20. Spencer
CHAPTER 20
SPENCER
Grady has been stuck to my side ever since he made his speech. I decided to keep the scholarship a secret. Mainly because I wanted Grady to be surprised, but also because I already promised the board of education five thousand dollars for a student this year, and if we didn’t make that tonight, the rest would be coming out of Grady’s pocket. I figured it was a small price to pay to show the town just how much Grady values them. Not only the town, but the future generations in Heartwood.
The fundraiser was a good time, and brought everyone together, but the scholarship was the show-stealer. It was the proof we needed that Grady isn’t just trying to weed out the competition, but that he actually cares about the future entrepreneurs of Heartwood.
That’s what really matters for Grady’s cause at the end of the day, isn’t it? The way we leave something behind for our children and our children’s children.
The kind of life we set up for them.
I glance over at Marla seated at a table with Winnie. I wonder what kind of future she envisioned for me. If she even thought about it at all. The kind of life she led is not the kind of life that sets a person up for success. Somehow, here I am, Grady’s arm around my waist, and I feel successful.
I feel like I’ve won just by having him near me, having him claim me in front of everyone here. I haven’t won yet, though. Not even close. My job, my livelihood, the only home I’ve been able to call mine, hangs in the balance. It’s the only home I’ve had that can’t be taken away from me, and I will fight for it with everything in me, like I’ve fought for everything else I’ve achieved.
I turn my attention back to the conversation Grady is having with Mack. He’s yet another person expressing how much it means to him that Grady has decided to fight for this cause.
“You know,” Mack says, “I remember when I took over the grocery store from my father. It was dire times for businesses here. The economy took a huge hit, but I made a promise to myself that I would keep my prices low. People needed food, people needed jobs, and I gave that to them.” He gives Grady a comforting smack on the shoulder. “We’ve always taken care of our own here. So, I think it’s commendable what you’re doing for the town. You can count on me to be at the council meeting.”
Grady’s mouth forms a tight line as he nods. I peer up at him from where I’m tucked under his arm, and I can tell he’s forcing a lump down his throat. This is how it’s been all night since he gave his speech. People have been approaching him to tell him how much this means to them, how it would impact their businesses if a massive corporation moved in as direct competition.
Progress. We’re making progress. People are starting to believe in Grady, to see what I see in him. Grady may crack jokes when he should be assertive, may choose to look on the bright side instead of demanding more, but it doesn’t mean he’s not passionate or that he doesn’t care. Grady cares for the people he loves by trying to lift them up through actions, not words. Unfortunately, actions are often what go overlooked. He’s not flashy about it, but he would be there for you in a heartbeat if he felt like there was some way he could help.
The only people left to convince, the opinions that truly matter, are the town council. They have the final say, and although Suzanne and Eleanor both seem to be on board, I didn’t see any of the others in the crowd. Nor did I see Jodi Price. She ignored my invitation.
We say goodbye to Mack, and most of the other guests have also started filing out of the bar, heading home for the night. The few left standing are the ones I have come to know as Grady’s inner circle, his family. Eleanor and Marko are still here, chatting to Winnie and my mother at one table. My mother, to her credit, actually looks interested and engaged.
Ally, Mason, and Poppy are gathered around another booth in the back corner celebrating Poppy’s win tonight. Everyone adored her Earl Grey Martini, and more than a few people drank a few too many. Hudson and Jett are helping Finn close up behind the bar, making some sort of game out of a very menial task. Between the two of them they only spilled one drink, so I’d call the night a success even if the entirety of it did end up all over Elsie.
“You’ve gone quiet.” Grady releases his arm from around my waist but still keeps his hand on my hip as he turns to look at me.“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?”
“I’m just taking it all in. It’s kind of amazing to see how you have all these people in your life that come out to support you, without so much as batting an eye,” I say, and I wonder if that’s something I will ever be able to create for myself. All the blood, sweat, and tears I’ve put into being able to afford an apartment on my own, to create an online business from nothing, and I’m not sure if I’ve really made it. This kind of love is not something you can pull out of thin air. It’s not something that exists for me back in Vancouver. The thought of going back now sucks the air right out of my lungs. The idea of leaving Grady makes me feel sick.
