Page 150 of Just Let Go

“In your loft.” There was mischief behind his grin.

“You do remember.” She faced him. “I always assumed it was one of those drunk things you forgot.”

He shook his head. “I remember. You made me feel like I could do anything. Even then, back when you couldn’t stand me.”

She laughed. “You couldn’t stand me either.”

“But I liked kissing you.” He waggled his eyebrows. His smile faded and his expression turned serious. “You’re probably wondering about my family.”

She handed him a mug of coffee and sat down across from him. “I didn’t want to pry.”

“I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I figured.”

“But you deserve to know.” A long pause then—so long Quinn wondered if he’d changed his mind.

She reached out and covered his hand with her own.

“I don’t know where to start.” His eyes glossed over, haunted.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said. “Take your time.”

He met her eyes. “You’re just so good, Quinn. Why are you wasting your time with someone as screwed up as me?”

She moved onto the sofa next to him, still clasping his hands in her own. “I happen to think there is a lot of good in you, Grady Benson. More than you know.”

He shook his head. “You don’t know the whole story.”

“Tell me.”

Grady didn’t want to come clean or recount the story or allow his past to shape what she thought of him today. Sure, she knew a lot of the mistakes he’d made, but not this—nobody knew this one.

And yet he trusted her. She deserved the truth more than he deserved the comfort of his silence.

He drew in a deep, shaky breath, wishing he had his usual liquid courage.

She squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Grady. Whatever it is.”

But it didn’t feel okay. And it wasn’t okay to his father. And it would never be okay for Benji. But Grady had been held captive by his guilt for too long. “I was fourteen. Benji was sixteen. We discovered skiing when we were really young. Our dad took us, and I guess he thought we had potential. That or he forced us to be good at it. Either way, by the time we hit that age, I thought I knew everything.” He picked up the mug of coffee and took a sip.

“Benji was a lot more cautious than I was. And a lot more talented. I think part of that ticked me off. Even then, I wanted to be the best. We were out skiing one night, and there was a section of our woods that hadn’t been cleared. Trail skiing wasn’t something Benji ever did, but I loved it, and I knew I could beat him if I could get him to race me.”

He’d never told this story. Not to a single living soul. Regret squeezed the back of his throat, willing him to keep the words buried where they’d been living all these years.

He found her eyes, and something in them told him it was okay to go on.

“It was a stupid bet, really,” Grady said. “But he took it and we shot through the woods like we knew where we were going. The snow was deep. Deep enough to hide stumps and rocks and the roots of some of the bigger trees.”

He could still feel the wind on his face as they whipped down the slope. The cleared trail was only a few yards away, but they stayed on the rough terrain—Grady in front and Benji not far behind.

“Come on, Bro, is that all you’ve got?” Grady egged Benji on, daring his brother to try to catch him, knowing there was no way he would. Not today. He led them through the trees and around the curve, and that’s when Benji took off to the left in an effort to cut Grady off. Grady sliced left too, securing his lead as they both jumped, air between their skis and the ground.

Grady’s voice shook. “I landed hard but upright. But Benji...”

Quinn’s hand found his again.

Grady swiped his free hand across his face. “I thought he was still behind me.” His eyes clouded over and he stared down, latching on to the way her hand looked on his. “The jump wasn’t even high—and Benji was a trick skier. He’d jumped a lot higher and farther and faster so many times before, but because the snow was so deep, he didn’t see the huge tree stump. Landed right on it. Severed his spinal cord.”

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