, as forbidden as her kiss, and draw strength from making love to her. I want to lose myself in her, until everything makes sense again, until my brother is alive and she’s wearing my rings and we’re all happy. I want her so badly I can hardly concentrate.

And thank God she doesn’t know. She thinks I haven’t slept because of my brother. She doesn’t know I haven’t slept because being under the same roof with her for four days is torture. She’s just down the hall, and I lie awake at night and imagine that she comes to me, her hair tumbling around her shoulders and that ratty old bathrobe she used to wear tied around her. She stops at the foot of my bed and the bathrobe swishes to the floor. Through the moonlight I see that she’s naked underneath, just as I remember, her body lush and welcoming. I reach for her, and she doesn’t say no. She smiles that beautiful smile at me and sighs my name, and I draw her down to me and make love to her as though the past eleven years never happened.

Cassie

Ten years.

He quit drinking
ten years ago
, and I had no idea. I'm embarrassed by my own shock at this news, and it occurs to me how little I know about Grady now. I’ve been to his house, but never past the foyer. I couldn’t tell you what his backyard looks like, or whether or not he has pictures on his walls, or whether his kitchen is as spotless as I imagine it is. I haven’t spent any time with him in social or family settings. I pushed as far away from him as I could get after our divorce - considering we live in the same town and have two children - and I’ve managed to make us strangers.

He was never an alcoholic. Not like my father. I know that now and I knew that even then, but the fear of him
becoming
like my dad had been enough for me to end things. Truthfully, it wasn’t so much the drinking as everything that went with the drinking. There were only so many late nights and broken promises I could deal with when I was young and overwhelmed and trying to raise two small children practically on my own.

The fact is, he partied a lot when the kids were small. Yes, he was in a band and yes, it was part of the scene, but he also drank too much and acted like an asshole when he did. He was never abusive. In fact, Grady was a happy drunk, which I suppose was great if you were partying with him but not so great when he came home at three a.m. looking to get laid when I’d spent all day changing diapers and cleaning the house with no adult conversation and the theme songs from
Barney
and
The Wiggles
ringing in my ears. Not exactly a recipe for
amour
. I felt about as sexy as a jar of mashed peas.

For almost two years Grady chose alcohol over me. Over
us
.

But now…

Now he doesn’t drink. If Grady says he hasn’t had a drink in ten years, then that means not one drop. The man may not be perfect, but he’s scrupulously honest.

So if I’d held on another year…

But I have to stop that line of thinking. Going down that path would be stupid. I did what I had to do. I had small children to think about and my own mental health was hanging in the balance. There were so many sleepless nights, so many times I put the kids to bed alone and just cried for hours. My heart after Grady was a giant, raw mess, and eleven years of separation haven’t healed those scars, not really. That’s why I wasn’t able to commit to Adam and it’s why I’m still single, if I’m being completely honest. No matter how much I want to forgive Grady for the past and move on, I can’t. I just can’t.

CHAPTER TEN

Cassie

I’m putting away the freshly laundered towels when Grady trudges up the stairs. It’s nearly midnight, and the kids and Donna are asleep. We’re both pretty wiped out from yesterday. He’s like an old man on those stairs, stooped and sad, and it kills me to see him like this.

“You taking a shower?” I ask. “The towels are done. Still a little warm from the dryer.” I pull one from the stack and offer it to him.

His eyes are red-rimmed and heavy-lidded. He leans one shoulder against the wall, yawns, and then murmurs an apology when I follow suit.

“A shower would be great. Yeah, I’ll take one of those towels.”

“Grady…”

I haven’t said it yet, and I really need to. I need it off my chest, because not telling him would be a type of fraud. I have to do this, not only because it’s right but because I need to give him something. I need to extend the olive branch somehow so I can heal this rift between us and move on with my life.

He looks at me expectantly, and I close the distance between us and place the towel in his hands. My eyes fill with tears as I try to find the words I’ve been rehearsing all week.

When he closes his eyes and I see his dark lashes, so much like Caden’s when he sleeps, I find my strength.

“I know how much you loved him.”

