Page 10 of Giving Grace

“Grace, get your sewing kit,” Cari calls from the laundry room, and just like that, it’s over. Everything is back to normal.

I do what I always do.

I put the shame away and pretend it never happened.

Six

Ryan

I found my cane.

It was tossed on top of Patrick’s desk like it’d been abandoned there. Probably by Declan when he carried me upstairs Thursday night and dumped me on Grace’s doorstep.

Pretending I don’t give a fuck, one way or the other, I stop long enough snatch it off the desk. “Told you it wasn’t lost,” I mutter under my breath while planting the end of it into the floor, ready to use it propel myself out of the office and down the hall.

“You say something?”

Christ.

Swiping my free hand over my mouth, I smother a curse and toss a look over my shoulder. Patrick is a few feet away, just standing there like he’s waiting for me to do something. “Not important,” I say, dropping my hand. I knew he was going to follow me down when I left—half mother hen, worried that I’d fall down the stairs, half pissed off warden because I keep fucking up on his watch and he’s tired of dealing with my shit. “Look, about the shit that happened the other day—”

“What shit?” He looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about “Ohhh…” He shakes a finger at me and cocks his head to the side. “You mean when you limped your crippled ass into the stairwell and proceeded to beat the shit out of a bunch of orderlies—that the shit you’re talking about?”

He’s pissed. He has every right to be but as soon as he says it, I feel the back of my neck go hot, my jaw go tight. “Is this the part where I’m supposed to apologize for putting a beating on that piece of shit, because if it is—”

“A beating?” he barks back at me on a laugh. “Did you say a beating? I wish it’d been just a beating. My fucking kingdom for a beating.”

“Okay.” My grip tightens around the head of my cane while I resist the urge to use it as a weapon. “I get it. I fucked up, but—”

“Fucked up? Beating?” He laughs again and seriously, the sound of it is like sandpaper being scrubbed against my last viable nerve. “Well, you’re just the King the Understatements today, aren’t you?” Swiping a hand over his face, he glares at me. “He’s already screaming lawsuit.” When I don’t respond, he leans in and sighs.

He’s going to sue me, Ryan.”

Hearing him say it makes me instantly sick. Like I might throw up, all over the desk. But still, I can’t feel sorry about what I did. Can’t make myself wish I could take it back. “Sue you? For what? I didn’t—”

“You put him in the hospital, Ryan.” Something that looks dangerously close to defeat passes over his face. “For fuck’s sake, you broke his—”

“Good.” Last nerve rubbed raw, I snarl it at him like an animal. “I hope he thinks about me, every time he takes the stairs.”

“Good? Jesus, Ry.” He drops his hand and lets out a heavy sigh like he’s having a hard time keeping it to together. Like trying to reason with me is a goddamned chore. “You can’t. You can’t just go around—”

“Grace.” As soon as I say her name, Patrick’s mouth snaps shut. “Shit…” I drop my ass on the desktop with a weary thump. “Grace and Molly were there, before—they came by the center to see me.” I stop for a second, waiting for him to ask me why in the hell Grace would drive all the way to Cambridge to see my sorry ass, even though I have no idea what I’m going to say if he does. When he doesn’t, I pick the story up again. “Anyway, when they left, I decided to take the stairs.” He knows what that means. We both do. When I decide to take the stairs that means I know Rich and his goons are there, waiting for me, and that I went looking for a fight. “Everything was fine, everyone was getting their fair share, until Rich started saying things about Grace.”

As soon as I say it, Patrick’s entire body goes stiff. “Things,” he repeats in a low, hard tone. “What kind of things?”

Hey, Frankendick—who’s the hot little blonde? Think she’ll let me fuck her? I mean, it’s not like you’re fucking her, right? Maybe I’ll go find her. Show her what a real man can do to her.

“The kind of things that get you put in a hospital if you say them to the wrong person.” I take another swipe at my face. A part of me wants to leave it at that. Pretend I don’t remember, but that other half needs to say it. Needs Patrick to know why I lost my shit. “He threatened her. Asked me if I thought she’d let him fuck her. Said he was going to find her. Show her—”

“Rich threatened Grace and your response was to try to kill him.”

Yes.

I remember thinking it. Wanting it. Instead of saying so, I just make an affirmative-sounding noise in the back of my throat because he’s right. I had every intention of killing Rich for the threats he made about Grace and as crazy as that makes me, I’m not sorry for it.

When I don’t say anything else, Patrick clears his throat and nods. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I say it back to him on a rusty chuckle. “I pretty much just admitted to attempted murder and that’s all you have to say—okay?”

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