The Beauty in Grace

KRISTY PERKINS

Copyright © 2022 Reese Jett

Written by: Reese Jett

Cover Design by: Lore Nicole

Editing by: Kate Seger

Formatting by: Kate Seger

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission fo the author.

Contents

Preface

Prologue

1. Gracie

2. Gracie

3. Gracie

4. Gracie

5. Owen

6. Gracie

7. Gracie

8. Owen

9. Gracie

10. Colton

11. Owen

12. Gracie

13. Devon

14. Gracie

15. Gracie

16. Gracie

17. Gracie

18. Devon

19. Owen

20. Gracie

21. Gracie

22. Devon

23. Gracie

24. Gracie

25. Devon

26. Gracie

27. Gracie

28. Colton

29. Devon

30. Gracie

31. Devon

32. Gracie

33. Devon

34. Owen

35. Luke

36. Gracie

37. Luke

38. Devon

39. Gracie

40. Colton

41. Gracie

42. Gracie

43. Gracie

44. Devon

45. Gracie

46. Colton

47. Gracie

48. Owen

49. Gracie

50. Luke

51. Gracie

52. Colton

53. Luke

54. Gracie

55. Gracie

56. Devon

57. Gracie

Afterword

About the Author

Preface

Did you know that addiction is classified in the DSM-5? It’s a mental illness that lives in the brain stem: the same brain stem that serves a critical role in regulating certain involuntary actions of the body, including heartbeat and breathing. Addicts feel that they need their drug of choice (DOC) the same way they feel they need to breathe. 

Did you know that our society treats addiction as a moral issue and pawns it off on law enforcement to “control”? The average stay in jail is 365 days or less. Addicts are left to detox alone.

Did you know the detox process can be violent and result in death if not monitored by medical professionals?

Did you know the addict is often released, and at that time, their serotonin levels are at their lowest, leading to a high crime rate and a higher chance of relapse? It’s a pun to say that this is criminal, but that’s exactly what this really is...criminal.                                                                                                    

It takes an average of 14-16 months of sobriety for an addict’s brain to balance serotonin levels to that of a neurotypical brain. Did you know that? 

Did you know that most insurances will only pay for 30 days of treatment for an addict? Please get mad about that. I’m begging you...get mad about that.

Did you know that 136 people die every day from an opioid overdose? That’s one person every 10.58 minutes. By the time you’re done reading and processing this post, someone will have died from an opioid overdose. 

Someone’s child. 

Someone’s spouse. 

Someone’s parent.

Someone’s brother or sister.

Someone’s friend. 

Someone’s aunt or uncle. 

Let that sink in. 

Did you know that the two biggest factors that “make” an addict are 

(1) Genetic Predisposition and (2) Childhood trauma. There’s no “one hit” or that “one decision” that will make an addict. You never really know who is or is not an addict before they pick up their drug of choice. It’s NOT a moral problem. I repeat: addiction is NOT A MORAL PROBLEM. 

Just for a minute, let’s take this in a little bit of a different direction. Did you know that the BRCA gene for breast cancer has a 5-10% genetic predisposition rate? People undergo testing and life-changing surgeries every day to avoid it, but addiction genetic predisposition is over 50%. 

O V E R 50%. Let that sink in.                                              

You still think addiction is a moral problem? A parenting problem? 

Too bad there isn’t a surgery to remove addiction, huh?

If there’s one thing that an addict would say, it’s that they’re still in there. (I know because I’ve asked.) The person that you knew and loved is still in there. 

They are not their disease. 

THEY ARE NOT THEIR DISEASE. 

Addiction is a disease, much like diabetes. It has to be monitored every day for the rest of their lives. And it’s HARD. It takes support and unrelenting diligence. Like cancer, in that, it can always reoccur.

The blaming needs to stop. We need to do better. 

The paradigm needs to change. 

Insurance benefits need to change. 

Public awareness needs to change. 

Period. 

The next time you hear someone say “they have a choice, “or you hear others refer to addicts as “a junkie, “ start by educating them because that really is how this works.                                                  

You can make a difference. You can change things. It starts with educating yourself and then spreading that knowledge one person at a time.

Dedication

To the recovering addicts, you are seen and heard. It’s okay if you relapse; just don’t give up. Relapse is difficult, and it happens. You will never be judged here. I am proud of you for getting on your feet, even if it is multiple times. That’s okay.

To my little brother, I see how strong you are. I see how hard it is for you. I’ve seen your tears and your desperation to stay sober. I know it isn’t easy, and I wish I could make it easy for you. I wish I could protect you like I did when we were kids. I’m the big sister, and I feel so helpless, but I see how hard you try, how badly you want to be sober. I know you can do it. You will do it. No matter how many times it takes, you will do it.

To my cousin, we were best friends growing up. We made plans to live together and have a life on the road. I remember our laughs and how we would plan it all out. We were close, bonded together. No matter what happened, we were as thick as thieves. I’ve seen the trials and errors you’ve had, the desperation to be sober, and how difficult it has been for you. I know you’re strong, and you can do this. Remember the laughter, the plans. Focus forward, not backward. You are strong.

To me, I know I have my own addictions. I know I slip now and again and have to make sure I take it day by day. I know the damage that can be done if I slip, and I refuse to slip.

Prologue

The hallway is dimly lit as I step off the elevator after my father. I grip my box of items tightly in my fingers, stomach clenched up. I’d been told the guys had accepted my father’s offer, but until I actually hear it in person, I refuse to believe him.

The deal is simple – I move in with them, finish school, and daddy will pay for the apartment. But do I really want to do this? Yes and no. I’m terrified of the guys reactions, nervous that the instant they see me, they’re going to change their minds and send me on my way. I’d be far from surprised and more understanding. After all the shit I’ve done to them, blaming them for turning me away would be the last thing on my mind.

But what else can I do? I’d have to live with my parents. Twenty-three years old and living with my parents – yikes. It sounds like a waking nightmare to have to explain. Then again, most of the people I have called friends are no more. Now that my life is focused in sobriety, they’ve all but disappeared.

Daddy knocks on the door before opening it. I know he has a key that will be left with me, but the door in unlocked and doesn’t need it. I linger on the threshold, box clasped between my fingers so tightly, the rugged edges cut at them, threatening to split the flesh.

I stare at the four human being inside the three-bedroom apartment. Two males and two females. My stomach twists when I catch sight of each man having an arm around one of the girls. The old bile of jealous is back in full and it sucks.

My eyes linger over the woman at the younger of the two men’s side. I recognize her from the last time I had popped up, drunk and high out of my mind. She’s the woman Owen had been with then and nearly left to be with me. I’d fucked up that, though. The other one, who is on Devon’s arm, is new to me. I don’t recognize her, but when she glances up at Devon, the adoration that flashes in her eyes sting my heart.

“Hello, boys,” daddy greets and beckons for me to enter.

I step over the threshold and into the apartment, moving to the side to allow the door to be closed behind me. Ninety-five days. Ever so closer to a full four months.

I look up to catch my father’s eyes. He looks at me with pride for the first time in a long time, longer than I can remember. Happiness. Not disappointment. For almost six years, that’s all I’ve ever seen in his eyes. Giddiness sweeps through me. It’s been so long since I have felt any pride from either one of my parents and it feels way too good to give up.

Maybe, just maybe, if I focus on that – I can make this work. That can be my new drug of choice. Making my parents happy. Because if anyone deserves it, it’s them. My parents don’t deserve to have a drug-addled, alcoholic daughter who had been too selfish to stay sober for twenty-four hours in order to celebrate a simple Christmas with them in a long time. I used to use the defense that on my birthday, it was my day, even if it was Christmas Eve at the same time. I was allowed to celebrate it however I damn well pleased. I now know just how wrong and selfish that was. I also know that it’s going to take a lot more than a simple apology to make up for it all.

Then, there’s the guys. They’ve obviously moved on. They’ve come to terms that I’m not meant for them. That the head games I had played are no longer worth it for them. I realized too late that I had been playing those fucked up games, and now, the consequences are standing right smack in front of me.

It’s my fault, though. I know that now. I know better than to blame everything that went wrong on anybody else. I have to figure out what parts are my fault, what I can fix, and let go of what I can’t. But I can’t lie. It really does hurt to see them with the other girls.

“Alright.” My father claps his hands, drawing me back to the moment of reality. “Boys, I appreciate this. I really do.”

Owen grins at my father, the man he’s idolized for as long as I can remember. “We’re happy to help.” I don’t miss how his gaze flickers to me, his smile faltering. “Really, we are. Hello, Gracie.”

I smile wanly at him. “Hi, Owen. Hi, Devon.”

The girl latched to Owen’s side lets out a huff of a breath and pulls away from him, lingering for a moment before her lipstick-slathered lips to his, turning the sloppy kiss into a passionate one. She has to stand up on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck and holds him tight, but the way his arms slither around her waist tell me he doesn’t mind. I turn away, staring at the dining room table. After a moment, I feel the brush of the other girl again me and jump when she slams the door behind her. When I turn back, the one who had clung to Devon was now lounging on the couch, but her eyes are watching me curiously.

“You remember the deal, don’t you, Gracie?” Daddy’s voice tears through the rampant thoughts in my head.

It’s the number one think I hate about this sobriety shit. There’s too much room to think. Too much room to let every little terrible thing have a voice. Inwardly, I cringe, knowing better than to let him or anyone else see. It’ll only prompt questions I don’t know how to answer.

“Yes, daddy, I know the rules.”

He cocks an eyebrow but gives me a small smile. Stepping towards me, he takes the box and hands it to Owen, whose standing to us, to deposit in the room I’m going to be taking residence in. Daddy pulls me into a hug and my arms instantly wrap around him, burying my face into his chest, and my eyes close as I take in the sweet scent of gardenia – my mother’s perfume embedded into every inch of him. I so badly want what he has had with my mother all these years. I want to be able to look back some odd years in the future, with my own husband smeared in my scent from the life we’d created together. My parents have been married for nearly five decades, with me as their fourth child, and way too many grandchildren to really keep up with from the other. But it’s been a happy life, despite my bump in the road giving them a run for their money. A life that I so desperately want, that I crave for. But I know, that for now, I have to simply get through this sobriety. Because the first year is the most crucial, the one that determines if you’re going to make it or not. It’s like a newborn, learning everything about the world around it. Once it learns to walk, then and only than can I figure the rest out.

After all, according to the rules, I’m barely four months old. I’ve still got a long-ass way to go.

“I’m really proud of you,” daddy comments as he pulled back, cupping my cheeks. “Your mother and I are very proud of you. We always have been.”

I smile up at him, but I can feel its shaky stability. If he doesn’t leave soon, this mushy-gushy crap is going to make me start bawling in front of the guy. Though, it wouldn’t exactly be the first time I’ve wept in front of them. Daddy plants a kiss on my forehead and turns back to the guys.

“She’s doing online schooling. As long as you two help her stay up with her work, this apartment will be paid for in full. I’ll even send a monthly allowance to help with the groceries, but Gracie knows that this apartment is taken care of for the three of you as long as she stays sober and keeps up on her schoolwork. I really appreciate you boys offering to help. Especially after…”

His voice falters, but the words have to be said. They can’t keep tiptoeing around me. If I’ve going to get and stay better, the harsh truth has to be told. No matter how cruel it is. I have to hear it, to say it.

“After I have broken up with them both on multiple occasions, sold Devon’s engagement ring to a drug dealer, fucked over Owen when he did everything he could to get me sober, and ghosted them way too many times to count. I also borrowed money from my niece to pay back a gambling fee I owed, which you’re now paying back, and I must eventually pay you back. Whenever that is. Oh, and I pretty much destroyed holidays for too many years. You can say it, you know. I have to own what I’ve done.”

There’s a bated breath of silence, and for a moment, a flare of panic sweeps through me at thinking that I’ve just fucked up my chances of not having to live with my parents for the rest of my life.

“Well, good to see you too, Gracie,” Owen comments, frustration in his voice as he takes off towards what I assume is his bedroom and slams the door shut behind him.

I look straight at Devon. “Why did you guys agree to this?”

He visibly flinches, but any sign of discomfort, stress, or any emotion whatsoever is washed away in that flip of a movement. “Because we care about you and want to see you do good. You’re on the right track, Gracie.”

I can only stare at him. “I really hurt you guys, both of you.”

He shrugs nonchalantly. “It can be forgiven.”

I’m silent for a moment, and with my next words, I pretend my father isn’t standing right next to me. “I’ve been with both of you. You know, sexually. Isn’t that going to be a –"

“Problem?” Devon shakes his head, his jaw ticking as he stares at me, eyes shrouded in deep thought. “We’re both over that high school shit. While we both have loved you, we’ve moved. We can’t fight over that shit for the rest of our lives when neither of us will ever be with you again.”

That hurts. It’s a punch to my gut, and I suck in a sharp breath but hold my head high. I deserve it and I know that. They were the best things to ever happen to me, and I fucked it up. I lost them because I chose drugs and booze over them. I know that and understand it well now. I deserve whatever is thrown at me. I’m just lucky they decided they’d at least help now.

“You start therapy with Robert next Tuesday. So, he can get you situated with a good therapist in his office,” my father says, trying to twist the subject at hand into something else. Listening to his daughter’s sex life can’t be comfortable. “I expect you to be there, Gracie. I will be checking in with him. You know that’s a stipulation to getting out of rehab.”

I nod and eye Devon before dropping my gaze. “I need a ride. I don’t…” That truth, I can’t say.”

“Her license was revoked. I’ll pay for the gas—”

“You don’t have to pay for gas. I’m happy to take her.”

I look up at the girl on the couch. She’s staring at Devon lovingly. The way I feel inside. Proud of him for having such a caring heart. Instead of jealousy swirling inside of me, I feel a gentle calm wash through me. At least I know he has someone to care for him, someone who won’t just skip off for drugs or booze. This chick looks like the most she’s ever done is sip a glass of wine while watching a Netflix show at night, and that’s about it. They deserve better than me, and I know it. I have to accept that.

Chapter 1

Gracie

The nudge against me reluctantly lifts my hand into the air. I’m not exactly keen on sharing, but I know it’s vital to the process. I’ve already done the last three meetings without uttering a single word. It didn’t help that my sponsor hadn’t been able to attend them, therefore making it way too easy for me to hide. She’s back, though, urging me to stand in front of the room and spill my guts.

What fucking bullshit.

The meetings help, sure, but it was a drag to put my heart on my sleeve in front of a room full of almost strangers. I’m only glad that neither Owen nor Devon has any substance dependencies that would make them part of this whole ordeal. Sometimes they join as support, and when they do, I make sure I only share the tip of what is on my mind. They don’t need to know everything. Do they?

Pulling myself to my feet at the acknowledgment of being noticed, I take one more longing look at Trish, who gives me an encouraging smile and urges me forward. I push myself to the front of the room to stand behind the podium and face the judgmental asshats that make up an AA sobriety meeting. There's a lot of judgment for a bunch of people who sit in uncomfortable wooden chairs, listen to other people’s problems, eat flaky stale donuts, and drink scorched coffee. There’s more judgment in one of these meetings than a pack of PTA moms at a bake sale.

“Hello, I’m Gracie.” I clear my throat. “And I’m a drug addict.”

“Hello, Gracie,” they greet in unison, a few chairs squeaking as people move restlessly in them.

I fight the urge to cringe, gripping the edges podium tightly in my effort. Something about how my name is said in the robotic way of greeting always rubbed me the wrong way. Complaining about it vocally, however, would do me no good. I know better. I would only get scathing looks and eye rolls.

“Today,” my voice cracks. Words scrape against my throat as I drop my eyes to the podium before reaching down to the pocket of my hoodie and tugging out the bronze coin, flipping it between my fingers and lifting it up into view so the group could see it.

“Nine months today.” I pause while clapping ensues. “It’s my first nine months sober. I’ve never gotten this far before. Last time, it was three months, the first time a few weeks. Not even two months.” I graze my thumb over the considerable number nine imprinted on it, focusing on the triangle.

I stand for a moment, listening to the breathing of those waiting for me to speak again. Somebody coughs. Whether it’s a dry cough or one trying to make me feel the pressure to continue on, I decide to just ignore it.

“Nine months. I started drugs when I was thirteen. I thought I was being cool; you know, be part of the in-crowd and all. They were okay. Those guys didn’t have a desire to just keep going. They didn’t have the aching desire to keep doing drugs like their lives depended on it. I don’t really remember those years—just bits and pieces. I know I screwed over people I love. I even hurt my mom really badly at one point.” I shake my head, and with my free hand, I pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment. “I don’t know where I’m going with any of this. It feels weird to be sober, but in a safe way. My family actually wants me around, and I don’t have my sisters or even my mom trying to hide valuables or their purses to make sure I won’t steal from them.” I open my eyes and lift my head to look at their somber faces, each watching me curiously. “That’s what I hated the most, you know. The fact that they couldn’t even trust me. I wasn’t even allowed around my nieces or nephews alone.” I swallow hard. “I borrowed about two thousand from my niece almost a year-and-a-half ago and kind of screwed her over in the process. That was for her college, and I messed it up for her. I wasn’t thinking straight, I just cared about getting my goods, and that was it.”

I stop, feeling the anxiety of my words trickle through me, icy cold and urging me to stop talking. Jabbering on and on isn’t like me. But that’s the point of this. I need to talk. I have to get it out, or I’ll just drown in my feelings and thoughts, and the results will be disastrous. I don’t want to return to the life I had once before led.

“I left a toxic relationship,” I spit out, my voice shaking in this dangerous territory.

Not even my sister, who’s my sponsor, knows this part. Secrets can’t be kept any longer.

“About eleven months ago, I left a guy I thought I really did like, and I thought he liked me. We both were into drugs and alcohol, so I didn’t really care how he treated me. If I was drunk or high, he could do whatever. Then one day, I threw up. I didn’t feel good, and after a few days, I still didn’t feel good, so I went to the doctor. I was still drinking and doing drugs and not caring.” My voice cracks and hot tears burn the corners of my eyes. “I was pregnant and –” I draw in a slow breath, my words quivering as I continue. “I told him. I begged him to get sober with me for the baby. So – So, he hit me and kept hitting me. He’d done that before so many times. Always said he was sorry, gave me flowers or gifts, whatever I wanted, to apologize. Then he did it again. But that time, he kept going. Until I could barely breathe, and I couldn’t move.” My fingers twitch on the podium as I let out a wretch sob. “I lost the baby.”

There’s dead silence this time.

It’s always the worst stories that keep everybody sober—a sordid reminder of why we each chose to walk away from the things that blocked reality but took our lives away.

“I was supposed to have the baby about three months ago,” I continue, my voice crackling as I force it to stay in audible hearing range for those in the back. “I was supposed to have a baby, to be a mom.” I squeeze my eyes closed and push the tears down my cheeks. “I stay up at night, listening to the silence. There’s supposed to be a baby crying. There’s nothing.”

My words fall away. I can’t speak anymore as the sobs escape, but I quickly wipe at the tears, sniveling before pushing myself off the podium and standing back, opening my eyes again as I wipe them quickly once more. “I got sober for her or him. Because I didn’t want that to happen again, I couldn’t. I left the guy too. It’s hard to talk about it, but I really am glad I chose this path. I know I did the right thing.”

With that, I step around the podium and return to my seat, clasping my hands together. A nudge to my side tells me that my sister wants my attention, but I only shake my head. I don’t want to look at her. Nudging me again, more persistent this time, I shrug her off and snap my head up. She gives me a tight smile and jerks her head towards the back. I twist around, and my heart plummets into my stomach as my eyes land on who she’s motioning for me to look at.

Two wide pairs of eyes stare back at me; both of their mouths are slightly parted in what is obviously shock. Shock at my words. They hadn’t been there before. I was sure of that. But I had closed my eyes a few times while talking. For all I knew, they could’ve snuck in at one of those moments. Jerking back around, I face forward as another drunk or drug addict or whatever it is they are, takes my place up front. Their words become a garbled mess in my ears, my stomach clenching. I suddenly feel sick. I want to hurl. Acid gurgles up my throat, scorching it, and I must swallow it to keep it from overflowing.

Two others follow suit before the meeting is released. I don’t even realize that the time had clicked away. I’d almost been convinced I was stuck in one solid moment that would last an eternity. I feel their eyes burning into the back of my skull the entire time, accusatory glares. I feel confined, my chest aching with the desire to breathe in full gulps of air. It’s almost as if I’m in a small cave, and it has begun to close in on me.

At the words, however, I lurch from my seat and spin, fully intending to escape the room. Fingers curl gently around my wrist to stop me, but it’s such a lax hold that I know I'll be released instantly if I try to pull out. It isn’t meant to hold me back. Still, it stops me, and I turn to face Devon, shoulders tensed.

“Gracie,” he starts, but his words come to a halt as Trish steps up next to me.

“Not now, Devon,” Trish warns and puts a hand on my shoulder, gripping it.

“Not now what?” he questions, eyebrows pulling together in genuine confusion. “I heard what she said. As much as I want to, I wasn’t going to say anything about that. I was just going to ask her to go for coffee with Owen and me. You too, Trish.”

“Coffee sounds good,” she exclaims happily and releases her hold on my shoulder. “I think that’s a good idea.”

I side-eye my sister, trying to look like I’m seething, but my own face is a traitor like hers and gives me away. Trish flashes me a playful grin; face tilted slightly towards me. She’s older but shorter.

Owen steps up next to Devon, making it known just how much taller he is between the two men and jingles his keys towards me. “You wanna drive?” he half teases.

I scrunch my nose but clamp my lips together. I don’t bother denying him. He knows I can’t drive; I’d had my license taken away two years previously from driving under the influence multiple times. Sober now and a good girl, I don’t drive without one. I know I must get that taken care of eventually, but I have to be punished somehow, for the time being, a reminder to stay sober and not let the dark thoughts control me and take me back to a place I don’t want to be.

“I actually have to go,” my sister suddenly announces before we can even move, and I turn, seeing her looking at her phone, absorbed by whatever is on the screen. “You three go ahead and have fun.” She waves and rushes out the door before any of us can say another word to try to keep her.

“Either of you think that was a lie to get away from us?” Owen surmises, shaking his head in amusement. “Come on. The girls are waiting.”

A chill runs down my spine. “Girls?” I ask, dragging my feet behind them as they fall into step.

“Donna and Kate,” Devon replies, glancing over his shoulder to look at me momentarily with a one-shoulder shrug. “They’re meeting us for coffee.”

Always with them. These men never went anywhere without their women, apparently. I bite my tongue, keeping myself from saying something I will only regret later. There is no point in arguing. At least I wasn’t left alone. That’s good, isn’t it? Even if I hate those girls for having what I can’t have, I’m not alone, especially after a share like that when thoughts poke inside my mind and leave me completely vulnerable. Being alone isn’t a good idea. I tend to do bad things when I’m alone.

So, I’ll deal with it. I’ve got to. Friends are better than nothing, and Marcy isn’t here yet. I have nobody else to go with, and my damn sister decided to meddle before finding out the truth behind the coffee run. She is a traitor. But oh well, too late now. I’ll just have to swallow my pride and deal with this.

