Chapter 26
Nina
Iwait until we’re far away from the bakery, walking along one of the more secluded trails around the Lodge, before I tell Grady the whole story. “Nate isn’t Nate,” I reveal. “He’s Wes, and I knew him from before the show. Well, when I knew him before, his name was Cass.”
“O-kay.” Grady furrows his brow as he tries to follow along.
I’ve never tried explaining this to anyone before.
It’s a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.
“He was in prison then. And we fell in love—” When I say it out loud, it sounds too presumptuous, because Wes never admitted his feelings in so many words, did he?
So I quickly amend, “Well, I fell in love with him. Who I thought he was, anyway. Which is maybe who he still is? I’m not sure.
Anyway, there were mutual feelings there.
I think. We were in prison, so it’s not like we had a lot of time to talk about it. ”
Grady’s eyebrows arch up a notch. “You were in prison?”
“No, I was still a postulant,” I explain.
He blinks at me.
I guess I need to clarify that more, but those aren’t the important details. “He was undercover at the time. But I didn’t know that. And I fell in love with him. And we made out.”
More rapid blinks from Grady. “While he was in prison?”
The more I try to explain this, the more completely bananas it sounds. I wish we were texting right now instead of talking out loud. I’d have the perfect GIF for it—the grimacing one, with the blonde girl in the pink sweatshirt. “Yeah. But that’s not the worst part of it.”
“There’s more?” Grady asks, sounding aghast.
“Don’t worry,” I reassure him. “I can’t actually tell you the rest.” There’s the whole confidential part of being an FBI informant, after all. Even though I haven’t been assigned to do anything yet, Morrie was very clear that I can’t say anything to anyone.
Grady lets out a low, frustrated sound that I’ve never heard him make before. “Nina,” he says through gritted teeth. “You can’t just say ‘I have a big secret’ and then say, ‘Sorry, you don’t get to hear it!’ That’s just . . . mean.”
I can tell Grady is genuinely frustrated with me. I don’t like that feeling. Grady has never been frustrated with me before. He’s been my handsome Irish big brother/cheerleader since the day we met. I don’t want him to change his mind about me . . .
And maybe I have some unpacking and deconstructing to do around the panic I feel when anyone is irritated with me for any reason. That can wait, though. For now, I just want Grady to stop looking at me like he’s angry. Or worse . . . disappointed.
At the look of sheer panic on my face, Grady’s expression softens. He sighs, taking me by the shoulders. “Are you safe? Can you at least tell me that much?”
I consider the question honestly. “Kind of.”
Another growly noise from Grady, which I can tell he’s doing his best to bite back. He takes in a steadying breath. “Is there any version of the truth you can tell me without breaking any promises?”
Ooh, that’s . . . interesting. There’s a difference between blurting out the entire truth to somebody and giving them pieces to connect the dots for themselves, isn’t there?
Treading carefully, I begin. “I used to know Wes before, under very different circumstances. And it was a big surprise to see him here again. Especially since he’s going by another name now. Which is different from his actual name.” I raise my eyebrows meaningfully at him.
“’Kay.” Grady nods slowly. I don’t know if he’s entirely with me yet, but at the very least, he doesn’t sound completely lost.
Buoyed by even that little success, I continue. “And things are extra complicated because there’s someone I know who might potentially be a criminal.”
“Your uncle,” Grady says without missing a beat.
Whoa. He got there extremely quickly. I blink at him in surprise, then do my best to still my features so no trace of emotion leaks through. “I cannot confirm nor deny that guess.”
Grady nods to himself, clearly set in his own deduction.
That’s not my fault! He got there on his own.
“And if things go according to plan, then that person I know might go to prison. For a really long time. And that might be a good thing. And so I should probably let it happen. But other people also might get caught in the middle.” At the thought of Harmony, I swallow hard.
“Not legally so much as emotionally. Someone might even get their heart broken—”
“You,” Grady says.
It’s not a question. I stare at him, at first taken aback, then for some reason furious that he should jump to this conclusion. “Why would you say that? That’s not . . . No. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Anger is such an unfamiliar emotion for me that I feel out of breath.
I never let myself get mad. I’ll go to all the other deep, dark, bad places.
Sad. Scared. Broken. But somehow anger has always felt more dangerous.
Somehow, even if I’ve never put it into so many words, I’ve understood that if I ever let myself go down that rabbit hole, if I ever let myself get truly, viscerally angry about everything that’s happened to me . . . I might never stop.
“Haven’t you been listening?” I demand, and now I’m the one who’s frustrated with him.
Ha! How does he like that? Not a lot, I bet.
Feeling like you’ve let someone down is a terrible feeling.
And, okay, the rational part of me knows Grady isn’t letting me down, that he’s trying to help me, but the person I really wish I could unleash all my anger on is too scary and possibly a federal criminal and not here.
