Page 39 of Saving Grace

She snaps a carrot stick between her teeth and chews. Swallowing, she nods. “I do. I know I’m safe with you.”

The air rushes from my lungs.

I brush the stray strands of hair behind her ear, and she lifts her gaze up at me, her blue eyes darkened by the night. “You did get out. Look around, Gracie, you’re safe. And I’m glad you’re here.”

“Me too, but...” A sad smile grows on her face before she looks away. “I was in denial, I guess. I thought I was okay. Turns out, I was just tucked away here, busy and with good people.” She scoffs breathlessly. “Not even a full hour in the real world, and I was a mess.” She pulls her hair to the side and twists it in her hands. “God, I’m so angry.” The words teeter on a sob. “Angry for all the promises Joel broke. That he stole the last bit of trust I had in people after my parents. But most of all, I’m angry at myself for thestupidchoices I made. For giving up my career. For staying... as long as I did.”

“Not every choice you made was bad. You chose to leave. Great choice. You chose to work here. Brilliant choice.” Eyes burning into hers, my heart thunders in my chest.

A soft sigh falls from her lips as she takes a celery stick along with a cube of cheese. “Maybe.” Slumping into the sofa, she stares into the unlit fireplace. “I miss them.”

Brows dropping, I take a piece of cheese and a cherry tomato. “Who?”

“My parents. I understand why they did what they did. I threw everything away. We worked so hard to get a spot and the scholarship. I’m their only child. I know they felt betrayed. Probably still do.”

“That’s a possibility, but you’re their daughter. You do for family, Grace. No matter how hard it gets.”

Sweet Jesus, now I sound like Harry. And I realize, turning out like my old man isn’t such a bad thing. He’s spent his whole life protecting, loving, and helping his family. Even when it didn’t match his plans, meet his expectations, or if it was hard on him and Ma. My military career being the first example I can think of.

“I wish I could see Mama. I miss her the most.” The wobble in her voice has me shuffling closer. She leans her head on my shoulder. I can’t take my eyes from her beautiful face. Even broken with regret like it is now, she’s the most incredible woman I have ever met.

Determined—has to be, to put up with me.

Smart—abso-fuckin-lutely, look at everything she’s accomplished in her short life and the way she runs my life and home.

Tough—more than she will ever know.

“Anyway, thanks for letting me get stuff off my chest. It helps.” She swallows. “I know you suffered much worse, so I’ll shut up now.”

She dries her face, and I feel like that’s all she’s done in the past few hours. I plan to correct that the second the sun comes up. She thinks I’m tougher than her because my body was banged up worse. Physical wounds heal. A mindfuck like she’s lived through? Much harder to bounce back from.

“Soldiers are trained to cope with worst case. You didn’t sign up for the shit that went down in that house. If anyone on this sofa is the tough one, it’s you.”

She huffs a laugh and turns to face me. “Maybe we can be the tough ones together.”

God, my body reacts to those words like she just rose to her knees, crawled over the cushions, and sunk onto my lap. Withevery ounce of blood now racing south, my cock is rock-hard before the next breath.

Fuck, that is not what Grace needs.

I rein in the effect she has on me, being this close, this open, softening before me with her blue eyes now studying mine. A flash of her in the cinder block dump in a makeshift trailer park with him, scared and hurting, sees the wind in my sails disappear in an instant.

“What are you thinking, Mack?”

I brush a hand over my jaw. Her gaze follows the action, like she’s cataloging the shape of my face. “Just thinkin’ I should turn in.”

“With a face like that, you need all the beauty sleep you can get.” She stands and darts away from the sofa as I toss a cushion at her. With a giggle, she rounds the sofa and readjusts her dressing gown around her chest. “Night, Mack.”

“Night, Gracie.”

She walks down the hallway to her room. The door closes. I lay my head back on the back of the seat and blow out a breath, eyes closing. The fire in my core hasn’t lessened a bit seeing her walk away. The ghost of her softness pressed against my side, the weight of her head on my shoulder. The feel of her hand in mine... Every sensation blooms back to life as if she is right in front of me.

I’m impossibly hard.

And in need of a damn cold shower.

Pushing off the sofa, I pad to my bedroom. My hip is more settled than when I tried this an hour before. I lean on the counter and brush my teeth before flipping the shower on. Stripping on wobbly feet, I step into the water. The icy cold hits my skin, and I grunt. But unlike in the past, I’m still hard and strung out.

Hands against the tile, I hang my head. The water cools my body, not able to tame the heat I’m holding for the woman across the hall. I knew if I eliminated the space between us, this would happen. Knew it from the day I met her gaze, surrounded by laundry detergent. When those blue eyes found me. She looked at me—shesawme. Saw me as whole. Not like every other person who’s laid eyes on me since on tour.

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