27. Grace
Grace
Later that night, I couldn’t stay asleep. All I could think about was Julia. My subconscious never let me forget her or what had happened.
Sometimes, I wished I could be like my mother. Someone who moved on so easily. Floated through life like this horrific thing didn’t happen to our family.
I knew deep, deep down that it wasn’t completely my fault.
But when everyone you’d known your whole life looked at you for months after the incident like you were the one with blood on your hands, you started to believe them.
Little by little, all the stares and whispers ate at you.
When you walked into a room and it went completely silent, you couldn’t help but feel the black mark against you.
Like you were the villain. Not to mention, the way people phrased their sorrows at the funeral.
“Poor Julia,” or “Poor Jacqueline.” Never poor me.
And God forbid they said, “I’m sorry for your loss.
” The looks of pity from strangers were the only forms of real condolence I’d experienced.
Most didn’t think I deserved to grieve. After all, I was a murderer in their eyes.
I possibly gave her the drugs that killed her.
No , a little voice inside me yelled. The doctors reassured you over and over again the injuries from the crash were too severe. If anything, the drugs helped ease her pain.
Julia was laid to rest quickly. My mother wanted it done. Over with. My father did too because he couldn’t wait to hop back on a plane and pretend he had no life before Italy. That way people could stop talking about the Harringtons and move on.
But that was the thing—I didn’t get to move on. I didn’t even get to mourn her. I didn’t get the luxury of closure.
I had to tell Caleb the truth. All of it. If I didn’t, I was going to lose him. Who knows—I could still lose him after he hears about my involvement in Julia’s death.
It took everything in me not to venture to his house, bang on his door, and confess all my sins.
I had my coat on before I remembered Noelle and retreated.
I didn’t need to get that innocent girl mixed up in all my mess.
It was bad enough Caleb got caught up in it without knowing what he’d signed up for.
I was determined to tell him tonight. He was supposed to be teaching me how to make his famous lasagna. Who knows if we would even get to that?
While I wasn’t arrested following Julia’s death, I was questioned extensively. For hours. Having to recount every detail from that night. While still protecting Grant, of course.
I felt guilty. They knew it; I knew it. It was written all over my face.
Last thing I needed was the Abernathys to come after me. At least that was what my mother kept telling me. She convinced me I was doing the right thing. Why should another upstanding family be destroyed like ours?
I listened to her up until recently. I listened because I felt like I owed it to her. After all, I did cause this mess.
Now, all I could think about was how I wasn’t alone the night of Julia’s death. I wanted to tell the truth. My truth.
The tabloids capitalized on my guilt and remorse.
Killer Harrington was what they dubbed me.
They used every mistake or weak moment they ever captured with their cameras to prove I was in the wrong.
That I deserved the treatment everybody doled out so easily.
Every photo on a yacht, every skimpy outfit for a themed event, every drunk encounter.
Plastered on every newsstand for the world to dissect.
In their eyes, I was a murderer. The judgmental looks from my so-called friends and associates solidified their opinions on the matter. Not to mention my own anguish whenever I did get the courage to leave the house.
I checked myself into a program voluntarily. The courts suggested a small drug course. I was surprised. I thought I should be punished more for my involvement. Instead, I’d been punishing myself.
I had to get away from it all. The escape from the city did me good. I did every kind of healing remedy suggested to me.
I’d been running for so long, but eventually, I was forced to face the proverbial music, and try to find a place where I truly belonged.
But I couldn’t go back to the brownstone, which is why I decided to put it on the market.
There were too many memories there. It would’ve been like going home to a ghost. A shell of who I was and will never be again.
It was for the best, but I wished I could have been this person when Julia was still alive. But the logical, more rational side of me told me that I couldn’t be this person until Julia was no longer here. What a sick joke.
That was the thing about grief—you feel like you’re cheating on the deceased by moving on, by just living day-to-day, because they don’t get the luxury.
Grand Haven certainly captured my heart, and it had everything to do with the handsome man leaning against his beat-up truck. Caleb insisted on picking me up from Fiona’s.
It was only a ten-minute walk to his house, but he argued it was getting darker earlier and he’d feel better if he could drive me.
The sleepy town was the epitome of safety.
Everybody knew everybody. The biggest scandal this town had seen before me was Dirty Al and his shenanigans.
Now, I was the most scandalous thing about this town.
It was Caleb’s “free” night where Anne had grandma time with Noelle, so we were sneaking in a moment to ourselves.
Not that I didn’t love being with Noelle, but I did cherish the time I got to spend with only Caleb.
I knew if things progressed in our relationship, I would be around his daughter more, and if we grew even more serious, one day I might fill the role of being her stepmom.
I shook my head, trying to rid myself of pipe dreams as I ran to the one I never wanted to run from again.
Hopefully I wouldn’t be the one getting pushed away.
“Grace!” Caleb waved.
Always so damn attentive. Loving him was the easiest thing I’d ever done.