Grady looks at me like he understands all of this somehow. “Yeah. I’ve been listening. Seems to me like you’re worrying about everyone else and not nearly enough about yourself. As usual.”
That is just so . . . not true. He clearly wasn’t listening if that’s the conclusion he’s reached. Without knowing what else to do with these feelings, I stick out my tongue at him and blow a raspberry. A loud, very unladylike one.
Then, unexpectedly, I burst into tears.
“You mad wee thing.” Grady takes me in his arms, letting me cry into his shirt.
It’s a cry I didn’t know I needed, but now that I’ve started, I realize that it’s been building up inside of me for a very long time. Since my parents died. Since I went to live with Uncle Aaron and Aunt Hope.
Since the moment I first saw Wes on set. Realizing Cass was never real. Watching Wes look at Harmony the way he used to look at me.
When I’m not so much a waterfall as a sprinkler, I sniffle and try to pull away, embarrassed that I’ve imposed on Grady for this long.
To my relief, he doesn’t let me go quite yet.
It’s been so long since someone offered me unconditional physical comfort.
My uncle and aunt aren’t really touchy-feely people, and by extension, neither is their family.
I try to put on such a brave face for my friends, they probably don’t know just how much I needed this.
When I lost my parents, I missed the obvious things about them first. Their love.
Their kindness. The time we spent together as a family, the fun things we did together, the good food and laughter.
Our traditions. Our home. It wasn’t until much later that I realized the only people who consistently touch you throughout your day is your family.
Hugs. Kisses on the forehead. Tickles. Leaning against each other on the couch to watch television.
Holding hands when you walk down the street.
When you lose those core people in your life, you lose those easy, unweighted touches.
And once that’s gone, it’s like you stop being connected to anyone else.
I lost that when I lost my parents. But maybe now I’ve found it again, with my chosen big brother.
Lifting my chin, I do my best to give him a watery smile. “Thanks. I’m okay. It’s just been . . . a lot to process on my own.”
“I’m sure it has been.” Grady gives me a meaningful look. “But you don’t have to do it alone. I’m here. And you know Helen and Matilda would do anything for you. Kimo and Thad, too.”
I do. I do know that. And I realize how lucky I am to have them, I shouldn’t take it for granted. But I also don’t want to ask them for more than they can give. I don’t want to be a burden.
“I’ll be fine,” I tell him, taking a step back. This time he lets me go, but I regret moving right away. He would have held me longer. Why can’t I just let him hold me longer? I’m too worried he’ll get annoyed with me, that he’ll think I’m asking too much of him. “It’ll all be fine.”
And it will be. I’ll ask Deja if I can work on the costumes back at the Lodge and not spend so much time on set. If I don’t have to see Wes and Harmony falling in love, maybe it won’t hurt so much.
Grady is still giving me that look, like he doesn’t quite believe me.
He seems to war with himself for a moment before holding his hands up in the air.
“Listen, tell me to fuck off if I’m out of line, but for what it’s worth .
. . love can be messy. It’s almost never convenient, and it sure as hell doesn’t ask if it’s a good time for it.
You might think it’s not worth it, that you can live without it, that someone else’ll come along that makes you feel the way they do.
That you’ll get over it. But in my experience? You don’t. Not completely.”
Experience? What experience? Grady’s never even hinted to me before about a romantic past, and for the first time, it occurs to me that he might have just as complicated a history as I do.
As if Grady senses he might have inadvertently given too much away, he barrels on before I can ponder it too long.
“You’ve loved this fella for years already.
That tells me it probably isn’t gonna change just by wishing it will.
So now you have to decide what’s the bigger gamble: making a mess to be with him, or making yourself a mess by living without him. ”
The words hang in the air for a long moment.
I hear what he’s saying, I do. But I’m not someone who can just throw herself into a choice.
I have to think about things, weigh out all the consequences in my mind.
I need time to be alone with my thoughts.
Ideally working on a project with my hands that lets my mind wander.
Not for the first time, I desperately wish I had my sewing machine with me.
As if sensing my need for some space, Grady lets out a slightly too-loud sigh, signaling an obvious topic change. “Jesus. Scratch the food. I think I need a drink more.” He offers me a smile. “Don’t suppose there’s a pub around here.”
I cast my mind over the various places I’ve seen around town. “There’s a place called the Pink Pony. Do you think that could be a pub?”
Grady pulls a face at me before he can catch himself. “Umm . . .” He seems to be struggling with the right words before he finally shakes his head. “Nah. Just forget it.”
We turn around and start back toward the hotel. “There’s a diner that makes really good pie,” I offer him as an alternative.
“Ah, now. There’s an idea. Let’s get some pie . . .”