Chapter 6
Grace
“Wendy, wait!” I shout after her while she is clearing the tables. She is terrifyingly good at balancing a tray packed full of glasses.
“What do you want, Grace?” she asks in a voice that suggests talking to me is causing her physical pain.
“I want to ask you something about Cyrus.”
“You should stay behind the counter.” She exhales loudly, slowly.
“Wendy.” I put my hand on hers. I’m well aware of how much this situation sucks, and I also know I asked her a huge favor two years ago… But I was desperate, and I knew Wendy was in love with Cyrus. The thing is, I am still desperate—and she is still in love with Cyrus.
“I ain’t got all night.”
“How’s Cyrus? I mean, when you guys…” I don’t say it out loud, because it is awkward for both of us.
“I don’t know,” she replies.
“What do you mean?”
“Cyrus and I haven’t had sex for three months now.”
“Why?” I blink in surprise.
“Because he wants you. He’s waiting for you.”
A minor panic flares up inside me, but I manage to push down the urge to vomit in the middle of the bar.
“He’s a good man. He won’t hurt you. He’ll take care of you if you finally decide to be a proper girlfriend.”
“Proper girlfriend?” The words pierce my heart.
“Cyrus is a man. A strong, handsome man with a huge heart, and you…”
“And I?”
“You use him, Grace. I know what happened to you, and I’m sorry for you, but if you’re only with Cyrus to feel safe, you should simply ask for his protection and then break up with him. He deserves to have a real woman by his side, someone who loves him in every way.”
Wendy thinks she’s hurting my feelings, but she’s not. I know all this. I think about it every day. When I’m bathing, I often think about seducing him, but when I enter the room, my courage—and my desire—evaporate.
“You’re right,” I sigh. “But can I ask you for one last favor?”
She gives me a stern look. “I’m listening.”
“Give me a little more time.”
“I can’t fucking believe this!” she snaps and walks over to another empty table.
“Wait!” I step in front of her. “I know what I’m asking is crazy. And I might be crazy too. But if Cyrus needs a woman… needs you, please don’t turn him down.”
“I’ve had enough of your childish games, Grace,” she hisses like a snake. “Don’t ask me this, because I won’t give him back next time. If you hadn’t come into the picture, Cyrus and I would’ve been together for a long time.”
“I know.” I look down, my face burning with shame.
“I’ll do it for him. Not for you. And now, I’d appreciate it if you let me work.”
I step away from her and walk off with my head bowed.
I glance at her from behind the counter.
She’s the full package—gorgeous, kind, and feminine.
She’s tall, with wide hips and big breasts, full pink lips, and a cute little nose that makes her round face adorable.
Her shiny blonde hair is long and thick.
This Kansas girl is everything a man could hope for. Generous, optimistic, sensitive, family-oriented—and she loves to care for others.
The worst thing is that I don’t feel any jealousy about her body or her relationship with Cyrus. All I feel sorry about is that I’m not whole like her.
Knowing Cyrus won’t come for me—that I’ll have to drive home alone—has been twisting my insides into a knot ever since he told me this morning.
I hate this so much!
“Come,” Cameron—Cyrus’ business partner—says to me when he’s had enough of my sorrowful pacing, then jerks his hard chin toward the door. “I’ll walk you out.” The men sitting at the counter look at me.
“I’m good, thanks.” I smile and slowly exhale the air I’ve been holding. I need to pull myself together to be worthy of Cyrus.
I take my jacket in my hands.
“Wendy, thanks for everything.” I nod to her and wave everyone goodbye.
I step out into the dark and look up at the neon sign above the door. My heart flutters in my chest like a bird in a cage. I take a long look around, then hurry to the car, my hand trembling like a leaf. I keep looking over my shoulder, so I can’t get the key into the car door.
Relax, Grace.
As soon as I manage to open the door, I hop in and sink into the car seat. I check the back seats to make sure no one is hiding there. And… I must, must talk to him.
I dial his number with trembling fingers.
“Hi, Cyrus. It’s Grace. I know you can probably see who left this voicemail already.
I just… I wanted to ask how you are. I mean…
” I lean my head back against the headrest. “I hate when I can’t get hold of you.
I’m worried about you.” My voice falters.
“Just call me back when you’ve listened to this, okay? ”
I hate it when he goes undercover. But he loves it, despite the danger.
I slide the key into the ignition and turn it. The engine sputters, then dies after a few seconds.
Panic clutches my chest. I rake my fingers through my hair and squeeze my eyes shut. It’s going to be fine, Grace.