I’m not alone. At least I’m not alone.

Chapter 2

Gracie

“What is she doing here?” Donna’s voice grates my ears, the whine leaping over the small chitter-chatter that drifts through the café. “Owen, I thought this was just going to be a double date. She’s… she isn’t dating anyone.”

I pretend that I don’t hear what Donna said and cross the little aisle between the table and booth to take a seat at one by myself. The other side of the booth is empty, reminding me of my life. Being sober has its cons, that’s for sure. They say we shouldn’t date for a year, that it's crucial to keep a level head on one’s shoulder. A year is a perfect amount of time to put oneself back together, so we can have the strength it takes to be in a relationship. It isn’t exactly policed, and no one’s going to stop anyone from dating, but it’s a highly suggested thing. Always pressed upon us to remind us that focusing on ourselves comes first before we can focus on anything else.

“Gracie,” Devon starts, grabbing my attention, but his words falter when I look at him.

He isn’t looking at me now. His eyes are focused back on Kate, who looks grumpy and annoyed. I think Donna rubs off on her when she’s around. I know how uptight she can get, but she’s only protecting her relationship. She isn’t a bitch like Donna, so I don’t blame her. But, when Donna is around Kate, she isn’t exactly nice. This brings me back to always thinking that Donna rubs off on her.

I press my lips together in annoyance. I want to know what Devon was going to say to me or if he was going to try and invite me to their table. I would decline, obviously, but still. It would’ve been sweet to see the girls' faces anyway.

“Oh, what a lovely group,” a sweet voice chimes as a waitress skips into appearance. “We’re having a special today, half off for couple’s meals!” she exclaims, clasping her hands together.

She’s a sweet little thing. A teenager, if I had to guess, and full of life. Her cheeks are round, and she’s got a bounce of energy that I can’t remember ever having. Then again, my teenage years were always mixed with drugs and booze. For the most part, I lived in a cloud of both. Those years had been taken from me.

A shot of jealousy zaps through me. Their words go in one ear and out the other as they order. Reaching into my back pocket, I draw out my wallet. I get the feeling that the guys are no longer going to pay and flip it open, checking for any cash. Seeing the holder empty, I pluck out my card, staring at it in disdain. I only have so much on it. Mom makes sure I get a monthly allowance, but my parents are already doing so much for me. I try not to spend as much as possible. One day, I want to pay them back everything.

“Are you waiting for someone?” The voice is directed at me.

Glancing up at her and noticing the smile plastered across her face, my heart squeezes at the question. “Nope, just me. Um, I just want a coffee.”

She hesitates, lowering the little pad of paper I didn’t even realize she was holding, and nods. Her eyes flicker to the empty booth seat across from me, and then she gives me a pitying look. I give her a tight smile, and she scurries off to get the drinks and put the orders in.

I puff out my cheeks and exhale slowly, rustling my hair as I sink into my seat, eyeing the group of four yet again. I can’t help it. My eyes fall on the one next to Owen, her talon-like nails clutching his arm tightly. I grit my teeth so tightly together; I hear the crunch in my ears. Even if I was willing to spend more on my card, it would be useless. I’m not very hungry. Donna always makes me lose my appetite. I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone in my life, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is more than mutual by this point. I just haven’t figured out if the hatred I feel is pure jealousy or something else. Maybe a mixture. Because I thought I was above the whole jealousy shit, but a little voice in the back of my mind keeps telling me otherwise.

Deciding that I don’t want to be caught staring at the group like a lost puppy or, well, a hopeless ex-girlfriend, I peel my eyes away from them with force and shift my gaze to the window on my left side. My reflection shows a pale girl with dark circles beneath her eyes, the telltale sign of lack of sleep. But her face is still full of life regardless. I’m shaken by the sight. It reminds me of when I looked at myself a year ago. I’d been a hollow sight. My cheeks had been sunken, eyes falling into the chasms. I was a pretty bad sight. Now, however, the plumpness is back in my cheeks, and my eyes shine brightly. I actually recognize the girl staring back at me.

I used to look like I was obviously on drugs. Now, however, I’m treated like a real human being. I must admit, it’s one of the best things about sobriety. I’m not skirted around when people come near me. They smile when I pass instead of wrinkling their noses in disgust. People even talk to me now and again, even if it’s just to ask for directions. Despite sometimes not even knowing me, they talk to me.

I blink, and when stark hazel eyes stare back at me, I jolt in surprise. I’d been so wrapped in my thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed anybody appear, and they aren’t my fucking eyes. I rub at the window, but they don’t disappear. I scramble out of my booth and turn sharply, my shoe squeaking on the ground, and crash into someone. Hot liquid, which I assume is my coffee having arrived, splashes all over my front—drenching me straight to my skin beneath my bra.

The waitress staggers back, the now empty mug dangling from the fingers of one hand. The pot of coffee is clutched between her fingers in the other hand. She stares at me with wide eyes and draws in a slow breath. Her eyebrows scrunch together, and tears sparkle in her eyes. “I – I am so sorry!” she breathes.

Her shirt is splotched with coffee, but it doesn’t look as bad as mine. I barely noticed the heat of the coffee, but it has cooled now, so it doesn’t even matter.

Donna’s high-pitched laughter rings in my ears, and I look sharply at her. She’s practically doubled over laughing, clutching her stomach at the hilarity of the whole affair. Heat flashes across my cheeks, but at this point, I wouldn’t be surprised if coffee had also been splashed on my face. I look back at the waitress, feeling completely lost about what to say. I am sorry, but the words won’t come. Mostly from the embarrassment that’s rolling through me.

I step to the side, fully intending to leave, but the waitress breaks my desire. She’s on the ground, trying to wipe at the coffee with napkins, shoulders tensed as if she’s trying to hold back sobs. I hesitate long enough for her to look up at me.

“You haven’t paid,” she tells me.

“I’ll pay for her,” Devon cuts in, and I turn to him and see him stand. But he’s looking at the waitress, not me. “Just let her go.”

With that, I leave as quickly as possible, forcing myself not to look back. Pushing open the door, I suck in a breath as fresh air slaps me in the face. It cools the heat but presses my drenched shirt, making it cling to my skin. I wipe at it, though it’s a stupid useless action, and start down the sidewalk, feet dragging as I walk away.

Knowing that being alone isn’t the best option, I again turn to the café windows. My eyes fall on the two couples. Devon has returned to his seat and reaches across the table to hold Kate’s hand. Her smile is bright, eyes simmering with love for the man who was once mine. Owen and Donna are talking, her eyes glittering. I can’t tell if it’s from the light that shines over them or something else, but for a moment, she just looks incredibly happy. Part of me wonders if it has anything to do with the fact that I’m just not there.

I feel so lost now. I have no idea where I’m supposed to go. Returning to the apartment doesn’t seem the best option right now. They’re going to show up there eventually, and I just really don’t want to be around their sappy lovey-dovey shit. Yes, I tend to mope. I get it. But this is all so damn frustrating. Why did my father have to insist I live with them? I don’t care anymore about some stupid ass deal. I’m so confused, and being sober is so damn hard. It’s worse when I have to keep my head up while watching the two men I love flit off with other chicks.

I pull myself away from the window with difficulty. I can’t linger. I can’t just hope that they’ll take pity on me and dump the girls. I’m being stupid about this whole thing, and I know it. I must breathe. I’ve got to move on. I need to push myself to do that. I can’t fall back. Nine months of sobriety is too much to give up over a couple of guys. Because in three months, I’ll be one entire year sober. Not because of them. Not because I was forced, but because I chose to stick to this route. I chose to be sober. Me. Nobody else. So even if they aren’t rooting for me, I will do it. It helps that I know my parents will be proud of it, but this is on me entirely. Nobody can receive help unless they decide they want to. I didn’t want it before. I chose to accept it now, and the rest is up to me.

I will stay sober, no matter what.

I smile at how excited I can imagine my parents will be. Mom will get me a cheesecake in celebration; she knows I hate regular cake and has always given me alternatives. Dad won’t look at me with disappointment, and I’ll finally be able to make something of myself. I’ll show them I can do this.

I blink and stop suddenly. My eyes flash around, but only darkness greets me. Streetlamps here are either broken or just not turned on. I don’t know. But I’ve been walking without even realizing it, lost in my own thoughts. It’s so easy to drift away sometimes. Being sober gives my brain so much more room to think things over and over. It can get heavy in my mind sometimes. Now, however, I was simply lost in thought.

I don’t know where I am, and I shiver as a gust of wind brushes over me. I don’t have a coat. I didn’t think I’d be walking out in the dark after all.

Loud voices drift over me. Laughter echoes in the air, and my eyes snap to a stoop. It's crowded, with what I assume is a bunch of men. I could be wrong, but the way they’re swaying and talking loudly tells me I just might not be. I can see them dipping their head back and chugging something – beer is what I guess. I swallow and look back over my shoulder. Did I turn somewhere, or is it just a straight walk back?

My eyes shoot around the darkened street. I spot a few alleyways, and dread creeps over me, replacing the steaming coffee from earlier. Now, I just want to be covered in warm coffee instead of this icy dread.

I can turn back but to do so means returning to the group I just left—I really don’t want to do that. I don’t want to be around them right now. I have to keep my head straight. So, I turn to face forward again and hope it's dark enough for the guys not to notice me. But as I start walking, I know it’s a stupid wish. A light flashes on from one of the nearby houses, a motion sensor, I guess, and blazes with a glow of light. I keep walking, trying to pretend it didn’t happen. They noticed, though, and catcall instantly.

I grit my teeth, keeping my eyes forward. A woman should never walk alone. Daddy’s voice drifts through my mind. He and Owen are always reminding me of that. They’re both cops, after all, and a lot of calls they get are from women walking alone at night. They're not asking for trouble; they’re usually just trying to get home. But trouble comes anyway.

From the corner of my eye, I spot a couple of the men detach themselves from the stoop and draw towards me. Another brisk wind sends a sharp stinging into my nostrils. Beer. My breath hitches and I pick up my footsteps a few feet more and then turn, deciding that I would rather be around those bitchy girls than this. It’s too late now, though. The two men I thought I saw have doubled and are approaching me from behind.

A shrill ring makes me jump, and I fumble into my jeans back pocket for my phone, sliding the green arrow over before pressing it to my ear. “Hello?” I squeak, my hands trembling so hard that I clutch my phone to my ear to keep it from slipping.

The guys hesitate, falling back slightly.

“Gracie?” His voice washes over me, and I let out a shaky breath.

“Owen! Hi. I was just going to call you. Did you get off your shift at the police station?” I say loudly, recalling my father had once told me to speak loudly and point out something that would no doubt scare off anyone coming at me.

Just like he’d said, the men fall back even more, grumbling in irritation. My voice is loud enough for them to hear; now, they know I have a police officer coming for me.

Owen is silent for a moment, obviously confused, but then – “Tell me where you are.”

Chapter 3

Gracie

The apartment has three bedrooms, each filled with an occupant. The one on the far left is home to the man I lost my virginity to. The one on the far right is home to the man whose virginity I took. Then, there’s me, right smack in the middle. I’m the delicious part of this sandwich, the luscious meat within that puts it all together. Because without me, there would be no sandwich.

Okay, so there’s no actual sandwich here. You need the bread to make it; I don’t have that on either side. I’m a lonely piece of meat, lying in the bottom of a fridge waiting to be noticed. All right, so they do notice me. They both have for so long. How else could I have had sex with either one of them? They’re just off-limits right now. Their rule, not mine. It’s their guidelines for living together; no touching. I don’t even know how it happened, but the two became such great buds sometime in the past year and a half that they decided to live together. It means no fighting over a girl.

How. Fucking. Lame. Men can be such dicks, which is unsurprising as they only tend to think with them as it is. Those luscious, plump dicks that make my thighs tingle and my back arch…

Woah, back up, Gracie, back up.

I know what they both look like beneath their clothes. I know every little touch that makes each of them melt. I know their favorite foods and what each mood means, even if it’s nothing more than an eye roll with nothing to follow suit. But the bastards long ago decided that bro code is far more important than sticking their dicks in me. Even if I know that they both loved me once before.

“Earth to Gracie.” The exasperated voice pulls my head out of dick-swinging fantasies and back to reality.

Marcy stares at me with an arched eyebrow and pursed lips of impatience. I blink and feel heat flushing up my cheeks at having been caught in the middle of my daydreams. If I were a guy, I would have ended with a seriously raging boner as evidence of my impure thoughts. Maybe it was a good thing I didn’t have that slab of meat dangling between my thighs.

“Did you hear a word I said at all?” she questions, eyes narrowing at me in suspicion, daring me to try to wiggle my way out of this one.

I shrug, huffing out a breath of air, and tilt my head back to stare at the cream-colored ceiling. No cracks, no stains that would arouse any questions at all. There is nothing. It is all practically brand new, built just under a decade ago, and kept in as close to pristine condition as possible. It’s one of the best apartment complexes here in the city. Daddy made sure of that. There was no way he would’ve let me live in something crappy with being far from home. Safety for me was and is his number one concern with me living so far away from him. Even if it did put him in a bind to pay for the place. He’d told me plenty of times, though, that it’s worth it if I keep up my schooling.

Except for the loneliness of living alone. Or at least it’s how it had been in the beginning. I got lucky when I’d found out the guys were completing their dreams in the city as well, or I would’ve been left entirely by myself. Something I just can’t handle, and everybody who knows me knows that. Marcy found a school three states away from me, and I know she isn’t going to even consider changing it any time soon. She’s determined to be an elementary teacher, and I know better than to try and take it away by whining.

“I said,” Marcy continues, annoyance decorating her tone. “How’re you dealing with Owen’s girlfriend?”

Donna isn’t new to me, and this isn’t a topic that is rarely spoken about. I grimace visibly, so Marcy knows exactly what those particular words mean to me: a slap to the face. I loathe that girl who prances around my man with doe-like eyes, pretending to be helpless. I know her type well enough – I used to be her type. She feigns innocence just enough to keep Owen wrapped around her tiny little finger. I hate her so much, but if I even dare to voice my feelings to Owen, I will be accused of rampant jealousy. Maybe I am a little jealous, but I still know something is wrong with her. Something is just off about that woman. She and Owen don’t belong together. Just like Kate and Devon don’t belong together.

They aren’t happy with these chicks. At least, Owen isn’t. He’s annoyed and moody after being with her. Devon, well, he’s something else. I can’t quite explain it, but I know he isn’t happy in my gut. Is it just stupid hope curling in the pit of my stomach or real gut instinct?

“You’re just going to have to get over it, Gracie. Find a new guy or go lesbian but stop mourning what’s been gone a long time. Remember”—Marcy grunts as she rises to her feet and stretches her arms over her head—“you gave them both up, not the other way around.”

She doesn’t wait for a response as she steps over our looted candy pile and leaves my room. I stick my tongue out at her back and fall onto my pillows, once again staring at the cream-colored ceiling. Marcy is right, not that I am ever going to admit that, of course. Not to her face or to anyone at all. Devon had asked me to marry him at one point. I turned him down. The stupidest mistake I have ever made. And Owen had almost been mine again, but I had stolen all his money from his wallet and left a pathetic apology note in its place before running off. No wonder they don’t want me.

Maybe I’m not allowed to be pissed because they have told me off to my face. A small part of me knows that it is partly my fault. Or maybe entirely. No, nope, not a damn chance. They have to be at fault to some extent too. Not just me. But, and no surprise, I am the one being blamed for it all. Even in my own heart, damn wretched thing betraying me. The plop of a body dropping onto the pile of pillows on the ground turns my head, and my eyes fall to the reappearance of Marcy.

“So,” Marcy drawls, popping a bitesize Twizzler into her mouth. “I had sex.”

I squint my eyes at her, unimpressed by the news. I’m the one who’d lost her v-card before hitting eighteen.

“So?” I quirk an eyebrow, still slightly confused at the confession. “We’ve both had sex, Mar. It isn’t that big of a deal anymore. We aren’t teenagers, you know. Sex is part of life.”

Marcy’s face turns beet red, and she ducks her head, feigning interest in the threads hanging from the pillow she sat upon. “It’s not that I did it, not really. More like with who.”

Well, this just got interesting. I sit up on my bed, propping my head on my hand, and arch an eyebrow, urging her to keep spilling the beans. The air seems to sizzle as I wait for her to speak. I don’t want to say the wrong thing and make her lose her confidence.

“It – it was Landon,” she rushes out, her face snapping up towards me, an apology twisting it.

My eyebrows shoot up at her, and this time, I pull myself up to a fully upright position, crossing my legs beneath me on the bed. I’m surprised at her words, but more so that she even bothered to tell me anything. It isn’t exactly a surprise about their fling. Landon already spilled the news weeks ago when the two first got together. He’d been worried I would end up hating Marcy for going out with him or hating him for going out with her. Plus, Landon isn’t the best at keeping secrets. I also know about the two from when they’d had a small thing in high school – again, all Landon’s fault. It had bothered me then, but I’m mature now – a grown-up. Plus, I’m not in charge of who Marcy wants to be with, even if it is my lame-o nephew.

“So, are you two a thing then?” I ask, trying to sound indifferent about it, gnawing at the inside of my cheek.

Marcy shrugs with a shake of her head and drops her gaze to her hands, picking at her nails. “I don’t know. Maybe? I’m really confused about it all. Are you mad, Gracie?”

Her question takes me by surprise, and I lean forward just enough to not fall face forward off my bed. “Why would I be mad?” I pretend to be clueless, but we both know that I know what she’s talking about.

Of course, I know what she’s talking about.

“Because – because I – He – He’s – your nephew,” she sputters, the words tripping off her tongue.

I blink, clamping at the inside of my cheek again, and breathe out through my nose. It’s definitely weird that the two are slowly figuring out one another, but it isn’t my place to play boss here. I want Marcy to be happy, and if it ends up being with my nephew, who is only a year younger than we are, I will just have to suck it up and deal with it.

“And your point is what? Do you like him, or was it just a one-time thing?”

I don’t need her to tell me the answer, but I want her to say it anyway. Marcy lets out a strangled breath of air, and even from where I sit, I hear the rattle of anguish seeping through her. “I’ve – I’ve been tutoring him because of his football scholarship and all. He – he needed help, so he wouldn’t fall behind and lose his scholarship, you know? So, we’ve been just hanging out, studying, and we kissed a couple of times. He even took me on a date. A really nice dinner and roller skating.” She pauses, a small smile dancing upon her lips as her eyes drift to another time. “The sex part just… sort of happened. A few times.”

What a romantic little shit. Of course, he is romantic. Clear as day, I had to watch my nephew be just as gentle to my best friend as his father has always been to my sister. Once upon a time, I used to dream of having a man treat me just like that. I had it once, too, a long time ago. Why the fuck did I turn down Devon’s proposal again? Oh right, because of the drugs I hadn’t wanted him to find out about at the time. That was why. Because of something stupid that I wish to the day I could take back.

“I haven’t talked to him since we both got home for break, though. So, I don’t really know his thoughts on anything.”

I roll my eyes. “Marcy, Landon’s a family man. He’s soaking up all the time he can with his family. I’m sure he’s thinking about you but just keeps forgetting to text. Just show up. If he’s happy to see you, everything is good. If not…” I shrug my shoulders, deliberately letting the words fall off my tongue.

Knowing what I’m going to say, Marcy lets out a groan of exasperation. “I don’t want to seem weird just showing up.”

I stare at her, unfazed by her words. “So, don’t. You can spend the night before here and go to the family BBQ then. The guys are going too, so we can all just go together. Mom and daddy will be happy to see you, you know that. Also, Landon will be there. So, there you go.”

Chapter 4

Gracie

I can pretend, for just a little while, that I have them to myself. For slivers of moments, the world only revolves around the three of us. It sucks to know that it isn’t forever, but if I pretend not to listen to the voices that constantly prick the back of my mind, I can easily live in a fantasy for a little while.

“You better eat,” I half tease, half warn, scrunching up my nose at the guys. “I didn’t slave over a phone for twenty minutes ordering for nothing, you know.”

The two men snicker with a roll of their eyes. Owen spears his enchiladas, cutting them before shoving a forkful in his mouth. Chewing, he stares at me. Lowering mine, I pretend that he isn’t. If I allow myself to go that far, it will only be too easy to slip into thinking he wants to be with me again. He has a girlfriend, and as much as I hate her, I know better than to do anything. I don’t want to piss him off by making an unwelcome move.

I cut up my cheese enchilada platter, dip it into the sautéed rice, and pop it in my mouth. Chips and salsa sit in a line between me and the two of them. I have yet to touch any of them, but the guys tore into it first thing.

“So, when do classes start back up, Gracie?” Devon asks before picking up his taco.

I shrug, shift in my seat, and deliberately avoid eye contact with him.

“Gracie,” Devon scolds lightly to get my attention. “You know your father said you have to stay in school for him to keep paying for this apartment.”

I draw in a breath and puff my cheeks out before drawing my eyes up to him and exhaling slowly. “I know, okay? School is just… it’s fucking boring.”

Owen drops his fork, the utensil clattering on his plate, and frowns at me, eyebrows furrowing downward. “You made this deal with your dad, Gracie. You’ve gotta keep to it; you must keep doing your classes. Or get a job, and we all know you aren’t ready for a job.”

I scowl and drop back in my chair, glowering at my plate of food. He isn’t wrong. I am in no shape for a stupid job. Besides, with my current record, people are extremely hesitant to hire me. I can’t blame them. I wouldn’t want to hire me for a business either and have to stress if I was going to steal or slip back into old habits. Besides, daddy has said once I do get a job, he’d oversee my checks. It’s both his and stupid Robert’s plan. To help pay back Lola and ensure I don’t fall back into gambling. They want the best for me, but it still rubs me the wrong way.

“Gracie,” Devon starts, trying to sound as calm as possible. “Come on. You know you aren’t going to give up on it. This is just a bump. What’s going on?”

I let out a slow breath and run my fingers through my hair, sitting forward, taking my fork in my fingers again. Fingers clasp around my wrist, stopping me, and once more, I look up. This time, it’s Owen. His face is soft, eyes gentle as he smiles kindly at me. Wings flutter in my stomach, a reminder of what I’ve lost. Even to this day, they both can make me feel so amazing. They have always made me feel like I can do anything I want to if I just put my mind to it. Not that I’m always so sure, though. Some days, this world feels like it’s crumbling around me. I’ve spent so many years in a drug-induced haze, desperate to get my next fix, that I lost who I was a long time ago. To this day, I’m still not sure what I’m good at or where I could go that would be good for me. It doesn’t help that I don’t even have an interest in the classes that I’ve signed up for. They are so mundane and so basic, but they’ll get me that two-year degree and get people off my back. I doubt I’ll do anything with the degree afterward.

Owen releases my wrist and draws his hand back. “Everything will work out. You’ll see.”

Not when it involves my heart being constantly reminded of what I singlehandedly destroyed. How can I push forward knowing that? It’s just too difficult to pretend that everything is fine and dandy when I can’t even figure out how to navigate each day with a clear mind. I’m getting there, but not as quickly as I really want to.

