Page 11 of Giving Grace

“Last year, I came home from work to find Cari’s ex-boyfriend on top of her in our living room—she was covered in blood and he was choking the life out of her.” He tilts his head a little, the tight angle of his jaw flashing white at the memory. “I can’t tell you for sure what happened after that. All I know is they took him away on a stretcher and I spent the next several hours being questioned by the cops,” he says, flashing me a quick, grim smile like he understands completely. “So, yeah—okay.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised by what he’s telling me—maybe it’s because he’s always been such a Boy Scout. The kid who pretended to sneak us free food at Benny’s when he worked the grill every summer but paid for it out of his own pocket when we weren’t looking. The kid who chased Mrs. McGintey’s dog for her when she let it out and scrubbed her front door after the rest of us neighborhood shits pelted it with eggs.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” I say it out of nowhere. Want to cut my tongue out the second I admit it. To make things worse keep talking. “With her—I think I fucked it up.”

Patrick has the good sense to frown at me when I say it because unlike Conner and despite the fact that the two of them have been pushing the two of us together since I made the mistake of expressing more than a passing interest in her, he understands that me anywhere near Grace is a really bad idea.

Bracing myself for the much needed, if you even look at my future sister-in-law, I’m going to break your legs and dump you on the street speech, I’m surprised when he says the one thing I don’t want to hear. “Of course, you did—you wouldn’t be much of a Gilroy if you didn’t.”

Before I can tell him the truth—that I’m not a Gilroy and he can’t just keep forgiving me for the fucked-up shit I keep pulling, Patrick reaches out and lays a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Come on—I’ll take you to the center so you can get settled into your new place.”

Seven

Grace

“I can’t wear this.”

Because Cari’s in her studio and I’m the only other adult here, I look up from the dining room table where I’m putting my sewing kit back together to find Tess standing a few feet away in the dress I cobbled together for her out of a black tank top with the words Gilroy’s Girl emblazoned across the front of it in fancy script.

“Why not?” I ask, giving her a critical once-over because I’m afraid that maybe it doesn’t fit or maybe she doesn’t look good in it.

No to both.

It’s fits perfectly and Tess, with her petite frame, long dark hair and light hazel eyes set in a pixie face that can only be described as adorable, looks pretty perfect in it.

“Because—” She aims a panicked look downward and throws up her hands. “Because I’m practically fucking naked, that’s why not.”

“You swear almost as much as Ryan does,” Molly interjects from the kitchen counter where she’s squeezing a PB&J so she can lick the peanut butter and jam from its oozing corner.

“Sorry,” Tess says, shifting her panic from the fact that she’s wearing a dress to the fact that she dropped an F-bomb in front of Molly. “I’m not used to being around kids.”

“It’s okay,” I say with a wave of my hand and a laugh. “Believe me, she’s heard worse.”

“Especially if she’s been hanging out with Ryan,” Tess answers with a laugh of her own while she gives the hem of her makeshift dress a tug. “Speaking of Ry—I’m sorry about Thursday, About Declan bringing him up here and dumping him on your doorstep. If I’d thought about it, I would’ve remembered that Cap’n and Cari weren’t here and I—”

“It’s okay.” I say it again, this time the laugh that comes with it feels false. Sounds forced, even to me. “Declan already apologized. Besides…” I roll up my kit and concentrate on tying it closed. “having him here was kinda nice. He played with Grace and made her breakfast.”

“Just regular toast yesterday but this morning we made the French kind,” Molly quips from her seat at the counter. “Can I be done?”

Grateful for an excuse to look away from Tess and the expression on her face, I look at Molly and nod even though all she’s done is squeeze her sandwich into a ball and suck out its guts. “Go wash your hands.” As soon as she’s hopped from her stool and down the hall, I risk a look at Tess. “There’s nothing going on,” I tell her. “Between Ryan and me. Molly’s developed some sort of obsession with him and he’s been nice to her. To me.”

“I keep saying the same thing about Declan,” Tess stops yanking on her hemline long enough to look at me. “I keep telling people that nothing is going on. That even if something was going on, it wouldn’t be a big deal.” She gives me a lopsided smile that seems sad somehow. “But I’m lying. Mostly to myself because no one else is dumb enough to believe me. Something is definitely fucking going on, it’s a big deal, and it’s scaring the shit out of me.”

“That’s different,” I tell her, feeling defensive. “You and Declan have a history. You grew up together. Ryan and I barely know each other.” Even though it sounds reasonable, Tess shakes her head and laughs at me.

“You want to know about our history?” she says, taking a seat across the table from me. Before I can answer her, she continues. “Declan used to steal cars for my dad. He showed up at my dad’s shop one night, needing my help with a boost—stray cat got stuck in the engine. I was pretty prickly about the whole thing and he laughed at me. So I threw a crescent wrench at his face and split his chin open.” She smiles at the memory. “I had to superglue it shut so he didn’t bleed to death on my workbench,” she says with a shrug. “Every story has to start somewhere. Maybe this is the start of yours and Ryan’s.”

“The other night, when Declan brought him up here, I heard Ryan tell him that he should’ve taken you away from him when he had the chance.” I blurt it out, gaze averted. When she doesn’t answer me, I force myself to look at her. “So, like I said—this isn’t the start of anything because there’s nothing going on between Ryan and me. There can’t be.”

Because of you.

Because of the way he feels about you.

I don’t say it but the implication is clear enough for the both of us.

Tess sighs. “Ryan doesn’t love me, Grace.” It’s the tone of her voice that makes me look at her. Like she’s absolutely sure. Like I’m stupid for thinking he might. “He might’ve when we were kids but now I think it’s just…” She shakes her head. “easier to keep pretending rather than face the truth of what’s going on.”

What’s going on.

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