21. Caleb
Caleb
Noelle was having a sleepover with Jena and Ms. Kenzie, which let me have another sleepover with Grace.
She rolled beside me, her blonde hair spread across the pillow.
Not even a minute later, she moved again.
Whether awake or asleep, she was always restless.
But more than being unable to stay still, there was an uneasiness about her when she slept.
The first time Grace spent the night, she tossed and turned, whimpering a bit.
I rubbed her back like I do to Noelle when she’s having a rough time, and it seemed to soothe her.
But tonight was different. She started murmuring not long after she drifted off, and I clearly heard her cry out names in her sleep. Twice.
Julia and Grant.
It was only recently, on one of the nights that she had helped out at Bar, that she opened up a little about her family.
It was nothing more than that she had an older sister, and that her parents weren’t big presences in her life, but even that little bit gave me hope that she’d eventually start to feel comfortable sharing more of herself with me.
Because of that, I remembered her telling me Julia was her sister’s name.
I had no clue who the Grant guy was, though.
I hated to admit it, but it made me a little frustrated. There were all these bits of her life that I had no clue about.
I knew I couldn’t push Grace—she definitely spooked easily—so I couldn’t ask her directly who the guy was or why she was calling out his name in the middle of the night. He wasn’t anyone she was dating because unless she hadn’t been telling me the truth, she said I was the only one.
I tried to brush it off with reminders that we hadn’t made any long-term promises to one another, that she was young and maybe not ready to settle down.
It didn’t make the green-eyed monster stay at bay when I watched her interact with the patrons at Bar.
She would laugh at my older regulars’ jokes, offer a kind smile as she rang customers up, and exude joy.
I never felt this strongly about a woman I’d dated. Not even Roxy, and she was the mother of my child. It was a pleasant surprise when Grace took my mom’s outburst about me being a father in stride. Her easygoing acceptance of it made me fall all the more.
It might be foolish of me to be having these thoughts so soon because yes, Grace had secrets, and I was pretty sure she would lie to protect those secrets, but I knew she was not dangerous. Call it intuition. Call it wishful thinking. But it was something that deep down I sensed to be true.
Grace’s arm swung around, breaking me out of my thoughts, and I shuffled to not get hit by it.
I craned my neck to see the alarm clock on the nightstand.
Eight a.m.
Compared to Noelle’s internal wake-up clock of five a.m., this was my definition of sleeping in.
Gently, I slipped out from under the covers, trying not to disturb Grace any more than her dreams did.
I hoped to avoid Fiona’s watchful eye as I snuck downstairs to the bed-and-breakfast’s lobby for breakfast.
As I pulled on my jeans, I decided I wouldn’t bring up Grace’s nightmares, or the names she had called out in her sleep. I would keep following her lead. When she was ready, she’d tell me.
I hoped.
I might not have had the same insight that my mother did, but she had confirmed what I was afraid of.
Grace was punishing herself—of this I was certain.
All of her talk about not being good, all her worries, they clearly weighed on her.
It was obvious that she didn’t see herself clearly.
I just had to keep being patient with her, show her through my words and actions that she was a good person, and maybe she’d finally let go of what was haunting her.
There was no way whatever she did was bad enough to warrant everyone she knew dropping her like a bad habit.
The longer she held it in though, the more concerned I grew that she was going to let this secret overshadow her. Overshadow us.
We could be so good together. I just hoped Grace gave us the chance.
I had one mission: Get downstairs, grab some snacks, and get out before Fiona caught me.
Simple, right?
Wrong.
Here I was a thirty-five-year-old man and I was scared of a five-foot tall, older woman, who was half blind.
The second I cracked open the door to Grace’s room, I could already hear the sounds of morning-life humming through the old house. The clatter of dishes, the murmur of voices, the unmistakable scent of the fresh coffee grounds that Fiona got from Ms. Kenzie.
It was risky, but I was starving. Grace and I skipped dinner, and while I had my fill of dessert between Grace’s legs, I needed something a bit more substantial.
I took a cautious step into the hallway and listened for any sign of Fiona. Her necklaces jingled so much they could be heard a mile away, and she often used a cane that dragged across the floor, making a squeaking sound, so this shouldn’t be too difficult.
I crept down the staircase, keeping to the edges to avoid creaks.
I knew this house well enough to know the boards that would betray you.
Fiona had run this bed-and-breakfast for as long as I’d been alive.
I was willing to bet she had some kind of sixth sense when it came to knowing who was coming and going.
Halfway down, I hesitated. The hallway to the kitchen was ahead, and if I timed it properly, I should be able to sneak in, grab something off the counter, and be back upstairs before?—
“Well, well, well.”
I froze.
Busted.
Slowly, I turned my head and found Fiona standing in the doorway to the kitchen, arms crossed, but a smirk tugged at the corner of her lips. Her hair was in rollers and her signature Coke bottle glasses were sliding down her nose.
“You sneakin’ around my house, Caleb Jameson?”
I cleared my throat. “No, not sneaking. Just … walking quietly.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And that wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that you spent the night upstairs. Would it?”
I signed, running a hand through my hair. “Fiona?—”
She held up a hand. “Now don’t ‘Fiona’ me. I wasn’t born yesterday, but here you are, skulking around like a teenage boy sneaking out after curfew. You’re lucky I like this one.” Fiona jutted her chin toward the stairs.
I liked this one too.