“Well, you’ll be a whole year sober sooner than you think,” Devon pipes up, trying to change the tense atmosphere. “What would you like to do in celebration?”

My eyes flash up to him, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He smiles and sets his food down, wiping his fingers. “Gracie, a year sober is an amazing accomplishment. So, what would you like to do for it?”

I blink, lips parting slightly as my eyes flicker to Owen, who nods in agreement. “I – I didn’t even know we were supposed to do something.”

It isn’t a lie. I’ve heard of others celebrating their first year sober. Trish’s one-year mark both times had been celebrated, and the little non-alcoholic parties are still recounted. But I’ve never expected anyone to throw me anything at all. I just want to make up for all the crap I’ve put everyone through. I don’t deserve a celebration. They all deserve to know I’m not going to fuck them over again. Every single one of them.

How do I explain it, though?

Shrugging, I shake my head, staring at my plate again. “I don’t know,” I finally force out. “I don’t – I don’t really want to do anything.”

“Then we can just stay in and watch movies or whatever,” Owen smooths over, saving me from having to explain myself without knowing the proper words to say.

“I’d like that,” I agree, knowing if I don’t go along with even the simplest of things, they’ll hound me until the day after my year of sobriety.

“Well, it’s settled then. We can invite Marcy as well,” Devon continues, but I go deaf after those words.

All hope of just us two is shattered. It’s one thing to eat meals together, but that’s as far as it generally goes. Otherwise, we each live our own lives. Me, mostly inside the comfort of the apartment or at meetings. I don’t have a whole lot of time for more of a life besides the two places. My social life took a dump and was flushed down when I turned to sobriety. Marcy visits on holiday breaks from school. It’s about the only time I get to see her. Besides those times, it’s a pretty lonely life here. The guys work way too much. Not that I can blame them, though. It doesn’t matter that daddy’s paying for the apartment, other bills still need to be paid, and they aren’t the kind of lazy men who’d take advantage of the situation.

Still, I know that when it comes time, Marcy will hurry back in a heartbeat to celebrate, no matter what time of the year it is.

I feel the corners of my lips twitch at the idea of being able to celebrate with the people I love the most. In honor of me. “Can we possibly do it at my parents?”

Surprise flashes in their eyes, but both their lips curl upwards in smiles.

“Of course, we can. I’m sure your parents would love that,” Devon announces.

My heart squeezes. My mother had stepped in after his mom passed away. Their bond does make me slightly jealous as it’s one I know I can never have with her. Ours was irreparably damaged when I pushed her down the stairs, broke her leg, and then went after her with a knife. Sure, I’d been intoxicated with whatever drugs I’d been on at the time, but I still dream about it. It's the thing I’m not sure I’d ever make up for. It’s also one thing I will never allow myself to forget, so I can work tirelessly to make it up to her.

“They’re going to be very proud, you know. I know both will be,” Devon assures me, his tone gentle.

It’s the therapist tone he uses with his clients and when I need to be talked down. It’s the same tone my brother-in-law uses with me when I sit in on sessions in his office. No surprise. Devon had learned from him, after all.

I stick out my tongue at him. “Don’t patronize me,” I warn and stand.

The movement is too quick, and I lean forward, grabbing the edge of the table. Something feels off, but I can’t quite figure it out. I grip the table's edge and heave in a slow breath, trying to gather my bearings.

“Gracie?” Owen asks, alarm shooting in his voice as he scoots his chair across the ground and stands to check on me.

I shake my head and raise a hand to stop him. “I’m fine. I just stood too fast and got a little dizzy, that’s all.”

My eyes flash up in time to see the two men share a questioning glance, both with lips pursed. I narrow my eyes at them but keep my mouth shut, knowing it will just be useless to poke at their looks. They won’t tell me; I know that. They have a bond between them, and apparently, it’s the bullshit “bros before hoes” crap guys babble about here and there.

Exhaling slowly, I look down at my plate of delivered food. I no longer have the stomach for it, which is very strange. I once used to eat any and everything. These days, it's pick-and-choose. When I got high, I couldn’t. When I came down, I would be starving for plates on end of food. These days, I’m just all over the place. One day I can be starving; the next, I can’t stomach a single thing. It’s a work in progress to get back to normal. I’ve got to be careful not to overdo it or underdo it.

“I’m going to take a shower.” I smile wanly, desperate to get away from them before I do or say something stupid that I can’t take back.

I retreat to the planned destination and shut the door, dropping to the toilet to grasp for air that shudders my lungs. Sometimes, it isn’t the easiest thing in the world to have to deal with the rush that a new life brings. I still don’t know which cracks to begin smoothing over to mend everything broken around me. I’m just living at this point, day by day. It’s working, somewhat so far. I just don’t know for how much longer it will last.

A rap on the apartment's front door draws my attention, and I pull myself to my feet before sidling to the bathroom door and popping it open just a crack. Pressing my ear to it, I catch wind of grating laughter. My teeth clench at the familiar sound, twisting my heart in my chest as I slowly shut the door, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

Donna’s here, and I do not doubt that Kate has followed behind. That stupid girl sure loves to make sure I know I’m nothing more than a simple third wheel. Donna doesn’t like Kate, and even I know that. She’s a bitch, the biggest of them all. The Queen B.

Unable to contain myself, I yank open the door and step back out of the bathroom, flashing them sarcastic smiles.

“Thought you were getting in the shower,” Owen comments, discomfort twisting his face as Donna slides an arm through his, glowering at me.

“I was, I will,” I state simply, avoiding Donna’s look.

Once I get around the furniture, her possessiveness of Owen seems to grow. It isn’t that hard to miss. It also doesn’t help that her doing so clearly makes Owen uncomfortable. I know him well enough to know he likes his space, and Donna is one to not give it despite demanding he keeps his distance to allow her to do whatever the hell she wants. Which is mostly cheating. The woman doesn’t love him, of that I’m sure.

I do. I love him and Devon, and the women standing before me are the biggest slaps in the face. Always a damn reminder of what I’m no longer allowed to have.

“Why’re you guys here?”

“Movie night,” Donna cuts in, the smile curling the corners of her lips up, eyes sparkling. “Date night for couples.”

I bite my tongue, huffing air out my nostrils. I fucking hate her.

Chapter 5

Owen

The clicking of a tongue warns me that Donna is about to start in on it. Side-eyeing her, I catch sight of her wrinkled nose, disgust simmering in her eyes as she stares at my ex-girlfriend. Donna loathes Gracie and doesn’t keep it a secret. The woman is just full-on blunt, with everything and everyone. It’s one thing I do admire about her. Gracie used to have a mouth on her, always standing up for herself and those she loved. Until the drugs and alcohol took hold of her. Then she’d just made no sense whatsoever half of the time. Being able to stand up for themselves and demand they get what they want is a quality I respect in a woman. It’s one reason I was attracted to Donna in the beginning and one reason I’m still with her. These days, however, I struggle with staying with her.

Especially in moments like these. I seriously hate when she goes off on Gracie, but there’s not a damn thing I can do. Not right now anyway. Going against Donna is always a mistake. One I don’t like making often. The woman is good in bed, and I fucking enjoy her BJs a little too much. Screwing that up is like running into a brick wall with a knife pointed at it, convinced that one strike at the wall will chip it to pieces. It’s exhausting watching Gracie be belittled, always reminded of her mistakes, and reprimanded for trying so hard in life just to find normalcy of any kind for herself.

“Why’re you here?” Donna demands when Gracie stands in place, keeping her stance. “Shouldn’t you be at some joke of a meeting or whatever?”

Anger flashes in Gracie’s eyes. The brown lights up momentarily. There’s something else there, though, that’s keeping Gracie held back. Exhaustion? Perhaps. I’m not sure how much it takes out of a person against the demons that putter through one’s mind when struggling with addiction. I’m so proud of her, though. She’s worked so hard up to this point.

“I live here,” Gracie states flatly and motions lamely towards her bedroom door. “Or did you forget that?”

Donna snorts and crosses her arms. “I meant, for the movie night. Why’re you even out here? You don’t have a date.”

Gracie’s jaw ticks, but Devon swoops in before she can say anything with his words meant to diffuse situations. “Gracie’s invited. She does live here, Donna. We can’t kick her out of her own living room.”

It’s a simple reminder without wanting to lash out at my girlfriend, but as usual, Donna takes it as a challenge. On cue, Donna spins to face my best friend, her red hair wiping around, reminding me of the red hair gene in Gracie’s family, and another reason I took an interest in her in the first place.

“Why’re you defending her?” Donna’s cold voice shakes me from the tumbling thoughts. “She isn’t your girlfriend, Devon. Kate is.” She points at Kate, whose standing inches behind Devon.

“Kate,” Donna demands, “say something to your boyfriend.”

Blue eyes flicker in fear as they widen at Donna. I have an inkling of what she wants to say. She wants to argue with Donna, tell her off, and let Gracie stay. I know the look of wanting to do so all too well. I’ve seen it too many times in helpless women who deal with abusive husbands and so badly want to fight back but are too afraid of doing so. But defeated, just like the others, Kate’s shoulders sag. I catch the apologetic look she shoots Gracie before turning to Devon helplessly.

“Donna’s right,” Kate squeaks.

The woman was wrapped around Donna’s finger. She’d once been strong, but in the last couple of years since knowing Donna, Kate’s will has slowly been chipped away. A hollow shell is all that’s left. It’s disheartening to see how much of a grip Donna has on other women or anyone, really.

I even admit she’s got a killer grip on me. I hate it, I really do, but I feel too latched on to be able to pull out. And not in a good way either.

My eyes flicker to Gracie, but I keep myself from dropping everything to go over and pull her in for a hug as her face drops. The fire in her still burns, head held high, with her nostrils flaring as she glares straight at Donna. If anyone can stay out of my girlfriend’s clutches, its Gracie. Lucky. Slowly, the corner of her lips curls upward, and Gracie steps forward. Her eyes are on Donna, a dare glittering in them. I have no voice to warn her to back off, to rethink whatever she was about to do.

“Make me,” Gracie grounds out between clenched teeth, but her voice is dead flat.

Donna wheels around to face her, an eyebrow cocked and those pouty lips pursed. “Excuse me?”

“Make me leave.” Gracie continues. “It’s my apartment. My father pays for it. If anything, you should leave before I call the cops. Who do you think they’ll make leave, huh? Sure as hell won’t be the one who has the money coming in for this place.”

Donna snorts, unperturbed by the threat, and takes a step forward, putting her hands on her hips. “Go ahead. At least I’ll be able to leave with dignity instead of being a freeloader.”

Gracie flinches, and I grimace, feeling the bite that Donna’s words leave behind.

“My parents love me, Donna. They want me safe, secure. They want me better and are helping me get better. I have that. Do you? Because last time I checked, yours simply paid to get you out of their house. Mine wanted me to live with them, to stay with them. Did yours?”

Ouch. I know personally that Donna’s family is a sore subject. Her family has money. I can’t exactly remember what from, but it’s all they care about, and I’m pretty sure it's most of the reason Donna is the way it is. I feel sorry for her sometimes because of it, but hey – we reap what we sow. And it isn’t like Donna even tries to be even remotely nice to Gracie.

Just as I suspected, Donna’s face falters, but she pulls herself together. She obviously doesn’t want to let go of her stature. Her eyes flash with malice, intent to hurt, and I step forward to do damage control I probably should’ve done a while ago. Donna likes to win these things and will say or do whatever it takes. I know that by heart. But it’s too late. The next bout of words to escape those lips of hers stops me dead in my tracks.

“At least I’m not some wiped-out crackhead alcoholic with no friends.”

The pain that slashes across Gracie’s face at the words shoots a knife through my heart, and I draw in a breath of air that stings my lungs. Gracie staggers back, tears glittering in the corners of her eyes, and opens her mouth to try and say something but is cut off by Donna’s continuance.

“At least I have a life. I have a job and people are proud of me. I’m not a freeloader who relies on daddy’s money to survive. I’m not pathetic and a hopeless basket case. Oh, and I have Owen.”

The last words do it. The tears streak down Gracie’s face, and she bolts. I jerk as if caught by a spell and turn sharply. I instinctively reach out towards Gracie, but taloned hands grip my forearm, tugging me backward. The front door slams shut behind Gracie, and I jump at the sound. A different kind of rage swirls through me, like bile burning in my throat.

Rounding on Donna, I barely catch a glimpse of Devon staring at the door helplessly, obviously also at a loss and regretting not having done a damn thing. I’m not sure what his excuse is for not stopping Donna, but I make a mental note to make sure he also knew my feelings about it. I’m a fucking hypocrite. I didn’t stop Donna either. What right do I have to get mad at Devon? Maybe if just one of us had had the balls to do it, Gracie wouldn’t be gone right now. I hate myself for letting it go that far.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I spit, advancing on my girlfriend.

I’m a good head taller than Donna, but I feel like a fucking giant when I tower over her in my anger. My stomach clenches as she tilts her head back with wide eyes and slightly parted lips. For a moment, fear sparks in her eyes, but it’s quickly replaced with anger. She has always hated how protective I can be of Gracie. Good thing she doesn’t know about those weeks with Gracie when I almost officially called everything off with Donna. I mean, we were on a break, and I was allowed to be with Gracie. But I was close to not getting back with her. Damnit, Gracie. Getting back with Donna is your fucking fault for what you did.

Donna pulls herself together, her eyes growing stone cold as she straightens. “Are you serious right now? You’re going to be mad at me? What about the way she treated me?” I can hear the sob catch in her words, but it’s a fake one. I know her a little too well at this point.

I snarl. “You’re always a fucking bitch, Donna. You just can’t let her be happy with shit, can you? You don’t know what the hell she has to go through, and you make it ten times worse for her.”

She blinked. “So? She’s just crawling for you and Devon’s attention when she obviously doesn’t deserve any of it. She ruined her chances for a good life. She just needs to go back to whatever hole she crawled out. Let her die from an overdose. I really don’t care.”

My nostrils flare this time, and my fingers tingle, twitching, curling into my palms to make fists. I don’t hit women. It’s one principle I have always stood by, no matter what. I like to go after men who wailed on their wives or girlfriends because no man should ever put their fucking hands on a woman, but goddamn it, Donna is really fucking pushing my buttons right now.

“I really fucking wish you were a guy right now,” I tell her coldly, and the smirk she’d had slathered across her face drops. “I would beat the living shit out of you.”

“I’ll tell your fucking boss on you for that,” she threatens. “A threat is good enough to get you on desk duty for quite a while.”

I grit my teeth. She isn’t exaggerating, but I hold my ground regardless and force a shrug as if I just don’t care. I can’t let her see me falter. Not at the moment. Anger bubbles in the pit of my stomach.

A rumble of thunder falls through the suddenly silent air before a flicker of lightning far off in the distance flashes in front of the window with the curtain pulled open. Our eyes shift towards it, watching for a moment. Not another fucking storm.

“You should leave, Donna,” I state as calmly as possible, my eyes staying on the window so I don’t have to look at her right now. “You can tell my boss whatever the hell you want. I really don’t care. But you are not allowed to come into this apartment and disrespect Gracie. She lives here. This is her home.”

“So, make her move,” Donna scoffs. “It isn’t fair she’s a freeloader, and you two—”

“Shut up,” Devon cuts in, his naturally calm voice quivering with repressed anger. “Seriously, Donna, shut the fuck up. This is Gracie’s home, and she is no freeloader. She does her part, just like the rest of us. Her situation is just different. But Owen’s right, you should leave. Now.”

Donna gawks at him, obviously taken aback by the fact that we are actually standing up to her. Narrowing her eyes, she throws me a cold smile. “You’ll apologize by tomorrow; I know you will.”

With that, she prances out of the apartment. I can’t help watching as her hips sway side to side as she walks, flipping her hair over her shoulder and slamming the front door as she departs. Once Donna is out of sight, I let out a ragged breath of air and sweep my fingers through my hair, realizing that I am trembling from the adrenaline rushing through my veins.

Another rumble grumbles through the air, followed by another flash of lightning. Glancing warily at the night sky as a few droplets of rain slash at the glass, I frown. “Gracie’s out there,” I remind Devon.

“We can go find her if you guys would like.” Kate blushes beet red when our eyes swivel to her in surprise. “Look, I don’t have a problem with Gracie. I’m proud of how hard she works for her sobriety. Donna is just…” Her voice falters as she looks at me helplessly. “Well, Donna.”

It’s all she has to say. I nod in agreement and cross my arms over my chest. I really fucking hope I don’t wake up and feel the need to apologize to Donna, but I’m not stupid. It happens every damn time we fight. I’m always the first one to apologize. I like to pretend that I’m strong, but something about the way Donna is just makes me weak. Maybe it’s the sex. Maybe it’s the BJs. Maybe it’s the need to make her happy. I don’t know. What I do know and am sure of, however, is that it isn’t love. I’m not in love with Donna at all.

But I can’t let Gracie win. She has to learn. She has to get better. She fucked up and hurt me badly, and I won’t, I can’t, tolerate that.

Stupid fucking heart.

Chapter 6

Gracie

The little bell jingles above as I shove the door open, dipping into the warm little diner. Shivering from the sudden onslaught of rain, I push back black strands of hair that cling to my face. Sputtering out, I cross my arms and mentally curse myself for having just walked out of the apartment with no jacket or even a sweater to lessen the cold. If I don’t get sick from this storm, I’m going to honestly be surprised. Being caught in such weather always results in colds, pneumonia, and whatever else a shot immune system is able to conjure up.

“Take a seat anywhere that’s open, dear, and I’ll be right with you,” a crackly male’s voice calls at my entrance.

The place is practically empty. Booths line each wall on both sides of me, and tables litter the rest of the floor, mostly two-seaters. Glancing around, I can count a majority of the people on one hand. Three are at tables, a bunch of loners with their heads down, reading whatever it is their attention has been grabbed by. The two others are in booths, one on each side of the diner. On my left is an elderly woman with white hair casing her lined face, scribbling in a notebook, completely immersed in it. She doesn’t exactly seem like she wants any company, though. On the right is the youngest looking of them all. If I have to guess, he seems to be around Devon’s age. Golden hair shimmers in the low luminescent light. His face is turned to the window that’s slashed with rain; his pale face reflected on the dark surface.

Deciding I’d rather take my chances with someone closer to my age, I edge towards the guy. My footsteps clap on the linoleum, water splashing around me. I’d only been out in the rain for minutes after it started, but it was enough to soak me through completely. The diner is warm, though, and I hope it can dry me off quick enough before I possibly die from the bitter cold. Another shiver wracks my body and chatters my teeth, alerting the man to my arrival. His head snaps around, eyes flashing to me. The corners of his lips twitch, curling upwards. I watch as he lifts his hands and sets them on the table, curling his fingers together.

Until that moment, I didn’t realize I was standing in wait, but his sudden attention stops me in my tracks. Clearing my throat, I feel the heat of a blush curling up my neck to graze along my cheeks. I duck my head, wet strands of hair slashing across my face, and slide into the booth I’m standing next to. I’m still facing him, and his eyes follow me, that odd smirk still dancing on his lips.

I can’t take my own eyes off him. Part of me doesn’t even want to. I want him to look at me. The way that both Devon and Owen used to. It feels too good to want to give up. I want to be noticed, even if I know it’s wrong. I’m not a year sober yet, which is bad. I need to keep my head out of my ass. Any button pushing can and will make me spiral backward. If I have a fling with this guy or any other guy and it ends badly emotionally for me, I’m screwed and not in the good way. I don’t want to slip. I have to stay sober. I want to stay sober. So that means absolutely no relationships of any kind.

With extreme effort, I draw in a sharp breath and pull my eyes off him and to the table's surface. It’s spattered in ringlets from the water dripping from my hair’s end. Reaching to the side, I snatch a napkin and wipe at the water as a pair of boots step up next to my table, pounding on the ground. Exhaling slowly, shoulders tensing as I lift my head, I smile weakly in relief. The man is elderly, and his eyes crinkle with the smile that grazes his face as he holds out a single page with a list, the menu.

“Get caught in the storm?” Ralph asks, his bushy eyebrows furrowing together in concern.

I nod, mute. My thoughts are swirling too rapidly for me to figure out what I’m supposed to do or say at the moment.

“I’ll get you a towel,” he offers gently and turns, leaving me.

I watch his back disappear behind the counter and through a door. He’s such a sweetheart. Coming to this diner with the old man bustling about always brings me joy and comfort. He’s been here for as far back as I can remember, and I’ve been coming here since I moved into the apartment with the guys almost six months ago.

Again, I push back my hair that just doesn’t want to seem to stay behind my ear. I feel the pricking burn of eyes watching my every move and don’t dare turn back around. I instantly regret not sitting near the granny. I no longer feel safe. I’m an idiot for not thinking that this man could try and come after me, and I doubt I’d be able to save myself. I’d be lucky if he left me alive.

The squeak of a cushion snaps my eyes forward, and I jump at his appearance so close to me, sitting right across from me at the same table. He gives me a lopsided smile and holds up his hands in surrender.

“Don’t be scaring her, son,” the old man chastises as he reappears and drops a towel over my shoulders. “I’m so sorry for my grandson. With his sleuthing around, he can seem a little spooky, but he’s a good kid.” He chuckles and squeezes my shoulder gently with his now free hand.

With his other, he sits a plate and mug down in front of me. The cup is steaming with light brown liquid. Coffee and creamer. The plate holds a bagel with cream cheese, and I lick my lips. I don’t need to ask to know it’s brown sugar and cinnamon cream cheese. He knows what I like and has since my second visit. It helps that we talk a lot about any and everything. I can talk his ear off if he lets me, and sometimes he actually does. He’s an easy man to talk to. It’s comfortable to do so. I don’t exactly know why, but it’s an ear that listens and that I don’t have to worry about being judged by.

I still feel crummy, but the hot coffee and bagel will warm me up soon enough. I smile up at Ralph. “Thank you, old fart.”

He chuckles with a shake of his head and turns to leave again, but not without shooting the guy across from me a warning sign. No name. I don’t miss that signal. Either it was deliberate, or Ralph is letting his grandson have the opportunity to introduce himself. An inkling inside of me tells me he isn’t about to do that, though. As if the mystery of keeping his identity a secret is, for some reason, very vital.

“Meeting a boyfriend? Husband?” he asks, his eyes flickering to my hand as I reach up, tugging my towel tighter and cupping my mug.

Warmth curls up and down my body as the water is sucked out. I shake my head, sorrowful of the question. Twenty-four years old, and I’m here in this cute little diner at night, with nothing for my life to show that I’ve made anything of myself. Yet, everybody from my class has something to show for their accomplishments. Not me.

No. Don’t do that to yourself, Gracie. It’s okay. You’re better now. You’re going to have accomplishments. Being sober is a big accomplishment. It’s okay. You’re doing good. I have to remind myself I’m doing good. Not the way everybody else is, but it’s okay. I’m doing good. I have to make sure that I keep reminding myself of that.

“On my own,” I finally respond.

“Tonight?” He cocks an eyebrow, tilting his head.

