State of Grace (21 page)

She’d worn a pretty, strappy sundress for the occasion, thinking earlier that the deep pink hue contrasted perfectly with her golden tan and dark red hair.

Now, Jack slowly inched one of the deep pink straps of the dress down over her shoulder. His mouth lightly caressed hers as his large, work-roughened hand swept over the bare skin above the neckline of her dress, dipping underneath the bodice, underneath the bra.

Her breath quickened, and she fought panic. She fought the urge to cry out that this was wrong, that she wasn’t ready, and instead arched her body upwards towards his, forcing her body to disconnect from her heart. Distantly, she heard soft whimpers escape her throat, and she hoped for one insane moment, that he would hear them as signs of pleasure.

Jack’s hand cupped her breast, and his thumb swept over her nipple.

Once more, she arched her back into his embrace, waiting for him to make his next move.

“Grace, open your eyes.” The command was gruff, tight.

Hesitantly, she lifted her eyelids open, and he sighed heavily, removing his hand from her breast and sitting up.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

Her eyes widened. “Jack, I thought we—well, I thought you knew what I was doing,” she muttered, looking down.

She wasn’t surprised when she felt him slip a finger under her chin to raise her gaze to meet his, but she was surprised when she saw the look on his face.

His expression was open, encouraging even. “You’re not ready for this, are you sweetheart?”

“Why do you say that?” she whispered.

“Honey, I can tell. Not to mention that my hands were all over your gorgeous boobs and your nipple didn’t even harden, not once,” he said bluntly.

She felt shame stain her cheeks, and she inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Sweetheart, why are you apologizing?” he asked tenderly.

A sheen of moisture gathered on her eyes. “Because you’re perfect. Because I’m holding us up.”

He shook his head wryly. “Baby, I knew what I was getting myself into. This isn’t your fault,” he said gently.

She felt the moisture pool on the rims of her lower lids and start to seep down her face in streaky trails. “I’m so sorry. In a perfect world, you would be it for me. I’m such a fool,” she said lowly, derisively. She wiped her eyes and raised her face to his. “I tried Jack. I really tried. You deserve better.”

He closed his eyes and gathered her close. “I know you tried, baby. I tried, too. Seems whoever this guy is, he won’t go away, will he?”

At this, she didn’t make a sound, but he felt her shudder in his embrace.

“Who is he?” he asked softly. “Want me to beat him up?”

She shuddered again, but this time, Jack knew there was a laugh somewhere in there.

She shook her head against his chest. “Don’t think that’ll work.”

“Baby, have you seen these muscles?” he asked.

This time, he heard her laughter.

She raised somber eyes to his. “Jack, I owe you an explanation.”

“Baby, you don’t owe anyone a fuckin’ thing. We tried it, it didn’t work out, end of story.”

“How’d you get to be so good?” she asked quietly, a small, regretful smile ghosting her lips.

He shook his head. “Nothing to do with that, honey.”

“Jack, you deserve someone good and kind. You need someone who’s going to love you—”

He inhaled and rolled his eyes. “Oh Lord, here we go with the ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ schpeel.”

She shook her head urgently. “No, Jack, listen to me.”

He gave her a small nod of acknowledgement, and she continued.

“You are one of the most incredible men I have ever met in my life. You have to know, I haven’t met too many, even good men. Whoever she is will be damned lucky. I knew this, and I tried to be her, but I’m too damaged. I’m not good …”

His grip around her tightened. “You fuckin’ stop right there,” he commanded quietly. “You’re not damaged, and God knows, you’re too good for me.”

He felt her shake her head against his chest.

“Grace,” he said gruffly.

She raised her head to meet his eyes once again.

His warm brown eyes beseechingly held hers, and she felt her heart clutch as he continued. “Grace, I don’t know, and I’m not gonna ask because if you wanted me to know, you would have told me. But whoever he was, whatever has happened—if it’s meant to be, then it will. I firmly believe that. If it’s not meant to be, then I won’t lie, it’s going to hurt a hell of a lot for a bit more, but it’ll get better one day. You’ll see.”

At his last words, she broke down in the safe harbor of his brace, crying for what she’d had, what she’d lost, what she wouldn’t be able to give him, and what she wouldn’t have.

Chapter Eleven

Moving was hell.  Definitely up there with divorce, taxes, death, and sexually transmitted infections. 

When he’d listed the apartment, he hadn’t expected to find a buyer—one willing to pay his asking price—for a few months at the very least. Months that he’d counted on to help him get his shit in order, but he wasn’t going to complain.

He shook his head at himself. Of course he was going to complain. God only knew how long he’d have to keep his stuff in storage and where he’d be living in the interim. 

The movers were already carting boxes out. He had to turn over his keys to his realtor in a few hours, and there was nothing else left for him to do, but instead of leaving he found himself wandering back upstairs into his bedroom. Staring at the bed where he’d taken Grace’s sweet body time after time. If he sniffed deeply enough, he swore he could still smell the scent of the lemon verbena soap she used.

Pathetic bastard.  Sniffing goddamn empty air.  Why don’t you just put your balls in a silk purse now?

Torn between laughing and groaning, he noticed a few boxes still stacked on one another in the walk-in closet. Grateful for a task, any task, he ambled over and hefted both out into the room. He was about to leave and remind the movers to make sure they checked all the rooms before they finished, but something nagged him to open the box on top. For some reason, the box looked older, used, and it wasn’t taped shut like the others, rather, the four flaps had been pressed into a neat, interlocking square. He pulled at them and examined the contents.

Thick volumes of high school yearbooks. 

