Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (21 page)

“
Looks like we’re waiting if we want to talk to my mom.” After she unlocked the door, she stepped aside to allow Quentin by and shut it behind him. “Do you want something to drink?” she asked as she walked to the kitchen. Pausing, she turned back to him. “Actually, we haven’t eaten dinner. Are you hungry? I’m kind of hungry.”

“
Sure, I could eat.” One corner of his mouth lifted.

That smile, she decided, was her favorite. “What?” she asked.

“
You cook?” The look he gave her teetered on the edge of disbelief.

O, ye of little faith. “Yes, silly man, I can cook and I’m pretty good at it.” With her back facing him, she continued walking. “I’m not sure what there is to cook though.”

With one hand on the handle of the refrigerator door, she noticed a note from her mother hanging from the top panel. She twirled around to tell Quentin about the note and was startled by how close he and her favorite smile were. Her stomach fluttered, her heart raced, and her breathing came in quiet pants. “Um, my mom’s out. Won’t be home till late,” she said, stumbling over her words.

He inched a little closer, reaching for the note hanging slightly above her head. “That’s what it says, alright.” He took a step back and shrugged indifferently. “Looks like a sleepover.”

Like there wasn’t enough on her mind already? “Why do you need to stay here?” Not that the thought of him in the same house while she slept wasn’t kind of exciting, because it was.

“
Well, you made it very clear you weren’t going to leave your mom. And I thought I was clear that I wasn’t leaving you.”

Giddiness had no place here. But she felt it. It wasn’t a promise of love forever. It was a vow to protect. Simple as that. It was nice getting caught up in the fantasy of being the regular girl she was yesterday, bound to a regular Quentin for love and not duty. A scary thought tore through the fantasy with its claws. Could she have any sort of love life now?

“
Hey,” Quentin said, pulling her back with a finger tilting her face up to his. “You have a scared, distant look and the seneschal band is screaming you’re worried. Don’t be, I won’t let anything happen to you or your mom. I promise.”

Then he did what every girl wishes a guy like him would do—he stepped closer, wrapped his hands around her shoulders, and kissed her gently on the forehead. But he pulled back…too soon. She realized seconds later that even though he touched her, this time she didn’t feel his emotions. Not only did he take her breath away, he briefly muted her curse, which left her wondering the same thing she had a little earlier when they left her grandfather’s. How was it supposed to be between them? Technically, she’d only been Chosen for a day, but one didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know the two of them getting involved in any way other than a Chosen-Guardian arrangement would be very, very bad juju. They needed to have boundaries. Forced, necessary boundaries. Even if she didn’t want them.

“
Food,” Grace said, sidestepping him to check the refrigerator for something to make for dinner, then checking the cupboards instead since he didn’t move. “I can make homemade mac and cheese. Sound good?”

“
Sounds great.”

Rooting through the cupboards for ingredients, pots, and cooking utensils, she turned and bumped into Quentin as he still stood stock-still in front of the refrigerator. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, as she felt her cheeks start their familiar burning. She thought for sure she was getting her cheek-warming issue under control, but was reminded of its unwelcome presence when she felt her face heat up. Again
.
She averted her eyes to the shapes in the tile flooring. “I need to get the cheese and milk.” Still, he didn’t move, just stood there and looked at her with a slight smile on his face. “What?” she snapped self-consciously.

“
Nothing, I just like it when you blush,” he said, and continued to stare at her as she studied the wall behind him. “It’s cute,” he finished.

“
Um, thanks?” What else could she say? Sometimes Quentin was so easy to talk to and then other times he would get her all flustered and tongue-tied. Boundaries. She definitely needed boundaries. Clearly, he didn’t.

“
You can go watch TV while I make dinner, if you want. You don’t have to stand in here and keep me company.”

As he grabbed the refrigerator handle, he talked and reached. “I’m actually pretty good in the kitchen.” He walked to the counter and put the milk and cheese down. He leaned against the Formica, arms and ankles crossed, looking back to Grace. “Now what?”

“
So,” she said, loosening up a little. “Guardian by day, cook by night?”

“
No.” His face was intense and serious. “Guardian always. I just have other things that I’m pretty good at too.” He smiled and winked. Boundaries, she sang in her head. Quickly, Grace whipped around, grabbing the pot to fill it with water and put it on the stove.

“
What can I do?” Quentin asked again.

“
Uh…grate cheese?” she suggested.

He smiled, making little wrinkles form at the edges of his steel-colored eyes. “I am an expert cheese grater.”

