Page 27 of Saving Grace

A knock rattles the door. I freeze, swallowing down the last mouthful.

No.

That was way too fast.

Another knock. “Mackie-boy? Anyone home?”

Relief floods my body and I all but drop the mug onto the counter. Rushing to the door, I fling it open. A guy, older than Mackinlay and dressed like he just stepped off the city subway, stands on the other side of the threshold.

“You must be Lawson?” I ask.

“Yes, ma’am.” His grin is almost as charismatic as Reed’s.

I chuckle and step back as heat floods my cheeks. I will never get used to this cowboy etiquette. The kindness bundled up with happiness, smothered in politeness. It’s overwhelming for someone who’s been living with the literal devil for almost three years.

“You must be Grace. I’m Mackie-boy’s older brother. One of them, at least.”

“Mackie-boy?” My face is twisted in disbelief that Mackinlay could have a lovable nickname like that.

“Oh yeah, hehatesit when I call him that.” Lawson’s grin grows wider.

I hold a hand out to take one of his bags. He shakes his head and steps inside. “I know where I’m going, Gracie, but thanks.”

“Oh, okay.” I shut the door as he drops his bags and runs a hand through his brown hair. He’s stunning. “How was your trip?”

“Long. But I don’t have the chance to come home as much as I would like. So, any excuse is a good one, if you ask me. Plus, the county fair is soon. Can’t miss that.”

“Oh, I’ve never been to one of those.”

A voice clears at the start of the hallway. Mackinlay leans on his crutches, eyes boring into his brother’s. “Should have stayed in the city, Laws.”

“How’s those exercises coming along, Mackie-boy?”

“Fuck off.” He pivots and stumbles before stalking away from us as fast as he can go. I move to go after him, but Lawson rests a hand on my arm. “I got it, Grace.”

I force a smile, but I feel like this is my fault. I pushed him with the yoga. Pretty sure I caused that panic attack he had with the plate that slipped through my fingers and smashed to the floor. I can’t seem to get it right. I feel safe here. But I’m not sure I belong. Or that my presence is benefiting Mackinlay.

If I have caused a setback for him, I will never forgive myself. After all his family has done for me.

I crack the window as Lawson wipes the sweat from his brow. The machines are heavy lifting. I’m helping, but who am I kidding—he is doing the bulk of the grunt work. I have a layout sketched in my book, setting out the room in the order of the physio program Mackinlay is supposed to do. We are setting it up to suit.

“You think he needs another fan in here?” I ask.

Lawson glances up from the ground where he’s sitting, legs spread in his running shorts and t-shirt. He pauses, his hands mid-hex-key turn on the back of the weight machine. “I guess he will be exerting himself in here. Yeah, put it on the list. I’ll grab one in town tomorrow.”

The idea of Mackinlay exerting himself in any sense sends my blood thundering through my veins in a way it absolutely shouldn’t. Lawson interrupts the thoughts I can’t rein in.

“You should take a room for yourself, Grace. This house is huge. Make a craft room or a library or someplace for yourself. Hell, I bet he wouldn’t even notice.”

“I can’t do that.”

I pluck a towel from the linen hamper and fold it in half. Folding it in half again, I roll it up. Placing it on the small table in the center of the wall by the door, I bend down to pluck up the next one.

“Sure you can. Since you’ll be the one making him do this routine three times a day, you’re going to need somewhere to hide out.” The grin that breaks across his face sends a chuckle up my throat. I toss a towel at him, and he catches it with one hand before throwing it back. I fumble the catch and fold the towel in half twice. Rolling it up, I glance to Lawson. “You really think he wouldn’t mind?”

“Nah, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, apart from a space for yoga, I—” I turn back and place the towel next to the first on the table.

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