Текст книги "From the Wreckage"

Автор книги: Melissa Collins

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“Okay.” An odd look spreads across her face as she sits next to me. “But no matter what I say, you have to promise to say yes.” Her eyes narrow, holding me in their harsh stare. Sticking up her pinky, she waits for me to accept her terms.

“That’s an awfully lopsided agreement you’ve got there, missy.”

She says nothing, just pushes her pinky further into my face. The tiniest hint of a smile pulls at her lips as I wrap my pinky around hers. “I knew you’d go for it!” Her voice is a mixture of relief and victory.

“Whatever, just hurry up so I can get back out there.” Angling my head to the door, I’m anxious to get back to David.

“See that’s the thing. You can’t. You have to come with me,” she spits out quickly.

“Wha–”

Not even allowing me the space in which to protest, she holds a finger up at me. “No,” she demands, waggling her long finger in my face. “You promised you would do what I said. Pinky promise. So now you have to.” Shooting me a mock-serious look, I nod at her ridiculousness, figuring I’ll at least hear out her plan before fully rejecting it.

Reminding myself she can’t make me do anything, I sit there impatiently waiting for her to spit out whatever the hell she wants.

Jade’s face twists in seriousness as she pulls my hands into her on her lap. “It’s Bryce.” She bounces with her uncontainable giddiness. “Stop it,” she admonishes the eye roll I give her in response. “This is serious. You know how long I’ve been trying to get his attention.”

“Jade,” I whine. “Can’t this wait? I really want to be done with this so I can get back out there to him.”

“Please,” she begs. “It’s just one night. He’s bringing a friend and I need you there.” Her big brown eyes go into puppy dog mode and even though the only thing I want to do is walk out of the room and sit back down next to David, the best friend part of me knows I have to go with her for moral support. Jade plays the part perfectly, pouty lips and all.

“Fine,” I huff my agreement, not at all happy with her. “But you owe me.” Jabbing a finger at her, I pretend to be mad with her. The truth is, I’m not. She’s been hard up on Bryce for the last six months. Too busy with finishing school, Bryce couldn’t give her the attention she’d wanted. They’d always been friends, but I guess now that they were both done with school, he was looking at her in a different light.

The light in which she’d always seen him.

And if this was her chance to finally get his attention, I didn’t want to hold her back.

“What should I tell him, though?”

Jade shrugs. “I’m not sure. Tell him you’ll make it up to him.” She winks suggestively and then stands from the bed. “Just make it quick because we need to get out of here like five minutes ago.”

Huffing, I make my exit back to the living room. Stopping at the curve of the hallway, I peek inside to see David pacing the floor. He stops at the rows of shelves lining the wall. As he looks over the pictures, carefully picking each one up, his lips pull into a carefree smile. His fingers absentmindedly ghost over the images and something in my chest swells.

“Hey,” I call out, not wanting to startle him by stepping up behind him.

With more clumsiness than I would have expected, he replaces the frame, nearly knocking over two more in the process. “Hi, uh, I was just looking,” he rambles an explanation as he rights each tumbled-over frame.

Moving to his side, I feel his body next to mine, a wall of solid muscle and warm kindness. “That’s Dani, my sister. Mom was pregnant with her that night.”

When I look up, his face pales slightly, then morphs into one of relived happiness. “You know on one hand, it feels like so long ago, but then on the other–”

“It feels like just yesterday,” I say, finishing his sentence for him. “I feel the same way. So much of my childhood revolved around that night. The moving. The starting over. It was really crazy.”

A blip of comfortable silence falls upon us and I wonder what he must be thinking. There’s too much light in his deep brown eyes for him to be thinking of nothing and I’d give anything to catch a glimpse of what’s hidden there.

“So, listen–” he starts, but is quickly interrupted by Jade.

“Grace,” she calls out. Without saying anything else, she taps on the face of her non-existent watch. “Please,” she begs and then disappears back into her room.

“I hate to do this,” I explain. “But I have to go.”

“Is everything okay?” There’s misplaced concern in his voice, on his face.

“Yes, of course. It’s just . . .” The words I want to say die on my lips. Misleading is the last thing I want to be, but at the same time, I know I need to be honest with him. “It’s a date,” I admit finally. “But not really. I just have to help out Jade.” The entire story sounds lame, but my brain doesn’t move fast enough so that I can offer any further explanation.

“Oh. Okay.” Jamming his hands in his pockets, he walks toward the door, clearly feeling something that resembles dejection. “I understand.”

