24. Gracie
Chapter 24
Gracie
T ark was breaking my heart and putting it back together again.
He held me while I cried, though the tears were mostly happy. We had more talking to do, but our relationship was new. We’d figure this out some way.
He kept patting my back, something he must do with his pets when they were in pain, and it felt good. So did him holding me.
Finally, he gently settled me back in the chair. He rose to a stand and studied my face. What did he see other than red splotches—damn redness! —and the last of the tears in my eyes?
“I’ll make you dinner?” he said. “Will that help?”
“You don’t need to cook for me.”
“I want to. Will you let me?”
His aunt had said his love language was cooking. Who was I to dissuade him if he wanted to make a meal for me to show me how much he cared?
“I’d love to eat something you make for me,” I said.
“Wait here? I’ll bring it to you.” At my nod, he lumbered toward the kitchen, only tripping once on the floorboards. They leaped up in front of him. Sorta.
I sighed, but it was an exhalation that released the rest of my tension, nothing related to him. Things were going to be okay. We’d eat, talk, and get back on whatever track we’d started on before he worried about making me red between the legs.
Which I wanted him to do again.
Relationships were much too complicated, but what we were forming meant everything. I’d make sure he knew he hadn’t hurt me, that I wanted him, that we were worth fighting for.
He banged around in the kitchen. I kept staring at the tiny Sharga carving and trying not to weep because it was so beautiful. He’d made it for me and that made my heart crater.
Leave it to Mom and Dad to interrupt this wonderful moment with another phone call.
Tark tucked his head out through the kitchen door as my phone went off.
I held it up and pressed for a fake smile. “I need to take this call.” Actually, I needed to rush upstairs and hide. He’d see my face while they spoke to me. Maybe hear what they had to say because I’d have to put it on speaker—their rules. Then he’d ask questions. I wanted to put my old life behind me and start new with him.
No way could I do that if Mom and Dad came along for the ride.
“Oh, yes, of course,” Tark said.
I rose as the phone stopped ringing. No chance they wouldn’t call back. They’d do three rounds before they called the local sheriff—which I supposed was Dungar. Would he tell them in his brawny orc voice to leave me alone?
No, I had to do that myself.
“Do you need help?” Tark asked, starting toward me.
“Nope. My ankle’s good.” I tested it with a few steps toward the stairs, grateful the pain was nearly gone. “You cook. I’ll be back down in a second.”
I felt his heavy gaze as I hurried up the stairs, picking up their second call when I reached the landing. A glance over my shoulder showed Tark entering the kitchen. I wanted to follow him. So much.
But I needed to get this over with first.
“Mom, Dad,” I said with false cheer, striding down the hall and opening my door. “Could you give me a minute? I’m…in the bathroom.”
“Of course, sweetie,” Mom said.
I entered my room, shutting the door behind me and hurried to the small table, where I yanked out a chair. Reaching for a tissue from the box on the table, I paused.
No. Taking control of my life meant controlling this stress-reliever; finding a healthier way to deal with it. I placed the carved Sharga on the table, and it stared up at me.
I did have a friend, and she wasn’t necessarily the carving.
She was me .
I laid the phone on the table, putting it on speaker.
“I'm back!” I used some of Mom's false cheer. I didn’t bother waiting for them to begin. “You’ve been calling a lot lately.”
“Because we need your answer.”
“About the reunion show? I said no. I mean no. No!” I leaned back in the chair, placing my hands gently on my lap. “This is starting to feel like harassment.”
“Harassment?” My mother’s voice snapped like a whip. No preamble this time; straight to business. “Gracie, we’re your parents. If anyone’s being harassed, it’s us. Do you have any idea how selfish you’re being?”
The words hit me in the chest, and my hands tightened to fists. I made them smooth out. Relax. Deep breath. You can handle this.
“Good day to you too,” I said.
“Don’t start with the attitude.” Dad's voice sounded darker now. “We’ve been bending over backward to give you opportunities, and all you’ve done is slam the door in our faces. You think this influencer nonsense will carry you forever? It’s not a career. It’s a hobby , one you need to toss aside for something better.”
A dull throb started at my temple, the kind that came on whenever they decided my life wasn’t up to their impossible standards. I stared at the phone, as though keeping my eyes on it would stop them from worming their way under my skin. “Funny, since that hobby has been paying my bills for the last few years.”
“With our stipend. Don't forget that,” Mom said.
How could I when they lorded it over me each month they sent it? It was mine. I'd earned it. It was not a gift.
“Now you're scraping by, partnering with off-brand laundry detergents and random vacation rentals,” Mom said. “Imagine how far you could go if you stopped being stubborn and saw the bigger picture. We need that money!”
“And there it is,” I muttered, my fingers remaining smooth on my thighs. “This isn’t about me, is it? It never was.” I’d seen it so many times. Accepted it, even.
I wasn’t accepting it any longer.
“You’re wrong about that,” Dad snapped. “This family made you. We gave up everything to build your image, your career, your?—”
“ My career?” My bitter laugh echoed in the room. “No, what you built was a circus. My life was never my own. It was a sideshow for everyone to gawk at. Congratulations to the both of you. The Gracie you built isn’t real, but I am.”
“Oh, grow up.” Mom's tone could've frozen water to ice in seconds. “We didn’t lock that trust fund away because we didn’t trust you. It was to protect your future and frankly, after seeing how you handle yourself now, I’m glad we did. Otherwise, who knows what you’d have thrown it away on?”
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper. “You mean things like housing, food, or, oh, I don’t know, paying the electric bill?”
Mom huffed. “You really think your life was hard? We gave you everything. You didn’t want for a thing.”
