Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
Grace’s mind was spinning with information, and as she walked out of Owen’s rooms, she kind of just stopped. She could hear the hum of voices and laughter from the group in the other room. All of those men out there had been beaten and tortured and starved. Disregarded by their government. And what about their families? She thought of Crash’s disfigured face, and tears filled her eyes.
A gentle hand settled on her shoulder, and Grace jerked her head up. Grunt stood beside her, frowning heavily. “Let’s get you a drink of water or something,” he said, and guided her down the hallway. They bypassed the people-filled living room and went into the warm kitchen. A couple of guys were doing dishes and laughing, but with a look, they cleared out. Grunt settled her onto a stool at the island, then crossed to run her a glass of water. When he handed it to her, she took several big swallows.
“Is it true,” she asked, not liking that her voice quivered a tiny bit.
“I don’t know what exactly he told you, but probably. Our stories are not pretty.”
Grace wasn’t sure what she was feeling. There were equal parts disbelief and anger, as well as a healthy dose of fear. If what he told her was true, there could be commandos or mercenaries coming after them at any minute. Now, all the crazy security measures made sense. Holy crap! And the guns on the security guards…
Grunt leaned down to catch her gaze. “Hey, do you think I can have the recipe for that bread pudding?”
Grace blinked, thrown off by the question. Then a little aggravated. There were bigger things going on than that bread pudding. “Um, sure.”
“Do you think you can write it down if I give you paper?”
Grunt turned and rummaged in a drawer for a pen and a pad of paper. He set them in front of her and gave her a slight smile. “I loved the crust on the bottom. Was that brown sugar?”
Grace realized what he was doing, and that it had worked. “Yes, brown sugar. Am I crazy to think this situation is crazy?”
Grunt laughed a little and pulled another stool out, propping one foot on the rung as he sat. “No. You’re not crazy. None of us are. Well, I say that, but I wonder about a few of those chuckleheads,” he nodded his head toward the living room, and it made her smile slightly.
Grace looked down at the blue Bic pen and college lined paper. It was so mundane and ordinary. She started listing the ingredients and the measurements, and it gave her something to concentrate on other than the wild thoughts in her head.
Grunt moved off the stool and crossed to the far counter, where the guys had been washing dishes. He dried off her 9x13 and set it back into the insulated carrying case, then in front of her.
Grace finished up the recipe and set the pen down. Then she looked at Grunt. “Thank you for distracting me. I’m usually more steady than that.”
He shrugged lightly, settling on the stool again. “Sometimes we get stuck in a loop, and it just needs interrupted.”
She glanced around. “Owen is probably wondering what I’m doing.”
Grunt shook his head. “He stuck his head in the door. He knows where you are.”
“Do you have some kind of calming power or something? Is that why he left me here?”
Grunt snorted. “Or something. Even before the Marines, most people found me comforting to be around. The drug somehow enhanced that. It’s fun going to town,” he said sarcastically, wiggling his dark brows. “Random people come up to me to tell me their life stories. It takes hours to do the most minor things.”
Grace reached for her container. “I’m sorry. I’ll get out of your way.”
He rested a hand on her arm. “No, I didn’t mean you. I want to talk to you. It’s important I talk to you.”
“Why?” she asked, sinking back into the chair.
“Because you’re important to Owen. And he’s the captain of our ship.” Grunt made a motion to the surrounding room. “All of this is because of him and his amazing brain. He probably told you all the scary stuff, but there is good in what we’ve become, too. It’s not just gloom and doom, people are after us. You need to look at the community we’ve built after recovering from something so traumatic.”
She nodded, thinking about the way the men interacted with each other. There was an easiness to them that was very much like a family. More than a community. It was actually pretty amazing. But he hadn’t told her all the details, like what they’d done to him to make him scream his voice permanently hoarse.
“I’m so sorry you were a part of that,” she said softly.
For a moment, his expression sagged with remembered pain. She could see it in every line of his young face. “I can feel that, Grace, and I appreciate your empathy, but you don’t have to tell us you’re sorry. You had nothing to do with it.”
“I really like Owen,” she said, voice whisper soft.
Grunt gave her a lop-sided smile. “I know you do. I could feel it from across the room when you looked at him. The man hasn’t changed. Just his history. And he’s a little more special than you first thought,” he said, winking.
Grace laughed softly. “Yes, I suppose he is. You all are.”
He shrugged again, but didn’t say anything. Grace thought about what Angela had told her. Remember, they’re just men .
Yes, they were. And there was one waiting for her right outside.
“Thank you, Grunt. Dinner was amazing, and so was the intervention,” she grinned lightly to let him know she was okay.
“Anytime, Grace,” he said as she grabbed her dish. “I hope to see you again soon.”