The door creaks open and as he steps into the hallway. Reaching for his arm, I turn him back to me—mainly because I want to explain that I’d much rather spend some more time with him, but also because my fingers have been itching to touch him since I first saw him. “It’s not what you think.”

“What do you think I think?” he asks, looking down at my fingers on his bicep. There’s a hint of something sexy and forbidden in his question, setting me on edge.

My tongue is suddenly too big for my mouth and my brain too slow for my own good. “I . . . uh . . . just that . . .”

He laughs, deep lines making dimples in his cheeks and then speech stops being a difficulty. It’s an impossibility. “It’s okay, Grace.” His fingers skim my forearm. “Go on your date. I’ve got plans with Ian to go to Smoke anyway. It’s no big deal. Really.”

My brain goes into total girl mode in that instant.

You mean your plans weren ’ t to stay here for hours just so I could stare at you.

What do you mean you already had plans?

Not a big deal? Of course it is!

But instead of letting these words vomit out of my head, I smile politely. “Maybe we can get together another time?”

“Of course,” he agrees, winking at me. “See you soon.”

And just like that, without actually making any plans, he’s walking away from me. If Jade would have given me more than two minutes to stand there watching the elevator doors close in front of him, maybe I would have called out to him, asked him when he’ll see me again.

But she doesn’t give me that luxury. Coming up behind me, she shoves a dress, shoes, and a bag into my hands. “You,”—she points to my bedroom—“in there. Now. Be ready in five.” With her hands on her hips, she taps her foot in front of her.

Huffing, I walk past her, muttering, “You so owe me.”

“What crawled up your ass?” Ian and his smug face glare at me from the stool to my side.

Keeping my eyes trained on the UFC fight playing on the screen above the bar, I take a drink of my beer. “Nothing,” I deflect. “Why are you thinking about my ass anyway?” Shooting him a look, I laugh. Clearly, he’s not amused. “Just shut up and watch the fight.”

Watching two fighters beat the crap out of one another is a decent enough way for me to vent some of my frustrations. The truth is I didn’t have plans to come to Smoke with Ian tonight. But wanting to preserve some of my pride, I played it off like her date was of little consequence to me.

After the crowd erupts into loud, raucous cheers over the knock out, Ian elbows me in the side. Angling his head to the back corner of the bar, he points out Kelsey.

Calling the attention of the bartender, I order another round of drinks. Clearly, I’m going to need it.

“Here she comes,” Ian keeps his voice low so only I can hear it. And it’s not as if he needs to announce her arrival. Her perfume precedes her by at least five steps.

“Hey, boys,” she purrs. Standing behind me, her fingers dance at the collar of my T-shirt. Motivated by the desire to have her stop touching me, I spin to greet her. “Hi, Kelsey. How are you?” It’s a mindful decision to keep my greeting as formal as possible.

A sly smile parts her cherry red lips. “I’m good, but I could be better.” There’s no missing the hints she’s dropping. Thankful for the distraction the bartender offers, I take my drink and busy my mouth with drinking rather than talking. Ian has enough good sense to keep his focus on the television. “I’ve missed you,” she adds as I drop my beer back to the bar. It’s not in me to be rude, but I can’t respond to her statement in the way she wants me to and be honest at the same time. A crimson fingernail trails down my arm, mimicking the feel of an insect crawling across my skin.

Nothing like the heat I felt when Grace touched me.

“Listen. Kelsey–”

Cutting me off, she pouts, looking ridiculous. “If you want me to listen, why don’t we go back to my place? It’s nice and quiet there.” On that note, Ian clears his throat and stands.

He mouths Good luck to me from behind Kelsey’s back. She slides into his seat as he walks toward the bathrooms.

“You don’t come around here much anymore. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Her knees brush against mine as she moves in her seat. It’s a deliberate move, setting me on edge. “You haven’t returned my calls either.”

Even though I really want to say, I know. I’ve been avoiding you on purpose, it’s not in my makeup to be rude. Instead, I say, “It has been a while.” Finishing off the last chug of my beer gives me a second to avoid having to say much more. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Ian take a seat a few stools down. He’s failing miserably at trying to look like he’s not eavesdropping.

As she drops a hand to my leg, she asks, “So what do you think? You want to get out of here and head back to my place? It’s been too long.”

“Kelsey, what we had was good while it lasted,” I lie. “But it’s run its course.” Clearly insulted, her face twists in some kind of agony. It takes actual strength for me not to roll my eyes at her ridiculous reaction. Up until five minutes ago, I thought I’d made this very clear. She’s right. We haven’t seen each other. I haven’t called her back. Haven’t made any attempt to get in touch with her over the last month.