The gesture makes him seem younger, less of a threat. I still keep my guard up, though. I know better than to relax. I mentally scold myself for not having grabbed my pepper spray. If I come out of this alive, Daddy can never know I left home without it. I’d never hear the end of it. And it probably would be the last time I lived with anyone else but him for a long time.

“Always.” I finally say with a shrug of my shoulder and lift a corner of the towel, wiping at my face. “I’m single.”

I mentally facepalm myself for saying such a stupid thing. Sure, the guy is handsome, but he could be a damn psychopath for all I know. The more private information I give out, the more he has over me. Am I really stupid enough to spill out these details about my life to him?

“Nothing wrong in being single. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here, alone. In the middle of a storm.”

“My ex-boyfriend’s girlfriend despises me, and I live with both of my exes,” I blurt out, hating myself for being so open.

Yep. I guess I really am going to spill my heart out. Great, now he has leverage on me. I really am a fucking idiot.

Surprise flickers in his eyes, and he folds his hands on the table again, his gaze never leaving me. The longer he looks at me with his smoldering hazel eyes, the more my heart pitter-patters erratically in my chest. At intervals, it squeezes and jabs at my lungs, making breathing even more difficult. He’s paying attention to me, just me, and I can’t help but want him to keep doing so. It just feels too good to have attention on me that isn’t all about my addictions and concern for my sobriety.

This complete stranger knows nothing about any of those issues. If I’m careful enough, I can keep my mouth shut about them. So, I won’t look like a pitiful case to him too.

“Both ex-boyfriends,” he hisses dramatically and shakes his head. “That’s gotta sting.”

I stare at him, deadpan, and blink. My lips part but the words won’t come. How the hell does he know about both of them? I wrack my brain, trying to remember if I’ve ever talked to this guy, and for some strange reason, just blocked the interaction out. While I do have a lot of black spots in my mind, I’m sure that he isn’t one of them.

My fingers tingle as the warmth shoots through them from my grip on the mug that I’ve yet to let up. I try to focus on that instead.

Only when cold fingers wrap around my wrist, do my eyes flash open. I follow the length of his arm and lift my gaze up to his eyes. They are gentle, soothing, and calm the frayed nerve endings that sizzle through my body. A fuzzy cloud drifts through my mind.

“Gracie,” my name on his lips twists something inside of me that I can’t quite figure out.

My breath hitches. Again, I search my mind, but I can’t recall when I told him my name. Maybe I did without realizing it?

“You’ll see. You are meant for so much more than what this world has offered you so far.”

I blink, eyebrows furrowing together. He’s speaking riddles now. My eyes flash down to his hand, and I reach up with my free one, peeling his fingers off me. Once free, I jerk my arm back and stand. He follows swiftly. I regret leaving my bagel untouched, but I have to get home.

“Why don’t I walk you home? There are… unkind people in this neighborhood. Wouldn’t want a pretty face like you getting hurt.”

I hesitate. Being walked home by a stranger who makes me nervous might not be the best idea. Deciding I’m going to take my own advice for once, I shake my head and step back, pulling the towel off my body to hand it to him.

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll get home. I’m a big girl.”

His face twists, and he opens his mouth to retort, but the clearing of a throat turns both of us. Ralph stands just inches away, a cloth in his hand, and I can only guess he’s been cleaning the tables. The diner has emptied since my arrival. I didn’t realize I’d been there long enough for that to happen.

“It’s all right, Gracie. My grandson is a good boy,” he shoots a warning look at him again, and I can’t help but feel off about that statement. “He’s safe to be with, and you know how I feel about you walking home alone.”

I hesitate again and look back to the younger man, whose eyes are a younger replication of Ralph’s. I don’t feel anything wrong in my gut. Ralph has always been nothing more than an uncle type, maybe even a grandpa type. Six months is a decent amount of time to feel safe around someone. And I did feel safe around Ralph. I also did take his advice.

“Okay,” I agree, hoping I wouldn’t regret this. “As long as Ralph vouches for you, you can walk me home.”

The guy's face lights up, and he smiles broadly, showing his teeth. It isn’t menacing, though. Not one bit.

Chapter 7

Gracie

My mouth is dry, parched. The little coffee I drank didn’t help. Curling my tongue over my lips, I step from the elevator as the door hisses open when jolting to a stop on my floor. Drawing in a breath, I almost hack at a stale scent of tobacco lingering in the air. Wrinkling my nose, I tense at the brush of fingers against my arm and glance to my side. He’s standing next to me, but his eyes are forward and avoiding mine. Or he’s just looking forward, and I’m looking too deeply into this. His lips are pursed, corners curved downward in distaste. As if he just doesn’t care much for the complex. I feel a bout of grumpiness tighten in my chest. I’m slightly annoyed by that. I love the complex I live in.

What right does he have to judge my place of living?

“You live here?” he questions. “I didn’t take you for an apartment girl.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “What kind of place did you expect me to live in?”

He draws in a breath, rolling his head on his shoulders, but doesn’t look at me. “You just seem to like your space more, that’s all.”

I balk. Words don’t come. Something seems off about him, like he’s holding back words to say. But also, how does he even know that? It’s just a guess. It has to be a guess. It’s the only thing I can come to terms with. Deciding that lingering in the hall isn’t the best idea, I move forward, knowing he’d follow me.

The golden numbers on the door stare back at me as we step up to my door, shimmering with a small reflection of my face. Turning to the man whose name, I realize I still don’t know, I look up at him, taking in his height for the first time. He’s tall like Devon but lean like Owen. His jaw is tight, eyes cold as he stares ahead, nostrils flaring. Still very obviously disgruntled by my home life.

“This is where I live,” I state, drawing him out of the trance he is within.

Blinking, he drops his gaze to me, burrowing his eyebrows together as he takes my words into account and nods. “All right, well, I’d like to see you go in. Just to make sure you’re safe. Then I’ll leave.”

I turned and reached out, gripping the knob. Biting my lip, I jiggle it and turn, shoulders tensed before popping it open. With a sigh of relief that it was left unlocked, I step over the threshold. Two pairs of eyes turn to face me, and Devon sits up almost instantly.

“Gracie!” he exclaims in relief, but his face falls as I feel the shoulder bump into mine. “Who’s that with you?”

Kate turns and props up on the back of the couch, her arms folded across it before pressing her chin on them. “Is he your boyfriend?” she asks, slight excitement flickering through her words.

Of course, she’d be excited by that idea. Me getting a new boyfriend would mean I’d possibly leave Owen and Devon alone. And Devon was hers. So, it would be a win for Kate.

“No, he isn’t my boyfriend. I just met him tonight. What is your name again?” I ask, turning to him, eyebrows shooting up, half expecting him to tell me.

His lips twitch as he glances at me. “I didn’t say,” he shrugs, and then his eyes fall on Devon. “You.”

“Me?” Devon asks and stands up, facing us. “What about me?” His eyes flicker to me. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you somehow?” His eyes widen as he moves towards the end of the couch, his gaze never leaving me. He advances and reaches out, moving too quickly for me to make a break for it, fingers gripping my chin as he thrusts my head back. “You aren’t high, are you?”

“No,” I hiss between my teeth, my jaw throbbing from his clenched fingers. “I’m not high, Dev.”

His fingers tighten as his face turns towards the man, accusations still simmering. “If you’re some sort of drug dealer or pimp—”

“I’m not,” he cuts Devon off bluntly. “I’m just a friend, and I wouldn’t dare think of putting Gracie in harm’s way.”

I grimace. There it is again – my name.

The air grows stagnant, nobody daring to say a word or make a sound. These situations are always the most awkward of them all. When you are drunk or high, making conversation is the absolute easiest because it’s always utter and complete bullshit. Sober, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, let alone say.

“All right,” Devon finally speaks, shaking off the odd situation, and releases his grip upon me as he points to the door. “You can leave now.”

The golden-haired man blinks, the movement seeming to jerk him out of whatever daze he was in, and he moves back towards the door. He’s slow, hesitant, as if he really doesn’t want to go. The flickering of his eyes between Devon and me says it all. He looks almost desperate for one of us to invite him to stay. Stay for what, though? At this point, it would simply be going to bed, and that is it.

I’m almost tempted to ask him, though.

Until I remember that I don’t know his name.

After a moment that feels excruciatingly long, he leaves, pulling the door closed with a snap behind him, and no goodbye. No goodnight. I have a feeling this isn’t going to be the last time we see him. First, because I doubt that he’s leaving for good. Second, because I need to know his name. I can’t explain it, but the clawing desire to know is practically ripping my insides open at this point.

“Gracie,” Devon starts on me, his voice tight.

My gaze snaps to him and then to Kate, who is staring right at him, eyes narrowed, daring him to keep going. I press my lips together, trying to warn him with one look. Apparently, it works better than I could have hoped because Devon merely turns sharply and drops his gaze to Kate.

Clearing his throat, Devon huffs out a breath of air, and throws his arms up in defeat. “You know what, I don’t even know anymore.” With that, he storms off to his room and slams the door.

Both Kate and I jump at the sound. She shakes her head, reaching up to drag her fingers through her hair. “He really loves you, you know.”

Her words drop my jaw, stunting my ability to talk. Realizing I’m just standing there looking like a complete buffoon, I slam my mouth shut, teeth clacking together, and pull myself together. “What?”

She smiles sadly at me, shoulders drooping in defeat. Even the corners of her eyes are tugged downwards. “Devon. He really loves you. You scared him to the death the last time you ended up in the hospital when you overdosed. He was a wreck. Like, a physically ill wreck. He’s always making sure you’re okay.” She slides off the couch and rounds it, my breath held as I wait for her to advance on me. “Between you and I, he has that locator thing on his phone to keep an eye on you when you aren’t around. He’s always checking it if you aren’t home.”

I stare at her. What the hell am I supposed to say to that? I can’t admit shit to her to possibly confirm whatever she’s thinking. I also can’t comment because if I do, I’m just going to look like a pining ex-girlfriend.

“But it hurts him, and I hate seeing him hurt. You’ve caused him so much pain,” she steps closer, lowering her voice. “You’ve hurt him so many times, you know. You’ve even hurt Owen. Now, there’s nothing I can do regarding Owen, but Devon is mine.” There it is, the slap in the face. “You need to stop hanging around, lingering. Living here, basically. It’s actually really sad. Living with both of your ex-boyfriends, who are best friends, by the way, and tell each other everything. They’re practically brothers at this point. You’re so sad, Gracie. You literally are clinging to a past you fucked up and can never get back. How do you not see that?”

When her words are done exploding from her lips, I open mine to say something but only the sound of choking emerges. My shoulders drop, and I clamp my mouth shut again, unable to defend myself. What is there to defend anyway? She isn’t wrong. I’m mourning relationships I can never get back. I am pathetic.

Kate shakes her head and turns on her heel, following Devon to his room. Getting to the door, she stops and lingers for a moment before turning to face me, jaw set tight as she glowers. My stomach twists. She’s the nice one. Her eyes are stone-cold, and it slashes a dagger through my heart.

“You need to figure out what you want to do with your life, Gracie. Because you’re going nowhere right now, and you’re dragging the guys down with you.”

I flinch, nodding in agreement, but she doesn’t notice as she turns and slips into the bedroom. The door isn’t slammed this time, but it may as well have been. The prickling of oncoming tears poke at the corners of my eyes, and I blink rapidly to push them back. My ears pick up on the sound of muffled voices, one a deep baritone that tells me Devon is trying to speak out in frustration. I feel lousy all over again. Why had I ever agreed to live with them?

I snivel and pull at my damp shirt, turning away from the door of the bedroom and glancing around. I’m alone. Which tells me that Owen is gone. Owen always gets random hours, twelve of them at a time. The life of a cop is wild, and he does a lot of overnight shifts at that. My eyes flicker towards the fridge. Devon drinks, but not excessively. It takes him weeks to get through one six-pack, but he always has a few in the fridge at a time. It probably isn’t a good idea, I don’t think I’m stable enough to have them around me, but I’m not a bitch who would order him not to drink or to force him to hide his drinking. It does help a little, though, to keep myself steeled, knowing I can be around them. I know it’s only a couple or at a time, but it’s enough to keep my interest and push me to want to stay sober. A reminder.

I feel my feet moving before I can even consciously think about it. Before I can take in what I’m doing, my fingers curl around the refrigerator's handle and tug it open. It squeals as I pull it open, and my eyes drop instantly to the three beers still sitting in their holsters. Right smack in the front.

My fingers tighten, my teeth clenching tightly together.

The shrill of my phone draws my attention away and to the table where I’d left it earlier. Snapping the door shut, I cross the floor to my phone, and scoop it up, sliding the green arrow over.

“Daddy?” My voice cracks.

“Gracie. Gracie, Owen called – are you all right?”

I look over my shoulder at the fridge, the alcohol within singing my name. I grip tighter to my phone. “No. No, I’m not. I want to drink, and I don’t want to.”

“I’m coming over. Just – just sit tight until I get there, all right?”

I nod even though he can’t see me and hang up, sitting my phone down before sinking into one of the kitchen chairs, my nails tapping against the screen erratically, my eyes on the refrigerator.

Chapter 8

Owen

I watch as Donna spears her salad dabbed with just a smidge of dressing. She eats so little in an attempt to keep skinny. I remember when Gracie came back after her ninety-day rehab stay. She’d been so skinny from the drugs, and Donna flipped. She’d cried for about a week because she could never get that low of weight without doing something unhealthy. I don’t know why it upset her so much, but damn, the woman can cry when provoked.

“I don’t want to move in with you,” I finally say.

She asked me before the food even arrived. But we’ve had this conversation so many times, that I don’t see the point in it anymore. She knows my answer. I absolutely refuse to move in with her. It’s the one thing I’m able to keep my foot down on, and I’m not letting up any time soon. I don’t want to move in with her. I stayed with her for an entire week, and it was fucking miserable. The woman wouldn’t let me do anything. The house is decorated the way she wants. Everything is where she wants. I accidentally put a ladle in the wrong drawer, and she flipped.

There was even one time when she begged me to move in with her that she told me I could have a little space in the closet, but that’s all I would be able to have. She has “too many things to give up.” Whatever that means. I think it also means I’m just not fucking allowed to feel comfortable in a place I’m supposed to live if we live together. My comfort and my space are not something I’m willing to give up so damn easily.

Funny though. Because up until six months ago, she had never brought up living together. It only started when Gracie moved in with me and Devon.

Donna drops her fork, making it clatter on her plate, and leans back, crossing her arms as she glares at me. “Why not? Give me a damn good reason, Owen. Not that bullshit about your space again.”

I huff and shake my head, reaching into my pocket to take out my wallet and flip it open, plucking out the green bills within. I don’t want to repeat myself to her.

“Owen,” she demands and reaches over, grabbing hold of my wrist. “Don’t you love me?”

No. Not the way you want me to. I shake her grip off me, drop both bills and wallet to the table, and reach for my coke. I take a long sip from it and then sit it down.

“I don’t even know if I want to keep this relationship going, Donna. I really don’t.”

Her eyes widen in shock, and she sits back. For a moment, she’s actually quiet. I take in the wordless minutes and pick up the cheeseburger oozing extra melted cheese onto my plate and take a bite of it.

“You can’t break up with me,” she chokes and leans forward. “Please don’t. I love you.”

I flicker my gaze up to her and swallow my bite, sitting my cheeseburger back down. I take another sip of Coke and sit back. “And why not? Love isn’t enough to keep a relationship together, Donna. You’ve cheated on me several fucking times.”

Her eyes tear up. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just… you’re always so busy with work and Gracie. I mean, you get so distracted, and I just feel lonely, and when these guys give me attention, I can’t help it sometimes.”

What utter, fucking bullshit. I groan and push my plate away, no longer hungry.

She sniffs and then drops the act. “Fine, what the fuck ever, Owen.” She snatches up her purse and rises to her feet. “Don’t move in with me. I don’t care, but that’s not a reason to break up with me. You’re a good man. You aren’t going to just break up with me. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to use the restroom.”

Without waiting for a response from me, she saunters off to the bathroom, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor. I hate when she’s right. I can’t just break up with her. It isn’t going to be easy, but I know I’m going to have to sooner than later. Sticking in a relationship that makes me so miserable is not worth it. Even my parents have noticed my flaring moods. The frustration that comes with it all. The way I sometimes snap for no reason. So many emotions pressed together and unable to let any out in a healthy way. The sex doesn’t do it for me.

“Here you are,” the waitress chirps, sitting down our bill.

I smile at her. She’s the same one from the night of Gracie’s meeting. She’s recovered from the coffee fiasco, which is good, but I still feel kind of bad for her. “Thank you.”

She nods with a bob of her head and scurries off when I don’t need anything else. Leaning back in my chair, I tilt my head back and close my eyes, rubbing my forehead. Donna will be back any moment, and once she sees the bill, she’ll press me to use my badge as a way to get out of paying. It never fails. She is adamant about me acting like I’m fucking royalty or something, all because I’m a damn cop. That’s not how it works at all. Gracie knows that and has never tried to use it to her advantage. It probably helps that her dad is also a cop and has been her entire life. She knows the rules.

Donna’s just a greedy bitch.

I know it’s bad to think so poorly of her, but I’m so over all this. Thinking good things about her is just becoming harder every single day.

I just… I just feel so fucking trapped. That is why I haven’t broken up with her. I think. I want to believe that’s the reason.

Donna finally returns, wiping her mouth and smudging her lipstick a little. I narrow my eyes at her and flash my gaze to the bathroom hallway just as a man saunters out, zipping up his pants. Fucking really? I hope I’m just jumping to conclusions.

As suspected, her eyes find the bill, and she reaches forward, snatching it up, waving it in my face. “You can just show your badge. You’ll get the food for free.”

I yank it out of her fingers. “No.”

She scowls and rolls her eyes in annoyance. She has to stay put or walk home. I’m the one who drove here, and I know she isn’t going to walk miles in those heels. Maybe she can get another boyfriend of hers to drive her home.

Shut up. You’re putting yourself in a bad mood. Stop it.

I pick up my wallet and stand, pocketing it. “Let’s just go.”

She stays put. Of course. She likes being in charge of everything. After a moment, though, she stands and walks in front of me. I once made the mistake of letting her follow me, and she took the waiter’s tip when my back had been turned. I know better now.

“Let’s go do something,” she offers. “A couple thing, not just dinner.”

I know why she made up with me. She’s determined to keep me from Gracie. If we fight hard enough that we break up, I think she’s convinced I’ll go to Gracie for comfort. She really wants me to stay away from her. I think that’s why she’s still in this relationship. Because she just doesn’t want Gracie getting me in any way, shape, or form.

As we climb into my car, Donna turns to me, putting a hand on her wrist. “Let’s go away for a weekend then. Just us. We haven’t done that in a while, and I think that’s why our relationship is so strained. We just haven’t had us time.”

Yeah, that’s not it, but whatever.

“A weekend to where?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

Our weekends out usually consist of a lot of sex. That’s the part I like the most.

She shrugs and gives me a playful smile, batting her eyes. “You can choose if you want.”

I quirk an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. It isn’t often she lets go of the controls. “Me?”

She nods fervently and bites her lip. My eyes linger on the action and graze down to her plump breasts, practically bursting from her bra and shirt. A mound of cleavage is showing. I can’t remember if that’s how she looked when we entered the restaurant, but at the moment, I’m not really concerned about that.

“I get to choose?” I repeat, just wanting to double-check.

“Absolutely, baby,” she purrs, stroking my arm with her nails.

I look down at her arm and then back to her lips and lean over, reaching around her head to curl my fingers in her hair and pull her close to me. I smash our lips together and kiss as hard as possible. Our tongues fight for dominance for a few moments before I pull back and turn to put the key in the ignition and start the car. She breathes heavily, giggling slightly, and when I peek at her again, she’s fixing her hair in the mirror. I decide to just ignore her for the moment.

I need to get my head straight. But I can’t do that if all I do is think negatively about shit.

Pulling into traffic in silence, I go over her offer. A getaway might be nice, but other than the sex part, I really don’t want to be alone with the woman. It’s easier not to focus completely on the negative things if we aren’t left alone.

When I come to a rolling stop behind a line of cars, I drum my fingers on the steering wheel.

“What about a couple’s retreat sort of thing, but also, we double?”

“Double?” she asks, sounding slightly confused.

When I look at her, she’s staring at me with bunched-up eyebrows and her phone in her hand. She had obviously turned to it and whoever she’s talking to these days. I don’t go through her phone. I want to trust her, even though I know better.

“Yeah, like a double couple thing. Us and Devon and Kate.”

Her eyes light up, and I guess it’s because Gracie hasn’t been. She squirms excitedly in her chair. She may not be very fond of Kate and may not see her as best friend material, but she treats her a hell of a lot better than she does Gracie and tolerates her even better than that. A double couple’s weekend away with those two shouldn’t be too much of an issue for her.

“We can do that if you’d like. Absolutely!”

I smile tightly and turn as a horn honks. I move the car forward, realizing the line in front of me has moved a great length.

Donna starts to babble, going on about what we can do during the weekend away, already making plans. I roll my eyes in annoyance, but keep my face pointed away so she can’t see it.

Just keep her happy until you can get shit figured out.

Figured out. Those words echoed in my mind. My stomach clenches. There was one simple way to figure shit out. I would have to get away from both of them. My fingers tighten on the steering wheel, and I feel what little of the cheeseburger I ate curl in my stomach. I can’t move in with Donna, and I can’t keep living with Gracie. That’s just the facts. My teeth clench together.

The answer is simple and has been staring at me right in the face this entire fucking time. Why the hell it took me so long to figure out, I don’t know. I’m an idiot, I guess.

Donna prattles in my ears, and I proceed to ignore her. I really don’t care what she’s talking about. All I know is that I’ll give her this double date weekend shit and then move in with my parents and go from there. Because that’s just what’s going to have to be done. I’m going to have to move home, get my head straight, and strike out on my own.

Fucking awesome.

Chapter 9

Gracie

“Owen still isn’t back?” Marcy questions as she plops down on my bed, her plate ladened with food jiggling slightly at the movement.

I eye her for a moment, hating even the smallest ounce of a chance of food being splattered on my bed. In response, I shake my head and gingerly sit beside her, watching as she wraps the spaghetti noodles around her fork. Leftover spaghetti and garlic bread. I’m not the best at cooking, but spaghetti is pretty easy and is one of the best meals I can make. We have it at least once every week. The guys don’t complain for the most part, but I know that eventually, I’m going to have to learn something else. It just takes time, and I tend to burn things a lot.

“No. It’s been two whole nights since he left. He must’ve made up with Donna.” I shrug, trying to act like I don’t give a shit.

But I do, and Marcy knows that too. I care more than anything. It’s almost like a punch to the stomach. It doesn’t help that the past few days, even Devon has been avoiding me. I rub my forehead, trying to soothe a sudden aching headache that’s beginning to throb.

“I gotta move,” I finally blurt, the words of the one thought I’ve been thinking over on repeat finally coming to fruition.

