Chapter 22
Mason
“So, let me get this right: No one but me knows and understands you?” I ask, without even trying to hide the provocation behind my question.
She shakes her head no.
“But that’s what you said just now,” I insist.
“It’s not what I meant,” she utters, averting her eyes from mine.
“Then what did you mean?”
Grace looks distraught, chewing on her lips as her shoulders sink in defeat, her head low as she keeps her focus locked on her toes. She lifts her arms, wrapping them around herself as if she’s suddenly realized she’s standing before me naked, the bathrobe that’s become her loyal companion nowhere to be seen. It didn’t seem to bother her until now, but it appears that she can no longer tolerate her exposed state, now that she’s become too aware of it.
However, when she bends down, making a move to pick up the covers so she can wrap herself in them, I hold her back by grabbing her wrist.
“I like you like this,” I say, gently pulling her back up on her feet.
“Of course, you do,” she sighs. “Naked, helpless, and crying.”
“No,” I object, met with her quizzical eyes. “I don’t like that last part.”
She scoffs. “Since when?”
I look at her, with her puffy eyes, her flushed cheeks, her hair unkempt and various strands sticking to the side of her face, moistened by tears, new and old. She looks different than she did just a few days ago, and it’s not just because of the lack of makeup or the fact that her features have slimmed a bit from not eating properly. It’s the hurt in her eyes, that really gets to me.
I failed her. I forgot what this was all about. I was too busy focusing on my own dilemma after losing control on her like that. I was the one who ran away, because I was scared of her. I neglected her, unable to deal with the consequences when things didn’t go as planned.
But this is not about following the perfect plan, overcoming each step as I laid them out beforehand. This is about helping Grace become who she’s meant to be, by revealing the strength residing deep within her. She is so much more than she was ever made to believe, and I needed to change that. And based on what she just told me, it has been working. I said all the right things, and I did all the right things.
Until I lost track—and now she’s the one suffering for it.
“Why did you ignore me for so long?” She asks, her lips quivering with despair. “And why did you break your word?”
I take a deep breath. “The shutters?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “You promised you’d open them, and you never did. Haven’t I been punished enough?”
I nod. It’s the only thing to do. She’s right. I didn’t keep my word, despite telling her she could trust me.
“You’re right. I let you down,” I admit. “Let’s fix that.”
I offer my hand to help her down from the bed, but when she refuses to take it, I reach for the leash instead. She has no choice but to follow me when I make my way across the room, marching toward the windows in wide and deliberate steps. She stumbles into me when I come to a sudden halt, her fingers digging into the fabric of my shirt as she clings on to me.
I always carry the small remote with me, that controls every part of this house, including the outside shutters. So, all it takes is for me to reach inside my pants pockets and find the right button.
Grace gasps next to me, when the shutter begin to move with a loud rattling. I can feel the grip of her fingers tightening around my shirt as she moves closer, as if she wanted to hide herself behind me.
Is she really seeking refuge in her captor’s arms? I didn’t even dare to dream of it until now.
“Don’t worry, no one will see you,” I assure her, placing my hand on top of hers. “We’re all alone out here.”
I throw her a look from the side, trying to gauge what might be going through her head.
“Does that scare you?” I want to know.
“What?” she asks back, without looking at me. Her eyes are firmly locked on the windows before us, watching as the shutters give way to a view of the flat valley, covered in dense forest toward the horizon, where the landscape becomes a bit more hilly. We’re pretty far away from the rocky coastline, but sometimes, when the wind is strong enough, there’s still a hint of salt in the air.
“That we’re all alone up here,” I say.
She turns to look at me, dried up tears forming a salty crust around her eyes. The sadness from before is still palpable in her expression, but there is a languor in her eyes now that speaks of calm content rather than utter despair. And her eyes are no longer watery with the precursor of fresh tears.
“Because no one can hear me scream?” she asks, and I almost can’t believe my eyes when she adds a little wink.
I’m even more surprised when she doesn’t recoil as I wrap my arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer. I take her with me when I take a step forward, my hand resting on the windowsill while the other keeps her close.
“Should it scare me?” she asks, fixating me with an interrogative look.
I shrug. “It would only be natural.”
“If you wanted to kill me, you would have done it already,” she says in a nonchalant way. “I just wish, you’d tell me what I’m doing here.”
“You’re healing,” I blurt out, before I can stop myself. “You’re growing.”
I expect her to object, maybe even yell at me, or call me a sick psychopath like she did before. I wouldn’t even blame her, because that’s exactly what my words should provoke in a normal person.
But Grace is not like any other person I have met before. That’s why she’s here. She’s special, strong despite her brokenness, fierce in dealing with her own vulnerability.
And—as it turns out—full of surprises.
I don’t know how it starts, but I know I’m not the one in charge but simply following her subtle lure, when I lean down and my lips meet hers with undeterred purpose.