Except peace, privacy, and a childhood. My chest felt tight, but I refused to let them hear me crack.
“You grew up a star,” she added. “We made you famous.”
“Unlike you.”
“What?” she barked.
“This is the issue, isn’t it? You need me. They don’t need you for the show. They need me .”
A long pause followed. I imagined them gaping at each other, scurrying to figure out what they’d say next. Using hand gestures to come up with a plan that would make me do what they told me to.
They did not disappoint.
“Here’s the reality,” Dad snarled. “We’ve spoken to Gregory.”
Of course, Gregory. He always found his way into these conversations. My jaw tightened. “Good for you.”
“He’s agreed to the wedding storyline.” Mom powered right through my sarcasm. “It’s brilliant, really. A reunion special and a wedding? The fanbase will eat it up. Picture them bringing me to my seat in the front of the chapel. Me dressed to the hilt, of course, though a touch demure. No sequins. You know I don’t do flashy.”
Sure, she didn’t.
“Then your father walking you down the aisle! The fans will swoon at that one. He’ll kiss you on the cheek and gently place your hand into Gregory’s.”
Cementing me to him, actually, with no way of getting free.
“It’s practically guaranteed to break view records,” she said. “It's straight out of a second chance romcom.”
“Then I hope you both enjoy filming it,” I said flatly. “You'll have to find Gregory a new bride, though, because it won't be me.”
“Do you even understand what’s at stake here?” Dad snarled. “You think you can keep ignoring us, living your little influencer fantasy, but we’ve built you up, and we can as easily tear you down.”
My fingers froze on my lap. “ Excuse me? ”
“Do you think people would still adore Gracie if they knew how ungrateful you really are?” Mom snapped, going for the throat. “Who do you think paid for your life before you stormed off? This family. We carried you.”
“Carried me?” My voice cracked, and I gripped the edge of the chair, steadying myself. “I carried you . Your paychecks, your fame, all the deals you signed in my name, that was me. I earned every penny.”
I thought I’d nailed the last word to the wall, but Mom’s laughter cut like shattered glass. “And who do you think kept that money safe? Do you have any idea what people like us, people who’ve actually succeeded, could do if you keep dragging your feet? We’ve protected you from the public. From yourself.”
“Protected me?” Incredulity spiked through me like I'd dumped a glass of ice water over my head. “I don’t need your protection. I need independence. I need to stop being a pawn in your game, and frankly, I’m tired of you using my name for your own gain. Don’t think I haven’t seen you using that in promo for your new show.” A show that was not successful. I’d be stunned if they were signed for another season.
“Independence?” Dad grunted. “You mean your life with that nobody you’re riding on green beasts with?”
Had they seen me and Tark together?
“What’s his name again? Don’t think he'll pull you out of this mess. That's laughable. Just like always, right? Hoping someone else will give you an out.”
There it was, the stab at my personal life, designed to shake me. I fought back my anger, focusing on the walls of the room. Making something of Lonesome Creek was my dream, and nothing could ruin how I felt about it, not even my parents’ cruel insinuations. “Tark is a good man who’s building something real here. Not some scripted drama.”
“Real?” Mom said. “You mean a tourist place where the cameras aren’t rolling. He’ll send you on your way when they run out of money. You think that’s what your followers want to see, your face plastered alongside a silly cowboy town like that? Give this up before you ruin your acting career. Your precious influencer lifestyle will evaporate into thin air if we decide to leak a few unflattering stories. The world is watching, and so are your fans.”
“You wouldn’t…” Oh, but they would.
“Try us.” Dad’s voice oozed through the line. “We’ve got people ready to show up there and take unflattering photos. Your precious Tark? He’ll be the last person your followers want to see you with once they learn more about him. A failed business, that’s what it already is. Nobody’s interested in an orc ranch. We could make the whole thing an absolute joke, Gracie.”
My heart raced, my veins burning with fury.
“Stop,” I shouted, the word a plea and a battle cry. “Enough. You two can’t come here and tear down my life just because you need to feel in control again. These are my choices to make, not yours.”
“Choices?” Mom asked. “You call this pathetic little life a choice? You think running off to this place, playing with animals after living a life of luxury is a good thing? You’re betraying the family, Gracie. If you don’t cooperate, the choice will be taken from you. Don't think we won't do it.”
Tears threatened in my eyes, but I forced them back. “Betraying the family? This is the family and life that you stuck with me, not the one I picked for myself. I’m finally being true to who I am. I’m a fucking adult!”
She tutted at the swear.
“I’m happy,” I shouted. “Doesn't that matter to you?”
“If you truly believe you're happy, then you’re delusional,” Dad said. “We can paint this in whatever light we choose. I assure you, the world would love watching your pathetic struggle against the odds. Or perhaps the fading TV star chasing a male with a failing business. The tragic downward spiral of Gracie from child star to washed-up influencer. That’s the story people will eagerly click on, and that’s the reality show we’ll give them if you don’t come back. All because you chose to be ungrateful.”
The realization that they could do this sent horror through my veins. “I can’t believe you’d go so low.”
Mom scoffed. “We only have your best interest at heart. This is it, Gracie. Come back and marry Gregory. Film the reunion season. If you don’t, we'll ensure the world sees exactly what kind of person you’ve become.”
“We’ll give you two days to return home,” Dad chimed in. “I expect you to do what’s right.”
They ended the call this time instead of me.
I sat in the chair, resisting the urge to throw the phone across the room.
Tears trickled down my cheeks, and I sniffed.
What was I going to do? I couldn’t let them come here and ruin Tark and his brother’s dream. But going back…
Marrying Gregory?
It would kill my soul to do something like that.