Marcy chokes on her food and has to spit out the mouthful she’s got back onto her plate, blinking rapidly before wiping at unshed tears. She heaves, making sure she isn’t about to choke again and sets her fork down. She stares at me in bewilderment, shaking her head vigorously.

“Move?” she breathes and looks around wildly. “Why do you want to move? I thought you liked it here?”

I tilt my head back and look up at the cream-colored ceiling, counting the cracks there. I want to avoid her looking at me. “Of course, I do. I love it here, but I – I can’t keep living here.”

“Why?” Marcy presses, complete confusion in her voice. “Is it – you know – the guys?”

I drop my head, eyeing her with pursed lips. “I feel like staying here is ruining their relationships. Donna has been giving Owen a lot of shit, and I mean, he isn’t even here.” I throw up my hands in exasperation. “And Kate isn’t too happy with me around either. I think if I keep sticking around, she will end up having a nasty fight with Devon or worse, and I don’t want to be the reason either of them loses their relationships.”

It isn’t a lie, and as I speak, I can feel the tears burning in the corners of my eyes. I turn quickly away from Marcy, even though there’s no reason to try to hide them from her. We’ve been friends since Kindergarten, a whole eighteen years. There’s nothing neither one of us doesn’t know about the other. For fuck’s sake, she’d even admitted to me about fucking my nephew! We are more than just friends. We’re sisters, and that’s about the best friendship a girl can have. I’m glad I’ve got her, even after all the shit I put her through.

Marcy’s plate clinks as she sits it on my desk, and the bed dips as she takes a seat next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders before pulling me into a hug. I can’t hold it in then. I turn and bury my face into her shoulder, wrapping my arms around her, and curling my fingers into the back of her shirt.

“All right, look,” she said sternly and pulls back, holding me by the shoulders as she stares at me strictly. “Are you sure this is something you really want to do?”

I sniffle and shrug, shaking my head. “I don’t know. Not really, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t – it’s hard.”

She nods and lets go of me. “I know, but your dad doesn’t make random decisions for no reason. He believes this can work; you know that.”

I nod and look down, picking at my cuticles. “I know, but it still sucks. I’m trying so hard, and the whole thing with Owen and Devon just makes it difficult for me. I know I can’t have them back, no matter how badly I want them back.”

“You just have to get over them,” she tells me. “Not in the friend way, but the romantic way.”

I glare at her. “Really? I gave my virginity to Devon, and I took Owen’s. How the fuck am I supposed to get over them romantically?”

She bites her lip, her face twisting almost in an apology, but then her eyes light up, and Marcy bounces in her spot, clapping her hands excitedly together. “I can set you up with one of Landon’s friends! We can do a double date!” She squeals.

I puff out my cheeks and slowly blow the air out as I roll her words over in my mind. “What?”

She grabs my hands and bounces again, overly excited about this whole thing. “Come on! Let’s do it. You don’t have to go on a second date, but it’ll help you get back out there.”

I start to shake my head and then stop as Marcy puffs her bottom lip out in pout, her eyes pleading. Puppy dog style. I groan, knowing I’m going to regret this later on. But at least I won’t be expected to go on a second date. I know it isn’t the best idea to be going on a date, but hey, it’s better than sitting around and moping about things I can’t change and two guys I can’t have back.

“Fine,” I agree and hold up a finger when she opens her mouth to squeal. “One date, that’s it.”

She squeals, and I grimace at the sharp sound grating my ears. “I’m going to text Landon and ask him to ask a friend. I don’t know who, but he has a few single ones.” She rattles and tugs her phone out of her back pocket, beginning to type out the text.

I smile wanly, but I don’t respond. Instead, I avert my attention to the room around us. It’s the smallest room in the apartment, but I don’t mind. I don’t have a whole lot of things. When I first moved here, I barely had anything to my name. That’s what being so wrapped up in drugs and booze does to you. You don’t care about your belongings. What you do get, you end up selling for an extra day or two of “the fun stuff.” When I came here, I had a box and a backpack of my belongings. Twenty-three years of age and the most I had to show for it was one photo album, a stuffed panda from my childhood, and clothes. Now, with nine months under my belt, I have a laptop added to the pile, a small television on top of my dresser that I can hook up streaming to but choose not to, and a few collectibles of Winnie-the-Pooh and Pandas. I have always loved Pandas and am grateful my mother saved a few, especially the glass figurines I know out of habit would have given me a hefty amount of cash, which I would’ve blown on drugs. I’m glad I have them now that I’m sober and not during those wretched years. I would’ve regretted losing them.

“Landon says he already has a friend who’s agreed for this Saturday!” Marcy exclaims, shattering my thoughts.

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “That fast?”

She shrugs. “Sometimes a guy just wants a good time.” She laughs when I wrinkle my nose. “Not always like that. Some guys like going on dates to find a good girl.”

I snort and drop my legs off the bed and feet to the floor, standing as I stretch my arms. “I should probably go get a plate for lunch too.” I groan.

Reminded of her food, Marcy climbs off the bed and makes her way back to her own plate, picking it up. She follows me out of the room with it and takes a seat at the dining table just off the edge of the adjacent kitchen. The pan is still on the stove with the ladle sticking out of it. I guess Marcy thought I would be coming out for food sooner or later. Pulling open a cupboard, I reach up and take out a bowl, stepping back to the pan to spoon in the cold noodles, sauce, and meatballs. I look around and find the Tupperware bowl of leftover garlic bread and pull out two pieces, dropping them on my noodles. As I put the plate into the microwave and start it, the door to the front opens, and laughter drifts through, alerting both Marcy and me.

Devon steps over the threshold, pulling Kate behind him, their hands clasped. The sight squeezes my heart, but I clench my teeth, refusing to say anything. Instead, I turn my eyes to the light inside the microwave and watch as my plate spins, warming up. A gentle buzz emits from the microwave, and I can almost smell the food beginning to heat.

“Oh hey, Marcy, Gracie,” Devon greets, the chirpiness of moments before stalling slightly, but still sounding happy enough.

I ignore him even though Marcy greets him happily. She and Devon aren’t the best of friends, but they aren’t enemies either. They’ve always gotten along, but more of a brother and sister type of deal. I think in my absence over the years, their bond has thickened. I can’t blame them, but it just rubs me wrong sometimes. Not in a bad way, it’s just annoying. Maybe because it used to be cute, and I loved how when Devon and I had dated, he could get along so well with my best friend. Now, it was like he was stealing her from me. Even if I know that isn’t true.

The microwave beeps, yelling at me to retrieve my plate, and I do so. I pluck a fork out of the drawer beneath it and join Marcy at the table, sitting right across from her.

“So, guess what, Dev?” Marcy pipes up after a few bites. “Gracie has a date this Saturday.”

She’s deliberately bringing it up. There is no reason Devon has to be told, yet, Marcy is making damn sure he knows. I can’t help but look up right as she asks, my eyes zeroing in on Devon, whose jaw ticks, but he forces a smile on his face. Kate’s standing right next to him. She’s really pretty. Tanned skin, curves to die for. I want to look like her, but I can’t, and I don’t think I ever will.

“A date?” Kate asks when Devon doesn’t say a damn thing in response. She smiles at me, but I can’t help but wonder if it’s a sarcastic one or if she’s genuinely happy that I might stop pining for Devon. “That’s really great. Who is it? Do we know him?”

“He’s one of Landon’s friends,” I find myself saying, the words pooling from my mouth without me thinking much about it. “A blind date.”

My eyes flash to Devon, whose cheeks have now blotted red. He isn’t thrilled about the announcement, and happiness flutters through me. I don’t dare admit out loud how happy it makes me that he doesn’t like this idea. Why does that make me so fucking happy? I want to be petty and just go on this date to spite him, but that’s not right. I know that. I can’t string along a guy I don’t know all because of Devon and Owen. It isn’t fair to some other guy. But I’m still thrilled to know that Devon is rubbed the wrong way at my mere mention of going on a date.

Deciding to pretend I hadn’t seen a thing in Devon’s eyes, I turn back to Marcy. “So, what movie do you want to watch tonight?”

Chapter 10

Colton

I lean my head into my hand, staring at the door, willing it to open and bring in a pile of people. Today has been so fucking slow that I think I’m about to die from boredom. Is that even possible? At this point, I think so. I want it to get over and done with, so I can close the fucking diner and go do something else. Like watch tv or take a walk. Take a walk? Damn, I’ve gotten boring. I groan and drop my head, my forehead banging against the top of the counter. It thumps in my ears and shoots pain through my skull, but I ignore the feeling.

If I really want to take a walk just for something to do, then my life truly has derailed. This time six months ago, I was living high. Partying and just having a damn good time. Fucking assholes ruined that for me. Now I’m here, living in the apartment above the diner and working every day. I got suspended from college for that stupid stunt, and now I’ve got to wait to go back. In the meantime, I have to work to help pay back what I owe my grandfather from my college fund and the jail bail money.

All the while, my friends are still at school, having a grand ole’ time. Most even ignore my texts. Fuckers.

When the bell jingles, alerting me to a new customer, I look up happily. My face falls quickly, puffing my cheeks out as the regular little old lady shuffles in. I swear she has a crush on my grandfather, and it’s the only reason she bothers coming in. She always orders the same cup of black coffee and a plain bagel, no cream cheese. Nothing else, nothing more. She’s chattier when grandpa’s in.

She smiles at me, but her eyes scour behind me, obviously searching for my grandfather. I lean on the counter, folding my arms. “Grandpa’s running some errands, Matilda.”

She nods, her head bobbing as she hobbles to her favorite booth right next to the door. She faces it, as usual, and settles in by putting her coat and purse next to her on the booth. No matter what the weather is, she always carries a coat. Just to be on the safe side, that’s what she told me once. It’s on the safe side, and honestly, I think it’s really smart. Just in case the weather randomly changes because that isn’t unknown here in California. I fucking hate the weather here.

Making sure she’s comfortable, I turn and fumble around, switching on the coffee pot and getting a new pot going. As it begins to brew, I pull out my phone and open my text messages. Landon pops up as the first one. We were seniors when I moved to his town and started school with him. We’ve been friends since, and honestly, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Landon’s a good guy, and I love his parents like I love my own. They’re good people and far more open-minded than mine. My parents will never accept that I like both guys and girls. They want me to finish college, settle with a girl, and give them grandbabies. That’s all they will accept. It’s frustrating when your parents want things you don’t. Honestly, they’re the only reason why I even started college. Getting kicked out isn’t exactly a damper for me, but since that had happened, they’ve been treating me like the scum of the earth. I know they’ll get over it eventually, but it still pisses me off that they just can’t be okay with my decisions in life.

Okay, so I get being pissed about me getting in trouble. But it wouldn’t have happened if they’d actually just fucking listened to me about not wanting to go in the first damn place. I’d only been there to please them; that was all.

I stare at the text message from Landon. A double date. A blind double date. His girlfriend’s best friend. I wasn’t a fan of blind dating. I’d done it a couple of times before, and each time ended badly. The first chic was a non-shaver. It was gross. Hairy armpits and sasquatch legs. I try not to judge people when it comes to their own choices, but fuck, was it gross, and she smelled too, which didn’t help matters. The second one just wouldn’t shut up about her ex. Like, who the fuck agrees to a blind date and just talks about their ex they broke up with almost three years previously. No wonder she was still single by the end of our date.

I really don’t want to go on a blind date, but I owe Landon. This is basically a payback, so I’ll deal with it. Maybe, if I’m lucky, this one will be good, and I can get a few more dates out of it. I can’t remember the last time I really dated a girl. College was fun with all the boobs and pussy galore, but they weren’t exactly in the dating mode then. They wanted fun, and I had fun, but that was it. Nothing long-term, and no ties were made. I want more. Something sweeter, long-lasting. If it’s a girl, I’m good with that. If it’s a guy, I’m good with that too. I just want to spend my life with. Somebody I can call my best friend, tell secrets to, and just build a life together. With or without kids, it wouldn’t matter. Though, I have always known for as long as I can remember that I want to be a dad. It’s just something in life I know I want, no matter what. I’ll be okay if my partner doesn’t want children, though. I can be a fur-baby dad if needed. Whatever works.

Pocketing my phone, I look up in time to see the dribble of the pot as it spews, a warning to let me know it’s done. I take the pot out, grab a mug with a few little creamers, and carry it out to Matilda, sitting it in front of her.

“You look deep in thought,” she points out, the corners of her eyes crinkling as she looks up at me with a knowing smile. “Anything special going on?”

I chuckle. Matilda is practically grandfather’s girlfriend at this point. She better be here when he returns. It's going to shift his entire day’s mood if he finds out he missed her. I’ve come to know her well, even if she doesn’t talk to me much.

“I just have a date tomorrow.” I shrug and pour her coffee, trying to keep my voice from tilting.

I don’t exactly know if I’m excited. Kind of. But I’m also nervous, I think. It’s a weird feeling. Every time I think about it or look at Landon’s text the way I have been since yesterday, I get a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach that I just can’t place.

“A date,” she coos. “Is she a lovely girl?”

It is a girl, by what Landon had said, so I’m sure of that part. I just don’t know anything else besides her being Landon’s girlfriend’s best friend. I don’t even really know his girlfriend. It wasn’t until he’d gotten home for summer break that I had learned he had one or that he’d even been seeing somebody. Landon was a football guy until this year, which was all he’d ever focused on. Then again, he’d been admitted to college on a full-ride college scholarship, just like his father had. He hadn’t wanted to fuck that up. I don’t know all the details regarding his relationship, but I hope that the chick doesn’t let him mess it up.

I return to the kitchen and get a plate, then put a regular bagel on it, cutting it open for her. Regular, no cream cheese. I don’t know why, but Matilda doesn’t like cream cheese. Maybe it’s old age, I don’t know. I don’t question it.

I sit it down in front of her, but there are no more questions for me. By this time, she’s brought out whatever current book she’s reading and has her nose buried in it. It’s habitual for her to do so, and I don’t dare bug her. When Matilda’s into a book, that’s where her attention is.

I step away from her and pull my phone out when it buzzes in my pocket again. The new text message is from Landon. He’s really the only one to text me these days. My parents haven’t spoken, texted, called, or anything else in nearly five weeks. Zero words. Complete silence. My sister and brother have texted a few times, but they’re distant for the most part. It doesn’t help they both still live with our parents. They must be distant to keep our parents off their radars. Then, there are the few friends who check in now and again. They aren’t really interested in me, just find it hilarious I’m suspended and won’t be returning to school come fall.

So, for the most part, it’s just Landon I text. I don’t mind that much. At least we have our guys' night out every other weekend while he’s on summer break. So that’s a plus.

Landon: Set the rezes. Dinner is at 6 2mrw. Meet us at Steakhouse then.

I click off the screen and jam the phone into my pocket, looking at Matilda again. She’s nibbling on her bagel, obsessed with her book. I take a seat back on the stool behind the counter, my eyes returning to the front door. I know there really aren’t going to be many others coming in. Days can be so fucking slow sometimes. I hate it.

But part of me wants it to stay slow. From what grandpa has said, Gracie only comes in during the slow hours. She avoids the onslaught, where there’s nothing but people in and out. Grandpa has said it's because of her anxiety and that she’s going through a lot. Exactly what, he doesn’t tell me. But having finally met her the other night, I’m starting to get it. She doesn’t seem like a big people person, which is okay.

To answer my grandfather, I do like her. She’s pretty, a little skinnier than I’m used to, but still pretty. If it wasn’t for the fact that she lives with her exes, whatever the hell that situation is all about, I would’ve asked her out the night I met her. I didn’t, though, and grandpa said it was a good thing. Apparently, she’s just got a lot of shit going on, and messing with her now isn’t a good idea. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders, though, so I don’t know what the issue is. He won’t tell me, no matter how many times I ask. He just says it’s her business, and if she wants me to know, she’ll tell me eventually.

How the hell am I supposed to ask her, though, if I can’t even get to know her?

The buzzing of my phone makes me withdraw it again, but Landon’s new text makes me stop in my tracks.

Landon: Marcy’s friend is sober. Not even a year. If it isn’t too much to ask, don’t order booze while we’re out.

An alcoholic. Was he really setting me up with an alcoholic? I purse my lips together, eyeing the text and reading it over at least another three times to ensure I hadn’t read it wrong. I didn’t. He was fucking setting me up with an alcoholic. That’s just great.

I look up as the bell jingles, alerting me to a new customer, who I wave at to sit down and grab a menu, leaving my phone on the counter.

I guess beggars can’t really be choosers, can they? And who knows, maybe without trying to suckle a drink all night long, she can actually be some fun.

Chapter 11

Owen

The cup is empty, and the sucking of the straw tells me so. Still, I milk it, staring out the windshield of the car as I do so. After a moment, my partner snatches the cup and tosses it into the bag of trash, glaring at me.

“That’s annoying. Seriously, man, you’ve been off target all day. What the hell is on your mind?”

I shrug, shaking my head, and pull out my phone, bringing up the last text message from Devon. I show it to Drake, annoyed by it all over again. I don’t need to read it to know what it says. I have memorized it too well.

Drake skims over the text and looks back up at me with an arched eyebrow in question. “What’s your point?”

I scowl and drop the phone into the console between us and pick up my container of fries, plucking a couple near the bottom and shoving them into my mouth. I chew for a long moment, but I’m pretty sure he has a good idea of what I want to say. Drake and I have been partners since day one after graduating from the academy. He’s half a decade older than me, and more of an older brother than my biological ones ever were when they were in my life. Devon’s my best friend, and Drake’s my brother; it’s that simple.

“Isn’t she supposed to stay sober?” I finally question after swallowing the fries, chewed up as much as possible.

“She can go on a date and stay sober, Owen. She’s a grown-ass woman, and she can make her own choices. Besides, you aren’t dating her anymore. You’re with Donna, remember? You can’t really get mad about her going on a date.”

He’s right. I fucking hate when he’s right. I also hate that over the years, I’ve told him, well, pretty much everything. Drake knows things that I can’t tell Devon. Devon and I are close friends, but there is a limit to the secrets we tell one another, which includes those about Gracie. Dreams, desires, the works. Things we don’t dare tell one another out of worry that it’ll jeopardize our friendship, the one thing we don’t want to do. So, I’m fine with telling Drake those things. It helps he doesn’t know Devon and can’t tell him shit, not that I think he would even if he knew Devon.

Drake drums his fingers on the steering wheel as I shove the now-empty fry container into the trash bag.

“You should tell her.”

I freeze at his words and don’t look up at him. “Tell who what?” I ask in a low voice but have a pretty good idea what the hell he’s talking about.

“Gracie. You should tell her how you feel. Everything. How she’s made you feel over the years, all of it. I’m sure she’s got a good idea, but you should talk to her. You can’t live forever holding onto these feelings. They’re going to eat you alive.”

I turn to glare at him. He’s right, and I can’t deny it. I know I will eventually have to sit down and tell her everything, or it will kill me. Figuratively, of course. I’m just going to stay sour if I keep it locked up for the rest of my life. That or it’s just going to stress me out to the point I have a fucking heart attack. Considering I’m only twenty-three, I’m not ready to have a heart attack.

“I told Donna we’d go on a couple’s retreat. A double couple’s retreat, with Devon and Kate.”

Drake snorts and shakes his head, balling up the aluminum wrapped around his burger before tossing it into the trash bag. “That’s going to be a lot of—” He turns sharply towards me, eyebrows raised high. “What about Gracie and this new guy? Or she can even just take a friend.”

I stare at him like he’s just grown two fucking heads. I’m almost convinced he’s grown two damn brains to be thinking such a thing. “I’m not fucking doing that.”

He stares at me, deadpan. Dead. Ass. Serious. “Hear me out. You can tell Donna you’re inviting her and whoever it is because you feel bad for leaving her home alone. You and Devon can have a moment with her and tell her—”

“We can just do that at the apartment,” I cut him off. “Donna would never allow me to be alone with her, even with Devon around, and I doubt Kate would let that happen either.”

Drake rolls his eyes, throwing his hands up. “Then fucking talk to her at the goddamn apartment that you need to go back to at that. Stop being a wimp, Owen.”

I glare and don’t say anything. Instead, I turn to look out the windshield window all over again. We’re sitting in front of McDonald’s on our lunch break, due to get back to work any minute now. I’m half tempted to just get out and walk home or something and end my shift, but I know that’s a stupid decision to make. I’m not going to jeopardize my job because I’m cranky.

I just need sleep. Peace. Fucking space. Yeah, definitely fucking space.

I rub my eyes and lean my head back. Thank heavens Drake just lets me stew for a few minutes because I’m honestly nervous I’m going to snap at him if I don’t get some time to calm down. Even staying with my parents the last couple of days hasn’t been enough. But that might also be because Donna just doesn’t leave me the fuck alone. Blowing up my phone with both calls and texts every five damn minutes. She’s obsessed with knowing my every move yet demands I give her the space she wants and gets annoyed if I dare ask about her latest move. Go fucking figure.

I pull out my phone and bring up the retreats page again, deciding to finally get our places reserved. Donna’s been bugging me to do it since I brought it up. While I don’t know if Donna and Kate will even want to go, I’m still going to reserve the spots. But as I bring it up, I’m stalled.

Only packages are left. The lowest one is for three couples. Reading it makes me groan audibly, and I drop my head back on the passenger seat’s headrest, side-eying Drake. He’s married, and the reminder glitters on his ring finger. But I can’t ask him. His wife is about eight months pregnant with their third. There’s no way they’ll be up for going on a retreat when the woman can pop at any chance.

“Lowest package is for three couples.” I show him the site. “I don’t have a third couple to join.”

He looks at me pointedly, and I sigh. “They aren’t even—” my words falter, and then I straighten. “I guess I can ask Landon and Marcy. I’m sure they’d like to get away for a weekend.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “What about Gracie?”

I shrug with a shake of my head. “I don’t know. I guess she can stay with her parents or something. She won’t really be alone then.”

He stares at me, lips pursed, and then turns to the front of the car, turning the key in the ignition. It takes a moment for the car to rev to life, and Drake backs out, turning so we can get back to our shift.

“You aren’t over her,” he finally says, pointing out the obvious.

No, I’m not. I won’t ever be over Gracie, and that’s the part that fucking sucks. I’ve moved on, and pushed my life forward. I got my dream career. All of it without her around. Yet, I want her back. I know I can’t have her, though. Not after the shit she pulled. It isn’t healthy for me. I can’t allow it. I have to just be friends with her, and if that starts to become tough, I’ll have to end any contact with her. It's why I want to move back with my parents. So that way, I can at least try to be friends with her. Living with her is too fucking hard.

So maybe Drake’s right. Telling her everything will help me. I had to go to fucking therapy for an entire year after she left me high and dry the last time. Even during those sessions, I was told that I should tell her all of it if I ever got an opportunity.

Shut up, Owen. You just keep overthinking everything. Let yourself fucking relax.

I swipe at the screen and allow it to reserve the spots for three couples. I’ll just have to ask Marcy later on. Or Landon. I have his number, so it might be easier to ask him. What if he and Marcy can’t, though? Then what am I supposed to do? Donna will freak if I have to cancel because of that. No, it just means I’ll have to have a backup plan, that’s all.

