Page 37 of Saving Grace

Morley, that’s right.

“I can always beyourthird wheel.” His gaze tracks up and down my body, real slow. My heart clambers through the next beat. I move into Mack’s side, trying to ignore the thump rattling up my airways. The last time I saw that look on a man’s face, Joel and Jimmy had just decided I was prey.

“Tickets!” the woman on the gate calls.

I stumble backward and rush for the gate, grabbing Mack’s hand. He all but topples over, trying to catch up to me on his lone crutch and one good leg. I force air in and out of my lungs, gripping his hand too tight. He hands the lady the tickets and follows behind as we pad down the walkway to the first free carriage. Safely inside, I turn back and lock the gate.

Mack is on the seat beside me in a heartbeat. He leans his crutch by the half door.

My chest is rising and plummeting so fast, stars fade into my peripherals. A hand folds over mine on my leg. “Hey, you alright?”

I can’t respond.

I think I shake my head. I can’t tell.

“Morley has that effect on people.” He chuckles, but it dies out when my rigid body doesn’t move. I don’t look at him and my chin wobbles.

Dammit.

“Grace, look at me.” His hand is on my face. My breathing shatters. He turns my chin so I face him.

His hand drops away.

“Fuck, Gracie. You need to get off the ride?”

A moan slips through my lips, turning to a whimper as he folds me into his side, his arm around my shoulders. He holds me there until the ride starts up and we are high in the sky. The cool night air washes in, brushing over my heated cheeks, cooling the salty tears covering my face. I wipe them off and suck in a breath.

“You need me to listen?” he offers. His voice is soft, like with Trigger.

I want to say something. To have the courage to open my mouth and tell him. But it’s my burden. He has enough of his own.

“Grace, nobody has a reaction like that and can hold it in without it eatin’ them alive.”

Now I look up at him. Worry claims his face—his eyes are tight with it. I dry my palms on my jeans and sit up taller. He removes his arm and nudges me with his shoulder. “You’re safe, okay.”

I nod.

If anyone understands feeling afraid, it’s him. My fear pales in comparison to the things he’s seen and been through. With that thought, I push past the self-conscious part of me that wants to bottle up my life and toss it to sea to be washed away.

“If I can, I want to tell you where I was before the ranch. Only, after all you’ve been through, it feels stupid. I mean, most of it was my own fault.”

His face hardens. “I doubt that.”

I huff a strangled breath.

“I know we’re not exactly friends, so I’ll keep it to the abridged version.”

“Unabridged, please.” His voice is gravel.

“Okay, fine. I’ll start with the moment everything changed for me.”

I tell him about the day I met Joel. My studies, my art, and how painting was my life. My scholarship. My guaranteed internship. My parents and their lofty expectations and strict rules. The moment I thought I was in love with Joel.

Mack shifts on his seat, as if uncomfortable with being holed up in the small carriage. He prompts me to keep going. I tell him about the day I left home and how my parents turned their backs on me. The freedom I felt living my own life and just painting day in and day out. The week all that was taken away, when Joel lost his job. The hard, long months that followed.

Lastly, I tell him about the first time I ever felt real fear. On my twenty-first birthday, the night I left. With the threat of beingraped by the man who was supposed to love me and his junkie friend. The fist that met my face.

My words run out.

---