Chapter 19
Lynley
As I pull into my mother’s driveway, I eye the SUV in my rearview mirror. I didn’t expect Grafton to follow us home, but shaking him off is apparently harder than getting gum out of Ginny’s hair.
Mase dives out, slamming the door shut with enough force that I wince. I follow at a more sedate pace, rounding my car just as Grafton kills his engine and gets out, walking purposefully toward me.
Mase doesn’t notice our hanger-on, already gunning for the house, thrusting the front door open and disappearing inside—probably off to tell his sister about his game and his ice cream. Grafton watches him go with amusement as he stops at my side—just a little too close to be considered polite.
“He’s a good kid,” he tells me, his deep voice rolling over me, making my stomach swoop. We’ve spoken on the phone a couple times these last few weeks, but hearing it in person has the intensity dialing up several notches.
“Yeah, I’m pretty fond of him.” I look over at the house with a soft smile.
“He’s been struggling the last few weeks…
” I pause, brows drawing together. “Or months. But today…” A sigh escapes me, and I meet Grafton’s stare.
“Being able to play baseball again has really helped, but…” I trail off, chewing on my bottom lip.
“What?”
My throat bobs on a rough swallow. “I can’t help but think his mood took a dive just before I accepted the truth about Christopher.” I gesture at the house. “He hasn’t once asked to go home, even though Ginny’s been asking almost every day.”
Grafton reaches out, his large hand sliding under my hair and cupping the back of my neck. His fingers dig lightly into the tense muscles there. An instant feeling of calm rushes through me, and I blink up at him, bewildered.
I’ve never reacted to anyone the way I do him. Not even Christopher. Not in the beginning. Not ever. The idea of it is enough to send me running in the other direction, but there’s a huge part of me that desperately doesn’t want that.
Just this once, I want to take something for myself.
“It’s possible he saw something,” Grafton murmurs, oblivious to my internal meltdown. “Have you asked him?”
I grimace. “Not outright,” I confess. “I don’t want him to feel like he is in the middle. Christopher is his father, right?”
The corners of Grafton’s mouth go tight, but he doesn’t say anything.
His eyes never leave mine, his fingers pulsing against my skin.
“Maybe it’s time to have that discussion.
You’ll have to explain why Christopher isn’t living with you anymore sooner rather than later, right?
” He tilts his head to the side, his expression curious.
He’s not worried. I can tell that much. And I appreciate that he’s not trying to tell me what to do. It’s more a subtle push for something he knows I already understand.
I find myself leaning into his side, seeking the comfort of his touch. He doesn’t hesitate, wrapping his arms around me, his chin pressed to the crown of my head. He smells like sunshine and man, a musky cologne that fills my lungs and settles low in my belly.
“I know,” I whisper. “I was hoping to do it when we got back to some normalcy, but…” I look away, admitting quietly, “The deadline for Christopher to sign the papers is in a couple of days, but he’s throwing his weight around, talking about contesting it.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Grafton tenses before he blows out a heavy breath, like he’s forcing himself to relax. “What’s he doing?”
A huff of unamused laughter escapes me. “My lawyer says he’s refusing to sign. That he wants me to agree to mediation.” I lean back, looking up at him. “He won’t leave the house. Not until he’s forced to.”
Grafton brushes his finger along my cheek. “You didn’t want to go back anyway.”
A frustrated noise leaves me. “I know, but now I’m stuck here.
” I point at the house again. “The kids miss having their own space, and a routine. My mother is—” I press my lips together.
“Doesn’t matter. Anyway, we can’t stay here.
It’s already been too long. But until the divorce goes through…
” I shrug helplessly. “The money I have isn’t enough for another place for us.
And no one will rent to me without income, which means I need a job.
I haven’t worked in…years. I never even finished my degree. ”
I step away from him, sinking down onto the cold concrete step. Grafton watches me for a moment, but then follows my lead, sitting beside me, the scorching heat of his leg pressing into mine—knee to hip.
“You have a real opportunity here,” he says softly. “Reinvent yourself. Go back to school, if you want. Or don’t. Find a job you enjoy. One you love.” He pauses, turning to spear me with those bright blue orbs. They crease down at the corners as he flashes me a cheeky smile. “Or come work for me.”
I stare at him for a moment, and then let out a light laugh. “You’re funny.”
He nudges me with his elbow, and then his arm slides around my shoulders, tucking me against him. I don’t fight the hold because it’s so nice to feel like I’m not alone. It’s been so long since I’ve been hugged by someone my age—without sticky fingers.
“I’m not kidding.”
I fall quiet, unsure what to say, but again, Grafton doesn’t push, letting me sort through the chaos of my thoughts in my own time.
“This doesn’t seem like a good idea,” I murmur eventually, carefully averting my gaze from his.
He strokes a hand down my arm, his fingers softly stroking over my skin when they reach the hem of my sleeve.
“What doesn’t?”
“Us,” I whisper, because there’s no pretending there isn’t an us. “I’m still married, and it could be months before that’s over. I don’t want to drag you into my drama.”
“But you want me,” he says cockily, and I shoot him an amused look, finding his mouth pulled into a toe-curling grin.