I turn the ignition again. Nothing. I moan and rest my forehead against the steering wheel. The battery must have died again. Sorrow and anger fill me like a river that’s burst its banks.
I inhale shallowly and dial Cyrus again with trembling hands, an icy shiver running through my body.
“Hi, it’s Grace again. I know it wouldn’t be right, but you could tell them you have a crazy girlfriend at home who gets a panic attack when she can’t reach you.
I have to hear your voice.” My heart twists, but I take a deep breath.
Breathe in, slowly. Breathe out, slowly.
“The battery died again. This car’s messing with me—it seems it only likes your magic hands.
” I smile. “I don’t know when you’ll get back—the guys have already had a few drinks, and I’m tired.
I don’t want to sleep in the storeroom, but I don’t want to hang out in the bar or sleep in the car either. I’ll walk home.”
My throat tightens, and I can barely breathe, as if terror were a snake coiling around my neck, trying to suffocate me. But I have to show Cyrus that I’m not a scaredy-cat, that I’m capable of taking care of myself—which I haven’t been very good at so far. “See you at home.” I hang up.
I pull my hood over my head and get out hesitantly. I slip the key and my phone into my pocket.
Here we go.
My body is feverishly hot, and not even the damp evening air—or the drizzling rain—can cool me down. I walk briskly, making sure my steps make as little noise as possible on the pavement. I ring Cyrus several more times, but he doesn’t pick up.
I pull my jacket closed and tuck myself deep beneath my hood. A car drives past me… then stops.
Not because of you. Just walk on.
I don’t look at the car or its passengers—I just hurry past with quick steps. I squeeze my eyes shut and bite my lip.
“What’s the hurry, kiddo? Let’s have some fun!” one of them shouts, making the others burst into laughter.
No, this can’t be! I’m just seeing ghosts! I try to calm myself down, but the alarms are already blaring in my head. I start running.
The car’s engine hums to life; the driver guns it, and the car cuts me off, then screeches to a halt. Someone grabs my jacket from behind and yanks my hood back.
“I can’t fucking believe this! Now this is what I call a plot twist!” He turned to the others with his arms spread wide. “Why don’t you say hello to some old friends, Grace?” he asked as the others got out of the car.
My eyes flicker between them, my heart racing. The nightmares that have haunted me have just appeared in the flesh, towering over me. They’ll eat me alive.
Bo. Chop. Elijah. Frankie. They’re all here, and the acid in their voices overwhelms me.
Sobs are shaking my body, and I’m trembling.
I can’t get away. They stand in a circle around me, shoving me back and forth.
I go from one set of hands to another. Just like two years ago.
They watched… These assholes watched as the others defiled me, one after the other.
They just talk and talk.
“This is a lucky day.”
“I didn’t expect to see you again.”
“I’ve missed you, Grace.”
Their voices blur into a monotone hum in my head.
I’m terrified, flooded with adrenaline. I can feel the panic attack building—my stomach feels the size of a walnut.
My throat fills with bitter bile, my skin burning with fear.
Some of their words cut through the fog and conjure images from that horrible night.
Ugly words weave a web around me, crawling under my skin.
I’m itching, emotions tearing me apart from the inside.
“Cat got your tongue?” Bo asked provocatively. “Oh, wait,” he clicked his tongue, “well, it couldn’t have been that cat—that’s for sure.” He broke out in laughter.
Whiskers.
My jaw twitches as Bo gets into my face and tucks a tuft of windblown hair behind my ear.
“Did you miss me, Grace? And my dick?” Bo grabs my arm and pulls my hand to his crotch, his manhood throbbing under my palm. I freeze. It feels like ice is flowing through my veins instead of blood.
Bo spins my numb body around and holds me tight against him, my back to his chest. My heart starts racing, and my breath turns shallow.
I hold my head in my hands, trying to quiet the buzzing in my skull—it feels like there’s a waterfall in my brain.
“Help!” I shout weakly when someone appears in the distance. “Help!” My voice falters and dies away.
“I beg your pardon?” Chop raises his hand to his ear. “I can’t hear you—please, talk louder!”
Their bodies shake with laughter while mine shakes with the fear that has burrowed into my bones.
No. This can’t happen to me again. I shake my head in denial.
“Shame on you, Chop,” Bo says playfully. “This is not how you treat a lady!”
“Please!”
Elijah gives a short whistle and jerks his head toward the dark figure, who starts walking toward us with calm, unhurried steps. “This guy’s about to learn not to interfere in other people’s business.” His lips twist into a sly smile as he slips brass knuckles onto his left hand.
My stomach tightens when the guy stops beside the car.