She smiled, but she said nothing as she left the kitchen. Thoughts were invading her mind again, and she needed to get out of this environment to think clearly. She found Owen in the mudroom. “Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go.”
“No rush,” he said, and his voice was so rough. She knew it was from talking at length and telling her their story.
Grace bundled up and slid her boots on, then headed out the door. Owen circled the idling truck and opened the passenger side door for her, and she climbed in. Snow had fallen pretty heavily, and she wondered if they would be okay driving down. Owen didn’t seem worried, though, and he steered the truck confidently.
“Earlier, in the living room, it seemed like a couple of the men were talking without saying anything.”
He turned his head and glanced at her. “That’s one of the side effects of the serum. If we’re in close proximity, a lot of us can communicate telepathically.”
She blinked and turned to look out the front again. “Wow,” she breathed.
Grace was content to hold her tongue the rest of the way and watch the snowflakes fall in the beams of the headlights. This wasn’t how she expected her Christmas night to go. When she’d thought about coming up here, she’d hoped that there would be a way for her and Owen to be together again. That had completely flown out the window, though. She had some serious thinking to do.
When he pulled up in front of her shop, Grace finally turned to him. “I appreciate everything you’ve told me, and I hope you’ll be patient while I assimilate everything.”
“I understand,” he said, but she could tell he thought she was brushing him off.
Leaning across the seat, she gave him a kiss, her mouth teasing until he responded. Then she pulled away and stepped out of the truck.
It took everything in Owen to let Grace go. What the fuck had that been? A final goodbye? Why did he feel like he would not see her again? She had closed her emotions down tight.
He watched as she let herself into the shop, and then a few minutes later the lights flicked on upstairs. Shifting into gear, he pulled away, turning at the stop sign to circle around and head back up the mountain. It felt wrong to leave, but he didn’t know what else to do. This had to be her decision. And he had to abide by what she wanted.
It didn’t mean he had to like it, though.
When he got back up to the lodge, he let himself inside and skirted past the group in the living room. Or tried.
“Hey, Cap’n,” somebody called.
Owen paused and turned around, trying to keep his sigh internal.
A couple of the guys stood in the doorway of the living room. Dane Walsh made a motion with his good hand. “We just wanted to let you know that we liked her, and Mason didn’t feel any subterfuge.”
Mason’s bright blue eyes were wide as he shook his auburn head. “She was very happy to be here, and even after you talked to her in your rooms, she seemed okay, but guarded.”
“Okay. Thank you for letting me know.”
“We didn’t come on too strong, did we?” Dane asked, a line appearing on his forehead.
Owen shook his head. “You guys were fine. It’s just a lot to lay on a person. We’ve had a few years to get used to… us.” He made a motion between their heads. “She’s never been around anything like it.”
Mason cocked his head at that. “I think she’s okay with the odd and unusual. Something makes me think she’s seen some stuff, more than the average person.”
Hm. He would have to think about that and maybe ask her if she decided to come back.
“Thanks, guys. My throat is shot. I’m going to bed.”
“Okay. Night, Cap’n. And Merry Christmas.”
The fact that it was Christmas had kind of faded from his mind. He let himself into his rooms and dropped his hat on the peg. His gaze lingered on the hatband. Even if she didn’t come back, he would always wear that band, and think of her.
“Have you heard anything?”
Aiden shook his head as he entered the cabin a few days after Christmas, shedding his outerwear.
“Da da da da da da…” Fallon sang, toddling toward him.
Aiden laughed and swung her up into his arms.
“How is my Little Bit doing?”
Fallon nodded her head. “Good, Daddy.”
Aiden looked at Angela. “Did she just answer me like I think she did?”
Laughing, Angela pushed up from the floor where they’d been playing. “I think she did. She’s been very talkative today. Is Black still on a tear?”
“Jeez, yes, he is.” Crossing the room, he dropped onto the couch. “Today we changed the oil on four vehicles and two bikes. Went over the budget for the next two months. Down to the penny ,” he stressed, “and he’s got everyone hopping in the lodge doing a deep clean.”
Angela winced, glad she’d stayed at the cabin today. Fallon had developed a bit of a sniffle, and she wanted to stay with her.
Since Grace had left Christmas night, Black had been difficult to deal with. His perfectionist personality bordered on too much on a regular day, but it was obvious he was trying to distract himself from his inner thoughts about Grace. She hadn’t called or texted any of them, and Black was taking that very personally.
Angela thought about texting her herself. She didn’t want to meddle in their relationship any more than she already had, but maybe she was the perfect one to talk to. No one else on this mountain, other than Jordyn, would understand better what Grace was possibly walking into.
She would give her a little more time, then she would check on her. Angela considered her a friend, and she had very few female friends here.