Maybe this double couple retreat will be good. It’ll help me and Donna connect. We can work through shit. Maybe, just by some miracle, we can get our relationship to work. At least I’m willing to try; that should say something.

We pull into traffic and sit. From my position, I can see people turn even in their driver’s seat and eye us nervously. People hate it when cops pop up randomly, behind them, next to them, or even near them. Our presence always makes them nervous, even if they don’t have anything to hide. It’s a thrill I enjoy about being a cop, and it has yet to fade.

“What happens at a couple’s retreat if you find out you really shouldn’t be together?” I suddenly ask, the question leaving my lips before I can stop it.

Drake shakes his head. “I don’t know, man, but you probably aren’t coming back with a girlfriend if that happens.”

Part of me finds that a good thing. The other part is nervous about it actually happening. I don’t think I have anything in common with Donna. Not even the whole Gracie issue. Because Donna loathes Gracie for her own damn reasons. I still love her even though I don’t want to. I doubt I can ever hate her. I just can’t ever be with her again, and that’s the main problem. So, I have no fucking clue what Donna and I have in common at all. We used to butt heads on many things, but I learned a long ass time ago just to agree with whatever she says or wants. It makes things so much easier to deal with when it comes to Donna.

With no need to pull anyone over, I go back to ignoring the people around us for the most part. I have no interest unless they’re breaking the law, and I have to get out and do something about it but I really am not in the mood to do so right now. If someone breaks the law, they’re going to get a bad side of me.

I just need a good fuck, that’s what it is. I groan as I lean back in my seat once again. I’m a loyal ass man. There’s no way I’m going to find a random chic to bang, and considering my relationship label, I’m going to have to go to Donna’s tonight. Get the frustration out by putting my dick in her and banging it out. It works, for the most part. At least I can get over whatever the hell is dragging me down for a couple of weeks at a time. So, it’s worth it, for the most part.

I swipe my phone’s screen on again and bring up my girlfriend’s number. I’m coming over after my shift.

Chapter 12

Gracie

I tug at the dress, looking down at it in disdain. It’s a poodle skirt type of dress, pure red. Black is my favorite color, but I didn’t want to show up to a date looking like I was attending a funeral. So, I decided to go with the next best color. I feel like it isn’t right, though. Nothing is right. Why the hell am I so nervous when the date isn’t even until tomorrow?

“That looks really good, Grace. You should do that one,” Marcy encourages from behind me. “He’ll like you in that.”

I scrunch my eyebrows together and peer at the reflection of Marcy behind me. She’s sitting on my bed, legs folded beneath her. “Do you even know this guy?”

She shrugs. “Not really. He went to high school with Landon but apparently didn’t start with him until senior year. You know, after we graduated.”

I grimace. I’d just barely graduated. How I had even managed that, I’m not sure. I pulled some crap out of my head and had wavered right above the line for eligibility to graduate. I regret not trying harder, though. If I could go back and redo it, I would in a heartbeat. Just so I can have those years back and truly apply myself. But that isn’t how it works, and I have to live the rest of my life knowing I can’t do shit about it. What I can do, though, is try with college. Even if I don’t know what I want to do with my life, at least I can try and figure it out from there.

I look at my reflection, but the girl that stares back isn’t the one wearing the red dress. Instead, it's painted black now, and my eyes are closed. My face is completely pale, and my hands are folded over my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the image to go away. When I open them again, it’s just me. In the red dress, staring back with fear in my eyes.

“Fine,” I breathe and turn back to Marcy, smoothing out the dress. “Where are my heels so I can see how they look with it?”

I think the last time I had been on a true date was with Devon. When I was eighteen, and he’d asked me to marry him. Five years. It doesn’t sound like too long, but it feels like an eternity.

Marcy looks around and shrugs. “Maybe in the closet by the front door?”

I groan. Of course, they’d be there. Why I’d gotten the bright idea of putting all my heels boxes in that closet, I didn’t know. At the time, it seemed to be a great idea to give me some space. I don’t have a very big closet in my room as it is, and since moving in, I’ve been trying to own more things. Heels included. I love heels. I can’t explain my obsession with them, but I’ve always adored heels. I just could never be able to have any of them when I was too focused on partying. I have the opportunity now, and I’m taking it.

I turn to my door and pull it open, departing from my room. Devon is gone, visiting his father for the evening. They like to have biweekly dinners together. I didn’t even realize today was their day. At least I don’t have an audience besides Marcy to parade around for. The last thing I need is for Devon and Owen to judge me. Well, okay, not judge me. I don’t think they’d judge my dress. It’s the date that I’m worried about. Devon had already been unable to hide his discomfort and that was around Kate. Without her, I can’t even imagine what his reaction would be.

Maybe it’s petty, but I want the guys to be jealous. I want my belief that they’re miserable in their relationships finally have solid proof. I know it’s wrong to use this unsuspecting guy for such a thing, but I have no intention of furthering the relationship. I just want to go on a date and be done and over it.

“So, Landon and I talked, and we thought it could help you if you and I go together. You know, arrive together or whatever, and the guys can arrive together.” Marcy tells me after I pull out a few boxes of heels from the closet by the front door.

Carrying them to couch, I dump them and pop open the lids. “That’s a good idea. Do you know his name?”

“I think Connor or something like that? I know it starts with a ‘C.’ Landon told me over the phone, not texts.”

I look up in time to see her shrug nonchalantly and narrow my eyes at her. She avoids my gaze. She’s lying. She knows who it is and is deliberately not telling me. Why though? Maybe to keep the air of mystery intact? I want to hope it’s just that. To keep me on my toes and wanting to go just to meet this mystery guy instead of learning about him and backing out. I have to give her credit; she knows me a little better than I do myself. I so would back out if I knew details about the guy. Because then I could poke and pick out things, excuses as to why I wouldn’t be able to go. Good one, Marcy.

I return my attention to my heels and pick up a pair of black pumps, holding them up to Marcy. She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. As I pick up another sleek pair of black ones, the front door opens, and I look up to watch both guys walk in. My eyes drop to Owen. His cheek is swollen, slightly purple, and blood dribbles down his chin from his lip. It doesn’t show yet, but the way he squints his left eye says it will be black tomorrow.

I drop the heels and step towards them, opening my mouth to question, but Devon holds up a hand, hoisting Owen on his arm and dragging him towards his room. Owen staggers, and it's then I realize he’s slightly swaying. Drunk. As they pass me, a whiff of beer hits my nostrils, stinging. My stomach coils, but I square my shoulders to keep myself upright and rooted to the spot.

When Owen’s bedroom door closes behind the two men, Marcy turns to me. “Should he – you know, be drinking? Around you?”

Irritation flares through me. I hate that question so much. It isn’t the first time somebody has asked me a variation of it. “That’s not how it works. People shouldn’t feel the need to stop their lives just because of me. I need to learn how to stay sober around everything, not everyone else stopping their lives just so I can stay sober. That’s unfair of me to ask.”

She nods in understanding and looks at Owen’s door again. “I thought Owen didn’t drink?”

I shrug, rubbing my forehead. “He doesn’t.”

There’s a moment of silence between the two of us now. Low voices tell me the two men are talking, but the door between us keeps whatever they’re saying a secret. I ache to just barge in and listen. I know better, though. I know I’m not allowed to do that. It isn’t my place. I can care as much as I want, but taking care of them is crossing a line I’m no longer even allowed to approach.

You let them go, Gracie. Not the other way around. You chose a pipe and needle over them.

I look down at the heels and pick up a pair of sleek red ones instead, dangling them in the air high enough for Marcy to see. She nods enthusiastically, but I’m only just barely paying attention. It’s enough to know she agrees, so I sit them to the side and box the rest back up to return to their little home in the front closet. Snatching the heels, I go back to my room and begin the changing process again, but this time back to my regular clothes.

All I can see in front of me is Devon holding up his hand, denying me the right to even show I care. The action itself says it all. Even if they trust me enough to care again one day, it will take an eternity to show them I mean well. Because even with nine months sober strapped in my belt, it isn’t enough. It won’t be enough until I don’t run off and steal their money. It won’t be enough until I pay the equivalent of the engagement ring I sold. It won’t be enough until I’m on my knees, groveling for forgiveness. Which, I thought I was already doing, but apparently, I’ve been wrong this entire time.

As I drop onto my bed dressed, I cover my face with my palms and let out a muffled scream. Marcy rubs my back.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble into my hands and pull my head up to look up at her. “I know I’m being all self-centered and—”

“You aren’t. You’re trying to figure this out.” She gives me a small smile, adjusting herself to sit next to me. “Gracie, I’ve had an advantage over you. I smoked weed and drank and was able to just walk away. You couldn’t. Not because you didn’t want to, but because it wouldn’t let you. You lost a lot because those things wouldn’t let you go. You’re trying so hard now to stay away from them, though, and I’m really proud of you for that. You also have to learn how to be human again, not just an addict. It’s okay to be a little self-centered in the process, to figure out who you are. So that way, you can become the real Gracie.”

I nod and look down at my hands, picking at my cuticles.

I raise my head and look at her again. “I hurt you too. I gave up our friendships for a long time and—”

“I don’t care about that,” she interjects and reaches out, taking my hand in hers, squeezing tightly. “All I care about is that I have you back. Coming back is all that I’ve asked. So, you can cross me off your list or whatever you have.”

I bite my bottom lip, trying not to nod again. I feel like at this point that I’m just bobbing my head like a bobblehead.

“Look,” she continues, nudging me gently. “If you really don’t want to do this date—”

“I do,” I say quickly and know it’s a little too quick when her eyebrows shoot up in question. “Really, I do. It’s just,” I lick my lips. “My last date was with Devon.”

Her face droops slightly in understanding. “A while, huh?”

I confirm it with a jerk of my head and look at the shoes I had dropped on the floor beneath the hanger that now holds my date dress in the open closet. It doesn’t have a door, not that I’m worried about it. Besides Marcy, no one else comes into my room. There’s also nothing extremely private hanging on the clothes rack, so it’s not like it matters.

“It’ll be all right,” she finally says, trying to assure me.

I smile at her and nod a little more enthusiastically, but my stomach is now coiling. My nerves are boiling, and I have to keep down the bile of words that want to explode, to decline the date. I have to go through with it. Not just to be petty and rub it in the guy’s faces, but for myself. I have to do this for myself. Just like Marcy said, I’m allowed to be a little selfish.

Chapter 13

Devon

I rub my forehead. Thank fuck I have today off, it being Saturday. After the night with Owen, I can’t begin to fathom being in the office today. My head is throbbing from sleep deprivation, and I’m ready to go back to bed. Just a few hours of sleep, very fractured, but I suppose it’s better than nothing. I just have to wait for the coffee to kick in and get moving. At least I don’t really have plans for today.

I lean my head back on the couch cushions, gripping my cup of coffee between my fingers. It’s gone lukewarm in the slow sips I’ve been taking. I’m too tired to down it like normal, and besides, without the urgency of work, I have no reason to just chug it. The volume on the television is low, and the voices are soft, even when it comes to action-packed scenes. I don’t bother turning it on. It isn’t my sleep-deprivation headache I’m worried about. I’m unnerved by Owen’s hangover. I know he drank once, or maybe twice, in high school, but that was it. I think it was just at a part or two, I don’t know the full details. But otherwise, the man hasn’t drank since. Until last night. His slurred words hadn’t exactly explained what it was about, though.

What I did get was something Gracie and Donna, but the details surrounding the women weren’t very tangible. I’m worried that he’s going to crack. Owen’s a strong man, but everyone has their limits. And I know Gracie hasn’t intentionally done anything to provoke him this time around, but Donna is a whole thing just herself. Gracie being around amplifies Donna tenfold.

A gentle knock on the front door turns my head, and I advance on it with bleary eyes and a groan as I have to pull my body from the couch. Socks and shorts, that’s all I’m good for on the weekends, and whoever’s on the other side can deal with it. They’re the ones interrupting me, after all.

But the one on the other side already knows how I feel about the weekends. I’ve already spent a few weeks at her house, so she doesn’t even blink an eye at my lack of clothing. Instead, Kate smiles sheepishly and holds up a fresh to-go cup of coffee in one hand and a box of donuts in the other, both from that ma and pa place near the end of town that I love so much. She’s a sweetheart, and it's one reason I like her. I step to the side, allowing her in, and shut the door behind her entrance. I didn’t try stifling a yawn.

“Good morning, handsome,” she chirps and goes to sit the box of donuts on the table. “Is Gracie up? I got enough donuts for everybody.”

I had already told her about Owen. The thing about our relationship is that we’re open about everything. There are no secrets between us. So, while I was taking care of Owen all night, I’d updated her on everything. She’d fallen asleep at some point but must’ve caught up on everything when she woke this morning. I’m only sure of that because she isn’t asking questions. But offering Gracie donuts?

It hits like a lightbulb as I look at the door and back to her. Donna isn’t here. That’s the only difference. Donna controls Kate, who has told me so many times that she just fucking hates it, but goes along to keep the peace. I know by now that Kate doesn’t like confrontation. If she can avoid it, she will. Which means just going along with whatever Donna wants. Even so, I know she isn’t a fan of Gracie for her own reasons. Kate is just a good person; that’s all it is.

“I don’t know, honestly. I think I heard her and Marcy stirring. They also stayed up late last night, so I don’t know.”

She looks at me in sympathy. “Owen’s okay, right?”

I nod. “I made sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, and now he’s just sleeping it off. He’s going to need a big cup of black coffee to get his hangover to go away when he does wake up,” I laugh, but it’s short-lived before fading.

“Do you… know why?” she asks slowly, choosing her words carefully.

I shrug. “Your guess is as good as mine. He didn’t tell me anything. Well, anything coherent so I could figure it out.”

She looks at Owen’s door in sympathy and shakes her head, handing me the cup of coffee. Realizing I’m still holding my old one in the ceramic mug, now cold to the touch, I take her offer in my free hand and set the other down on the table with a clunk. As if the movement is an alarm of some sort, Gracie’s door opens, and she departs from her bedroom, Marcy following behind. They’re both sleep-riddled, ruffled hair sticking up every which way. It’s going to be killer to get the knots out, and they both have smudged eyeliner around their eyes. Their clothes are wrinkled, yesterday’s outfits telling me they passed out right in them. My eyes linger over Gracie. Her eyes flicker up to me, sleepy brown ones that I still adore. Her cheeks are splotched pink, and she gives me a smile, her tongue flicking over her lips as she averts her gaze.

“Donuts?” Her voice is crackly from sleep.

Kate nods. “You and Marcy are more than welcome to them.”

“Thank you,” Gracie murmurs, avoiding having to look fully at Kate or me again as she approaches the box with her best friend, and they dig in.

I can’t ask Kate to marry me. Ever. I love her, but not in the way I need to in order to settle down. She’s a good woman. She wants children and a house with a picket white fence. Four kids, two of each, and a dog and a cat. Everything I want. But I don’t want it with her, and I hate that. I know settling with Kate is probably the most sensible thing to do, and I’m a logical man, but it’s the one I can’t allow myself to do. She knows it too. We talk about what we want for our futures, but it’s never with us being together.

When Marcy and Gracie are done picking out their donuts, I step to the box and choose a white frosted one, taking a seat with my new steaming hot coffee to enjoy my breakfast.

“So, did Owen tell you about the double couple’s retreat?” Kate asks me, her voice unnaturally loud. As if to make sure others hear her.

I glance up and catch Gracie's frozen feet in front of her door, looking right at us, her chocolate donut halfway to her mouth, one bite already taken out of it.

Before I can linger and wonder what Gracie’s thinking about this news, I look up at my girlfriend. “Briefly. Not a whole lot, though.”

Kate drops into her chair, but before she can say anything, Marcy interjects. “Gracie, come on, we should pick up your makeup for your date tonight.”

Kate’s eyebrows shoot up, and she turns. “You have a date tonight?”

Annoyance flits through me at the reminder. I’d been doing so damn good to forget that. I don’t want to think about her going out with some other man. I know it’s stupid, but I don’t want to think about it.

“She does,” Marcy pipes up again, bouncing on her heels. “Isn’t that exciting? She’s finally getting back into the world instead of sitting around eating donuts and binging Netflix shows.”

Gracie scowls at her best friend. The twist of her lips is adorable, but I keep my mouth shut as she speaks. “That is not all I do. I do school stuff too, you know, and meetings. I go to three meetings a week.”

Marcy waves her hand dismissively. “You still need a human companion, and I have to go back to school at the beginning of August. That’s barely over a month, Gracie. I need to know that you have somebody to go to.” She hugs Gracie’s arm.

I still don’t say anything. Instead, I take a bite from my donut but don’t really taste it. Gracie has me and Owen, but I know what Marcy’s saying. For just a friendship to implement itself, we have to keep certain things at bay. This means Gracie just can’t come to us with everything. She needs somebody to hang out with, to be with. She deserves that too.

I can’t help myself, though. “Aren’t you supposed to be focusing on your sobriety, Gracie?”

Her eyes snap to me, and a light blush flushes across her cheeks as she raises her chin. “I am, and I can do it at the same time. I’m nine months sober. I’m stronger than I was in the beginning. I can pull myself out of situations a lot easier than I used to be able to.”

“There also isn’t going to be any alcohol at dinner tonight,” Marcy supplies. “Me and Landon are going with her and the date.”

I recall the guy who had walked her home just the night before. As glad as I was that she had been safe, I was unnerved by the stranger having done so. He was good-looking; I couldn’t deny that. But he wasn’t for Gracie. Why? I’m not so sure. I think a part of me just doesn’t want her to date anyone, but the other part knows that it isn’t fair to ask of her. I’m with Kate. Asking Gracie not to date anyone because I say so is just fucking ridiculous. I can’t ask her to sit around and wait for something that may never happen again.

My eyes trail down to her left hand, imagining the engagement ring on her ring finger. She’s the only one I ever wanted to marry, and, unfortunately for Kate, Gracie is still the one I want to marry. But I can’t. I’m not stupid to allow myself to take her back just because she’s gotten sober. She’s got a lot of making up to do just to be friends, let alone anything else further down the road.

Stop Devon, just fucking stop. You’ve got a good girl. One who isn’t going to up and leave you randomly, turn you down, or anything else. Focus on her. Focus on Kate.

I focus on my girlfriend, feeling lucky she hasn’t caught me looking at Gracie. The last time she did, it caused an argument and her crying. The one thing I can’t stand is seeing Kate’s heart broken because I can’t love her the way she wants me to.

“That’s really exciting, Gracie! I’m so happy for you. I hope it goes well,” Kate jabbers on, clapping her hands excitedly, and looking straight at Marcy. “The couple’s retreat is going to be a lot of fun, don’t you think?”

Gracie snaps her gaze to Marcy, eyes wide. “What?”

Marcy stares forward at me and Kate, refusing to look at Gracie. But it’s Kate who speaks, continuing, and at this point, I realize I was wrong; she had seen me staring at Gracie and was not poking again. “Marcy and Landon are going on the couple’s retreat with us.”

“You didn’t tell me about that, Marcy,” Gracie says, sounding hurt.

I grit my teeth. I know Kate just said that to get Gracie riled up. She’s a good woman but has a jealous streak almost as bad as Donna’s. That’s a big flaw, but at least it makes her human instead of seeming like some perfect robot made to give a man everything he so desires. Because I swear, that is what I thought when I first met her. She’d just seemed too perfect. I know better now, which helps make the relationship a little easier.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Marcy?” Gracie demands, her words strained, obviously trying not to get upset over this. “You didn’t have to hide it from me.”

Marcy scowls at Kate and then turns to Gracie, shaking her head. “Because it’s not really a big deal, that’s all. It’s just some stupid couple’s retreat.”

Gracie seethes and then shakes her head. “Whatever,” she huffs and turns on her heels, retreating to her room with Marcy on her heels, the door slamming shut behind the two.

“Really, Kate?” I snap, throw what’s left of my donut on the table, and chug what’s left of my coffee.

Kate shrugs and takes a seat across from me, picking out a donut she wants for herself. She doesn’t say anything, though, and that’s the end of the conversation.

Chapter 14

Gracie

I smooth out my dress for the hundredth time and stare in the full-length mirror again, for the millionth time. I see every curve that ripples down my body. I notice the scars that line up and down my forearm, track marks that will fade over time but never completely. I cower from the image before me, a sordid reminder of what had once been. I don’t like the way I look. I don’t like how skinny I am either. When my bones had protruded, pulling against my skin, it was too easy to tell why. I’m not that sickly looking these days, but I’m still ungodly thin. I want more weight, to be healthier. My immune system is shot, and I’ve been told that only gaining weight in a healthy manner will help improve it.

I know beneath the dress, it's worse. I’ve got flab in all the wrong places and stretch marks galore from losing weight way too fast. They’re going to be defined and thicker once it comes back, I know that.

I hate how I’m so uncomfortable in my own skin. I hate how I now have to look at myself and be reminded of it all. I hate the way my wrists are bony and my veins so incredibly blue, nearly protruding out of my arms.

My hair is back, though. My beautiful black hair that I have always loved so much. It’s exactly the same as my mother and older sister’s. A family trademark of us women. Even my two nieces have it. I hope one day, any daughters I have will also have it. It's sleek, full of life, and just hanging below my shoulders. It’s been growing again. The drugs made me lose my hair, one of the worst parts about using. I love my hair. Right now, it’s just simply brushed and loose. Marcy insisted that it stays that way, that it accentuates my dress. It does look pretty; I have to admit that.

Smoothing out my dress again, a nervous tick at this point, I guess, I turn and pull open the bathroom door. My makeup is applied, simple eyeliner and mascara. Nothing heavy to make me look like a clown. It’s enough to give some color to the otherwise pale complexion of my face.

“You’re really going through with this thing?” Devon asks, his voice tight.

I look up to see him and Owen staring at me. They’re sitting on the couch, absent of girls for once. Marcy claps excitedly from the kitchen, bouncing on her heels when I look at her, and she grins.

“You look so pretty, Gracie,” she gushes and bounces to me, her dark curls jiggling around her head, and she takes my hands in hers, squeezing tightly. “This guy is going to be so lucky to go out with you.”

“Yeah, he is,” Owen croaks, drawing our attention to him.

He’s staring at me with glassy eyes, a side effect of a hangover. “You do look really pretty, Gracie.”

Devon nods in agreement. I want to respond, to sweep over to them and take both their lips on mine in gratitude for their compliments. But I know better. So, I stay back and turn away as I feel the blush creep along my cheeks.

“Thank you,” I finally reply and fidget with my dress, suddenly feeling a little too overdressed.

I look down and see the plumpness of my cleavage. It's deliberately being pushed up by the push-up bra Marcy insisted I wear. I can feel the guys’ eyes on me, lingering for a moment, and can’t help but wonder if they’re looking at my breasts. I want them to look, to remember what they’re missing. Shut up. This is your fault. Yes, yes, it’s my fault they can’t touch me. I have to remember that. I have to remind myself that it isn’t their fault. I can’t blame them for my stupid actions.