“Run its course,” she mocks. “Okay, fine then. I guess I saw it as more than a fling.” With a giant huff, she stands from the bar stool and walks away.

The good guy part of me wants to call her back, offer her more of an explanation, but it’s unnecessary, really. While we definitely were not a one-night stand, I would barely call what we were anything more than a fling.

When Ian walks back to his seat, he has a shocked look plastered to his face. “I thought for sure I’d come back out here and you’d be lip locked with Tits Magee over there.”

Shrugging, I don’t bother answering him with words.

“Okay, so now I know something is definitely up. Or did your dick go numb?” The ass he is, Ian actually laughs at himself.

“First my ass, now my dick. Any other body part of mine on your brain I should know about?”

Shooting me a wry look, Ian keeps his eyes trained on the television. “No, asshole. I was simply wondering why you’d turn down a night with Kelsey. And,” he adds, twisting in his seat to face me, “if I’m correct, which I usually am, I heard her say it’s been a while. So what’s up with that?”

Over my shoulder, he eyes Kelsey, who finds a seat at the other end of the bar. As a means of avoiding his question, I refocus my attention back on the television, but catch a glimpse of Kelsey out of the corner of my eye. She’s all legs, cleavage, cheap hair extensions, and fake eyelashes. Toying with the end of her blonde hair, I know from experience it feels like straw. Flipping back through my time with her, I can’t say it was terrible. But it was anything but memorable. She was sweet. Always nice and especially attentive, she would hang on every last word falling from my mouth. But she was shallow as fuck. And that was something I could look past. Hell, I should still be able to look past it. But when she walked up to me, something was different.

Up to this point, my life had been a vicious cycle of wash, rinse, repeat. Wake up. Fight some fires. Go home. Shower. Go out with friends. Drink. Go home—maybe sometimes with Kelsey. Wash, rinse, repeat.

And holy shit, was that getting old.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on or what? You haven’t said more than two words since Kelsey walked away,” Ian prattles on.

“What are you, Dr. Phil or something?” Lamely, I attempt a joke, but he doesn’t laugh. Instead, he waits patiently for me to say something. “Fine,” I concede. “I guess I’m just not up for it.”

“For sex?” He nearly chokes on his beer. “Dude, what the hell?”

“It’s not always about sex, asshole.”

His face twists in confusion, as if I’ve just said the most ridiculous thing in the existence of words. “Not always about sex?” he mocks. “Uh, last time I checked, it most definitely is. Something change in the last week?”

Chuckling low, I grumble, “A week? More like four.”

Slapping his hand on the bar-top, he rattles the empty mugs sitting in front of us. “Four weeks? Oh, hell no. We need to fix that.”

“Shut up.” Trying to keep conversation of my sex life, or lack thereof, to a more normal volume, I shoot Ian a serious look. “I’ve been studying for the Lieutenant’s test. It’s eating up all my time. Add in a shitload of overtime shifts, and sex is pretty much the last thing on my mind.” As if I needed more of an excuse, I say, “Plus, my parents are remodeling their kitchen, so I’ve been helping them.”

Without missing a beat, and without listening to a single word that just came out of my mouth, Ian says, “So what? It’s sex. There’s no excuse. Unless . . .” he drags it out, dramatically scratching his chin. “Unless of course you want there to be an excuse.”

Shrugging, I say nothing. The raw truth is that his words hit a little too close for comfort. “Maybe I’m just tired of the game, the groupies. You know I’ve never been a one-night stand guy–”

“But Kelsey?”

“She wasn’t a one-night stand,” I defend.

Arching an eyebrow, Ian’s look screams really without actually saying a word.

“She wasn’t.” I laugh. “We were together a month.” Ian continues to look at me as if gibberish is coming out of my mouth. “Okay, fine.” Finally giving in, I admit, “She was a month-long string of one-night stands. It was a month held together by nothing else, though.”

“Much better,” he says as he laughs. For a few more minutes, neither of us says anything else. Then, spinning in his stool, Ian looks at me as if an actual lightbulb is going on over his head. “It’s the redhead, isn’t it?”

Knowing Ian would make a bigger deal out of her than she was, I said nothing about Grace to him since she came to see me at the station. Where Ian is concerned, sometimes less is better.

