Chapter 6
Islide into the driver’s seat, the image of Gracie’s exposed skin burned into my mind. It’s not just the surprise of it all; it’s that tattoo—a delicate blue butterfly surrounded by music notes resting on her hip bone.
Fuck.
How had I never seen it before? What did it mean? I want to ask about it, to discover the story behind the ink, but the look of sheer horror on her face earlier is enough to keep my curiosity locked down.
The engine hums to life, breaking the silence of the morning as we head towards my cabin by the lake. I sneak a glance at her. She’s staring out the window, lost in thought, and probably still a bit embarrassed. I focus on the road, letting the distance between us fill with the soft sounds of the morning.
“So, how’s everyone?” Gracie’s voice cuts through the quiet, and I’m grateful for the distraction.
“Leo’s good. He took some time off to go to Bali, find some ‘inner peace’ or something,” I reply with a chuckle. “And Maya’s been laying down some new tracks, experimenting with her sound.”
“That’s great,” she says with genuine interest, “and Ty?”
The question lands like a punch, and I feel a simmering anger at the mention of his name. My grip on the steering wheel tightens, and I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice even.
“Yeah, Ty’s... Ty,” I say, the words coming out colder than I intend.
I can feel Gracie’s gaze, heavy with concern, but I keep my eyes on the road. “Connor, is everything okay? You seem...”
I shake my head, cutting her off. “I don’t want to get into it, not now.” I keep my eyes fixed on the road, but I can feel her concern.
“Okay, if you’re sure...” she trails off, giving me space, but I can tell she’s filing it away for later. That’s how Gracie works; she never pushes, but she never forgets.
The rest of the drive is quieter, the unasked questions hanging between us. When we arrive at the cabin, the sight of the lake, with its serene expanse, offers a semblance of peace.
I grab the cooler and our towels, leading the way to our usual spot by the water. The gentle lapping of the waves against the shore and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze provide a welcome respite from the cacophony of my mind.
Gracie’s excitement is palpable as she gazes at the water, a stark contrast to the heaviness I’ve carried since the tour ended. It’s a reminder of why I came back to this town, why I always come back to her.
“Race you to the water?” Gracie suddenly challenges, the mischief in her eyes reminding me of simpler times.
“You’re on,” I say, and for a moment, I let go of everything—the tour, Ava, Ty, the betrayal. It’s just Gracie and me, two friends racing towards the lake, like we don’t have a care in the world.
“You gonna swim, or just brood all day?” she calls out, a teasing lilt in her voice.
A half-hearted smirk tugs at my lips, and I start to shed my clothes, down to my swim trunks. “You coming in or just gonna watch?” I throw back at her.
We splash into the water, laughter mingling with the sound of waves, and it feels like a cleansing of sorts. I dive under, letting the coolness envelop me, and when I surface, Gracie is there, her smile bright and her eyes clear.
We swim for a while, talking about everything and nothing, the conversation easy but never straying too close to the topics we’re both avoiding. When we tire, we float on our backs, staring up at the sky in companionable silence.
It’s these moments that I realize how much I’ve missed—how much I’ve missed her and for a moment, everything is as it was before. Before Ava, before my life became a tabloid headline.
We head back to shore, and I can’t help but notice the way the water droplets glisten on her skin, the way she pushes her wet hair back from her face. She’s beautiful, always has been, but for some reason, there’s a new awareness prickling my skin.
No, I can’t think like that now. She’s Tink, she’s my best friend and I am not about to turn her into my rebound. She’s more important to me than that.
We settle onto the dock with our feet dangling in the water. As I sit there, letting the sun dry my skin, I notice Gracie’s gaze fixed on my chest.
I’d almost forgotten about the new ink that now adorned my skin—a tribute to her, a little Tinkerbell silhouette poised right over my heart.
“Is that...” Her voice trails off, but her eyes are wide, locked on the tattoo. Her hand moves as if to touch it, then she pulls back. “A Tinkerbell?”
I nod, feeling a mix of nerves and pride. “Yeah. Got it a few months back,” I say, running a hand over it. “You know, for Tink.”
Gracie gasps softly, and I brace myself for her reaction, not sure what to expect. “Connor, you... you got a tattoo for me?”
Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and there’s an emotion there I haven’t seen before. It’s overwhelming and raw, and it makes my heart kick against my chest.
“Well, yeah,” I admit, trying to keep my voice steady. “You’ve been... I mean, you’re important to me, Gracie. You’re my best friend, and I wanted to... I guess I wanted to have a piece of you with me, no matter where I go.”
For a moment, she’s silent, just staring at the small fairy inked on my skin. Then, slowly, a smile spreads across her face. She reaches out then, her fingers tracing the outline of Tinkerbell gently.
“You’ve kept me grounded, like an anchor. You’re my Tink, always pulling me back when I’m about to fly off the handle. It felt right, you know?” I say it as if it’s the simplest explanation.
Of course, I don’t mention how Ava freaked out when she saw it, knowing what my nickname for Gracie was. She was always insecure, thinking there was more between me and my best friend, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
Well…
Her finger lingers on my skin, her touch light as air, yet it anchors me more than she probably knows. “That’s... Connor, that’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me,” she says, her voice thick with unshed tears.
I shrug, trying to play it off, but inside, I’m soaring. “It’s nothing,” I tell her. “Just ink.”
“I love it,” she says simply, but her eyes are speaking volumes.
We don’t say much after that, but we don’t need to. Some things are better felt than said. And as we sit there, side by side on the dock, I realize that this tattoo, this piece of art that’s now a part of me, it’s not just about holding onto a piece of her. It’s about acknowledging that my life is better with her in it—whether I’m on the road or right here by this lake.
I wish I could ask her about her new ink, but since it’s not visible in her swimsuit, she’ll know I saw it when she was naked and shit would be awkward again.
Gracie breaks the silence after, her voice soft, “Connor, whatever it is... you know you can tell me, right?”
I do know that. But some truths are like lead, too heavy to lift, too heavy to carry. I manage a nod, not trusting my voice.
She leans her head on my shoulder, a gesture as familiar as the chords I play on my guitar. “When you’re ready,” she says, and I’m grateful for the lack of pressure.
We stay like that until the sun begins to dip low, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. It’s beautiful, but I can’t fully appreciate it, not with the turmoil inside me.
“Hungry?” I ask, hoping the distraction of food will keep my mind from wandering down paths it shouldn’t go.
“Starving,” she replies with a laugh, and we make our way back to the cabin.
I fire up the grill, and we cook some burgers, the scent mingling with the lake air. We eat on the porch, the silence between us now filled with the sounds of nature—the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, and the distant lapping of water against the shore.
As the day fades into evening and the sky turns a soft orange, I realize that this is what I needed. Not the screaming fans or the flashing lights, but peace, quiet, and Gracie.
I watch her as she cleans up, her movements efficient and familiar. There’s a grace to her, even in the simplest of tasks, and I feel a surge of affection for this woman who’s been my constant in a life that’s anything but.
“Thanks for today, Tink. I needed this,” I say, the honesty of my words hanging between us.
She turns to me, a soft smile on her lips. “Anytime, Connor. You know I’m always here.”
And I do know. I’ve always known. But it’s in moments like this that I truly understand the depth of what that means.