Page 15 of Giving Grace

Yeah, that’s probably a lie too.

She stares at me for a moment and I can see it. How much she wants to argue. How much she wants to point out that I have a living, breathing, four-year-old proof that I don’t have a very good track record when it comes to handling anything. Instead of saying it out loud, she stops cleaning her brush and shrugs. “Keys to the center are hanging on the hook in the laundry room. Alarm code is 7739. He’s in apartment 510.” Turning, she loads her clean brush with color—a deep, vibrant red—before lifting it to the canvas again. “Go on—I’ll keep an ear out for Moll, just shoot me an I’m not dead text when you get there so I know you made it safe.”

I stood there for all of three seconds before I was out the door. Fifteen seconds later, I had my coat on and I was on the stairs, keys to the center in hand. Ten minutes after that, I’d sent my obligatory text to my sister and I was standing outside Ryan’s apartment, asking myself what the fuck?

What the fuck I’m doing here?

Getting answers.

And an apology.

That’s what I’m doing here.

He owes me both and I’m here to get them.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I square my shoulders and knock on the door in front of me.

Listening hard for the shuffle thump of his cane, all I can do is stare at him, eyes wide, jaw slack, when he pulls the door open less than a few seconds after I knocked.

Jesus, he’s beautiful. Even in track pants and a T-shirt I’ve never seen before, with a week’s worth of hermit beard shadowing his jawline, I can’t take my eyes off him. Can’t breathe because suddenly he’s right in front of me, close enough to touch.

As soon as he sees me, Ryan lifts his free arm to brace it against the doorframe—either because he’s using the added support to alleviate the pressure that standing without his cane puts on his leg or because he’s afraid I’m going to barge my way into his apartment and he doesn’t want me to.

“What are you doing here?” Despite the question, he doesn’t look surprised to see me. If anything, he looks like he’s been expecting me. Like he’s been waiting for me and wonders what’s taken me so long to get here.

Because I’m wondering the same thing, I shrug. “I’ve changed my mind.” Pushing my way past him, I’m mildly surprised when he drops his arm and lets me into his apartment. Taking a quick spin, I see hardwood floors and a wide, bare bank of windows overlooking the street. A sectional leather sofa. A huge, state-of-the-art flat screen on the opposite wall. Finishing my turn, I face the open front door again. Ryan is still standing in front of it, looking at me like he can’t quite figure out how I got past him. “You owe me an apology,” I tell him with a firm nod of my head. “And I’m here to get it.”

Ten

Ryan

For one heart-stopping, stomach-churning second I just stand here and stare at her because I think she wants me to apologize for this morning. What happened.

With my dick.

And then I realize that she’s talking about what happened last night. What I said to her when she offered to share her bed with me. How shitty I was to her.

“Grace—”

“I’ll even make it easy for you,” she says while she takes off her coat, jerking on its buttons so hard it’s a wonder they don’t pop off. “Grace, I’m sorry if fingerfucking you in my hospital room gave you the wrong idea but—” She yanks the last button free and starts to struggle out of her coat. “the truth of the matter is, and you get to fill in the appropriate answer here, A—” Coat off, she tosses it over the back of the couch. “I’m still in love with Tess.”

“Jesus Christ.” Trying not to yell, I drop my hand on the back of head so hard I feel a twinge in my neck. ”I’m not in love—”

“Don’t interrupt me.” She holds a hand up between us, palm thrust toward me like a traffic cop. “B—you’re kinda slutty, being how you let me into your pants approximately five minutes after we met and I don’t get serious with sluts or C—”

“Don’t.” I bark it at her, slamming the front door shut, hard enough to make her jump. “You’re not a slut, so don’t ever let me hear you talk about yourself like that again.” Raising my hand, I rake rough fingers through my hair while I let out a shaky breath because she’s looking at me like she just realized that I’m blocking her only escape route. “I was there too, you know,” I tell her, moving away from the door, toward the kitchen. If she’s gonna run, she better do it now. “What happened was as much my doing as it was your—maybe more.” Yanking open the refrigerator door, I can feel her watching me. Bending forward I scissor two long necks between my fingers and pull them off the shelf. Buried in the fridge, I was halfway sure I’d climb out to find my front door hanging open and my apartment deserted, but when I straighten, she’s still there. Still staring at me. Still looks like she wants to run. “I wanted you. I wanted you so damn much my hands were shaking. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve felt like that? Like—” Me. Instead of saying it out loud, I slam the fridge door shut and twist the caps off the beers in my hand before setting them on the counter to stare at them. It would be easier to lie. To tell her I’m in love with Tess—keep using my convoluted feelings for her like a shield—but it’s a lie. One I can tell myself all day long, but I can’t tell it to Grace. Can’t hurt her. Not like that. So, I tell her the truth. “And—and I’m only going to say this one more fucking time—I am not in love with Tess.”

“I heard you.” As soon as she says it, I turn around to look at her and her mouth snaps shut. Her cheeks lose their indignant flush.

Beers forgotten, I lean my hips against the counter and cross my arms over my chest. “You heard me what?”

Even though I haven’t moved an inch, she takes a step back, away from me, like she feels the need to put distance between us. Like I’m unpredictable. Unstable and she’s afraid of what’s going to happen after she says what comes next. “The other night—when Declan brought you upstairs and dumped you in Molly’s bed.” She rubs her hands on the legs of her jeans like she’s nervous. Like she’s telling me something she shouldn’t. “You said, I should’ve taken her from you when I had the chance—you were talking about Tess.” She stops rubbing and looks away from me. “It’s okay, Ryan—I get it,” she says on a sigh, not giving me a chance to explain what she overheard. “What happened between us was a mistake—” she flips her hands at me and shrugs before forcing herself to look at me again. “I mean, it barely even happened, right?” Now she laughs but there’s no humor in it. “So, don’t—”

“It happened.” The tone of my voice sounds off, even to me. I sound angry. Maybe even a little hurt. “I took you into my room. I pinned you against the door and made you come on my fingers. That happened and it wasn’t a fucking mistake—not for me—so, don’t say that it was.”

For a second, neither of us says anything. Grace just stares at me, her hands back to rubbing themselves raw on the legs of her jeans. “Okay…” She nods at me and looks away, unsure of what to say next. Finally, she clears her throat and shrugs. “Well, I didn’t tell anyone about it, and I didn’t tell anyone about… this morning, so you don’t have to worry about—”

“I’m not the one who should be worried.” It’s a warning and I make sure she knows it. Make sure she hears the intent in my tone. That she knows exactly what’s going to happen next if she doesn’t leave. “I’m not the one who came to what is basically an abandoned building in the middle of the night to stir up shit with a guy who can’t stop thinking about what it felt like to make me come.”

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