Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Grant
She is vibrating with hurt and anger and sadness, and I can’t blame her a bit.
“I divorced him a year ago and ended up nearly bankrupt. What I didn’t realize then was that he still had access to everything of mine and he took it all. I knew long before I left I wouldn’t do that again. I wouldn’t become that woman again.”
My jaw clenches and I want to rage against this as her reality. “Did you leave LA then? Where else have you been?”
Her hand comes to her throat and I feel ill because I have a solid guess where this is going. That’s why there was a police report in her file.
“He had hurt me then, so I had an order of protection. And he abided by it. Everything went through lawyers and I moved out and I started planning. Because the way he looked at me when he was hurting me…”
Her eyes are red from crying, but the look in them is so hollow, it guts me. I want to gather her to me, hold her close, and promise her nothing is going to harm her ever again.
But I can’t make that promise, especially when I don’t know everything. And I want it all.
“Tell me. I’ll take everything you’ll give me.”
She shakes her head, and I can almost see her mind trying to make sense of how to explain this to me. But it doesn’t take much because I know how this goes. One thing I am tragically familiar with is the reality of domestic violence, thanks to my time in the Army and my time in the department.
Fury roils in my chest, but that does nothing.
If I’ve learned anything in my time in the military, controlling your fear, your anger, and your stress responses are the keys to winning a battle.
So instead of growling out exactly how I’d like to exact vengeance on her behalf, I demand more. “And now?”
She heaves a sigh full of so much exhaustion and sadness, I want to leave it, but I can’t. “You left him, you escaped to start fresh here, and now what? What did my brother see?”
“And now? Now he called me on a number he shouldn’t have to tell me he misses me and doesn’t understand why I left.” She cringes, a look of disgust more than fear or sadness.
Honestly, it’s a relief. She’s not scared, just pissed off.
I don’t stop myself now. I move right into her face and cup her cheeks, demanding she look at me. “We’ll figure this out. I promise you. Davis is a lawyer; he can look at the order of protection. I doubt it allows for him to call you.”
Her chin wobbles. “I feel so stupid for being this upset. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even care, and here I am just losing it on you.”
She grips my forearms and holds me there, forbidding me from moving away.
I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
“Don’t apologize. You feel what you feel, that’s it. No judging the feelings. No trying to make them go away. If I’ve learned one thing from grief, it’s that you can’t always control or even make sense of what you feel.” I ease back, but she doesn’t let me go.
Instead, she slides her hands down my arms and we lace fingers.
It sends an ill-timed thrill through me because this is the first time we’ve voluntarily touched aside from our handshake days ago. She is touching me, and I’m completely here for it.
“You lost people. Your whole life changed. That’s different. Of course there’s no foreseeing how you’d respond.”
Her beautiful eyes are filled with compassion, and her voice holds such empathy. For me.
“You lost something, too. I know you said it wasn’t a fairytale, but you had hopes for how things would go.
And Sam, you were hurt.” I clamp down on the flash of anger at the reminder that someone hurt her.
“You didn’t deserve any of it, and more than that, you deserve to be loved.
You should be able to exist and feel safe and cared for without fear.
Being confronted with the lack of those things, that’s absolutely worth grieving. ”
Her tears spill over. “I’m sorry, but how are you like this?”
I laugh, but it’s agonized. “Like what?”
Her gaze finds mine again. “You’re this good. I mean you’re grumpy as all get out half the time, but here you are, trying to help me and comfort me and it’s just…” She shakes her head.
I do what I’ve wanted since the minute Finn said something was wrong. I release her hands and wrap my arms around her, ensuring my touch is firm enough to show my hands won’t be wandering, but gentle enough to show she’s safe.
It’s the fundamental fabric of my being that shouts into my head what I’ve known in my gut for days—I’ll do anything to keep her safe.
And when her arms wrap around me, my eyes fall closed, and I breathe in her warm scent. She’s all soft curves and slow breaths. Her body relaxes against me, and it feels so good to hold her.
Too soon—though admittedly, any point in time would be too soon for me—she lets go and steps back.
“I’m sorry, I—” Her eyes widen when she sees my scowl. “Right. Not sorry. But I will say thank you.”
The way her gaze sweeps over my face makes my heart pinch.
“Thank you. For telling me what’s going on. I’d say I’m sorry I forced the issue, but I’m not. I’m glad you told me, and if you’re okay with it, I can talk to Davis.”
She’s chuckling at me. “I’m okay with it. And thank you.”
My phone buzzes, but I don’t look at it. I can do that in a minute. But Sam didn’t miss it.
“Do you need to get that? Are the girls okay?” She presses a hand to her belly and that is when I register what she’s wearing.
In the heat of the moment, the throes of concern for her, I didn’t take in the way her lavender-colored tights and tank are so…
tight. They cling to her toned legs and the alluring line of her hips.
She’s wearing a top with straps and a sliver of the aforementioned skin flashes when she moves.
The material shapes against her chest, and the straps cut in closer to her neck, highlighting the lovely curve of her shoulders.
These clothes highlight every bit of perfection that is her body and it is frankly better than I’ve refused to let myself imagine. Good grief, she’s gorgeous, and I am standing here gawking at her.
“Grant?”
My brain snaps back into functioning, and I pull out my phone. “Finn said he’ll bring the girls home in about an hour, so I’m good.”
Or I will be, when I get a grip on my thoughts.
“Would you want to stay for a bit? We could watch something. I don’t have fancy hot chocolate or anything, but I was going to make popcorn.”
She doesn’t meet my eye and my heart clutches. What a sap I am with this woman, constantly reacting to her every move.
“I’d love to stay for a bit.”
She makes popcorn and we settle into the couch to watch a show.
But I’m not paying attention to what Leslie Knope is doing on screen.
I’m fully absorbed in the way our thighs are lined up, touching from knee to ankle.
I’m wrapped in the scent of popcorn and the coconut sweetness of her hair whenever her ponytail swishes.
My pulse kicks when she laughs and bends over, resting a hand on my thigh to steady herself. I couldn’t tell you for all I’m worth what happened to make her laugh, and yes, part of me would love to know. Bringing joy to this woman is worth doing. It’s valuable.
But her hand is searing its way through my jeans, and the way she’s bent shows the ridges of her spine and the smooth skin where her top and pants gap.
Her shoulders, the back of her neck, the curve of her ear…
every exposed part of her flashes at me like my system’s on overload from the sheer wanting of her.
I watch my hand moving like it’s someone else’s—see the pad of my index finger trace along the curve of her shoulder. The contact thrills me, but my heart takes off like a rocket when she turns a confused gaze my way and snatches her hand back from my leg like it’s something she’s done wrong.
I grab her hand and hold it, then press it back down to my knee. “I like that there.”
Her lashes flutter and more heat tracks to her cheeks. “Oh.”
“You’re…” I can’t find the right words. I’m not used to this… this… overwhelm. It’s an old companion when it comes to the girls or even my siblings, but romantic overwhelm is all new. Even my ex didn’t do this to me—she didn’t make it hard to think straight.
Or make sense.
Or hold back.
And that’s probably why the next thing I do is kiss her.