Feeling brave, I smile back at him, finally giving voice to the truth. “Yes, I do.”
His bright eyes flare with surprise, and then go heavy with pleasure. His free hand comes up, cupping my chin between his thumb and finger, holding me still. He ducks his head, pressing his lips to the corner of my mouth—not quite a kiss, but close enough that skin tingles from the touch.
“That’s all I needed,” he whispers. “Now we’ve got all the time in the world to get to know each other.”
“And when the divorce goes through?” I dare to ask.
His thumb lifts, pressing against my bottom lip, dragging it down. Without thought, my tongue flicks out against the pad of the digit, and his eyes darken to a stormy blue.
“When the divorce goes through?” he repeats. “You’re mine.”
After he leaves, I walk into the house and find the kids entranced by an animated movie in the living room.
Ginny’s on her stomach, right in front of the television, her legs swaying behind her.
Mase is stretched out on the couch, still in his dirty uniform.
His eyes are heavy as the lights of the screen flash across his face, and I know he’ll be dead to the world within minutes.
I turn and head for the kitchen, finding my mother at the table, doing a crossword puzzle on the daily newspaper.
She glances up as I enter, her mouth in a tight, disapproving line.
I stifle a sigh as I head for the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water.
I sit down across from her, uncapping it and taking a long pull, knowing there’s no point in trying to escape from this.
If she’s got something to say, avoiding my mother will only make her more determined to make her point.
“You’re making a mistake.”
I stall, taking another drink before glancing at her. “Okay. What mistake?”
She slaps her newspaper down against the table, squinting at me in the same mean way that Caroline does. “You’re destroying a family,” she hisses. “Christopher has asked you to go to counseling. The least you can do is try.”
I tap my nails against the table, staring at her. “I want to ask if you’re kidding,” I say softly, “But I know you’re not.” This isn’t the first time she’s tried to convince me to go back to my husband; the implication that his “straying” is my fault is heavier each time.
She wrinkles her nose, annoyed at my lack of reaction. “You can’t keep staying here, hiding from your problems. Those children deserve better. They deserve their father.” She looks away with a sniff. “I can’t believe you’re already cozying up to another man.”
Must’ve spied on us through the window. I roll the bottle cap between my fingers, trying to ignore the sting of her words. “Christopher didn’t come to the game today.” She opens her mouth, but I silence her with a look. “You were so sure he would. Stepping up to be father of the year, right?”
“Well, maybe he didn’t know—”
“He knew,” I interrupt. “My lawyer passed the message along.”
She sends me a triumphant smile. “Well, there you have it. Why would he come when you couldn’t even be bothered to talk to him like a human being?”
“Because how I talk to him affects what kind of parent he is?” I demand, twitching my brows into an exaggerated frown.
“The last time I spoke to Christopher, I had to listen to him talk about fucking my sister, so I’ll keep talking through a lawyer, thanks.
” It’s a low blow, and I almost feel bad for the way her eyes widen, her cheeks going chalky.
But then she presses her mouth into a tight line, her eyes carefully avoiding mine.
“Caroline wouldn’t do that.”
We’ve been dancing around the subject for weeks, ever since I told her that I am not going back to Christopher and why.
At first, I tried to keep Caroline’s name out of it, but my sister started harassing me, calling me at all hours of day, sending message after message.
I blocked her, but she only started calling our mother, using her to try to force me into a conversation.
I’m done.
I pull my phone out and queue up the video, sliding it across the table. “Here. Watch it.”
Mom hesitates, flicking a dark look my way. She presses play, Caroline and Christopher’s unmistakable voices filling the kitchen. I try to tune them out, the words already permanently seared into my mind. When it’s over, Mom doesn’t look at me, her cheeks so white that I’m a little concerned.
“Mom?” I say quietly, a plea in my tone. “Please don’t ignore this. You can’t just…”
She swallows hard, her foot jiggling under the table. “I won’t pick between my daughters, and it’s not fair of you to ask me to.”
A hollow laugh leaves me. “I’ve never asked you to pick, but don’t pretend you haven’t.
” The words taste as bitter as they sound, but I’m too drained to pull the emotions back.
“You’ve always made sure that you looked after Caroline—gave her everything she ever needed, even if it meant taking from me.
And now you’re just going to look the other way while my family burns to the ground, and she stands there, holding a match. ”
“Christopher is the problem,” she says sharply, her tune drastically changing from just minutes ago. “Do not blame your sister for your husband’s mistakes.”
“Are you kidding me?” I whisper. “She was blackmailing him, Mom.” I point at the phone. “What other proof do you need?”
She shakes her head. “Just let this go, Lynley. If you hold onto this grudge, you’re going to destroy more than one family.”
I gape at her. “And I guess that’s on me, hm? And not on the people who broke their vows.”
Her brows draw low, the lines around her mouth standing out in stark relief. “Just stop, Lynley.” She stands up and walks away, leaving me alone in the kitchen with my heart aching, aware that I’m losing a lot more than a husband.
Now, I’ve lost a sister and a mother, and my kids have lost them, too. Because I am not going to continue to allow this kind of toxicity in my life.
She wants to keep Caroline happy? Fine.
She can do it without me.