Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
MACK
W e’ve been home for hours. Grace made tea and we went our separate ways, to sleep. Or not, in my case. The vision of her terrified at the hands of that fuckin’ asshole runs on repeat in my head. There’re no war scenes in my head tonight, only played out versions of what she told me on the Ferris wheel.
The house is quiet.
I toss and turn. The tea’s not doing anything tonight.
I push out of bed and hobble to the kitchen on my own two feet. Somehow, being on crutches doesn’t make sense to me now. My hip screams in retaliation at my independence. I ignore it. I pull the fridge open and bend to find something to take my mind off every-fuckin-thing.
“There’s a plate of chopped veggies and cheese on the second shelf,” a soft voice says behind me. Seeing it, I pluck it up and close the fridge. Grace stands two feet from me, her cotton dressing gown wrapped around her pajamas, her hair up in a messy bun that’s more mess than bun. Looks like I’m not the only one who’s been tossing and turning.
“You wanna share with me?” I offer.
“If you don’t mind the company?”
“Nope, prefer it, actually.” I pad to the sofa.
“Mack!”
I freeze. Shit, did I forget my boxers or something? I glance down. No, they’re on. And she’s used to my bare chest by now. What the?
Her hand rests on my forearm as her face lights up. “You’re not using your crutch.”
“Oh, yeah. Sweet Jesus, Grace. Thought I’d forgot I was naked or something.”
She laughs, loud and hearty. More hair slips from her bun and around her shoulders. She folds over with hysterics as she drops onto the sofa and tucks her legs under herself. She takes the plate from me as I lower myself onto the sofa.
I swear she blushes as she studies my face. “You know, you seem even taller without it. Bigger, or something.”
In the dimly lit living room, all I can focus on is Grace backlit by the moonlight outside from the almost full moon. The angles of her face, the softness of her brown hair. Those light blue eyes that are a contrast to her other features. All I want to do is take her beautiful face in my hands and kiss her.
As comfortable as we are around each other, I’m one hundred percent certain we are nothing else but boss and employee. After everything she told me tonight, her heart has been through enough. I won’t be another person to hurt her.
She moves closer to share the plate, and our shoulders touch. “Out here with you is so much better than alone in my room with the same old nightmares.”
Her voice is too soft, and it’s like someone slapped me in the face.
“Nightmares?” I manage to ask.
“Same one, every time. A repeat of the last night in Raymond, but I never leave. I don’t make it that far. Then it changes, they are taking what they want, my vision turns red, my body jerks with every move they make. After, it’s as if the red darkens until it’s black, and I’m suffocating.”
Holy fuck. That’s damn horrific.
“Do you feel safe here, Grace?”
She snaps a carrot stick between her teeth and chews. Swallowing, she nods. “I do. I know I’m safe with you.”
The air rushes from my lungs.
I brush the stray strands of hair behind her ear, and she lifts her gaze up at me, her blue eyes darkened by the night. “You did get out. Look around, Gracie, you’re safe. And I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me too, but...” A sad smile grows on her face before she looks away. “I was in denial, I guess. I thought I was okay. Turns out, I was just tucked away here, busy and with good people.” She scoffs breathlessly. “Not even a full hour in the real world, and I was a mess.” She pulls her hair to the side and twists it in her hands. “God, I’m so angry.” The words teeter on a sob. “Angry for all the promises Joel broke. That he stole the last bit of trust I had in people after my parents. But most of all, I’m angry at myself for the stupid choices I made. For giving up my career. For staying... as long as I did.”
“Not every choice you made was bad. You chose to leave. Great choice. You chose to work here. Brilliant choice.” Eyes burning into hers, my heart thunders in my chest.
A soft sigh falls from her lips as she takes a celery stick along with a cube of cheese. “Maybe.” Slumping into the sofa, she stares into the unlit fireplace. “I miss them.”
Brows dropping, I take a piece of cheese and a cherry tomato. “Who?”
“My parents. I understand why they did what they did. I threw everything away. We worked so hard to get a spot and the scholarship. I’m their only child. I know they felt betrayed. Probably still do.”
“That’s a possibility, but you’re their daughter. You do for family, Grace. No matter how hard it gets.”