She leaned against the cabinets, smiling back at him, and rested her palms behind her on the counter.

“
No really, I am.”

He smiled, and she smiled back. Neither moved.

“
Just need a grater.” He snickered.

“
Oh!” she exclaimed as she jumped away from the cabinets, leaping for the drawer where the grater was. “Here, sorry, I’m kind of out of it right now.”

“
I understand. You’ve had a lot thrown at you. It’ll get better, I promise.”

As Quentin went to work on the cheese, she watched tiny bubbles rise from the bottom of the pot. She agreed, she did have a lot thrown at her. Her issue at the moment, strangely, had nothing to do with finding out what she was, and everything to do with what she was beginning to feel for Quentin. She knew what she was feeling. She felt everything he was feeling. Lines were beginning to blur. Boundaries, physical distance, strictly business—all lines she had
to, for the sake of her own sanity, draw between them.

“
Done.” Quentin had grated all the cheese in record time.

Grace nodded with approval. “Expert Grater, you are.” She laughed, and he chuckled along with her. As Grace finished with the meal, Quentin poured them something to drink and placed both in front of the chairs at the island.

“
This is really good,” Quentin said a short time later, his face practically in his plate, mouth full of macaroni.

“
Thanks, pig.”

“
Sorry, I can’t help it.”

Grace beamed at the compliment. “It’s okay, I’m happy you like it.”

Quentin’s shoveling slowed and Grace’s nerves calmed. They talked about favorite movies, foods, places to see. When he learned they shared a love for
The Godfather
, his jaw dropped in surprise.

“
What?” she asked innocently.

“
Girls usually don’t like
The Godfather
, is all. They just don’t get it.”

“
Well, those girls—”

A woman’s voice called from the foyer. “Grace? I’m home.”

Grace’s eyes widened as she stared back at Quentin. Her mother was home early. “Ready?” she asked softly.

Laney got up from the sofa. “Okay. Let me pack a couple of bags.”

Grace watched in shock as her mother made her way down the hall. “That’s it?” Unbelievable. “No questions? Just…okay?” She crossed her arms, her features pulled downward as her voice rose with her disbelief.

Laney paused and hesitated a moment before returning to the doorway of the living room. “Right now we need to get back to Christophe’s. Any questions you have for me, or I have for Quentin, can wait until we cross that threshold.” Laney didn’t wait for any more questions. As Grace listened to the shuffling of suitcases and pings of hangers hitting the walls of the closet, she knew her short reprieve of worry was over.

That was too easy. Her mother wasn’t telling her something.

Great, she thought. What now?

The reflection in her bathroom mirror didn’t seem any different than yesterday. Bending at the hips, Grace leaned over the sink for a better look. At closer glance, she couldn’t see any changes. She certainly didn’t feel different. Quentin said the sene-whatever band had changed completely, which meant she did too. But into what exactly? Chosen, she got that part. What was so special about being Chosen? The mirror still reflected the same Grace she’d always seen there.

Everything felt the same.

On the other hand, she did have angel blood coursing through her veins. How freaking cool is that? Chosen should feel different, not just the doom and gloom part of it. The pressure cloud hanging over her surely felt like change. How fair was it to have all the risk and responsibility, but no reward for the burden you bear for the sake of everyone else? There had to be more to this Chosen thing, she reasoned. With both hands, she pulled her face down, looking for changes in her appearance, other than the obvious long face.

“
Why yes, Quentin, I’d love to go to dinner with you.” Nope, she didn’t sound different either. “Mo—”

“
Hey, Grace?” Quentin tapped on her bedroom door. “You alright in there?”

Shocked, she squatted to the floor, gripping the edge of the counter. Why was she trying to hide? The bathroom door was shut, and so was her bedroom door. There was no way
he could have seen her acting like an idiot in front of the mirror. Unless… Wrenching the bathroom door open, she stomped through her bedroom, yanking its door open as well. A surprised Quentin stood wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

“
Can you see through walls?”

“
Can I what?” His eyebrows drew together as he chuckled. “I’m not Superman.”

“
Can you fly?”

“
No.” He sounded completely unwilling to elaborate. “Are you almost done? You have school tomorrow and your mom has to get up for work.”

“
Be there in a minute.” Relieved he didn’t witness her performance, Grace turned and surveyed her room. Not really wanting to pack, she stumbled to her closet, tossing clothes here, shoes there, and decided on bathroom necessities. With her suitcase dragging behind her, Grace returned to the family room. Quentin and Laney were both waiting.