But there is no denying it. It most definitely is her. From the moment I saw her at the bar, I needed to know if it was her or not. I’d thought about her over the years here and there. Probably more than was healthy at times. Especially when I was younger, I thought about her a lot. Where was she? How had she adjusted to moving? Did she like her new school? Then as I grew older, I wondered if she had a boyfriend? If her hair was still as red as it had been when she was a kid? Was she as beautiful in real life as she was in my dreams?

Of course there were times—spans of years even—when she never crossed my mind. College, mostly. But hell, most of it was a blur, anyway. It wasn’t exactly my cup of tea, but my parents made me go, saying that I’d need something to fall back on if the fire department didn’t work out. In my own head, I knew it would have to work out. Being a firefighter was the only thing I’d ever wanted to do with my life. So the thought of it not working out was unfathomable.

It wasn’t lost on me that in those most significant moments—my first day of the academy and my graduation from it, my first day on the job, and my first fire—those were the times I thought of little Gracie McCann the most. It was because of her that my adult life took shape and I wanted nothing more than to thank the little girl I’d saved so long ago for giving my life a purpose.

Then, with every fire I fought, with every person I saved, I thought of Gracie. Mostly, I lied to myself saying I just needed to know she was doing well. But the more I thought about it, the more I needed to know what kind of woman she’d grown into.

And now that I knew she turned out damn fine, I couldn’t get her out of my head.

“Hey, listen.” Ian cuts through the silence. “I can see I’m pulling teeth here.” Dropping some cash on the bar, Ian stands from his seat. “See you at work.”

“You’re right,” I admit when his back is half-turned away from me. “It is Grace.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you talking to me?” He laughs, joking with me and my absentmindedness.

Dropping back into his seat, Ian folds his arms atop the bar. “I’m listening.”

As I explain who Grace is and the significance she’s had on my life, Ian listens, almost shocked by the very unlikely story. He nods occasionally, but when all is said and done, the only words he offers, are “So then what are you doing here with me?”

Grumbling my response, I say, “She’s on a date.” After ordering another round of drinks, I explain, “She said it was because she had to be there for her friend. And I did show up completely unannounced. It’s not like I can expect her to put her life on hold simply because I want to get to know her.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Ian mumbles around the lip of his mug.

“What?”

“Look, I’m not going to get all poetic on you or any kind of shit like that.” Swigging down half of his beer, he swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. “But you pretty much won the lottery on that fairy-tale line of bullshit the chicks love. Boy rescues girl from burning house. Girl moves away and doesn’t see boy for eighteen years. I guarantee it, if you want to get to know her, she’ll let you. All you have to do is ask.”

Maybe he is right. Maybe it is that simple.

“I guess I’ll have to wait and see. Not much I can do about it tonight.”

“Yeah there is,” he says, tipping his empty mug at me. “Buy me another round for having to put up with you and your sorry excuse of a love life for the night.”

We both laugh and the conversation shifts to work—as it usually does. Somewhere around eleven, the bar starts to fill with the usual groupie crowd. On a mission and done with idle talk of work, Ian stands from his stool. Clapping me on the shoulder, he says, “Not that I don’t love wasting away with you here, but I am in desperate need of some female attention.” Like a fox, he scans the crowd. After settling on a group of dancing girls, Ian shoots me a sly grin. “And they”—angling his head toward them, he continues—“look like the attention-giving type. Wanna join?”

“Nah,” I deflect his invitation. “I’m beat. And I have to be at my parents’ house early tomorrow.” With a fist bump, he walks off toward his targets.

Shaking my head, I have to admit, there are times when I wish I could be as smooth as Ian. It’s not that he’s uncaring, but he doesn’t let his head get too clouded up with the what ifs. And right now, the what ifs are all that fill me.

But as I lean my shoulder against the door to leave, an arm loops through mine, stopping me in my tracks. The slight movement of turning to see who it is causes the person to stumble and push into me. It’s then that I realize it’s Kelsey. Drunk as a fucking monkey.

“Hey,” she slurs, drawing out the single word. Her eyes are half-opened, her drunkenness weighing them down. “Where are you going?” Catching her balance, she stretches up on her toes and presses a sloppy kiss to my cheek.

“Kels.” My voice is calm and firm as are my hands on her shoulders, righting her. “Are you okay?” My question is met with a confused stare, her brows twisting together.

Slapping a hand playfully to my chest, she purrs, “I’m fine. Could be a lot better.” Her hint is met with nothing more than a deep sigh. “What?” she responds to the dismissive sigh, curling her fingers around my arm as I finish pushing the door open.

