Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ANGELO
Livy hasn’t come down to join me for a late-night snack tonight, so I'm sitting at the kitchen island—eating the snack I really want and enjoying the peace that comes with it—when a noise catches my attention. I turn just in time to see Gracie walking out of the in-law suite.
"Can't sleep either?" I ask as I dunk another Oreo into my cup of milk.
"Not exactly." She struts her cute ass across the kitchen in an oversized shirt tucked in the front of skintight booty shorts, and joins me at the island.
"I had dinner at my brother's house but was so exhausted when I got back that I passed out for a bit.
Now I'm wide awake because I screwed with my sleep schedule. "
I wince at her explanation. I have a feeling the reason she's exhausted is because of her day with Everly.
"I'm sorry. That's probably my fault."
She brushes my apology off with a wave of her hand before grabbing an Oreo out of the package. "It's no big deal. I mean, I give stay-at-home moms credit now, but it's fine. All new jobs require an adjustment period. This is just mine."
"Would you like your own glass of milk?" I ask when she dunks her Oreo in mine.
"Nope, I'm okay with sharing."
Surprisingly, I am as well.
"So how was dinner with your brother?"
Gracie scoffs as she puts the rest of the dripping Oreo in her mouth.
Around a dwindling mouthful, she says, "It started with some family drama.
Apparently my sister Annie has decided she wants to start a new business venture, but in the process, she went off the grid and no one knows where to find her. "
I start to choke on the Oreo I put in my mouth mid-explanation, coughing and sputtering crumbs everywhere.
Gracie pounds on my back. "Are you okay?"
Nope. I'm going to hell. But I can't say that, so I wave that I'm fine even though I have yet to catch my breath. At least if I'm going to die, it's while I'm eating my favorite snack.
Once I'm able to talk again, I explain. Well, sorta. I make up an excuse for my sudden near-death experience. "Wrong pipe." I point to my throat. "Damn midnight snack is finally going to be the death of me."
Gracie gifts me with a lighthearted chuckle that makes me feel even more like an asshole. I know where her sister is. Can ease her and her family’s minds with one or two sentences. And yet, I can't tell her unless I want to break the promise I made to Annie. So instead, I evade.
"I'm sure she just wants time to get things in order before telling everyone about it." I clear my throat. "I never asked and you never said, but what brought you to Willow Creek?"
Gracie flinches at my response and I want to kick myself. How could I be so incredibly insensitive.
I’m about to backtrack when she starts to respond. "Do you want the reason I give everyone, or the truth?"
Well, if that isn't ominous. "Whichever version you want to give me."
I can't exactly demand the truth when I'm keeping my own set of secrets.
She doesn't answer at first, and I don't demand that she does. We sit in comfortable silence, taking turns dunking chocolate cookies into the one glass of milk.
Almost ten minutes pass before Gracie speaks again.
"I tell everyone it's because I wanted a fresh start and I figured the new town my brother moved to was as good of a place as any.
" She dunks another cookie but doesn't put it in her mouth.
Just hovers it over the glass. "But the truth is I needed to get out of Chicago and away from my ex. "
Every protective instinct goes on high alert.
"What did he do?" I try to keep my voice level and the concern out of my question, but I fail miserably.
I look her over, but don't find a single bruise. Then I think about how long she's been in town and do some quick calculations. There's a good chance anything that she had on her is now healed.
That would make sense. There's no way she would come to town with bruises on her. Not with a brother like hers. I haven’t formally met the man yet, but I’ve heard all about him and his friends. I consider myself protective, but based on the rumors, those guys take it to the extreme.
"It's so cliché really. Boy meets girl. Boy is super romantic at first, but then once her guard is down, he changes.
It starts with him trying to control who she talks to.
He tries to separate her from her family and friends, but she refuses.
Things quickly escalate until he grabs her for the first time.
Except, unlike others, she doesn't stick around or try to play it off as a one-time thing. She gets the hell out of Dodge."
Gracie tells the story like she isn't the one it happened to. I’m not sure if it's a coping mechanism or avoidance, so I cautiously ask, "Does he know where you are?"
She shakes her head. "I doubt it. And with any luck, he won't ever figure it out. That night he pushed me around, he told me I was his. And if I ever left him, he would kill me. I guess you could say I'm unhinged enough that I didn't care, because I left anyway."
Not unhinged. More like smart. But that leaves me with a million more questions.
"Your brother doesn't know?"
The look on her face can only be described as desperate. "No, and he never can. Owen will kill him. He won't even think twice about it. I love my brother, but he takes his role as big brother very seriously. If he knew what happened, that would be the end of it for Jeremy."
"I'm not sure that's a bad thing," I grumble.
Gracie groans. "Not you too."
"Any decent man would want to protect the women in his life, no matter who they are. Assholes who beat up on women don't deserve to continue breathing. As a father of three girls, I would hope there are men in their lives besides me who would want to protect them."
"Okay, I'll give you that." She smiles. "Soooo .
. ." Gracie drags out the word as she dunks another cookie.
"Wonderful father of three, a-ton-of-greats-grandson to the founding father of the town, landlord to me, and boss to God only knows how many people.
What is it that you do for yourself, Ang? "
It’s silly how that one little question gets my heart racing. Because no one’s ever asked me that. They ask me about my family, town stuff, and even try butting into my love life, but no one cares enough to see what I enjoy doing just for myself.
"I'm restoring a 1947 Chevrolet 3100 series pickup truck. It’ll be powder blue when I'm done with it."
Gracie continues to stare at me without saying a word, but her lips turn up, so I ask, “What?”
"The excitement on your face when you told me about the truck. That's the kind of excitement everyone should have when they take on a hobby."
"What hobby makes you that excited?" I want to learn everything I can about this amazingly fun woman.
"I haven't found it yet. And not from a lack of trying. I pick up a new one every few months, but nothing has made me feel like what I just saw on your face."
Embarrassment tries to take hold, but Gracie's hand suddenly grabbing mine changes everything. I can't remember ever feeling a spark just from a simple touch. Not even with my late wife.
"Don't be embarrassed for how you feel about your restoration. I think it's great you found something that brings you joy. When did you start working on the truck?"
I clear my throat since her hand is still on mine and it’s making me feel something I haven’t in a long time.
"About a year ago. I saw the truck while I was on a job two towns over.
It was sitting in a field, wasting away, and I knew I could bring it back to life.
A classic like that didn't deserve the fate it was given. "
Gracie's entire face lights up with a megawatt smile. "I want that kind of love for a project someday."
"You'll find it. I'm sure of it."
She lets go of my hand and I feel the loss heavily, like she's taking my heart with her. That is until she stands up and presses a lingering kiss to my cheek.
"Goodnight, Ang. It was good talking to you."
And with nothing more to say, Gracie disappears back into her side of the house. Leaving me feeling more confused than ever as to what I'm going to do with her.