The dinging of an alarm pulls me out of my thoughts and to Marcy as she picks up her phone and turns it off, looking at me pointedly. “I’ll go get our purses and be right back. We have to go.”

I watch as she hurries back to my bedroom, leaving me alone with Devon and Owen. When I look at them again, they’re still watching me. Owen lays his cheek on the back of the couch, blinking rapidly and yawning. Behind him, I can see a glass of water and a bottle of pills on the coffee table.

“What?” I ask, suddenly very self-conscious of myself all over again.

“You have scars,” Owen mumbles, his eyes trailing down my arms.

I wrap my arms around my chest, trying but feeling like I’m failing at hiding the scars. Even if they aren’t completely visible, I still feel like they are right there for anyone who looks at me to see. I feel so exposed without something covering my arms. They’re going to be reminders for the rest of my life; I know that.

“You do look pretty,” Owen grumbles and turns his head from me, back to the almost mute television, reaching out to pick up the remote.

Devon is staring at me with his eyebrows furrowed and an expression I can’t quite place. I want to think he’s admiring me, but I feel it too selfish to allow myself to think such a thing. He doesn’t say anything as he pulls up from the couch and rounds it, slowing his walk as he gets to the side of the couch.

“You aren’t seriously going on this date, are you?” he asks for what feels like the hundredth time.

He’s so hung up on that question. What’s his deal? I grit my teeth, holding my head high. “Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you’re supposed to be focusing on your sobriety.”

There it was again. I narrowed my eyes at him. “I am focusing on my sobriety, Devon. But I’m allowed to have fun, allowed to do things too. I can’t just expect to be better if all I do is sit around all day long.”

His jaw ticks. “You can’t go on this date. You need to focus on your sobriety, especially for the first year alone. Those are the rules—”

“No,” I huff. “I can still be a damn human being, Devon. I can focus on my sobriety and have a life at the same time.”

“Not if it’s going to jeopardize your sobriety, Gracie!” he says loudly, startling me.

Devon doesn’t lose his cool very often. Always levelheaded, even after his mother passed. So, this is a complete surprise to me. He’s been acting weird the past few days since finding out I have a date. I want to so badly believe he’s jealous, but I’m hesitant to do so. I know better than to allow myself to just straight up believe that. He isn’t supposed to be jealous; he’s got a girlfriend, after all. I’m not his girlfriend, and I haven’t been in a long time. It’s my fault. Which is why it’s hard to believe that he’s jealous. Because I did it to myself, he had no obligation to wait for me.

“Here we are,” Marcy announces as she departs my room, our purses dangling from her hands.

I eye the purses. She’s picked out a black purse for me and said it goes with my hair and is a perfect contrast against my dress. Easier to keep track of. It's sleek, small, and will hang at my side. I can’t remember the last time I carried a purse simply to have my belongings with me. I watched Marcy pack it. A little pouch to hold dollar bills and coins. Then, there’s my wallet, a couple of pens for whatever reason, my keys, and a tiny little notebook. I don’t know why I have the pens and notebook in there, but Marcy urged that it was important. She even told me she’d add some makeup items, which I assume she’s already done, but I don’t know for sure. I take the purse and sling it over my shoulder anyway.

When I carried a purse with me in the past, it used to be filled with some essentials I thought girls carried; little baggies of white powder and needles, little bottles of booze at the bottom. I think a few times I had a pipe here and there. The light weight of my purse now is different. In a good way, though. The upside is that I can go around both Owen and my father without having to grip my purse to my side the entire time worried that one would just know. That’s the downside of having a cop father and a cop ex-boyfriend. Always on alert when you have the illegals in your possession.

Owen’s right here in front of me, and I don’t feel an ounce of fe=r. Part of me actually wants him to ask for my purse to search it. So, I can prove myself to him. To feel good about it. To not worry about it. I keep my mouth shut, though. Owen’s not on the job right now, and he’s also slumped on the couch, trying to make his hangover go away.

I can’t help myself. I step forward, lingering on checking on him. Devon steps in front of me, barricading my path.

“He’s fine,” he says quickly. “He just drank a little too much last night.”

“Owen doesn’t drink,” I start, but Devon’s staring at me with a frown and lips pursed. “Okay, got it.”

I step back and turn to join Marcy.

“You really shouldn’t go on this date,” Devon says, just repeating his words from minutes before, and stopping me in my tracks. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea.”

I rub my forehead and turn back to him. “Why? Give me a good reason, Devon. Besides anything about my sobriety.”

His mouth opens to say something, to press the subject, but as if he just can’t think of any other logical reasoning, he shuts his mouth again.

“Gracie, come on,” Marcy urges as she pulls open the front door. “We’re going to be late.”

I glance at Marcy and then back at Devon. “I know it’s hard to believe that I’m just going to stay sober, but you’re going to have to trust me some time. I’ve been sober for nine months; I’ll be fine. If I’m not, I’ll call Trish. I promise. Besides, Marcy and Landon will be with us, so I’m going to be fine.”

I don’t wait for him to respond. I know he cares, but there’s still something else that I can’t pinpoint or get my hopes up about. Following Marcy out of the apartment, I shut the door behind us, and let her take the lead to the elevator as she begins to rattle.

I let her go on about her excitement about the date, trying to assess my own feelings. There’s a mixture now, a cloud inside of me. Devon’s distant emotions flit through me as I try and fail miserably to figure it out. All I can come up with is that he’s jealous. But I don’t let myself believe that. I can’t.

We walk the blocks to the restaurant. Marcy bounces at my side. By the time we finally get to it, my feet are throbbing from lack of use of my heels. It’s a good shot of pain, though. It tells me I’m finally doing something more than just sitting on my laptop or watching television all day long.

“They’re here,” Marcy exclaims, the words ringing louder than my rampant thoughts. It doesn’t help that in her excitement, she grips my arm and digs her nails into it when she squeezes hard.

She releases, letting feeling come back to my arm, and waves excitedly before picking up speed, heels clacking on the cement of the sidewalk as she hurries to Landon. He isn’t hard to pick out from the two standing next to the hedges surrounding the restaurant waiting for us. He’s an exact clone of my brother-in-law, which is a little unnerving considering I used to have a childhood crush on that man. As I draw nearer, his friend steps forward to greet me and stops me in my tracks.

He's standing right there. With golden hair and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dimples cascading when a grin splashes across his face. “Hello, Gracie.” Diner boy greets.

I still don’t know his name.

Chapter 15

Gracie

“You two know each other?” Landon asks, surprise in his voice.

It’s so weird to think of Landon as my nephew when we’re only a year apart. I grew up with him. We’re closer to brother and sister, if anything. Which makes this even more awkward. He’s dating my best friend, and now I’m on a double date with him. Marcy hauls herself at him, arms wrapping around his waist as he embraces her. The two hug tightly, and Landon brushes his lips through her hair, laying his cheek on the top of her head.

“Kind of. She knows my grandpa better,” diner boy replies. “I walked her home a few nights ago.”

“I don’t even know his name,” I tell Landon, but my eyes are on diner boy.

“Colton,” he greets. “My name’s Colton.”

I jut out my chin. So, Marcy wasn’t lying when she said his name starts with a ‘C,’ but I know she knew. As Landon and Marcy part, her clinging to his hand, they start for the door of the restaurant. I hesitate. I still have a chance to just turn around and go back home, to forget this whole thing. Granted, I’ll never be able to show my face in the diner again, but hey, it’s better than embarrassing myself in this diner. With a complete stranger that I had no possibility of seeing again, doing so wouldn’t be an issue. In front of Colton, the grandson of a man I admire is a whole different story. If I screw this up, I will never be able to show my face there again.

“After you?” He holds out his hand to let me go first.

I bite my lip and look over my shoulder and behind me before looking back at him. I can still leave. Just turn around and walk away. I don’t, though. Instead, I step forward and go first. His shadow falls over me, molding with mine as he follows. Before I can touch the door, though, he skirts around me and pulls it open.

“What a gentleman,” I tease as I enter the restaurant.

He chuckles, and the sound sends a warm trickle into my stomach. The restaurant is decent-sized inside. It isn’t huge, but it isn’t small either. It's filled with mostly two-seater square tables that dot the flooring. A few booths line the back walls, and there’s at least one long table on each side of the restaurant for big parties. Marcy and Landon are already sitting, with my friend waving to us, pointing at a table just inches from theirs. But they’re still separate, so we have to sit on our own, and I have to somehow keep a conversation going. Marcy apparently has a lot more confidence in me than I have in myself.

Begrudgingly, I push my feet forward to the table we’re offered. As we get to it, Colton pulls a chair out for me, and I take my seat. I’m on the same side as Marcy, which makes me feel better in case I need her, but I hope I don’t. I don’t want to need a babysitter for the rest of my life. I turn to talk to Marcy but stop at the sight of the two kissing over the table, their fingers intertwined. I don’t like the idea of them dating, but I have noticed how happy Landon makes Marcy. She’s had some crappy boyfriends in the past. I’m not going to throw a tantrum over the relationship. I’m not selfish like that. I don’t want to watch them kissing, so I pull my eyes away and drop them to Colton sitting across from me.

He's staring at me. Not in a creepy vibe like at the diner the first time we’d met. It’s more… curious now.

He leans forward slightly, head just tilted. “Is it true?”

I furrow my eyebrows together in confusion. “Is what true?”

“Landon said you’re in recovery, so no alcohol.”

Heat flares on my cheeks, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut. My eyes dart to Landon, and I glare at him for a moment, but he isn’t paying attention to me. I really don’t feel like ruining this dinner by getting on his ass for telling secrets that aren’t his to tell, so I don’t say anything. I’ll have to take care of it later.

I turn my attention back to Colton. “Yes, it’s true.” I force the words out, the sting of tears burning the corners of my eyes.

His face drops. “What’s wrong?”

I drop my eyes to the table, unwilling to say anything I feel like will start something.

“Hello, I’m Krista, your waitress today. Are we all together?”

I look up as Landon responds, telling her that we are, in fact, a group. The cheerful woman takes out her notebook and pen and takes our drinks. I get a simple iced tea and don’t pay much attention to the rest of the drink orders. When she bounds off to get them, I sit back to pick at my cuticles. It’s become a habit these days, but it keeps my mind off wanting other stuff. For the most part, that is.

“I’m getting the feeling I wasn’t supposed to know about your recovery,” Colton says, just loud enough for Landon to hear. “Was I?”

I blink, looking up at him and then at Landon. He’s staring at us, his ears red in embarrassment at having obviously been caught.

Colton turns to him, annoyance now coating his words. “You should’ve asked before telling me.”

“I, um, I didn’t want you ordering an alcoholic beverage and making her uncomfortable.”

It’s my turn to be embarrassed. Again. “It’s fine, Colton, really.”

“No,” he says sharply and looks at me, then back at Landon. “I get you were trying to help, but that’s not your choice, Landon. I’m sure Gracie can hold herself regardless of what anyone orders to drink. Right, Gracie?” He looks pointedly at me.

I open my mouth, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. So, I close my mouth and look down at the table.

“Gracie,” Landon turns to me, and I draw my eyes up to him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I was just trying to help.”

A kind heart, just like his dad. I can’t help but nod and smile. “I know, Landon. It’s okay, really. But it’s also okay if you guys order alcoholic drinks too. I have to learn to handle myself around them. It isn’t fair for me to ask everyone to stop their lives around me.”

Landon nods but doesn’t say anything as our drinks appear and are handed out. I look down at the menu that had somehow been given to me, and I just didn’t realize it. It's unopened, and I have no clue what I want to eat. The waitress asks, though. I listen as the other three order, fidgeting when it’s my turn.

“Just a salad,” I say quickly, knowing it’s too late to look for anything on the menu.

I know these places well enough. It’s always a bunch of meat of some sort. Not many have a vegetarian side of the deal. When she bobs off again, Colton looks at me in curiosity. “Trying to lose weight?”

It’s a half-tease, but I grimace anyway and shake my head. “I don’t eat meat.”

It’s natural for me to say so, but it always amazes me the flash of surprise in other people’s eyes when I tell them so. Being a vegetarian is like having a rare disease. Once people know, they tend to be wary around you. I’m waiting for Colton to treat me like that, but he shrugs it off.

“I’ll remember that,” he promises and then side-eyes the two next to us.

I glance as well and roll my eyes at them kissing again. But at least they’re happy and do like each other.

“Let’s play a game,” Colton tells me.

I look at him in surprise. “Game?”

He nods. “A guessing game. You come up with something about yourself, and I guess what it is. Like for example, you say, ‘my favorite color,’ and I guess what it is.”

I cock an eyebrow. “And if you get it wrong?”

He thinks for a moment. “Well, what do you want done if I get it wrong? Or you get it wrong when it’s your turn?”

This is new. Still, it’s a little interesting, and I’m game. So, I bite my lip and consider. I don’t really know what I want from this game. My eyes drop to my purse, and I flick it open, spotting the lipstick within. No. That will have to do for a different game or maybe the same one but in a much more private setting.

“I don’t know,” I finally admit with a shake of my head. “I really don’t.”

“Okay,” he thinks for a moment. “What if you lose a certain number of questions and have to go on a second date with me? My choice of a date. We do what I want.”

I eye him for a moment, and he grins. “Okay, and if you lose a certain amount of questions?”

He shrugs and leans towards me, lowering his voice. “What do you want?”

I shrug and look at Landon and Marcy. They’re completely absorbed with one another. They aren’t kissing anymore, but they’ve both pushed aside their drinks and are leaning across the table, talking and laughing. I look at Colton, biting my lip in thought.

“How about if you lose, I get to choose the second date. Whatever I want.”

His eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and I’m pretty sure he wasn’t expecting me to say that.

It takes him a moment to pull himself back together, and he shrugs. “All right, that’s a deal. I can go first if you’d like.”

I shrug and look around, but there’s no sign of the waitress. “Okay,” I agree as I turn back to him. You can go first. But how many questions is this game?”

His eyebrows furrow. “How about whoever gets seven wrong first is the loser? Besides that, we just take turns.”

I huff out a breath of air. “Okay, that’s fine by me.”

He grins and holds up a finger as the waitress appears, sitting down a few appetizers that go with some of the dinners. She sits a few dressings in front of me for me to choose and then bustles off again. I watch her back as she goes to another table to take their order. Finally, I look at Colton again. Drawing my hands to my lap, I rub my palms against my dress, trying to dry their sudden clamminess. I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about this. I know I’m nervous, but am I even allowed to be? I know Colton, well, somewhat anyway. I shouldn’t be nervous with him, but I am. It’s not just that, though. I’m worried that I’m going to just fuck everything up. One wrong move will end everything, and I just can’t let that happen. I’ve worked so hard to get back to a decent life. I’m not one hundred percent where I should be, want to be, but it’s a hell of a lot better than it used to be. That, I’m sure of.

Realizing he’s waiting on me to speak, I clear my throat and draw myself up, smoothing the skirt of my dress around me. I sit my purse on the table, forcing my hand not to clutch at it out of habit.

“Okay, so I just come up with something about myself, and you guess?”

He nods, but it’s a patient one. He’s willing to wait, and seeing that alone calms my fluttering heart.

Chapter 16

Gracie

Before I can really start, our food arrives. A little quicker than expected, but it saves me from the embarrassment of having to play this game. I know I’m going to lose. I’m not good with people. I think at one point in my life. I had been. But that part of my brain hadn’t been allowed to work in such a long time. I literally have to rewire it back into action.

I scoop up the green leaves and vegetables with my fork, eating with deliberation and intent to keep my attention off Colton. I eat slowly on purpose, and when I glance up at him now and again, I can see him also taking his time. Though, I don’t think it’s for the same reasoning as me. Marcy and Landon busy themselves with their own food as well. I don’t miss how all three of them don’t have a single alcoholic beverage. When we were kids, I recall how Marcy and I would dream of being adults and going to restaurants, ordering champagne or wine to drink with our meals. We thought it would be the best, most grown-up thing in the whole world.

Now, because of me, Marcy can’t even do that right now. I mean, maybe she can when I’m not around, but I still feel guilty. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I try to make it known that no one has to change what they do around me, but people don’t take me as seriously as they should. They walk on glass around me, and it's honestly just very annoying. I want them to be themselves around me. I think it’s just because it’s still new, and no one wants me to slip. While I get that, it still sucks.

With only half of my plate eaten, I turn back to Colton, deciding on how to start the game but add more to it. I’m a little nervous to just sit here and throw around questions. This guy doesn’t really know me and vice versa. There’s no way either of us would win unless by absolute miracle.

So, I lean toward Marcy and tap her on the shoulder. “What’re we doing after we eat?”

She grins and swallows, taking a drink of her soda before turning fully to me. “Well, we could go to a movie or a walk in the park. Anything, really. What do you remember doing when you’d go on dates with Devon or Owen?”

I think for a moment and shrug, shaking my head. “Dinner, maybe. Movies, definitely. We were teenagers and couldn’t afford much more than that. We also had curfews.”

Curfews, yes. Which Devon and Owen always stuck to. Me, though? No. Whoever I was on a date with would leave me at home, and I would wait until they were gone to sneak right back on out.

“Curfews don’t really exist in adulthood. We can do anything. Stay out late, whatever. We also have a whole world to explore as adults.”

There it is again; the realization that I’ve missed out on so fucking much. I look at Colton, who has taken a break from his hamburger and is watching me with curiosity, not saying a thing just yet. Looking at him reminds me of the game we’re supposed to play and why I wanted to talk to Marcy in the first place.

“Can we go to the park?” I ask, turning back to her. “Play a game that Colton wants to play.”

Her eyebrows arch up. “Game?”

It sounds silly from her mouth now, but I’ve already started and know not to just stop and back off now. So, I nod in confirmation. “Yeah, a game. Um, a get-to-know each other game, sort of like that twenty questions game we used to play growing up. But with the four of us.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and she looks curiously at Colton before back at me. She smiles, and I detect a knowing curl in the corners of her lips, but she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she turns to Landon.

“What do you say?”

My nephew shrugs, wiping what’s left of his spaghetti sauce off his lips, and sits back, his plate empty. “I’m fine with that. Whatever you girls want to do.”

I look at Colton, and he grins, those dimples making view again, and I can’t help the bubbles in my stomach and the flush of heat caressing my cheeks. I duck my head and grab at my iced tea, chugging it.

“Park it is. It should be fun,” Colton finally announces. “I’m game.”

I smile and glance at my purse when it vibrates. Narrowing my eyes, I flick open my purse and draw out my phone to check it.

Devon: Just be careful

I can’t help but frown at the text. I want him to care for me the way he used to and obviously still does. The text is just surprising because I honestly didn’t peg him for one to really push this. He’s acting weird, and that’s saying something. Devon prefers to stay calm and collected. For him to lose control isn’t right. Or at least, it just isn’t normal for him. I decide to ignore his text and shove my phone back into my purse.

We finish up eating and stack our dishes. Landon and Colton pool their money and pay. Landon pays for his and Marcy’s share of the meal, and Colton pays for mine and his. I don’t know how to thank him, words duh, but they won’t come. So, I just stand there, feeling stupid as I wait. After tossing the tips on the table, Colton joins me at my side with his coat dangling from his fingertips. That grin splatters across his face again, and I’m mesmerized all over again.

By the time we walk out the doors of the restaurant, nearly an hour and a half has passed. It’s grown slightly darker, and stars twinkle up in the sky, but I can’t see the moon when I look up. A few streetlamps shine on the sides, and I wonder if my bright idea of going to the park is a good one or not at this point. I hesitate and fall slightly back, but not enough to get too behind them. Fingers brush over my hand, and I look up instantly at Colton. He’s looking down at me, perplexed but worried. He doesn’t ask, though; I feel relieved he doesn’t. People prodding me to ensure I’m okay at all hours of the day tends to irritate a person. Sometimes, I feel like I’m a little kid all over again with constantly being watched.

I look down at our hands. His is still dangling there, barely touching my fingers. Again, I hesitate before forcing my hand to turn, and I slide my palm into his. His fingers instantly curl around mine and squeeze gently. I have to remind myself I’m safe with him. He’s Ralph’s grandson, and it’s only because of that knowledge first I don’t run off. Ralphs is a good, old man who I admire. Which means his grandson has to be as well if he comes from that kind of stock. Giving him a chance is a good thing. At least, I’m sure of that. It’s enough for me not to take my hand out of his.

The park is near the middle of the town. Few people are at it when we arrive and even before we step onto the grass, I can tell they’re adults. Kids wouldn’t be out at this house running about unless they were teens on a mission not to go home or had curfew yet to hit. Maybe some of them are teens. The distance we are, I can’t tell for sure. But I do know what they’re doing. I’m not stupid, and it's exactly what I used to come to the park at night to do.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” Marcy starts, worry dipping in her voice as she turns to catch my eye quickly before looking away. “Just to stay away from…” She doesn’t say it.

She doesn’t need to say it, though. I know what the unspoken words are. I stop in my tracks, yanking Colton to a stop when he tries to go further. There’s no arguing this. I don’t think I’m ready to be around an entire group. One person drinking, one smoking at a time around me, is one thing. But an entire fucking group?

“Yeah, we should go,” Landon agrees and turns sharply. “Where do you want to go?”

“We can go back to my apartment,” I say quickly, even though I know he wasn’t exactly speaking right at me. “There’s plenty of space there.”

“Let’s go there,” Marcy agrees before either Landon or Colton can argue against it. “She’s right, lots of space. We can play the game at the dining room table and then watch a movie. The TV is big enough.”

I step back, and it hits me like a slap to the face. A gentle breeze of the wind carries it over us. It stings my nostrils, and I feel the crippling desire to just give in and go to it. Or maybe it’s my imagination working overtime and making me smell what I want to. What I can’t have. What I mustn’t have.

A tug on my arm turns my head, and Colton sharpens my focus once more. “Are you coming?” he asked, that worry back in his tone.

“Yeah,” I croak and let my feet obey the command of the pull, willing myself to get the hell away from it all.

We walk in silence. Back to the restaurant and down the way, Marcy and I had come. Landon and Colton had driven, but they’d pick up their vehicle after we were done. I don’t let go of Colton’s hand. I’m pretty sure I’m squeezing tighter than before, but Colton doesn’t say or do anything about it. I’m afraid that if I let go, I’ll run back to the park. Maybe I can get myself not to do exactly that, but I don’t know for sure.

I need Monday to come. I need to sit with my therapist and talk. I need to get this off my chest. I don’t want to burden anyone else with this. My therapist is okay to do so because it’s her job to be burdened with my crap. She gets paid for it off my daddy’s dime, after all.

As we get to my apartment building, I let Marcy lead the way inside, into the elevator, and down the hall that I’ve walked so many times. This time, with my first ever company, that is more than just one person. I don’t know if I’m nervous. But I do know this is the right step. This isn’t the company that wants to smoke, drink, or do anything with me. They want to be around me, to spend time with me. It’s a little weird that one is my nephew, but hey, I’ll take what I can get.