As if Grady can see the storm swirling around within me, he pulls me into a hug, his thick arms almost wrapping around me twice. I breathe in the warm scent of him. The raging storm in my heart settles into a calm breeze. This feels like home. Grady feels like home. Nevertheless, this feeling wars with the definition of home that I’ve always known. Home has never felt safe, and safety is what I need, what I’m working for.
“I have an idea,” he says, leaning down to whisper it into my ear. He pulls away from me and the cold air where Grady’s body once was is a shock to my system. I don’t have to wait long before Grady has plugged his phone into the speaker by the microphone, and he’s extended his hand to me, inviting me toward him.
A dance. Grady wants to dance with me. In front of all these people. I hesitate a moment, chewing on my lip, as I consider what this would mean for us. But my head is soon empty of all thought, because the way Grady’s hazel eyes are pleading with me across the bar is making my heart race, a deafening, thunderous beat drowning out all sense of reason.
Screw it. I want to dance with Grady, too. I may not be in Heartwood for much longer, but I’m going to enjoy the rest of my time here while I have it. So, I take his hand, and I let him lead me to a small opening between the tables, only big enough for the two of us.
Grady wraps his arm around my waist, his fingertips curling low on my spine, and takes my other hand in his. The warmth from his hand on the small of my back radiates through me, right down to my core. Someone whistles, and I have a feeling it’s Ally. A couple of short weeks ago this would have been against the rules of my boycott. It would have been against a few of them, actually.
“So much for the rules, I guess, huh?” I say, twisting to look at Grady, my face only a few inches from his. He gazes back at me, his eyes twinkling in the dim light as his smile makes the corners crease.I love it when he smiles like that.
“I told you, Rebel,” he says, and then leans down so the next thing he whispers is warm against my ear, “fuck the rules.” Goosebumps skitter across my skin, and I get an irresistible urge to be alone with him. Grady has confirmed my suspicions that he was never on board with the rules in the first place, that he’s been trying to convince me to forget about them since the beginning. Whatever hesitations I have been feeling up until this point, the determination in Grady’s eyes makes me want to let go of them. Even if it’s just for tonight.
“So, you’ve just been going along with them, what, to entertain me and my crazy ideas?”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.” He chuckles, the sound reverberating through me, but then his expression falls as he says, “I just wanted you. Whatever that looked like. Whatever you needed, I wanted to be that for you.” Grady says it like him wanting me is the only singular truth. The only thing that he’s absolutely sure of. If only I could be so confident. If only I was as prepared as he is to take the risk of getting into a relationship.
The boyfriend boycott isn’t something I decided on because I was tired of dating. It’s there to protect me from uncertainty, to keep me safe. No matter how good or reliable someone may seem at the outset, the fact is that human beings are flawed. Putting your life in someone else’s hands is always going to be a risk.
Grady’s firm body is solid against me. He’s solid and steady and reliable. In this moment, I allow myself to fall, just a little bit, even if this thing between us is only temporary. Even if the expiration date is looming closer. I lean my head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart, the steady sound of his breath as his head dips close to mine.
It’s a sound that I’m fairly certain is there just for me.
“Your mom seemed to really hit it off with Winnie and Eleanor,” Grady points out as we walk into the master bedroom we’ve now been sharing and clicks the door shut behind us. Marla had been tipsy when we got home, so Grady made sure she made it down the stairs to her bedroom. She said goodnight to him with an over-the-top statement of unconditional love and a dramatic kiss on his cheek. It was heartwarming in a way. She seemed freer with her feelings, at ease.
“Yeah, because Winnie made sure her drinks were flowing all night.” I chuckle with a shake of my head.
“Well, I’d say the evening was a hit,” Grady says, unclasping his watch from around his wrist and loosening his tie.
“It was a blast,” I agree. “I just wish more of the councillors had come.” Only two out of the eight I invited had been there, Suzanne and Eleanor, and only because they’ve been directly involved in our cause. Suzanne had jumped at the chance to offer a student a scholarship when I approached her about it.
“We’ve still got time,” Grady reassures me, but I’m not so sure. The clock is ticking, and I only have one more trick up my sleeve. The career fair is in a few days and after that … the council meeting.
I wander into the bathroom and start taking off my jewelry. It feels oddly natural coming home with Grady tonight, and even more so getting unready with him. This is something I’ve never had, someone to debrief the events of the night with.