Yes—I loved him. I loved him so much I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. And I knew he loved me. Aside from his slip-ups, the way he looked at me said it all. It was the way all girls wanted to be looked at. The way they should be looked at.
I should be overjoyed, but instead I was fucking terrified.
Caleb loving someone like me wasn’t bad for me, but for him … it was a catastrophe.
The distance between us grew shorter, so I shook my head in hopes of stopping my pondering (brooding was more like it).
Once I was within reach, his strong arms engulfed me in the biggest hug. Every time he held me like this, I felt like I was protected, safe from all the evils in the world. It was a foreign feeling, but one I savored.
“Missed you, baby.” Caleb pulled back from the hug and winked at me.
Sexy fucker.
His hand never left mine as we walked to his truck. Caleb, always the gentleman, opened the door for me.
He apprehensively let go of my hand. I loved how he always wanted to have some sort of connection to me—the intertwining of our fingers, his hand on the small of my back, our bodies pressed close together when we were side by side.
It was like he was holding me back from running away, trying his best to keep me grounded.
Can’t say I hadn’t thought of it, once or twice.
He showed affection toward me proudly. Never fearful of what people might think. Granted, he didn’t know the full extent of who I was, but I had to change that tonight.
The car jolted from a pothole. He chuckled, making me more uneasy to see him so carefree considering what I was about to tell him. I bit the inside of my cheek nervously and looked out the window at the houses as we drove past. We’d just reached a familiar intersection when a car cut us off.
The brakes shrieked from the exertion, and I was jolted backward, my head hitting the headrest.
“Come on!” Caleb threw his hands up dramatically. We were stopped in the middle of the intersection going straight toward Bar. He muttered “asshole” under his breath.
The kid in the other car was inches away from Caleb’s front bumper. Thank God for his quick reflexes. The truck rattled from the incident. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself from a potential panic attack.
“Are you all right?” Caleb asked, looking at me.
I didn’t trust my voice not to shake and give me away, so I nodded quickly and then looked back at the careless driver who decided to make a right on red.
The smartass in the other car held up his middle finger and continued to cut Caleb off.
He was probably around my age and laughed menacingly at Caleb’s annoyance. Definitely not from around here, his car was too clean for these country roads.
Caleb continued driving once the light was actually green.
We were only a few blocks away from the bar.
After Caleb had called me on spacing out, he repeated what I’d missed—he needed to stop there to pick up the wine inventory list. He apologized for us having to stop a few times.
I was still shaken up by the incident from moments ago, but I didn’t want him to know, so I told him it wasn’t a big deal and apologies weren’t needed.
Ever since Julia’s accident, cars made me nervous.
I’d seen firsthand the damage they could do.
How quick an accident happened, but damn did the pain linger.
The first few months after Julia’s death, I had to take anxiety meds each time I rode in a car.
It was part of the reason I never pursued getting my license.
I was scared by the idea of being in control of a car, though a therapist once said it was the lack of control of my life that truly terrified me.
Caleb had mentioned once or twice about teaching me how to drive, but I never entertained the idea. The thought of potentially having more blood on my hands was enough for me to dismiss his offer.
Before long, we pulled up in front of Bar. Through the windshield, I spotted that the garbage bins were still out front. Caleb wasn’t going to be happy about that. Whoever started their shift was in charge of pulling the bins around to the back of the bar.
“Fucking Max,” Caleb muttered as he shut off the engine. He turned to me. “Do you want to come in? I’ll only be a few minutes either way.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. I’ll stay in the car.” I didn’t want to witness his wrath on Max. He had recently finished his suspension, after all.
Caleb pursed his lips as if he wanted to say something but instead held out his hand. “Here. Turn the car back on if you get chilly.”
He scooped his finger underneath my cardigan. “Always weather-confused, my love,” Caleb teased, his eyebrows waggling.
My eyes widened at the word love . My heart raced and my palms began to sweat. I didn’t know what to say, so I just took the key from him.
Thankfully, he wordlessly exited the truck. I prayed Max’s mishap would distract Caleb enough from remembering this uncomfortable exchange.
Caleb was kind, easygoing, and soft-spoken, but when push came to shove, he had no problem being assertive in voicing what he needed and expected, especially when it came to his business. It was one of the many things I loved about him.
Fuck!
Again with the L-word.
A few moments later, my phone buzzed. I hoped it wasn’t Jacqueline—no way was I in the mood to deal with her reprimands. I looked down and had to read the message twice before I could process it.
I’m back, G. Heard you were slumming it with some bottom-feeder. Let me know when you’re ready to really party. You owe me a good time.
It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out who this message was from. The devil himself. No, Grant was probably worse than the devil.
I took a deep breath and let out a scream.
One glance out the truck window told me I had an audience to my meltdown.
The dog walker across the street started running with dogs in tow, and Fiona was looking at me suspiciously before putting out her cigarette, continuing the walk to the bed-and-breakfast. Now I wished the text was from fucking Jacqueline.