14. Spencer
CHAPTER 14
SPENCER
I can’t stop staring at their smiling faces. I can’t stop staring and feeling like I want to punch them right in the veneered mouths. The picture on my phone screen becomes blurry as tears collect on my lashes. The burning behind my eyes catches me off guard. I strictly don’t cry. That is, I don’t cry over other people. I bite the inside of my cheek to try and quell the sob that is threatening to burst forth like a tidal wave from the back of my throat. But no matter what I do, a tear escapes and rolls down my cheek.
My dad never looked that happy when he was standing next to my mother and me, but in this picture, he’s absolutely beaming. Standing next to his new wife, Sherry, a stunning brunette wearing a cream-coloured silk wedding dress, and her daughter. I guess, his new daughter. The twenty-something that shares nearly all of the same features with her mother. I study her face, wondering what she has that I don’t. What makes my father want to put his arm around her protectively like he’s doing in the photo, and not me.
They got married so quickly, as if it wasn’t even a difficult decision to make. I wonder if my dad spent as long contemplating marrying this woman as he did about leaving my mother and me. Had he even considered the consequences of leaving at all? Did he know that my mother and I would become homeless for so many years without him? An unfamiliar ache radiates behind my sternum, and I rub it with my hand to try and relieve it. I hate this feeling, the sting of betrayal, of rejection.
It’s not even about the fact that my father remarried. I might have been able to find some shred of happiness for him. My hatred and blame towards him has certainly dissipated over the years. But it happened so suddenly and without so much as a ‘Hey, just wanted to let you know I’m eloping in Italy next week.’ An invitation at this point is not something I would ever expect, but it would have been nice to have a heads up, so I wasn’t learning about it on social media from my father’s new daughter’s page. That Marla sent to me without even a warning.
I clicked open her text message and saw a link to Instagram. It’s not unusual for her to send me funny videos here and there, but it is unusual for her to send me a picture of my father, grinning next to his new bride, with no explanation except for an eye roll emoji.
What’s more unusual for me is the flood of emotions that has consumed me ever since I saw it. I’ve been so careful, so deliberate, in avoiding this kind of betrayal. I always kind of expected this behaviour from my father. So, my solution was to not reach out, not even attempt to have a relationship with him. But that’s an unfortunate fact about life. You don’t get to choose your family, as much as you might try. You can build all the walls in your relationships that you want, pretend that what they do doesn’t bother you. The cruel fact of the matter is that when it comes to family, some part of you will always care about earning their approval. Whether you want to admit it or not.
I throw my phone down on the bed and pull my fluffy duvet up over my shoulders, cocooning myself in it. I close my eyes as more tears threaten to fall, and I breathe in the warm pine air through the back hatch of the camper that I’ve left open. Say what you will about living in a van, this has truly become my peace. It’s where I’ve learned to be alone and sit with my feelings. Lying in bed listening to the birds, the trees swaying in the wind, the gravel crunching.
A car engine pulls to a stop. Footsteps through the campsite.
Someone is here.
“I’m back here,” I call, not leaving the comfort of my bed but quickly wiping the sticky tears from my face. I’m assuming it’s Ally. I’d be willing to bet anything that Marla sent her the photo too, and she’s come to make sure I’m okay. However, the voice that speaks is deeper than Ally’s, and it rumbles through me as they say my name, soothing the remnants of the rage burning in my gut.
“Spencer?” Grady calls once more before finding me around the back of the camper. The moment he lays his soft green-brown eyes on me a line forms between his brows. Concern. I don’t need Grady to be concerned about me. I don’t need anyone to be concerned about me. I’m fine.
Grady quickly closes the distance between us with two swift steps, and holds my face in his hands, eyes frantically searching for answers. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m still in my pajamas, late into the afternoon.
“What the hell happened? Who do I need to kill?” he asks when I don’t say anything, clearly picking up on the fact that if Spencer Sinclair is crying, it’s A) for good reason, and B) likely the cause of someone else. A someone else that Grady Landry looks 150 percent ready to murder just to avenge me.
“No one. It’s nothing,” I stammer.
