Chapter Fifteen Mercy #2
First, we hadn’t just had sex once. Based on this photo, we were clearly having a whole bunch of it. If I saw a shot like this of someone else, I’d assume they were thirty seconds away from a public indecency charge.
Second, we were willing to show everyone this side of us. It wasn’t hidden. It wasn’t a secret.
I screwed my eyes shut and tried to conjure something. Anything. I’d take the slightest bit of memory, even a fleeting sensation that anchored these images in reality. A foothold that I could use to boost myself a step higher.
But there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
That same hot, helpless sensation swept over my cheekbones and down my throat, and I willed it away with a ruthless swallow.
After I’d checked the locks on the front and back doors, I stopped to study the sky as the last remnants of the sun turned wispy lines of clouds into a stunning light show.
The days were getting longer now as we steered closer to summer, and the vivid reds and glowing oranges made me think of something my dad used to say.
Red sky at night, sailor’s delight.
Tomorrow would be a beautiful day, if that was to believed—full of warmth and sunshine.
He loved those days. Then he could sit outside and drink until the sun went down, instead of staying cooped up inside.
I liked them, too, because I had more freedom.
I’d be able to wander the neighborhood until the sky went dark, and no one would notice I was gone.
I turned away from the window, sadness pulling my shoulders tight as I turned off lights and walked down the hallway toward our bedroom. Before entering, I paused, resting my forehead against the door.
“You can do this,” I whispered. “It’s just a bed, and he’s just a man.”
The words were simple enough to give me the courage to turn the knob and walk in.
Grant was already in bed, his back against the headboard and his leather-bound journal in his lap, glasses still perched on his nose as he wrote something down.
He was wearing a black T-shirt that probably cost a thousand dollars, and I was thankful for it.
If he’d been shirtless, I might have had an aneurysm.
I looked away just as he raised his head. I wasn’t ready for meaningful eye contact just yet.
“You were quiet at dinner,” he said, his gaze heavy on me as I walked into the closet and kicked off my shoes. The drawer holding my jewelry was still within view, but I kept my focus in front of me as I removed my necklaces and earrings. I left the ring on.
“Just trying not to screw anything up.”
The drawer closed soundlessly, and I turned around, ducking out of eyesight, undoing the top button on my jeans and shimmying them down my hips.
I left them on the floor, my silk blouse joining them a moment later.
I stepped into a pair of the black pajamas, choosing a pair of shorts instead of the pants because I was already warm.
Before adding the matching shirt, I found a soft bralette and slipped that on, then buttoned up the shirt with trembling fingers.
Being braless in bed with Grant was just . . . a giant, screaming no.
I could only ask so much of myself, and that crossed an invisible line.
We stayed quiet while I brushed my teeth and washed my face.
When I exited the bathroom, I was pulling my hair up into a knot on the top of my head with a satin scrunchie. I finally dredged up the nerve to look in his direction. The glasses and journal were gone, and the removal of the former allowed me to breathe a bit easier.
“Your mother and I had a little visit.”
“Just now?”
I nodded, pulling back the corner of the blanket on my side of the bed but not getting in just yet. “She was worried about you. Thought you might still be up.”
“Worried? Did she say why?”
I took a fortifying breath and slid under the covers, lying in a straight line with my head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. “She noticed the same thing you did.” My eyes cut briefly to his. “About me being quiet.”
“Ah.”
“And that you’re being careful with me.” The blankets felt different tonight, with another body underneath.
My palms smoothed over the woven pattern as Grant shifted down to his back as well.
The heat of his body was shockingly close, considering the size of the bed.
“Apparently that was enough to send up the warning flares.”
“Yes, I imagine it would.”
He sounded so tired. I turned onto my side and studied his profile as he briefly pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.
“What if I can’t do this?” I whispered. “Do we tell them the truth?”
Grant’s hand fell away from his face, but he didn’t turn in my direction. Not for a long moment. Behind his eyes, I could see the wheels turning. Could see when they stopped and he arrived at a decision.
He turned onto his side as well, his gaze boring into mine. “The truth is tricky, isn’t it? We’ve already learned that the hard way. Handled incorrectly, we may not like the consequences.”
What struck me most as he spoke was that I could already feel the stress leaching from my frame.
The silence stretched between us, his eyes searching mine like they did every so often, like he was looking for a hint of something that wasn’t quite there yet.
Lying this close, even though I was surrounded by that addicting scent of his, just a lingering hint of it at the end of the day, I felt calmer than I had since I woke that morning.
More grounded than I had since his family arrived.
Grounded. That was a lofty concept, wasn’t it?
A connection point that kept you safe. It made me think about my kids learning about grounding wires in science and how important they were.
In case of a sudden surge of electricity, a ground ensured that the flow of excess energy wouldn’t cause any further damage.
It was a safety measure. A shield of sorts.
When had Grant become mine?
From the moment I woke up, he’d been there to direct the flow of the blast, something meant for me but not necessarily the best thing for my recovery. He’d absorbed all of it.
It made me wonder what was crackling under his surface. What he held back just to ensure that I was safe.
“She said I was good for you,” I whispered. His eyes flickered, dipping down to my mouth.
“Did she?” His voice was hardly audible, so low and charged.
I nodded, wetting my lips with a brief flick of my tongue. “That we were good for each other.”
“My mother has always been very astute.”
“So you agree with her?”
Grant’s frame expanded on a deep breath, and when he exhaled, I smelled mint. His toothpaste.
He’d taste of it. So would I.
There was a raw, pained scream beating at my subconscious to know what his tongue felt like, if it was as good as it looked in that picture.
It would be, I knew it would. Maybe, just for a moment, we could lose ourselves in it and find a reprieve from the hard.
I could lose myself in him easily. I could pretend.
Pretend it was all okay, and we’d come out of this fine.
Pretend like I remembered.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he begged in a rough voice.
I closed my eyes and let out a shaky sigh. “Sorry.”
“No, you bloody well aren’t.”
The rueful tone of his voice made me exhale a quiet laugh.
“No, I’m not.”
When I opened my eyes, he was turning onto his back again, his eyes trained on the ceiling. If it weren’t for the color high in his cheeks, he’d be the picture of restraint. “Go to sleep. Tomorrow’s another big day.”
Rest felt impossible, with my blood buzzing and my pulse thrashing in my ears. But I respected the invisible line he’d drawn. As I faded into sleep, I couldn’t help but wonder when that line would snap, and which of us would be the one to leap past it once it did.