Sweet Jesus, now I sound like Harry. And I realize, turning out like my old man isn’t such a bad thing. He’s spent his whole life protecting, loving, and helping his family. Even when it didn’t match his plans, meet his expectations, or if it was hard on him and Ma. My military career being the first example I can think of.
“I wish I could see Mama. I miss her the most.” The wobble in her voice has me shuffling closer. She leans her head on my shoulder. I can’t take my eyes from her beautiful face. Even broken with regret like it is now, she’s the most incredible woman I have ever met.
Determined—has to be, to put up with me.
Smart—abso-fuckin-lutely, look at everything she’s accomplished in her short life and the way she runs my life and home.
Tough—more than she will ever know.
“Anyway, thanks for letting me get stuff off my chest. It helps.” She swallows. “I know you suffered much worse, so I’ll shut up now.”
She dries her face, and I feel like that’s all she’s done in the past few hours. I plan to correct that the second the sun comes up. She thinks I’m tougher than her because my body was banged up worse. Physical wounds heal. A mindfuck like she’s lived through? Much harder to bounce back from.
“Soldiers are trained to cope with worst case. You didn’t sign up for the shit that went down in that house. If anyone on this sofa is the tough one, it’s you.”
She huffs a laugh and turns to face me. “Maybe we can be the tough ones together.”
God, my body reacts to those words like she just rose to her knees, crawled over the cushions, and sunk onto my lap. With every ounce of blood now racing south, my cock is rock-hard before the next breath.
Fuck, that is not what Grace needs.
I rein in the effect she has on me, being this close, this open, softening before me with her blue eyes now studying mine. A flash of her in the cinder block dump in a makeshift trailer park with him, scared and hurting, sees the wind in my sails disappear in an instant.
“What are you thinking, Mack?”
I brush a hand over my jaw. Her gaze follows the action, like she’s cataloging the shape of my face. “Just thinkin’ I should turn in.”
“With a face like that, you need all the beauty sleep you can get.” She stands and darts away from the sofa as I toss a cushion at her. With a giggle, she rounds the sofa and readjusts her dressing gown around her chest. “Night, Mack.”
“Night, Gracie.”
She walks down the hallway to her room. The door closes. I lay my head back on the back of the seat and blow out a breath, eyes closing. The fire in my core hasn’t lessened a bit seeing her walk away. The ghost of her softness pressed against my side, the weight of her head on my shoulder. The feel of her hand in mine... Every sensation blooms back to life as if she is right in front of me.
I’m impossibly hard.
And in need of a damn cold shower.
Pushing off the sofa, I pad to my bedroom. My hip is more settled than when I tried this an hour before. I lean on the counter and brush my teeth before flipping the shower on. Stripping on wobbly feet, I step into the water. The icy cold hits my skin, and I grunt. But unlike in the past, I’m still hard and strung out.
Hands against the tile, I hang my head. The water cools my body, not able to tame the heat I’m holding for the woman across the hall. I knew if I eliminated the space between us, this would happen. Knew it from the day I met her gaze, surrounded by laundry detergent. When those blue eyes found me. She looked at me—she saw me. Saw me as whole. Not like every other person who’s laid eyes on me since on tour.
She’s never once felt sorry for me or treated me like an invalid. She gives it as good as I give it to her. Maybe it was her anger with what happened to her bouncing off my own. Whatever it was— is —we are in this mess together. If a man ever needed a reason to dig his way out of a hole, this would be it.
She would be it. I’ll be fucked if I’m going to be unable to protect her if she ever needs it.
The giggles and small noises she makes wander into my mind. I grip my cock. Slamming my eyes shut, I see her take my hand, that gorgeous body as she walks away. I imagine she pads from the kitchen and sinks onto my lap, wearing one of my old T-shirts. I take her face in my hands. Her light meets my dark. Her soft to my hardness. Vanilla and peaches all around me. I come hard and slump against the tile. My legs tremble. My heart flings against my ribs.
She needs a friend now, not another man to shatter her to pieces.
This stays between me and the shower.
Pants and little moans travel from the yoga room to where I lay in bed. Morning wood at full mast, those little noises are not helping my case. I roll over, hoping that will douse the fire the woman in this house sparked weeks ago. With the conversation on the sofa last night, all raw and close, I’m tumbling head over fucking heels into her more and more.