“Has it been weird for you to sleep here with your mom in the basement?” Grady asks me as I remove the thin gold hoops from my ears and set them down on the counter in his ensuite.
“I mean, I did live with the woman for the better part of my life,” I answer. Although there were only a few years where it was just the two of us. I tried not to be home as much as I could, which resulted in a lot of sleepovers at Ally’s house. Her parents never minded that I was over all the time; I think they knew how fucked up my own life was. They initially said no sleepovers on school nights, but that changed the night that they found out I had snuck into Ally’s room because my mom had passed out drunk and her boyfriend was making me uncomfortable. Nothing ever happened with my mom’s boyfriends, but I think if I hadn’t been spending the majority of my nights sleeping on an air mattress on Ally’s floor, it might have been a different story.
“Yeah, but never with your …” Grady hesitates, choosing his next words. I’m not a mind reader, but I had a feeling he was about to use the word boyfriend. Instead, he goes with, “The guy you’re sleeping with.”
“My mom sent me pictures of boobs she wanted. We don’t exactly have normal mother-daughter boundaries,” I counter.
I push past where he’s standing in the door to the ensuite and start to unzip the back of the dress I’m wearing. Grady instinctively comes to me, taking the zipper and working it slowly down my back.
“I really, really don’t want to be talking about your mother’s boob job right now.” Grady dips his head to nuzzle into my neck from behind. His fingertips lightly brush over my shoulder, pushing the strap down and letting my dress fall to the floor.
He kisses my shoulder now, trailing a line with his lips up my neck to the spot beneath my ear. His hands roam around my body where my dress once covered, the fabric now piled around my feet.
“What do you want to do instead?” I purr. I’ve gotten the distinct impression that Grady is used to serving everyone but himself, thinking about everyone’s needs above his own. Including mine. Especially mine. Tonight is going to be different. I want Grady to have everything he has ever dreamed of.
“I want to bend you over”—Grady’s breath on my ear sends a shiver down the length of my spine—“and watch your perfect pussy take me until you’re coming all over my cock.”
I squeeze my thighs together at the sudden gush between my legs, and I’m swollen almost to the point of pain, needing the release of him inside me.
Grady splays his hand between my shoulder blades, pushing me gently forward onto the bed, onto my knees. His hand wraps around my hip and pulls my ass back towards him, and then he moves to undo his belt. I hear the snap of the leather as he whips it out of the belt loops, and then, before I can even process, he has his hard length out of his jeans, and he’s stroking it between my ass cheeks.
He pushes my head down further, and I grip a pillow as he lowers himself and licks a long line from my clit all the way to my ass, stopping only to make a languid circle around my pert hole. My hips buck in response to the sensation, but his hand is once again on my hip, pulling me back, his tongue circling my opening.
“Is this okay?” he asks, now forming tight circles with his thumb. I look back at him over my shoulder and nod. I want it all.
My vision goes blurry, and all I’m aware of is Grady sliding a slick finger into my asshole. Holy Fuck.
He rises up and pushes into me, stretching my pussy with his thick cock. I have the satisfying sensation of complete fullness, Grady occupying every part of me.Body, mind, and soul.
He fills me, thrusting until the sensation morphs and takes over my entire being, muscles clenching and releasing in waves.I pulse around him, helping him inch closer to his own edge. He removes himself and his cum releases, warm and wet, on my spine.
My body finally relaxes, flopping down onto the bed, my energy fully spent even though Grady did most of the work. He retreats into the bathroom and I let my eyes close. When he comes back, he’s holding a warm washcloth and starts gently cleaning me.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, lifting my head to look at him, although my limbs feel leaden.
“Of course I do,” he says as he continues to wipe between my legs. “I meant it when I said I wanted to take care of you,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly.
My face flops back on the pillow, and I do, I let him take care of me all he wants. All I can manage in response is a muffled mmhmm into the pillow.
It’s not long until Grady climbs back into bed with me, and we lay together, me nestled under his arm. His breath evens out next to me, into a rhythmic soft snore that tells me he’s asleep.
I am not even close to sleep. I’ve been staring up at the ceiling for the last hour. My body is relaxed, but my mind is not.