He squeezes his eyes harder, and I realize he’s fighting back tears.

“I know he was the most important person in your life.” I take a deep breath and push on. Grady doesn’t move, not one muscle, even when I squeeze one shoulder.

“And I’m so sorry you’re hurting.” My voice breaks in the end and that’s what makes him look at me. “I’m so sorry, Grady.” I repeat myself and somehow he’s in my arms. I wrap my arms around his strong shoulders and rest my cheek on his chest as he tucks his face into my neck. He folds into me, as much as a man of his size can fold into a woman.

It isn’t until wetness trickles into the neckline of my pajama top that I realize we’re both crying. Grady is wordless, his throat working the way men’s throats do when they’re trying to choke back tears. I’m sniffling and my nose is running, but I don’t want to break the spell. I realize I’m swaying, too, the soft side-to-side rocking I used to do with the kids and still find myself doing when I hold other people’s babies. I rub his back, trying to soothe him, and he burrows further into me.

“I miss him,” he rasps against my damp skin. “Cass, why the fuck was it him? Out of all the people on the road that night, why the fuck was it my brother?” He sounds angry and confused and sad all at once.

“I don’t know, baby.” I say it without thinking, the old endearment slipping from my lips without hesitation.

He squeezes me tighter, taking the breath out of me, and I run my fingers through his messy dark curls, massaging his scalp the way I used to when he had headaches. I don’t even realize I’m doing it until I feel him relax against me and sigh into my shoulder. I keep my fingers moving, soothing circles with just the right amount of pressure, as if I could absorb some of his pain into my own body.

He whispers my name and I twine my fingers in his hair and hold my breath as he presses his lips to the patch of bare flesh where my neck meets my shoulder. I feel it everywhere in my body at once, a high-voltage surge that bolts through my chest, sizzles down my spine, and settles low in my belly. His breath tickles my skin as his lips hover over my collarbone, and his almost touch is excruciating. I feel unbalanced, like the entire world just shifted beneath my feet. This shouldn’t be happening, but it is happening.

“Cass.” It’s a statement, not a plea, but I have no idea what it’s supposed to mean, only that I want him to say it again and again so I can pick it apart and let my heart process it. This isn’t about shared grief, I know that much. This is about us and whatever little thread has been stitching us back together since I walked into this house last Saturday.

His hands slide down my sides until they’re holding my hips. One thumb presses against my hip bone and the sudden sharpness of it makes me gasp his name, but it’s drowned out by the sound of Ares going crazy outside, barking his head off like there are a gang of ax murderers in the yard.

Instantly both of us are on alert, breaking apart.

“He never barks like that,” Grady says, face grim. He turns and takes the stairs two at a time, rounding the bottom banister with me on his heels.

“Oh my god, what if someone’s breaking in?” My heart is in my throat, my mind suddenly reeling with every news story I’ve ever seen about a violent home invasion.

“Hey.” He stops, sees the look on my face, and cups my cheek. “They’re not breaking into this house,” he assures me, grabbing the baseball bat his mother keeps behind the door to the back yard.

He turns back to me. “It’s probably just kids. But stay put, Cass. Do not step one foot out of this house, you hear me?” He tells me to call 911 if I don’t hear from him in two minutes and flings open the back door.

I can only nod, clutching my chest in a vain attempt to stop the hammering inside it as Grady steps outside to face the intruder.
Please, God.
I pray for the man I married for the first time in too many years.
Please, God, keep him safe.

* * * *

Luckily our gang of ax murderers turns out to be a young raccoon that the dog has cornered between the garage and the trash cans. Its frightened eyes reflect the beam of the floodlight as Grady grabs Ares, who’s slavering and straining against his collar so hard he chokes himself. The raccoon blinks gratefully at us before lumbering away like a tiny bear.

“Our fierce protector,” Grady says wryly, stroking Ares between the ears. Ares whines and growls after the raccoon even though it’s already disappeared, reluctant to obey Grady’s orders to settle down and clearly quite pleased with himself for protecting the integrity of Donna’s trash cans.

