Grace #2
Mustang Island State Park, Corpus Christi, Texas
Chase takes the highway exit onto the road to Mustang Island State Park, south of Port Aransas. Slowly, we leave the Port Aransas quay—and daylight—behind. The sun is only a bleeding line on the burning horizon.
I keep scanning the sky, forcing my eyes to stay open. Sleepiness is a sly, tough opponent—a liquid toxin circulating through my veins. There’s so much to see, and time isn’t on my side.
The salty scent of the sea drifts through the air like a ghost, caressing my lips and refreshing me inside and outside after another exhausting day on the road.
I often can’t tell where my body ends and the seat begins. I’m constantly drowsy. My skin is slick with sweat, and my organs are melting inside. When I drink a lot of fluids, I have to pee all the time. When I drink too little, my lips flake and crack.
We drive down a bumpy, grass-covered slope and park in front of a cluster of rocks.
This five-mile beach is open to anyone—you can lounge on the sand, swim, surf, camp, build sandcastles, picnic, fish, or kayak.
There are proper toilets and warm showers near the campground—facilities I want to use as soon as possible.
He kills the engine and nods to signal that we can get out of the car.
The salty, warm breeze is more refreshing than summer rain.
The sun takes one last look at the bay, its long rays probing the deep water in farewell.
The songs of different birds fill the landscape as it fades into darkness.
The scents of summer and the sea slip into my trembling heart before I even notice. What a sunset.
“Have you ever bathed in the Gulf of Mexico?”
Chase tosses the question at me as he flings his T-shirt onto the white, glinting sand. The sight of his body yanks me out of my reverie—my mouth falls open.
“This is not a goddamn vacation, Baker! In case you’ve forgotten, we’re running from a lunatic. Frolicking in the water out in public doesn’t fit the picture.”
“You can do as you wish,” he says with a shrug, then kicks off his shoes, unbuttons his trousers, and shoves them down. “I’m going for a swim,” he tells me in a conversational tone, like I’m one of his buddies.
I have to make a serious mental effort to figure out how to close my mouth—my jaw feels heavier than a rock.
My wide eyes follow his hard body and muscular ass without a shred of shame until he disappears into the water. The sight of him makes me shudder, like I’ve been struck—the image drops into my stomach, stirring something pleasant, something sweet.
I’m standing next to the car, confused—I must look ridiculous—until the girl buried deep in my heart cries for help and screams a single word at me, shaking the walls of my mind.
“Live!”
I shove my trousers down and pull the T-shirt over my head. I don’t take off my bra or panties. I wade into the water, stepping into his footprints.
Chase rises from the water in the untouched, beautiful bay and slicks his hair back.
He submerges until the water reaches his nose, and my gaze snags on his eyes—burning with dark fire, like a dangerous animal’s.
The hot sand scorches my feet, but the sting fades as soon as I reach the white, frothing waves lapping peacefully against the empty, quiet beach.
I want to feel alive.
I want to be free.
To enjoy everything he took from me—everything he’s giving back to me in these few days. Except for my parents’ love. Sadness stabs at my heart, and I shudder as the water reaches my flat, toned stomach.
“Can you swim?” he asks, yanking me out of the sticky web of my thoughts, coating my mouth with bitterness. The sadness twists my heart.
“A little,” I reply through clenched teeth. I rise onto my tiptoes and close my eyes. The higher the water climbs, the worse it feels against my hot skin.
“Go under all at once. Empty your mind, and go,” he says in his deep, resonant voice.
I don’t move.
“Trust me, Grace. It’ll shock you at first, but you’ll get used to it in seconds. It’s much better than doing it gradually.”
Three, two, one…
I pinch my nose and tuck my knees up, sinking into the ice-cold water.
I stay under until I run out of breath, forcing my skin to adjust to the temperature.
When I surface, I drag in a deep breath.
Chase’s eyes bore into mine, full of cold mirth.
It takes me a moment to realize my face isn’t numb from the water—it’s numb from how wide I’m smiling.
He moves closer, but doesn’t touch me. We swim, float, and laugh—letting the sea wash off the grit and exhaustion of today’s long drive. We’re just existing, breathing, enjoying life without caring what came before this moment or what will come after it.
Night has fallen, and my skin is wrinkled from the water.
