9. Grace
Chapter 9
Grace
I stare at the glass of apple juice in my hand, swirling the liquid as if it’ll magically give me the answers I’ve been avoiding. Wine does that; not apple juice, but my little peanut inside me demands apple juice.
The night breeze drifts through the open window, carrying the faint sound of waves from the harbor. It should be soothing, but it’s not. Not tonight.
Because my mind keeps replaying the evening with Kane. His words. That look in his eyes. The way he saw through me like no one else ever has.
“Not for you,” he’d said, like it was a fact written in the stars. Like he believed I was destined for more than the hollow ache that comes with pretending I don’t want love.
But he’s wrong. Isn’t he?
I take a sip of the juice, trying to drown out the memory of his voice, but it doesn’t work. Kane’s impossible, infuriating, reckless... and somehow, he’s gotten in my head in a way that no one else ever has.
It’s not just the way he teases me, though god knows that gets my blood boiling. It’s the way he looked at me tonight, his cocky smirk replaced by something raw, something real. Vulnerability in Kane is like seeing a crack in armor you didn’t think could break and damn it if it didn’t make me feel seen in a way I didn’t realize I needed.
I hate it.
I hate that he has this power over me, that I let him see me crumble for even a second. He called me incredible. Beautiful. Words that should’ve made me roll my eyes, but instead, they linger, pressing into my chest like they belong there.
“Get a grip, Grace,” I mutter to myself, setting the glass down with a little too much force.
The truth is, tonight rattled me. Not just because of Kane, but because of me. Because I let myself have hope. Hope that maybe he was right. That maybe I’m not as broken as I feel.
But then the memories come flooding back, the highlight reel of every failed relationship I’ve ever had. The arguments, the betrayals, the slow, painful unraveling of something I once thought was love. It’s like my brain is on autopilot, determined to remind me that I’m the common denominator in all of it.
There was James, who left me for someone “easier to deal with.” That’s how he’d put it. Easier. Like my sharp tongue and refusal to settle made me a burden he couldn’t carry.
And then there was Andrew, who promised me the world but gave it to someone else behind my back. I can still remember the way his excuses cut deeper than the betrayal itself. “You’re too guarded, Grace. You never let anyone in.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe they all were.
I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair, the knot of tension in my chest tightening with every thought as I push down a wave of nausea. It’s not that I don’t want love. I do. I want the kind of love that’s real and unshakable, the kind that makes you feel like you’re home no matter where you are. But every time I get close, I can’t help but pull back, like I’m afraid of what it’ll cost me if it all falls apart.
And it always falls apart .
I close my eyes, the image of Kane at the marina flashing behind my lids. He’d stood so close, his voice low and rough, his hand brushing against mine like it was the most natural thing in the world. He’d made me feel like I wasn’t alone in my doubts, like he understood the weight of it all.
But that’s just Kane, isn’t it? Always saying the right thing, always knowing how to get to me. I should’ve brushed him off, should’ve walked away like I always do. Instead, I stayed. I let him see too much.
And now, I can’t stop wondering what he sees when he looks at me.
Does he see the woman who has it all together, the one I work so hard to present to the world? Or does he see the cracks beneath the surface, the fears I try to bury under layers of sarcasm and deflection?
I shake my head, frustration bubbling up inside me. It doesn’t matter what Kane sees. It doesn’t matter that he makes me feel things I haven’t felt in years. Because at the end of the day, he’s Kane. The man who thrives on chaos, who knows exactly how to push my buttons. He’s not the kind of man you build a future with; the kind you have a family with.
But then why does the thought of him walking away feel like a punch to the gut?
I grab the glass of juice again, taking a long sip as I stare out the window. The moon hangs low over the water, its reflection shimmering on the waves. It’s a beautiful night; the kind that should make me feel at peace.
Instead, I feel restless. Torn between the part of me that wants to believe Kane’s words and the part of me that knows better.
“Maybe some people just aren’t meant to find it,” I’d said. And I’d meant it.
But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I wonder if maybe I’m wrong.