I’m clutching my chest through my thin pajama top when I run up behind him. I couldn’t just stand there in the kitchen counting for two minutes, so I peeked out the window, and as soon as I realized there weren’t homicidal maniacs in the yard I came out after him.

“Oh, shit, that scared me,” I confess with a nervous laugh. In the forty-five seconds it took Grady to assess the situation I’d already created a scene in my head in which the entire family was slaughtered, including Ares who managed to avenge our deaths by taking down a couple of the murderers before they got him, too. I’m giddy with relief that it was just a baby raccoon.

“He must’ve smelled yesterday’s party in our trash cans.”

“Aww, poor little guy. He’s hungry!” Suddenly I’m sad for the raccoon.

Grady shakes his head at me and leads a still-agitated Ares back across the yard by his collar. “We’re lucky he didn’t wake the whole damn neighborhood. I shouldn’t have left him out there so late, but he loves this cool weather.” He strokes Ares again, whose ruff is still standing on end. Ares makes little woofing noises deep in his throat and stares back at the trash cans as if he’s a little doubtful the danger has really passed.

“I’m glad someone loves this weather,” I grumble. “It’s really cold out here!” It’s barely forty degrees and I’m barefoot in my PJ’s hopping from foot to foot.

Grady scowls at me. “Didn’t I tell you to stay inside?”

“Um… yeah, you did, but I didn’t see anyone so I figured it was safe.”

“That’s not the point. You should’ve stayed put.” He shakes his head. “You’re a terrible listener. Stubborn as ever.”

“But—”

He interrupts me. “And no shoes and no coat.”

“Grady, it was an emergency.”

“It was a raccoon. C’mon, go. Get yourself back in there before you freeze.”

I scurry back in and hose my feet off in the mudroom, still shivering, heart racing from the shock of the past ten minutes. Grady leads Ares back in and locks the back door before striding through the kitchen to check Donna’s front door, as he always does before turning in for the night. I get a little flushed watching him move purposefully through the house to keep us all safe, and as he heads back upstairs and I’m finally alone I allow myself the memory of our almost-kiss. His hands on me, his breath hot against my throat, the words we both wanted to say.

I can’t give it head space, because it will overwhelm me. I want to dissect it, flay it apart and examine every bit of it, but it’s still too fresh and I’m emotionally exhausted. I can’t do this.

Instead, I busy myself by switching over the last load of laundry and folding the last few towels before I head upstairs. Ares is on the landing where the stairs turn, waiting for me to come upstairs. When I pass him he dutifully trots behind me up the stairs and plops himself down in the hallway just outside the bathroom, where I hear the hiss of the shower.

We always talked about getting a dog. Grady made a strong case, but the kids were too little and I knew I would’ve been the one to take care of it. No way was I adding one more thing to my plate. It strikes me that Ares is the family dog Grady always wanted us to have, and suddenly my eyes are prickling and my throat is tight. When the last of the towels is put away I slip into my room and climb into bed.

But I can’t sleep. Each time I close my eyes I’m tortured by the scene in my mind. The memory of his soft curls between my fingers and his skin pressed to mine is like a thousand other memories I have of Grady, all locked safely away. Touching him again feels like I’ve just opened the closet door and let them all come tumbling back out into my lap.

When I held him, Grady felt so strong and solid against me, bigger than he was when we split up. All muscle, the satisfying bulk of a two hundred pound man, no longer a hundred and seventy pound boy. His openness and vulnerability when he talked about Carl was also new. That wasn’t the Grady I knew from before, who clammed up about his feelings and got angry if you asked him. It was some new, improved Grady, and I’m not sure if I like that or if it’s too dangerous for me to handle.

His protectiveness when we were outside - I didn’t even realize I’d missed that, having someone look out for me all the time, just like I do for my kids.
You can take care of yourself
, the little voice inside my head whispers.
You don’t need a man for anything. You’re living proof.
But I ignore its admonishment. Instead I force myself back to the moment in the hallway when I touched Grady, and he looked at me like he was drowning and I was the only person on earth who could save him.