Chapter 41 Heather
Heather
I can’t breathe, or think, or do anything except stand here and let his words wash over me, sinking deeper and deeper until they make it past all my fear, all my anxiety, and the rush of panic and adrenaline that hasn’t let up since I got home with April.
Grant, to his credit, is giving me all the time I need to internalize everything he’s just laid on me. He hasn’t said another word, but he’s looking at me like I hung the moon and the stars. Like the idea of me leaving is physically painful to him.
And I realize, with a clarity that I’ve been missing for most of the afternoon, that he means every single word.
This isn’t some noble gesture or misguided sense of responsibility. This isn’t him trying to be the hero because that’s what good guys do. This is Grant—careful, controlled, measured Grant—standing in front of me and laying his entire heart bare.
Hockey used to be everything. But now it’s just what he does.
We—April and I—are who he is.
The sob that breaks free doesn’t sound like anything I’ve ever heard before. I don’t even realize it’s coming from my own mouth and throat and chest until I feel everything I’ve been holding in start to crumble.
I can still feel every ounce of fear from Steven’s phone call and the terror of seeing him at April’s school.
There’s the panic of packing, of running, of trying to protect everyone by leaving.
And then of course there’s the exhaustion of holding it all together for so many years, of being strong and capable and never letting anyone see me break.
I feel it all as it comes pouring out in ugly, gasping sobs that shake my entire body.
Grant doesn’t hesitate to pull me into his arms, and I go willingly, desperately. After holding myself upright through sheer force of will for so long, he’s the first solid thing I’ve found to collapse against, and I fully melt into him.
His arms are strong and secure around me, with one hand cradling the back of my head while the other wraps around my waist. He’s holding me so close I can feel his heartbeat against my cheek, and it’s exactly the kind of comfort I’m looking for, even if I can’t put it into words.
He doesn’t try to quiet me or tell me everything is okay. He just holds me and lets me fall apart. He gives me the space to be vulnerable in a way I haven’t allowed myself to be in years.
Maybe ever.
I don’t know how long we stand there. Long enough for my sobs to quiet into hiccups. Long enough for my breathing to even out and for the panic that’s been driving me since I left April’s school to finally start to recede.
He doesn’t let go until I do. I slowly pull back, suddenly aware of how I must look—red-eyed and runny-nosed and completely wrecked.
But when I look up at him, I don’t see any judgment. Only concern and care, even though I know today has been hard on him too.
His hands come up to cradle my face, and the gentleness of the gesture nearly undoes me all over again. His thumbs brush away the tears still tracking down my cheeks with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
“I’ve got you,” he says, then repeats it for good measure. “I’ve got you, Hurricane.”
The nickname that started as a joke, as a description of the chaos April and I brought into his carefully ordered life, has become something intimate that belongs to just the two of us.
I lean into his touch, letting my eyes close for just a moment as I feel the warmth of his palms against my skin and the steady presence of him in front of me.
For so long, I’ve had to be the strong one. The one who makes all the decisions and carries all the weight. But right now, in this moment, I don’t have to be strong.
Grant is being strong enough for both of us.
His eyes search mine, and I can see him gathering his thoughts and preparing to say something.
“Before you and April came into my life, I had everything mapped out. I had the same routine every day. I followed the same schedule, had the same goals, and expected the same results.” His thumbs pause in their gentle tracing.
“I thought that all I needed was structure, control, and hockey. Those three things had always been enough.”
I can barely breathe as I listen, afraid he’ll stop if I move or speak.
“But if I had to go back to that now…” He pauses, and the pure vulnerability that flashes across his face is enough to make my knees go weak. “If I had to go back to that empty house, back to living by myself and following those same routines day after day, I would feel like a part of me died.”
My heart clenches in my chest.
“Because a part of me was brought to life because of you,” he continues. “And that part can only survive as long as you’re with me.”
Oh god.
Tears would be rolling down my cheeks right about now if I hadn’t already cried them all out. Instead, I drag in a shaky breath and try to find my voice through the emotions that are clogging my throat.
“You brought a part of me to life, too,” I say, because it’s the absolute truth. “A part I thought Steven killed a long time ago.”
Grant’s hands tighten slightly on my face, but his eyes stay focused on mine.
