Chapter 20
Grafton
“Ineed your help.”
As soon as the words pour from the car speaker, I do an illegal U-turn—no hesitations and no fucks given to the guy laying a heavy hand on his horn when I cut him off. “I’m on my way.”
“Grafton—”
“No. Don’t argue,” I interrupt brusquely. “I’ll be about thirty minutes.”
There’s a beat, the silence only interrupted by Lynley’s quiet breathing. And then, “Okay.” One word, drenched in relief. Something settles in my chest, knowing I gave that to her.
“Thirty minutes,” I repeat. “Get everything you need and meet me outside. Lynne? I got you, darling.”
“Okay,” she echoes in a whisper. “See you soon.”
The call cuts off without another word, and I press down a little harder on the accelerator, my hands clenching tightly around the steering wheel.
I’d almost made it back home by the time she called, but there’s no second-guessing making the trip back—not when there was the slightest waver in her voice, like she was barely holding herself together.
I don’t know what happened in the last hour, which means I’m walking into the situation blind. But I’m going to show this woman that she has me at her side. Always. She’s been on her own for far too long, even when she has been surrounded by people, but that shit isn’t going to fly anymore.
I make the drive in record time, pulling up outside her mother’s house in just twenty-three minutes. As I kill the engine, the front door opens, and Lynley comes trekking out, her arms filled with bags, and both kids dragging their heels behind her.
I get out of the car, just in time for Mase’s voice to carry over on the breeze. “...why do we have to go right now, Mom? The movie wasn’t even finished.”
Ginny spins to face him, blonde hair flying around her head as she cocks a hip out. “You weren’t even watching it!” she declares sassily. “You were snoring.” Mase flicks her a disdainful look, not bothering to respond to the accusation.
Lynley lets out a drawn-out sigh. “I told you,” she tells the kids, voice muffled as she struggles to pop the trunk of her car. “We can’t stay here.”
“So where will we go?” Mase complains.
“Home. We’re going home, right, Mom?” Ginny steps toward her mother, her eyes wide and overly bright. “Dad said—”
Lynley finishes stowing everything in the trunk, turning to answer, but Mase’s shout cuts her off. “Who cares what Dad said?” His face goes a dark shade of red, his loud voice echoing around us.
There’s a moment of stillness as the sound fades away, Lynley watching him with a concerned expression.
“Mase,” she asks carefully. “You okay?”
He stares back at her, his shoulders shaking, eyes wide and panicked. He looks cornered, like he’s about to erupt, and I might not be a parent, but there’s no way this is a good time for whatever’s about to come pouring out of his mouth.
Hoping Lynley won’t think I’m overstepping, I call out, “Hey, now, what’s happening here?”
She startles, whipping around to face me, but the shock falls away, leaving only relieved surprise. “You’re here.” She breathes.
Mase blinks rapidly, his throat moving as he tries to work through the emotions of whatever just happened. “Hi, Grafton,” he croaks.
Ginny rushes to Lynley’s side, clinging to her leg. “Who’s he?” she whispers tremulously. “Mommy, I want to go home.” Her eyes fill with tears, glistening in the waning afternoon sun.
“He’s mom’s friend,” Mase announces, his chin going back up at the importance of knowing something his sister doesn’t.
Ginny frowns, still clutching Lynley’s pants. “She doesn’t have friends.”
Lynley purses her lips, but I see the corner of them twitch. “I have friends.”
Her daughter throws her a dubious look. “Other moms don’t count.” Lynley opens her mouth, and Ginny rushes to add, “And neither do kids.”
I spread my arms out wide. “Well, I am a friend. A new one.” I step a little closer, watching as Ginny ducks her head behind Lynley again, peeking out at me.
I squat down, putting myself at her height so I’m not as intimidating.
She stares at me, and I tilt my head, giving her a gentle smile.
“You must be Ginny. Your mom has told me all about you.”
“What’d she say?” Her lips press together—an identical expression to Lynley’s a moment ago.
“She told me that you were the bravest girl she knew. That when you broke your arm, you barely even cried.”
She blinks, and then bobs her head. “It hurt a lot, but the doctor at the hospital gave me a sucker when he put the cast on.” She lifts her arm, waving it around.
“And it wasn’t scary when they cut it off, either.
I thought they were gonna cut into my arm and blood would go everywhere”—she shrugs—“but they didn’t. ”
“But maybe we should avoid breaking another bone. Just for a little while, at least. I know you gave your mom a real fright.”
Movement catches my eye, and I turn to look at the house, watching as a curtain twitches. I look up and see that Lynley’s caught it as well, her expression darkening. I press my hands to my knees, slowly rising to my full height.
“Time to go,” she tells the kids, none of her tension leaking into her voice. “Hop in the car.”
Mase sends her a curious look, but does as she bids, followed by Ginny, who shoots me another wary look. Once the door shuts behind them, I look at Lynley, asking, “What’s happening?”
She shoots another furious look at the house. “I think my mother knew,” she says quietly. “We got into it about my sister, and…” She shakes her head. “We can’t stay here. I won’t stay here.”
A plan immediately starts forming in my head—one that was already there, but I quickly rearrange the schedule, moving everything forward a couple of weeks. I step toward her, ignoring the shadow behind the window as I reach up, cupping her chin. “You trust me?”
She doesn’t give me an off-the-cuff answer, her lashes lowering to shield her eyes as she seriously considers the question. Finally, she blows out a quiet breath, her head lifting and her blue eyes clashing with mine.
“Yes. I do.”
I can’t stop the grin tugging at my mouth, my thumb stroking over the silky softness of her skin. “Attagirl.” The softest pink fills her cheeks, giving her a sun-kissed glow.
I like that. I like having that kind of effect on her.
“You’re gonna get in the car with the kids,” I tell her. “And you’re gonna follow me. Okay?”
She blinks, looking a little dazed as my thumb lifts to trace over her pillowy bottom lip. “W-Where are we going?”
“That’s where the trust comes in, darling,” I tell her. “You just have to lean into it.”
She tilts her head back, her eyes bouncing between mine as if gauging the honesty of my words. I don’t blame her. Not after what she’s been through. Even if she does trust me, there are going to be moments of doubt and hesitation.
“Okay,” she says after a moment, resolution coloring her words. “I’m leaning in.”