When we’re out on the street, the buzz of the city flies around us. Cars race down the street. An ambulance wails in the background. A group of rowdy drunks divides and moves around us, forcing me to pull Kelsey out of the way. Of course she misreads this, thinking I’ve changed my mind and I’ll be taking her up on her offer of making the night a lot better.

“So, back to my place?” She looks up at me, batting her fake eyelashes, begging for my attention.

Turning her so she’s facing me, I grip her shoulders, making sure I have her full attention. “Kels, look,” I begin to explain. “This isn’t going to happen. It can’t.”

Acting as if she hasn’t heard a word I just said, she wiggles out of my grip and loops her arms around my waist. Pressing her lips up against my ear, she whispers, “It can happen and you know when it does it’ll be so good.”

“David,” a soft voice calls to me from behind, pulling my attention away from Kelsey before she has the chance to shove her tongue in my ear. I don’t need to turn around to know who it is.

“Grace,” I say, turning away from Kelsey.

“Who the hell are you?” Kelsey spits angrily, moving away from me and toward Grace.

Stopping her before she gets more than two steps away from me, I step in front of Kelsey. “Stop it.” My voice has moved from being firm, to pissed. The last thing I need is for Kelsey to screw this up.

“Grace.” My tone softens as I approach her. “What are you doing here?”

“The date was over,” she explains, crossing her arms over her chest. “And you said you would probably be here with your friend.” Her admission is shy and quiet, the exact opposite of the annoying grumbles coming from Kelsey.

“Are you done here?” Kelsey pulls at my arm, trying to twist me back to her. “I thought we were going to my place–”

“I should go,” Grace cuts through the beginning of Kelsey’s tirade. “You’re obviously busy.”

Kelsey steps in front of me, a smug look of satisfaction spreading across her face. Over her shoulder, I see Grace moving further away from us. My good conscience is momentarily torn between the two of them.

I can’t leave Kelsey here. She’s too drunk to take care of herself and it’s too late to leave her to get home safely.

I can’t let Grace walk home alone.

And the truth is, I don’t want to let her go.

“Grace!” I yell out, making her stop in her tracks. “Wait,” I add, jogging toward her. Glancing backward, I see Kelsey standing there, arms pitched to her hips, toe tapping a furious beat in front of her. “It’s most definitely not what it looks like,” I defend even though she hasn’t accused me of anything. “She’s drunk. I can’t leave her alone. Give me five minutes and I’ll walk you home.”

Grace scans my face, searching for some hint of truth, some sign that I’m not bullshitting her. “Fine,” she relents. “I’ll wait over here though.” Grace walks over to a table and chairs set up outside the bar.

Gathering my thoughts, I walk over to Kelsey, who still hasn’t cooled off much. “What is she still doing here?” Like a five-year-old throwing a tantrum of epic proportions, she points a finger over at Grace, who’s doing nothing more than sitting there minding her own business.

“She’s waiting for me to get rid of you,” I ground out through clenched teeth. Pulling her toward the curb, I hail a cab. Luck is most definitely on my side when one slides up to the curb almost as soon as my hand is in the air. As I open the door, I say, “You need to get home. Sober up.”

“What the hell, David?” she shrieks.

“Look, Kelsey,” I say, keeping my eyes fixed on hers. “I said it inside before. This”—I gesture between us—“is not going to work. It never worked before. And yeah, it was wrong of me to lead you on, but I’m not doing that anymore.”

With an angry huff, Kelsey points over my shoulder. “Because of that slu–”

“Don’t go there, Kelsey,” I admonish sternly. “Stop yourself now, before you say something you regret.” Ushering her into the cab, I add, “Get home safely.”

The door slams with a loud thud and as the cab pulls away, I catch a glimpse of Kelsey sitting in the back seat, her face contorting in all sorts of anger.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way back over to Grace. I can tell she’s trying her best to avoid looking like she’s been watching the entire exchange. Kelsey puts on quite a show and Grace isn’t sitting too far from where we were. I know she had to have overheard some of it.

“Hey,” I say, sliding into the chair next to her. “I’m sorry about that.”

Waving her hand in front of her, she says, “Don’t worry about it. I shouldn’t have–”

“Don’t.” Reaching for her flailing hand, I stop short of actually touching her. The realization that I have no right to touch her halts my movements. The knowledge that I want nothing more than to touch her hits me with a force so strong, I fear I might fall out of my seat.

Her hand drops to the table and she looks at me. Her eyes show her confusion, and maybe more than a touch of anger. “Don’t what? Think I was a fool for coming here?” Shooting up from her chair, she mutters, “I’m going home.”