“I forgot what it felt like to be seen,” I continue. “Really seen. Not as April’s mom or as someone’s ex or as a problem to be fixed. Just as me. As Heather.”
“That’s all you’ve ever been to me. Just Heather. Beautiful, strong, stubborn Heather who makes me laugh and drives me crazy and makes me want things I never thought I could have.”
I let out a sound that’s half-laugh, half-sob. “I’m a mess.”
“You’re my mess.” He flashes the smallest smile. “And I’m yours. If you’ll have me.”
If I’ll have him.
This man who learned to sew so he could fix April’s shirt. Who makes breakfast for us without being asked. Who looks at my daughter like she hung the moon. Who just told me that hockey—his entire life’s purpose—isn’t enough anymore without us in it.
If I’ll have him.
I open my mouth to answer, but he stops me before I can say anything.
“I know you’re scared,” he interrupts gently.
“I know Steven showing up today terrified you. I know you think running is the answer because it’s what’s kept you safe all these years.
But Heather—” He pulls back just enough to look directly into my eyes.
“You don’t have to run anymore. Not from him. Not from this. Not from me.”
I believe him. I do. And I don’t want to be this person who is full of doubts, always second-guessing the good things in my life. But some habits die hard, and nobody can predict the future. Not even Grant.
“What if he comes back?”
“Then we’ll deal with it together.” His voice is firm now. Solid. Reassuring. Exactly what I need. “We’ll get a restraining order. We’ll talk to a lawyer. We’ll do whatever it takes to keep you and April safe, but we’ll do it together.”
Together.
It’s almost a foreign word, but the more he says it, the more I get used to hearing it. And the more it starts to chase away some of the cold fear that’s been living in my chest since I heard Steven’s voice on the phone this morning.
“I don’t know how to do this,” I admit—as much to myself as to him. “I don’t know how to let someone in like this.”
“Neither do I.” His thumbs resume their gentle tracing along my jaw. “But I want to figure it out with you.”
He leans in to kiss me, and I kiss him back with everything I have, pouring all my fear and hope and desperate need to believe into it.
He’s just as insistent as he moves against me.
One of his hands slides into my hair while the other stays cupped against my jaw, cradling me. Holding me. Keeping me safe.
It’s nothing like the hungry, passionate moments we’ve shared in the dark. This is deeper, but I’m not ready to talk about it out loud yet. Not while everything around us is still so chaotic.
When we finally separate, both of us a little breathless, he keeps his forehead pressed against mine. His breath mingles with mine, and I can feel his heartbeat where my palms rest against his chest.
“You’ll stay?” There’s a hesitation in his voice, like he’s afraid I might still change my mind.
“I’ll stay,” I promise, and saying it out loud makes it feel more real. More permanent.
“Good.” He brushes his lips against mine again, soft and sweet. “Because we’re going to take care of this. I promise that we’re going to make sure Steven leaves you alone.”
I want to ask how. The rational part of my brain needs details and contingency plans and guarantees. But the certainty in his voice stops me. Grant doesn’t make promises he can’t keep. If he says we’re going to handle this, then we will.
Together.
The moment is broken by my phone buzzing loudly from where I dropped it on the couch earlier. It’s been going off periodically for the last hour, but I’ve been too caught up in my panic to even look at it.
Grant reluctantly releases me, and my stomach clenches when I see the screen.
Twelve missed calls, all from Margo.
“Oh, shit.” I look up at Grant. “I haven’t talked to her since this morning. She’s probably freaking out.”
The phone starts ringing again before I can even think about calling her back, and Margo’s name flashes across the screen for what is apparently the thirteenth time.
I swipe to answer. “Margo, I’m so sorry. I’m here now.”
“Heather!” Her voice is sharp with worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you for hours! Grant seemed worried during the game, and Noah told me he tore out of the parking lot like a bat out of hell. Are you okay? Is April okay?”
“We’re both fine,” I say quickly, sinking down onto the couch.
“April is upstairs in her room.” I take a breath, wishing I didn’t have to recount the whole, ugly afternoon.
But Margo does deserve some kind of explanation, and I’m too damn tired to hide anything at this point.
“Steven showed up at her school. The principal kept her in the office the whole time while I rushed over there from work.”