“It’s not nothing, Spence. Anyone or anything who makes you feel this way is not nothing.” His voice softens, and he swipes a thumb across my cheek to dry the tear that has collected anew on my lower lashes.
“Just my fucked-up family. That’s all. It’s nothing that I won’t get over. I’ll move on, like every other time before.”
“Do you want to talk about it? Would that help?” Grady hoists himself up, so he’s seated next to me on the edge of my bed again, and the image of him from my first night in Heartwood flashes across my mind. The way he crawled to me, promising that I would scream his name. The way he held true to that promise. A flutter ripples through me and replaces the last of the ache in my chest.
“I don’t want to think about it, honestly. I just want a distraction.” I drop my gaze, undressing Grady with my eyes.
“Spence, I don’t know if now is?—”
Before Grady can protest anymore, before he can change the subject so that we’re discussing my emotions and treading dangerously close to the line between fuck buddies and something more, I lean towards him and brush my lips gingerly against his.
“Let’s not talk anymore,” I whisper next to his mouth, and I notice the way his eyelids droop, the part in his lips that is beckoning me to kiss them.
Grady’s hand sweeps around to the back of my shoulder blade and he lowers me back down onto the bed, leaning over me on one elbow. His other hand comes up to cup my face.
“Whatever you need, Spencer, I’m here.” His voice is soft and low, and I push back the alarm bells that his words have fired off in my head. I focus instead on the fact that Grady is willing to give me whatever I need at this moment, and right now, that’s sex. “But I’m not letting you use sex to numb yourself. Let yourself feel, and then let me take care of you.”
He presses his warm mouth on mine, sweeping his tongue along my bottom lip. I open myself to him, let him in, the way he’s asking. I imagine my ribs cracking open, showing him the parts of me that I keep so heavily guarded. Grady sees it, and the way he kisses me is tender and soft, taking my sensitive parts and holding them gently. Just like the last time, I don’t let myself shy away from him. I do what he asks, and I let him take care of me.
I guide him over so I can position myself on top of him, let him see that I’m ready to give myself to him. I sit upright, our hips connecting as I straddle him, and slowly work the buttons of my cotton pajama top until my breasts are exposed, and Grady groans in admiration.
We make short work of the rest of our clothing, and I sink myself onto him, his length already hard between us. This time it’s my turn to give to Grady, and I lift my hips, guiding him inside of me.
“You take me so well,” he rasps as I lower myself onto him, taking his full length.
“Shh,” I shush him, bringing a finger to his lips. “No more talking.” Grady’s hazel eyes meet mine, his gaze pinning me as he grabs my hand and takes my finger into his mouth, sucking on it as he slowly drags it back out between his lips.
My walls clench around him as the warmth of his mouth on my finger travels up through my arm and into my core. I rock my hips, feeling the friction building between us and I increase my pace. I fuck him until I feel all my pain, rejection, and heartache dissipate, replaced by the softness with which Grady is looking at me now. The pleasure that breaks through my pain is something I’ve never felt before, it heats my whole body, every fibre of my being humming as I lose control, lose myself to the waves that crash over me.
“God, you’re so beautiful when you come.” Grady moans as I feel his release pump into me. I fall forward, our bodies still connected, curling up on him as he wraps his arms around me and buries his face in my hair.
I close my eyes, my cheek resting on his chest, and release a breath, my body relaxing into him.
“My father found a new family.” I whisper. Saying the words out loud, they have less bite to them than when I kept them in. I unravel myself from Grady, and lower myself onto the bed next to him, but he keeps an arm around my shoulders, so I’m nestled into the crook of his arm. He doesn’t respond, his silence creating space for me to share more. “I don’t care that he’s remarried. Hell, my mother has done it three times now. I’m happy if he’s happy. But he didn’t even have the decency to tell me. I shouldn’t expect it, because we don’t really talk all that much. I just thought maybe he would … I saw it online, a post from his new and improved daughter.”
Grady sucks in a breath through his nose as he kisses the top of my head.
“I think he’s forgotten about me,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Anyone who doesn’t want you in their life doesn’t deserve to have you anyway. You have done nothing but make my life more spectacular, more enjoyable, more exciting since you’ve been in it. Maybe it’s cliché to say, but it’s his loss. It really is.”