Technically I’m her boss, so there’s that.
She needs space and time. Not another raging asshole with an agenda.
I sit up and run a hand through my hair. I’m not using the crutch today. Three rounds of physio like I’m supposed to do from now on. I should have started out that way. But sometimes you need something bigger than your own well-being to pull you forward.
“Morning.” Grace walks past in her activewear that highlights her shape, water bottle in hand. Her neck glistens with sweat. Breasts pushed up in a sports bra that sees two perfect-as-fuck mounds pushed up over the top. Her hair is tied up in her usual messy bun, damp around the edges from her yoga session.
“Morning,” I reply, but it’s almost a rasp.
Her face tweaks, but she flattens it. “Want some coffee?”
“Sure, but—” I push from the bed.
“You okay?” Her brows drop, and she steps forward, stilling when she realizes she’s in my bedroom.
“I’m good. I was just gonna say I’ll make breakfast.”
“Wonderful! I’m going to grab a shower, then.”
She takes off toward her room, hips swaying. The door doesn’t close this time. I hear the shower start up. Shaking my head to dislodge the thought of Grace showering, I wander to the kitchen and start the coffee grinder. The beans whiz, smashing around until they’re nothing more than powder. I fill the top of the coffee maker with the grounds and pull out the receptacle and fill it with water. With the coffee brewing away, I start on some eggs and toast. I glance outside. Dark clouds hang to the west, far enough away not to affect the day yet.
Vanilla and peaches have me fenced into the kitchen as Grace walks in. She’s in shorts and a navy T-shirt that makes her blue eyes pop. She winds her damp hair up into a messy bun. I crack three eggs into the pan. What I wouldn’t do to run my hands through those gorgeous long brown locks. Run a thumb over her bottom lip, press kisses to her jawline, cheekbones, nose, and forehead.
Heat stings my hand. “Shit!” I snap my hand away from the burner.
“What’s got you all distracted today, Mackinlay?”
She sits at the table and scrolls through her phone. I return my focus to the eggs and flip them over. The toaster pops, and I find two plates and toss the toast onto them before slathering butter over each slice. When the eggs are done, I place two on my plate and one on Grace’s. Carefully, I tote the plates to the table and rest hers in front of her.
“Thanks, Mack,” she says brightly, looking up at me.
“I’m starving,” I say, dropping into the seat. Fuck, forgot cutlery. I rise to stand.
Her hand covers mine. “It’s okay, I got it. Think the coffee’s ready, too.”
Pouring two mugs of coffee, she adds cream to both and sugar to hers. Cutlery appears at my side, and I take it from her hands. She swings back into the kitchen. Two steaming mugs of coffee are in her hands when she stands by my side a second later. I shovel a mouthful of eggs in.
Anything to distract me from her peaches-and-vanilla scent. Which is impossible when she leans over and places the coffee by my plate. Her hair falls from its precarious makeshift bun, spilling over her shoulders. Her shampoo, spice and something sweet, floods over me. I grunt, gripping the cutlery, determined to focus on the food.
“What are you going to do today?” Her voice cuts through my veil of concentration.
Swallowing, I glance over to her. “Exercise. Maybe visit Trigger.”
“You gonna ride him?” Her hands hover over her plate, cutlery gripped in her fine fingers.
I want to. Whether or not my body will let me is another thing.
“You ride?” I ask.
“I never have. Always wanted to learn.”
“If you’re going to work and live here, you should. Adds is a great teacher, she’ll have you loping along in no time.”
She stares at me before saying, “Sure, yeah, okay. I’ll text her later.”
She doesn’t want to.
Doesn’t want to learn to ride? Or doesn’t want Addy to teach her?
“No pressure. If you’re not a horse person, it’s fine.”
She pushes her eggs around the plate, her thinking face in place. “Can you teach me?”
I sip my coffee and hold her gaze as she waits for an answer. My mind is spinning with what that would look like.
“Never mind, it was stupid. I’ll ask Addy,” she says quickly.
Standing, I clear the plates away, taking hers with her uneaten breakfast. I dump them by the sink and head for the front door.
“Hey, I wasn’t finished.” Her hands are up in protest.
“Let’s go.” I grab my cap from the hook by the entrance. “Trigger’s waitin’.”