His letterman jacket.

College acceptance letters. 

He shook his head. The box smelled like his mother’s handiwork. She couldn’t bear to throw anything away. Curious as to what else the box contained, he rifled through the contents. His hand landed on a few oddly textured items, and he felt around before pulling them out. 

He held one in each hand and stared dumbly from one to the other and back again.

A sharp bark of laughter came from the doorway, and he turned.

“I remember both of those things you’re holding in our hand with great clarity,” Lucas grinned.

Even though Sean smiled back, there was still some hesitation. Even though his best friend wore an easygoing expression, God only knew if the bastard was trying to infiltrate his space just to coldcock him again. As Lucas moved into the room, he stepped back cautiously. 

His friend laughed again, before holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. “Relax. I just needed to beat the shit out of you only once. At least I think that should be enough.” 

He narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Look, man, I should have seen this coming a long time ago. Even way back when.”  He motioned to the items Sean still held and shook his head.

“Although, I still can’t believe you two. Should have known the way you went at each other like cats and dogs.”

Sean expelled a breath as Lucas took the small die-cast car from his hand. The pink, glittery die cast car. “I’ll never forget when we woke up that morning and she’d painted my entire fleet of hot wheels in pink and glitter nail polish. How old were we again?”

“I think eleven,” Lucas murmured, as he stared at the object in Sean’s other hand. “You can’t blame her, though. She was a genius at retaliation.”

Sean looked down at the short braid of thick, red hair he held in his hand and realized his fingers had been unconsciously rubbing the strands between his fingers. A rubber band held the hair together close to where it had been snipped, and a floppy pink ribbon tied the other end. Lucas was right. They’d been eleven. He’d tortured a six-year-old Grace mercilessly that summer, culminating in the ultimate offense. The night of a sleepover, he’d snuck into her room, and as she slept, he’d snipped off a few inches of the hair she was always whipping around in a long braid. 

Fear had overtaken him almost immediately, knowing the trouble he was bound to get into was going to be epic. But it had been worth it in his demented little brain. 

To her credit, she hadn’t ratted him out, even though she had to have known it was him. Her big brother would never have done something like that to his precious baby sister, and he was the only friend over that night. The morning after, she’d calmly told her parents she’d done it accidentally, when playing with scissors. They’d grounded her for two weeks. The morning after 
that
, he’d woken up to all of his worldly possessions he’d brought with him to the Sinclair home covered in several coats of bubblegum pink and multi-colored glitter nail polish.

“Why’d you do it anyway?  Of all the torture you ran on her, I think that one was the worst. She cried so much after she had to cut her hair to even out that whack scissor job.”

Remorse ate at him, twenty years later. Even as an eleven-year-old, he’d felt it, but he’d been selfish and stupid. He’d loved to torture her just as much as he’d been equally obsessed with the little girl with a snappy mouth and shiny dark hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be red or brown.

A few moments lapsed in silence before he spoke. “I just wanted a little piece of her,” he said hoarsely. “Even then. I’ve been drawn to her my whole life. I never knew why, but I always needed her. Even when she was giving me hell.”

Lucas looked at him strangely and was silent for a few moments.

“That’s some pretty creepy stalker shit. Maybe I should beat your ass again.”

Sean’s eyes widened momentarily before he realized his friend was joking with him. He relaxed as Lucas rolled up his sleeves. 

“Okay, let’s get the rest of this shit out of here.” He grunted as he hefted one of the other boxes, cursing under his breath at the weight. Sean heard words like 
bricks, shit, body, fucker, anchor, 
and 
bottom of the ocean.

He swallowed a laugh before shoving the car and braid into his pocket and picking up the other box to follow Lucas out of the room. 

They weren’t going to talk about warm and fuzzy feelings, but Lucas’s presence (without kicking the shit out of him) spoke volumes.

It was his green light.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I was impregnated by a monkey.”

Grace methodically continued to erase lines on the whiteboard with room and doctor assignments for patients that had been discharged that day.

“We’re having twins.”

She finished erasing before picking up a marker to quickly write in changes to current patients on the roster. As she was finishing up, she felt a sharp jab in her rib. “Ouch,” she yelled, turning in the same direction as the injury to find her attacker.

Leah.

Of course.

“You’re walking around like a zombie,” Leah huffed. “It’s even worse than before.”

“I’m fine,” Grace muttered, turning back to her task.

“I’ve been talking to you for five minutes!” Leah accused.  “No, you’re not fine!”

No, she wasn’t fine. 

Everyone had thought she was fine. Even she’d thought she was okay. Her brother and sister-in-law had been surprised when she’d moved so quickly in seeing someone else, but they’d liked Jack, and so they hadn’t said anything.

Two days ago, she’d been at their house for dinner. Explaining Jack’s absence had been rough, but she hadn’t seen surprise on their faces. After dessert, Sophie had hauled her into the bedroom to show off some new clothes. In hindsight, she should have known something was up, especially when Lucas just nodded instead of making a sarcastic remark. Feelings of dread seeped into her bones as she’d listened to Sophie speak. Since then, her sister-in-law’s words played through her mind on a continuous loop, even as she slept, she couldn’t escape them.

Sean is leaving. He put his house on the market and it sold. He’s going to London.

If you love him, you’ll go after him Grace. Push your pride aside, and you’ll just do it. Do you love him enough to do that?

She knew the answer to the question almost the instant she was asked. She was a coward. It was plain and simple. 

He took her breath away. He made her heart race.  

He was everything she dreamed about and everything she was afraid of—all rolled up into one intensely hot, amazing package.