“You hardly know me. That’s how it’s supposed to be, no strings attached, right?”
“Spencer, I don’t think either of us can deny that there are strings here. My heart has been so tangled up in you since the moment you walked into my life. Strings are not bad, it means that you’re connected to someone. I know you’ve tried so hard to avoid connection, but it doesn’t always have to mean that you’re going to end up hurt. I would never do anything to hurt you.” Grady’s words tug at some deep part of me, a part of me I didn’t know I needed to pay attention to. He’s offering me safety . He’s promising to be harmless, and the fucked up part of me has no idea what to do with it.
“No one can promise that. No one can promise that they’ll never hurt someone else. You’re a human being, and human beings hurt others. We’re flawed, imperfect. You can’t always give me what I want, and I wouldn’t ever expect that of you. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“Let me try, Spencer. Give me one chance. Let me take you on our date tonight and let me try.”
“Our date! Oh my god, I totally forgot about our date.” The flash of hurt in Grady’s eyes causes a feeling in me that I can’t make sense of. I recognize the hollow feeling as guilt. I’m getting a little tired of new emotions and figuring out how to handle them. I’ve stood up many dates, but it never mattered because they were always the kind of guys that I assumed would have done the same thing to me in a heartbeat. Not Grady. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologize, really.” Grady’s face softens, and his calloused hand strokes my shoulder as I sit up in bed. “You have a lot on your mind.”
“No, Grady. It’s not okay. You made plans before dinner and now…”
“I made plans before I showed up and found you hurt and upset. Then my priorities changed. We can skip out on dinner if you want.” Grady’s eyes are earnest, and I’m trying to rearrange my fucked-up mind to parse how someone would make me a priority.
But I don’t have time to try and make sense of it right now. I dig around in the sheets and locate my phone. I have a notification from Eleanor.
ELEANOR
Looking forward to seeing you later!
Ugh. I not only forgot about the fact that I had agreed on a date—a fake date—with Grady, but I also forgot about the fact that we were supposed to go to dinner with Eleanor and her husband. Standing up a date is one thing, even though standing up Grady feels different somehow, but missing a work commitment is something I never do. I check the time again. Thirty minutes until I told Eleanor that I would be at her house.
“No, I can’t stand up Eleanor. She’s been so kind to me, and so excited about my work here. I have a presentation prepared for her and everything.” I rapidly type out a response, letting her know we’ll be there soon. “And I owe you that date.”
I lean down and give Grady a peck on the cheek, before climbing over him and out of bed to get myself cleaned up and ready to go out. I’m running a brush through my scarlet hair, letting it fall around my shoulders instead of in my usual messy bun, when Grady gets up and goes to wait for me outside.
The dress he bought me is hanging in the small cupboard behind the driver’s seat of the van, and I hesitate before pulling it out. He bought me this dress to wear specifically for this occasion, and although I was adamant that this isn’t a real date, I find myself wanting to wear the dress anyway. Actually, I find myself liking the idea of going on a date with Grady.I almost feel … giddy.
I slip the dress on, and the look on his face when I climb down out of the van is the same as the one when he first saw me in that change room. A mix of awe and desire claims his features before he clears his throat and schools them back into submission. He’s leaning against the passenger side of the car and crossing his arms over his chest, tattooed biceps flexing.
“I don’t have big red splotches all over my face from crying, do I?” I ask, approaching him where he waits for me.
“No. Not at all. You are breathtaking.” I lean my body against his and he unravels his arms to bring them to the sides of my waist. He leans down and plants a kiss on my mouth. “Hi,” he whispers, resting his forehead softly against mine.
“Hi,” I whisper back. Butterflies careen around inside my gut. I’m going on a date with Grady. “You didn’t bring the bike,” I point out.
“I didn’t think you’d want to show up to Eleanor’s with windblown hair.”
“Smart man.” The corner of my mouth tilts up, thinking about Grady considering me, considering my wants and needs, and making accommodations for them. Prioritizing me.
He pulls away from me, only to open the passenger side of the car, and stands back to let me climb in.
I’m going on a date with Grady.