Page 68 of Forbidden Kisses
Jack stepped back. “A boat won’t put it to rest, Grace…Noah is out of the tournament. And I am, too. It’s over.” He held out a hand to keep her from drawing any closer. “Suddenly I need some air, too.” Turning, he walked out of the building, down the steps, unsure of where he was going, just sure that he needed to go before he said or did anything he’d regret.
Because not everyone had a daughter like Grace who’d attempt to fix your mistakes.
Chapter 18
Grace had a feeling this fight wasn’t going to end with her and Jack in the shower. She sat behind her steering wheel in the parking lot, resisting her tears. She would not cry. Nope.
Tears burned behind her eyes. She was supposed to meet Krista and Abby tonight for Thirsty Thursday drinks. Drinking would mean crying right now, though. And crying on her friends’ shoulders was unacceptable. She wouldn’t spoil their fun.
One tear slipped away and slid down her cheek, landing on her lips. She swiped it away and took a deep breath. Both Noah and Jack were out. Her shot at the tournament was over. Just over.
Grace started her car and drove home in a fog. She walked inside her empty apartment and stripped off her clothing. Her phone rang, but she ignored it until her conscience took over. What if the call was about her mom? What if her mother needed her? She would always pick her mom if given a choice. She was her only family. “Hello,” Grace said, holding the phone’s receiver to her ear.
“Why aren’t you answering your phone?” Krista asked immediately. “Are you okay?”
“Debatable.” Krista, of course, was implying physically. The nurse in her was always checking on the physical. This problem of Grace’s, however, was about a guy.
“What do you mean? The fact that you reached the phone means you can call 911 if needed.”
“I’m fine. Or I’ll be fine,” Grace assured her.
“Good. So you’re coming to Castaways tonight?”
Grace shut her eyes, massaging the dull ache behind her forehead. “No. I’m staying in and doing one of those Meg Ryan–a-thons, I think.”
“Uh-oh. Is this still about Noah?”
“And now Jack, too.” The throb in Grace’s head grew stronger. Maybe she did need an ambulance. Maybe this was an aneurysm or a stroke.
“Wrong answer,” Krista said. “You’re not bailing on Abby and me over a man. That’s not how this club works.”
“We’re in a club?” Grace asked, cracking one eye and squinting at the light in her kitchen. The refrigerator was humming noisily. There was another mysterious noise rattling through her apartment that she tried to identify—anything to take her mind off Jack.
“More of a terrific trio, and unless you’re on your deathbed, you’re coming out with us.”
Grace started to argue. “I don’t think—”
“I’ll be there in an hour,” Krista said, cutting her off. “I suggest you be ready when I get there, because while Joey doesn’t mind driving us around for free, if you make him wait, he starts to charge. I’ve learned this the hard way.”
“Your brother is a saint,” Grace said, straightening and heading to her bedroom.
“I know. So get dressed and we’ll pick you up.”
Grace nodded. She’d go because staying here would be all kinds of depressing. But she wouldn’t cry on her friends’ shoulders, she vowed. She’d always hated the idea of that. Whatever was going on between her and Jack, she’d handle it on her own the same way she always had.
An hour later, Joey’s cab honked outside her apartment. Grace stepped outside and locked her front door. Just seeing Krista and Abby’s face in the cab made her feel a little better. This would be good for her.
Grace took the backseat with Abby and forced a smile.
“Liar,” Abby said, calling her out on her fake smile. “Don’t worry. We’ve commiserated over the Sawyer brothers many times. Tonight will just be another.”
Grace fastened her seatbelt. “No need to commiserate. I’m fine.”
Krista glanced back and caught Abby’s eye.
Grace folded her arms and stared out the cab’s window. “Really, guys. I don’t want to talk about Jack.”
Joey started laughing as he drove them to the bar. “Good luck,” he called back. “My sister and Abby love commiserating.”