This time, I can’t stop myself from touching her. “Grace,” I call out, wrapping my fingers around her tiny wrist. Her skin is so soft, silky even. It takes more strength than I would have thought not to run my hands up the length of her arm, even if only to see how quickly I could cause goose bumps. Her eyes search my face yet again. Instead of anger, this time all I see is embarrassment. Wanting nothing more than to erase what she’s just seen, I admit, “I’m glad you came here.”

“You are?” Her voice takes on this hushed yet surprised quality.

“Yeah, look,” I explain. Extending my arm to the side, I usher us down the crowded street. When we turn down a less busy cross street, I find the peace I need to gather my thoughts. “It’s not what it looked like.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, her face twists, shooting me a look of cynicism.

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” Stopping in front of a walk-up brownstone, she turns to face me. “Care to explain exactly what you seem to think I saw?”

Oh, shit! What the hell have I gotten myself into? It’s not like I’m a relationship expert or anything like that. Hell, my track record would actually speak to the opposite end of the spectrum, but I’ve been around enough women to know that tone of voice. The one that means no matter what I say here, I’m going to be wrong. I know I need to avoid it like the plague, but somehow I’ve worked myself into a corner.

“Uh, that you think . . . I mean. . . . What you saw . . . Shit!” I curse, raking a hand through my hair. Beyond frustrated with the turn of events, I drop down to the steps.

Hanging my head in my hands, I keep my eyes trained on the ground. When I look up, I’m shocked to see Grace’s face softening as she lowers herself to sit next to me. “That wasn’t fair,” she admits. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Hell, I was on a date before I came to see you.”

“But I wasn’t–” My defense is cut short, but a sharp burst of laughter falling from Grace’s gorgeous lips. “What’s so funny?”

“I was on a date. My God!” Her laughter billows, wrapping itself around us and easing away some of the tension. “And I was on a date that first night, too,” she adds, sounding as if she’s just realizing this for the first time. “And now here I am chasing after you.”

Arching my brow, I smile at her. “Chasing me, huh?” She doesn’t miss the hint of pride coloring my question.

Slapping me lightly on the arm, she laughs. “Oh, get over yourself.” Before she can pull her hand away, I grab it in mine.

Pulling our joined hands to the small space between us, I focus my eyes on hers. “I don’t want to dance around this. And I sure as hell don’t want to screw this up.”

Her hand begins to tremble in mine and stroking my thumb on the tender skin of her wrist does nothing to calm her. “This?” Even her voice takes on a shaky quality.

“Yes, Grace. This,” I reassure her. “I don’t know what this is just yet, but I do know I want to get to know you more. And I can only imagine what you thought back there.”

Taking a deep breath seems to calm her somewhat, or at least enough for her to say more than one word. “I thought you were leaving with her. That she was your girlfriend and I was a fool for thinking you’d be interested in a girl like me.”

Squeezing her hand, I twist in my seat not caring at all that I bump into her legs. “A girl like you? Well, what the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Just that–”

Cutting her off, I say, “Don’t bother explaining it because no matter what shortcomings you’re about to reveal about yourself, they’re all in your head. And nothing I say is going to change them, even though they’re not true at all.”

Silence vibrates between us for a few minutes, my unguarded words dangling there. “I should go,” she says finally. It’s at that point I realize I still haven’t explained exactly what happened.

“Kelsey’s an ex.” Grace nods, letting me continue. “We weren’t even what I would call a couple, but we were enough for her to think she could walk out of the bar with me.” Grace’s skin pales, making her freckles pop even more in the stark comparison. Pulling her hands back into mine, I say, “But I wasn’t. She was drunk. All I was going to do was make sure she got home safely. That’s all.”

Another blip of silence passes between us as Grace sits there, digesting what I told her. When she faces me again, she opens and closes her mouth a few times before any words come out. Finally settling on what to say, she opens her mouth again. “And I was on a date. With a guy I didn’t even know. After having just broken up with my boyfriend. Who I really didn’t like all that much in the first place.”

Not really knowing what to say to her mini-tirade I sit there, waiting for her to say something, to do anything that makes sense of where she’s going with it all. “And you were leaving the bar with a girl who thought she was more to you than she actually was.” As each second ticks by, whatever she’s getting at is making more and more sense to her, but it’s all still lost on me. “And I thought the worst of it immediately because, well, let’s face it. I know nothing about you except that you rescued me when I was a kid.” Though it seems like she wants to say more, she bites her tongue.