Grady turns over, facing away from me now, so I lift the covers back gently and climb out of bed. I sneak out of the bedroom as silently as I can, closing the door with a soft click, and I head out to the kitchen.
I flick on the oven light, just enough to see by, not enough to wake the whole house, and I pick up my laptop from the counter. It dings to life when I open it, and the first thing I see is a red circle over my mailbox. When I open it, I find an e-mail waiting for me from my landlord.
Dear tenant,
I hope this message finds you well. I am writing to formally notify you that the apartment located at 302-1250 Nicola Street will see a rent increase in accordance with local regulations. Below, you will find a new rent amount with a detailed breakdown of other associated fees such as parking, etc.
In addition, the building strata has decided that units are no longer allowed to be sublet, and as you are currently subletting your unit, your tenant will be obligated to vacate the premises within thirty days.
Thank you for your understanding.
Sincerely,
People-First Property Management
I skim the new rental agreement and my pulse thrums in my ears. The new number at the bottom of the page is staggering. A vice grips my throat as I consider how I could ever pay the amount with the sporadic contracts I’ve been getting. It isn’t even that nice. The place is just an outdated one-bedroom with parquet floors and a tiny galley kitchen on the third floor of an ancient walk-up. But it’s mine. It’s the first home that I felt certain wasn’t going to be taken away from me. Until now.
People-First Property Management. What people? More like profit-first . My blood simmers in my veins.
Anger. It’s a more productive feeling than the hopelessness that this turn of events could send me into. Anger sends me into problem-solving mode. I open my browser and scour the classified sites for rentals in the same area. I like that area. It’s familiar to me.
As I filter my search results from least expensive to most expensive, a pit forms in my stomach. The least expensive apartment in the West End is still six hundred more a month than what I’ve be paying.There’s no way I can manage that. Not unless I get this job at Mile High.
Once I have a signed contract, the cost of housing won’t seem as dire, I’m sure of it. I can negotiate a good salary. Sasha promised me that they would compensate me well. It would be a steady income at least, and I could stop fighting tooth and nail just to make ends meet. Once I sign that contract, I will have made it. All by myself, and no one will be able to take that away from me.
I pick my camera up off the counter and plug the memory card into the side of the laptop, clicking through the pop-ups. Maybe looking through photos from the night will help settle my mind. Despite the evening not garnering as much attention from the council as I’d hoped, I did manage to get some great photos that I can include in my portfolio.
The first picture I open is the first one I took of the evening. It’s of Grady. He didn’t know I was taking it and that’s part of what gives it the intimate quality I can see in it now. He’s standing behind the bar, lit from behind, the sleeves of one of the new shirts I picked out for him rolled up around his thick forearms. He’s smiling, the kind that reaches up to his sparkling hazel eyes and it makes my insides feel warm. Grady was happy, in his element, with everyone he loved in one room. Including me. From the very start of the cocktail party that smile never left his face.
All the photos show him this way. The pictures are dark and moody in the dim light of the bar, but Grady’s smile lights them all up. I copy a few to a folder that I’ll send him, that he can use for branding or his social media page.
As I continue sifting through the images, I stumble across a photo I don’t remember taking. In fact, I couldn’t have taken it. The picture is of me. It’s towards the bottom of the folder, so it must have been taken once most people left. When I had left my camera on the table in front of Winnie.
There I am, pulled in close to Grady’s chest, my cheek resting on his peck. I feel like I’m looking at someone else, a person that I don’t even recognize, because the look on my face is … peaceful. Maybe even, dare I say it, in love.
I click the window closed and slam my laptop shut. It doesn’t matter how peaceful, how in love I look in that moment. I’m not in love. I can’t be. Love is what tears people’s lives apart, and I’ve only just started to build mine into something that feels stable. I told myself I wouldn’t go there, I wouldn’t tread anywhere near that territory. Love has never worked out for me in the past. I think my lineage is cursed when it comes to love.
Now I’m certain that sleep will be impossible. My mind is racing through a list of possible scenarios, envisioning how this thing with Grady is going to end.
Because it will end … eventually. I’m the one who has to do it. Grady is in too deep. I know that for sure now. The way we interacted at the party was far beyond a hook-up relationship. This is no longer just sex. There’s something more, and I know what it is, but I won’t admit it. Not even to myself.