I hurry to the car with chattering teeth and goosebumps, desperate to pull on clean, warm clothes. He turns away discreetly, even though he couldn’t see anything in the pitch-black darkness. The water in the bay glints like onyx.
We eat vending-machine food on the hood of the car, then watch the starry sky and listen to the waves’ soft murmur, wrapped in a checked blanket.
The warm, salty breeze dries my tears. I still can’t wrap my head around how the warm body sitting beside me can hold both men—the protector and the kidnapper.
The average guy and the lunatic.
My eyelids grow heavy, but before I can fall asleep, the bay’s white waves whisper the answer into my ears.
You’re both pretending.
Alabama Adventure, Alabama
“An amusement park? Don’t you think it’s a little too obvious—and not normal? In the movies—” I try to push on, fired up, but Chase cuts me off.
“We agreed to pretend. If we were hiding in some dark hole, staying in one place, you’d lose your mind and we’d be easy targets.
But if we’re constantly on the move like this, blending in, it’s easy to get lost in the crowd—and no one’s going to make a scene in front of hundreds of people.
And I don’t want you to feel any pressure.
I think I’ve already proven how capable I am.
That I can protect you anytime, anywhere. ”
“This sounds… pretty logical. And…” The smell of grilled sausages and corn, cotton candy, and sugar-glazed apples makes me salivate.
“It’s been a while since I was in a place like this.
We really loved the carousels, the bumper cars, and the shops where you could buy all sorts of things.
But this is all so cliché, isn’t it? The seashore, the amusement park… ”
“What wouldn’t be cliché?” he asks, lifting a curved eyebrow.
“Hiding in a dark room.”
His full lips pull into a tight, icy smile.
I think we’re thinking the same thing. My womb clenches, and warmth spreads between my thighs.
I press my legs together and look away, because the air between us is heating up, thickening with sexual tension.
I’d love to brush that goddamn dark lock of hair out of his eyes and kiss him—to let my tongue slide into his mouth, touch his gently, then let him take over and deepen the kiss, our tongues dancing, curious, electrifying…
I rejected his kisses so many times… And now I’m yearning for them the way a beggar yearns for bread. I’d sell my soul to the devil for one kiss.
“I think that would be the most cliché thing. Hiding in a dark room, looking out the window, waiting for someone to bust the door down on us.”
He reaches for my baseball cap and settles it on my head.
“I don’t have to tuck my hair under it, do I?”
He looks at me for a long moment, like he’s staring straight into my soul.
“What is it? Is there something on my face?”
He shakes his head slightly. “You’re beautiful.”
I blush and bite my lip, thrilled.
“Let’s go.”
The cashier puts on our bracelets and opens the gate. We get swept up in the noisy crowd. People bump into me and step on my toes more than once, but I don’t care—I feel like a kid in a candy shop.
“What would you like to try?”
The colorful lights halo his silhouette—he looks like the darkly handsome, sly villain in my life. The kind of villain most girls secretly root for.
“Everything. But I don’t even know where to start.”
A bright, honest smile lights up his face, making my heart skip a beat.
I’m completely blown away—the buzz and cheerful voices of the amusement park hit me right in the chest. I watch jugglers weaving through the crowd alongside stilt-walkers.
Amusement parks are timeless—every generation can find something for them.
Neon lights flash everywhere. The Ferris wheel at the center of the park is drenched in color.
Red-and-white striped tents host live shows.
We get lost in the mix of lights, smells, and noise—in the simple joys I’ve been craving for so long.
The different machines jingle and make mechanical sounds, while the roller coasters and merry-go-rounds rattle, the sound settling low in my stomach.
I lose myself on a merry-go-round with horses for seats, which is as lovely as a singing jewel box.
As soon as the boys and girls have chosen a horse, the mechanism lurches to life and a sweet melody starts to play.
I see smiling faces, crying faces, grumpy ones…
For a second, I drift into my thoughts, and a sad smile tugs at my mouth.
Now I understand why Mom and Dad used to fight over who would sit with us on the Ferris wheel, the roller coaster, or that spinning, star-shaped ride. I feel nauseous just looking at all those green faces.
Chase buys me white cotton candy and a can of Coca-Cola, then we take a long walk around the park, which is ringed by an unbroken wall of stalls.
Groups of teenagers are having fun—shouting, laughing, fighting, kissing…
The girls walking behind us giggle and whisper to each other. “He’s so hot!” “He smells like sex!”