I check the knob when we arrive at my door and find it unlocked. Which means that either Devon or Owen or both of them are home. I hesitate again and look down at mine and Colton’s locked hands. He squeezes in assurance that I don’t force them to part because of that. I push open the front door and pull Colton with me, Marcy and Landon coming in behind.

Surprisingly, it's only Devon and Owen on the couch, just like I had left them. They turn at our entrance, and both Devon and Owen look right at me, their eyes flickering down to mine and Colton’s interlocked hands. Neither one says a word and just turn back to their television show or movie, whatever they’re watching.

“Over here,” Marcy chirps, tugging Landon with her to the table.

Colton pulls me as I push the door closed behind us, and we sit across from the other couple.

Chapter 17

Gracie

I shift, grabbing the bottom of my dress and pulling it tight, as if it’ll go any further down. I suddenly feel very exposed, crowded. I can feel Owen and Devon nearby. I don’t know if they’re looking at me, but I can practically feel their eyes burning the side of my head. Even if they aren’t looking at me, I can feel them. I stare at Colton, refusing to look anywhere else because if I do, I will look right at Devon and Owen. Which I know isn’t the best idea right now. Or probably ever.

“So, let’s play,” Landon urges. “How’re we playing?”

“We ask a question about ourselves, and the others guess,” Colton explains and goes into the examples he’d given me earlier, but I make the mistake of looking.

I catch Devon’s eye. Owen is no longer looking at me, but he is. Devon’s face is void of all emotion, eyes blank as he stares at me. I don’t know for sure if Marcy will win this game. She knows quite a bit about me, but I am sure that Devon and Owen would rack up points pretty damn fast if they play. At least they would with knowing things about me. Or the old me. Am I still who I was? My chest tightens, and my breath hitches. It takes my entire willpower to pull my eyes from Devon’s and lower them to the table.

“Are you sure we should play this? I mean, Gracie and I are best friends,” Marcy boasts.

I feel the heat in my cheeks as I look up at shake my head, knowing the bile of truth has had to come out eventually. “This is a good game, Marcy. I just… I don’t know how well I know you anymore.”

Marcy’s eyebrows raise in surprise, but she quickly recovers and nods, pressing her lips together. I see the hurt flash in her eyes before she tries to hide it. I know my words probably sting, but it’s the truth. I really don’t know how much I know about Marcy anymore. In high school, instead of spending afternoons with her, I was out under bridges sticking needles in my arms and wasting my days away. I barely remember shit, let alone anything deep about my best friend. Guilt twists in my stomach.

“It’s okay,” Marcy says after a moment, her face lighting up. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

I nod and look back at the table, avoiding Colton’s eyes. It's already bad enough that he knows I can’t drink, but now there are more questions I’m sure are brewing on his tongue. Colton doesn’t ask, though, not yet anyway, and I really hope he doesn’t for a while. Not until I’m ready to tell him.

“Okay, well, I’ll start,” Marcy offers. “I just basically ask a question about myself, and you guys guess, right?”

I look up to see her looking at Colton in question, and he nods, then looks around.

“We should probably keep tally,” Colton says.

I get up quickly and go to the refrigerator, yanking a blank sheet off the grocery list pad and taking it back to the table, scooting it close to him before I take the pen with it and hand it to Colton. I watch as he writes down the names, taking my seat again.

“Okay, what is my favorite color?” Marcy questions, putting the game into gear.

Purple. Right? It was her favorite color in seventh grade, the soonest I can remember her telling me. Flustered, I still open my mouth to reply, but Landon beats it to me.

“Yellow,” Landon announces, and Marcy giggles, clapping excitedly, bouncing a little in her seat.

“That’s right!” She giggles again.

I shrink down in my seat. Purple definitely wasn’t the answer. It’s the ultimate thing to tell me that I probably don’t know shit about my best friend anymore.

“What’s my favorite color?” Colton challenges, repeating the same question, but neither Marcy nor Landon seem to mind as they start spewing colors.

“Green?” Landon’s guess.

“Purple?” Marcy’s guess.

Both are wrong and wrong again as they each say a different color. After guessing a few more times and still getting them wrong, Colton looks at me curiously.

“You haven’t guessed, Gracie.”

“I—” I shake my head and pull myself to sit up straighter. I feel really lousy about the game, but I guess I have to try. “I don’t know. White?”

Colton snickers and shakes his head. “No.”

“Brown?” Marcy finally guesses.

“Yes!” Colton announces, and Marcy squeals.

I stare at my best friend. She’s really pretty, and I’ve always been jealous of her beauty and her slightly slanted eyes. But right now, I’m jealous that she hadn’t gotten addicted. She’d tried drugs too. I was there when she first tried. But besides smoking weed, nothing caught her attention like they sang my name. Because of them, I don’t even know who Marcy is as a person, let alone my best friend. Am I even allowed to call her my best friend if I know shit about her?

“Okay, what’s my favorite color?” Landon interjects.

Apparently, we’re just going rounds here.

“Green,” Marcy says quickly, a flush of red coating her cheeks with realizing she’s just up and said that. “I’m sorry. I should’ve given you guys a chance.”

Colton chuckles with a shake of his head. “It’s all right. That’s the point of this game. Say it if you know it.”

“Nobody established what happens with who loses,” Devon interrupts, appearing at the end of the table.

I look up at him. Devon’s face is twisted in amusement as he clutches the back of the head table’s chair.

“I know,” Marcy chirps. “What if the losers have to go to goodwill and wear whatever the winners buy?”

Everyone laughs, even Devon. I watch as Devon pulls out the chair and sits down, his foot brushing against mine with how close he is now. I pull my leg away, pretending I hadn’t felt his. Acknowledging anything like that is a bad thing. Mostly because if I do, my mind tends to wander and allow myself to daydream of things that can’t possibly happen. I have to remind myself constantly that he has a girlfriend, and I have to be okay with that. I’m the one who fucked our relationship up, after all. He has every right to have moved on. I have to be okay with that, even if it fucking sucks.

“I’m playing,” Devon says and reaches for the piece of paper Colton is still holding onto so he can write his own name. “Losers get to be clowns.”

I smile while the other three laugh and then look at the couch. But Owen is nowhere in sight. I don’t remember hearing a door shut, so that means he’s on the couch. Is he passed out?

“All right, what’s my favorite color?” Devon asks.

I look up at him and catch his eyes. I feel my heart skip a beat, and then I turn away. The last I knew, he wasn’t one to change his favorite color very often. “Green,” I say automatically.

“Yes. Gracie, it’s your turn.”

I look at Marcy. She’s staring right at me. I can’t tell what she’s thinking but the guilt twists again. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I know Devon’s favorite color and not hers. I am a shitty friend.

I don’t stop looking at Marcy while I speak. “What’s my favorite color?”

“Black,” Marcy states flatly without even blinking.

Correct. I don’t say it. I don’t know. That’s not fair. If I don’t know shit, she shouldn’t either to make this fair.

“What’s my middle name?” Marcy questions, her eyes not leaving mine.

I should know this. I used to. I don’t, though. It’s not coming, and all I can do is sit in silence as we stare at one another.

“It’s Martha,” Landon finally says, breaking the tense silence between Marcy and me.

“What’s mine?” I ask, my voice cracking just slightly.

“Hilary,” Marcy replies without missing a beat. “How old was I when I first smoked a cigarette?”

We did that together, but the ages blur together in my mind. I know we did it together in middle school. That, I know because I stood behind the school in a little alcove to keep hidden from any onlookers who would rat us out. But I don’t know the age. The numbers are molded together.

“Thirteen,” Landon pipes up.

“We did it together,” Marcy points out, reminding me of exactly what I knew and didn’t know simultaneously. “Who would I invite to my fantasy dinner party?”

“All right, enough,” Devon interjects. “We’re supposed to be playing together. Not just the two of you.”

Marcy glowers at me for a moment before raising her head, shoulders tensing as she pulls her eyes away from me. “Devon’s right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Let’s play you guys.”

They do. They laugh. All I can do is sit here. I don’t even answer Devon’s questions. Surprisingly, Landon knows quite a bit about Devon. Then again, I don’t know why that’s really surprising. Landon hung out in our circle for the longest time in high school. Of course, he’d learn about Devon. It also helped that Devon was practically family, the same as Owen. You get to know people when they spend nearly every single day at a house you’re constantly at. Because for Landon, my parents’ house was the go-to house. They are Landon’s grandparents, after all.

The next couple of hours tick away, and I barely say a word. I don’t know shit, and it’s pretty damn obvious. I barely even know anything about my own nephew. I know more about Devon than I do Marcy, and with the game, I learn that I’ve also lost a lot of knowledge about him. His favorite color and food are one thing, but there’s so much different then what I used to know.

The stupid game makes me realize just how useless I am. Nine months sober, I haven’t even bothered trying to learn about them and how I should have been. I’ve been focused on my sobriety, sticking to it. I’ve been told that’s all I need to worry about.

I see more of the picture now, though. About the fact that alongside my sobriety, I should’ve been getting to know my best friend better and relearning who Devon is and probably even Owen too. What about my parents?

When the game is somewhat close, the winners and losers unannounced, I watch Devon and Colton bend over the tally marks. Obviously, I’m a loser, and not just in the game sense. I’m a loser even in real life. Anger boils inside of me, unwarranted, and I clench my fists in my lap.

“It should just be between the four of us,” Marcy finally speaks, and I pay attention this time. “Gracie barely played. It’s unfair to make her a loser when she didn’t participate.”

Devon glances at me, and I look down quickly at my clutched fists, ashamed of myself.

“All right,” Devon agrees and goes back to his activity.

Slowly, I draw my eyes up and catch Marcy’s. She’s glaring at me, but at the same time, her lower lip is wobbling. Tears glitter in her eyes, but she snivels and raises her chin when she catches me staring right at her.

“So, Gracie, how about we play another game? Just me and you this time?”

My stomach clenches again, but I don’t think it’s from guilt this time. “Okay.”

“Good. We can get back to my question from before; Who would I take to my fantasy dinner party?”

There it is. She wants to prod, to see exactly how much or how little I know about her. If I show that I’m an incredibly bad friend, will I lose her? I can’t lose her too. I don’t want to.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

Chapter 18

Devon

I can see Gracie’s discomfort, being pinned into playing this game of two. I can see it written on Marcy’s face just how upset she is at seeing how little Gracie knows about her.

“What am I most afraid of?” Marcy asks, leaning towards Gracie across the table. “Come on, Gracie. I told you about this last year over a text message.”

Gracie blinks, those big brown eyes of hers shimmering with unshed tears. I feel bad for her. I want to stop the onslaught, but I can’t. I know this has to happen. Gracie can’t stay shielded from the truth. She has to accept the damage she did, or she’ll never be able to move forward. I also know, though, that this can break or make her. She can use it to rekindle her friendship and keep a tight grip on her sobriety or let it crack her, resulting in her return to meth and drinking and whatever else she was doing.

“Who was my celebrity crush freshmen year?” Marcy asks when Gracie still doesn’t say a thing.

This question cracks Marcy, though. She stands up, slamming her hand onto the table, and makes us all jump.

“Dammit, Gracie, you don’t know shit about me!” Marcy screams, letting the tears flood her face.

Gracie shrinks in her chair and still doesn’t say a thing, her eyes on the table. I stand up, instinct taking over to diffuse the situation.

“Marcy, Gracie obviously feels guilty about the whole thing—”

“Seriously?” She snorts with a roll of her eyes and glares at me. “Don’t stick up for her, Devon. Just like you always have… her puppy dog. Keeping her shielded from everything bad. Let her own up to everything, Dev, all right?”

“It isn’t my fault,” Gracie interjects, her voice quivering though it's somewhat strong as she finally looks up.

“What?” Marcy blinks, and then her eyebrows draw together as she glares at Gracie. “Excuse me? Of course, it is your fault! You gave up—”

“No,” Gracie cuts Marcy off and stands up, holding her chin. “Addiction is a disease, Marcy. You smoked and drank, just like I did, and were able to walk away. I couldn’t. It held onto me. I’m sorry that it ruined our friendship, that I didn’t get to know you the way I should’ve. I really am sorry about all that, but it is not my fault, not entirely. Yes, I chose to smoke and drink at first, but I didn’t know addiction would take over when I did that. I’m sorry, I really am. It sucks, okay? It sucks to know that I chose that shit over everything else. Over you, over Devon and Owen, and just my life entirely. I really am sorry!”

Marcy stares at Gracie for a long moment, unmoving, her expression unchanging. After what feels like an eternity, Marcy’s nostrils flare as she draws herself together. “No. No, I won’t accept that. You literally know shit about me. Regardless of the addiction, you could’ve been texting me or whatever to get to know me again. All you’ve done for the last nine months is gripe about yourself. Poor Gracie wants Devon or Owen back. Poor Gracie has to live rent and bill free. Poor Gracie has to do schooling to get her life in order. Poor Gracie doesn’t have to work. Poor Gracie, poor Gracie, poor Gracie.”

Gracie’s look of surprise at Marcy’s words tells me that this fight has been brewing silently for a while now but utterly unbeknownst to Gracie.

“Ever since I got here, you’ve been going on and on about how miserable you are living here with them. How bored you are with life or whatever, I don’t know. I tried telling you about mine and Landon’s relationship, and while you questioned it, you also just glossed it over. And not just because Landon is your nephew, but because you literally can’t focus on anyone else but yourself. You know what, Gracie? You are a bad friend. You should’ve told your dad no about moving in here. Of course, the guys agreed. Because their hearts are too big to turn you away. You should’ve stepped up and done the adult thing. Your friendship with them would be much easier if you didn’t live with them and drool over them constantly. You won’t let them move on, even though it’s your fucking fault you aren’t with them.”

I’m floored. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say or do. I don’t even know if I should get in the middle of this. I know it’s good for Gracie to learn the truth, to grow up and learn how to deal with things. But I still don’t want her upset about these sorts of things. I think it’s the part of me that’s always going to love Gracie that wants to protect her from the pain this is already bringing and will cut her open later on.

“You know, I’m just going to go home.” Marcy chokes out, sounding deflated now as she snatches up her purse. “I’m sorry, really. But you are a bad friend. You need to learn to be a good friend before you can even get into a relationship.” With that, she turns to Colton. “I’m sorry you have to hear that, but I honestly think it’s just best she learns how to be a good friend before she can be a girlfriend or anything else.”

He doesn’t have any time to respond before Marcy leaves. Landon clears his throat, apologizes beneath his breath, and follows her out. The door doesn’t slam shut, though, mostly because it's Landon pulling it closed behind the two of them. There’s silence, except for Owen’s soft snoring. I’d only gotten up from the couch when he had slumped over and passed out. Which was a good thing, because him being drunk apparently isn’t fun. He’s a sappy drunk, mourning his lost relationship with Gracie and griping about his and Donna’s, but constantly going on about good-looking she is. When he’s drunk, Owen rambles. I’ve been told I’m a funny drunk. I wish I knew exactly what that means.

“Well, I will text you, Gracie,” Colton finally speaks and stands. “Can I?”

Gracie nods, her head bobbing.

“Here,” Colton pushes his phone at her. “Put your number in.”

Colton lingers for a moment as Gracie inputs her number and hands back his phone before he steps to her, bending down to kiss her forehead. Gracie doesn’t move as she watches Colton leave. He pulls the door closed behind himself, leaving just me and Gracie sitting at the table. In the moments of silence, Owen’s snores sound louder than before. Finally, even Gracie stands. Her eyes are rimmed red with unshed tears, and I know she’s trying to hold them back and failing at doing so. I feel like shit not getting up to embrace her like I used to. I know I shouldn’t now, though. That would only give us both hope that something else lies beneath, and while maybe it does, there’s nothing to be done about it. I don’t want hope to rise where it shouldn’t. I’m a logical man, and I have to keep that track of my mind.

“I have to call my sister,” she chokes out and retreats to her room, slamming the door this time.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Calling her sister means she’s calling her sponsor, which isn’t a good sign for her. But it’s good that she runs to do the call instead of falling back into old habits.

With a huff of a breath, I pull myself up on my feet and go to my room, leaving Owen on the couch. I know it’s pointless even to try to move him right now. I’ll wake him later and get him to his room, but for now, I’m just going to let him rest. Something is going on with Owen. He’s unraveling, and I’m honestly scared for my friend. This whole situation with Gracie has put him on edge, and the fact that he’s dealing with a shit relationship doesn’t help. He should just break up with Donna, and I’ve told him that before, but at this point, I think he’s just trying to grip onto it to keep himself away from Gracie. Not that he’ll listen to me if I dare tell him the reasoning, he’s doing it. He has to come to that conclusion himself, and for the time being, I don’t think it will be for a long while.

Owen was so heartbroken when Gracie left him. I honestly thought we were going to lose him at one point from how fucked up he was because of it. Shit, I was messed up when she left me, but Owen had me beat by a million. He really didn’t deserve what she did to him.

In the sanctuary of my room, I remove my shirt and pants and plop down on my bed. All I can see in my mind’s eye is Gracie in that red dress; her breasts boosted up by her bra, cleavage showing. The dress had accentuated her curves, her luscious, hourglass curves. Shit, no. This is wrong. This is fucking wrong. I have a girlfriend. I’m supposed to be thinking about her. And my dick is supposed to fucking be getting hard when I think about my girlfriend. Not my goddamn ex-girlfriend. But it is getting hard with Gracie behind my eyelids.

Shoving down my briefs, I stroke my shaft and lean my head onto my pillow. I try to think of Kate. She has nice, voluptuous boobs and a nice frame as well. Her curves aren’t as defined as Gracie’s, but I still like them. Still, Gracie keeps entering my mind no matter how hard I try to grip Kate’s image. After fighting it, I allow both of them to enter my mind. First, I let myself focus on Gracie’s red dress dropping from her body. Her boobs fall out of her bra, and her underwear disappears. I know what she looks like beneath, and fuck, do I love her image. Kate’s clothes in my mind disappear as well. She’s a little smaller than Gracie but still beautiful.

My hand pumps, and I groan, all sense escaping my mind. I imagine the two turning to one another and drifting together, their lips pressing together, naked bodies melting into one another. Gracie toys with Kate’s nipple, inciting a moan from her. I watch as the two of them fall onto a bed, Gracie on the bottom. Kate slips down, dipping her head between Gracie’s legs. Gracie leans back, her hands reaching up to twist her own nipples between her fingers. She turns her head, her tongue rolling around on her lips as she looks directly at me, smirking before letting out a moan.

I pump harder, barely feeling my hand at this point. Kate draws up from eating Gracie, her tongue running up her stomach and to her lips. They kiss, and I catch sight of Gracie’s hand slipping underneath, fingers entering Kate. Kate groans and presses down on the fingers as Gracie pumps, both gasping for breath as their hips begin to buck. I breathe heavily, feeling the tension in my balls tighten up. All three of us are in unison, skin slapping against skin, and then my hips jerk, head slamming back. It hits against the wall as I explode, thighs quivering a little from it, and I fall back to the bed, blinking rapidly. The image of the girls together evaporates, pixelated pieces falling away like breaking glass. I groan, my eyes fluttering closed. I let out a slow breath of air, trying to grip myself together, but I almost feel like I’m just floating away at this point. I don’t think I’ve masturbated that good in a while.

Chapter 19

Owen

Drake pulls the car to a stop next to the curb, and we get out. Neighbors along the block are out on their lawns, staring at the spectacle. I don’t blame them. If I had nothing else to do today and lived on this block, I’d also be out and looking at the naked, screaming woman. She’s facing towards her house, clothes strewn out around her and various other objects that I think are glass but can’t tell with the whole pile scattered about.

“I fucking hate you!” she screeches and reaches down, grabbing a handful of clothes to throw at the house.

They flutter forward before drifting to the ground, not getting very far. Her hair is as black as Gracie’s and just about as long. The erratic behavior reminds me of her as well. It's uncannily close to how Gracie had been, and at times, still is. Mostly these days, during her time of the month. But definitely when she’d been stoned or drunk out of her mind.

“Come out and face me, Brad! Stop being a pussy!” the woman screams, kicking at the clothes. “Come on out! All the neighbors have seen the goods I’ve got to offer, and I’m pretty damn sure these guys will do anything to have a piece of me!”

“It’s about time you got here! I called you people half an hour ago!” a voice calls. Drake and I turn to face a woman who looks about the same age as Gracie’s mom. “What, did you stop for donuts on the way here?”

I roll my eyes. I really hate that myth about cops. I like donuts as much as the next person, but just because I’m a damn cop doesn’t mean I stuff my face with them. I’m not Homer Simpson, for fuck’s sake.

“Ma’am, if you’ll just please go back to your yard, we’ll take it from here. Thank you,” Drake tells her, ignoring the comment.

It isn’t the first time we’ve had snide remarks about the myth of cops eating donuts.

The naked lady turns to face us and puts her hands on her hips, her breasts bouncing in her movements. “Seriously, Gladys? You called the fucking cops on me?”

“There are children on this block, Lisa! You are butt naked on your lawn!”

“Brad cheated on me with your fucking daughter!” Lisa screams.

I turn my eyes away and share a look with Drake. The woman is in full view, everything exposed, and very much unapologetic. I don’t want to seem like a perv, but I really don’t know where I’m supposed to look while doing my job.

“Ma’am,” I clear my throat and force myself to look at her, struggling to keep my eyes on hers and not dipping down. I have to remind myself I have a girlfriend I can look at when I want to. “Why don’t we go inside and talk about this, all right?”

“I am not going inside with that jackass!” she shouts and turns back around, swiping up an object and hurling it at the house.

As it hits the front door, it shatters completely into a million pieces. I pull off my jacket and approach Lisa, cautious to ensure she doesn’t think I’m going to pounce on her or anything. I step around her and hold up a hand when she wheels to face me, her face twisted, livid. Her nostrils flare, and she seriously looks like she’s about to launch herself at me. In any other circumstance, a naked woman jumping on me would probably be the hottest thing to happen, but not like this. I hold up a hand and hold my coat out to her.

“We don’t have to go inside, all right? We can talk out here for a moment. Let’s figure things out and hopefully not have to take you in and get you signed up as a sex offender.”

I really don’t want to have to take her in. She’s obviously going through something, and if we can talk her down, then taking her to the station may just be able to be avoided. Lisa stares at me for a moment, her eyes glittering in fury, and I’m almost convinced that she’s about to rip my head off, and all I’m doing is trying to help her. Finally, she reaches out and yanks my coat out of my hand, throwing it over her shoulders. She wraps her arms around her front, closing the front of my jacket to hide herself.

“So, Lisa, right? Lisa, why don’t you tell us what happened?” Drake asks as he steps up next to me.

“That – that fucking bastard”—she waves at the house—“fucking cheated on me!”

This close up, with her facing me, I can see her dilated pupils. Her cheeks are flushed bright red, hair wild and unbrushed. She’s either high or drunk or both. She’s got the same manic look Gracie used to have.

“Lisa, have you been drinking or smoking anything we should be aware of?”

She looks at me with that same look as before, wanting to rip my head off. “Of course, I’ve been drinking! I’m an adult, I’m legal, and my fucking husband cheated on me! Why wouldn’t I drink?”

I swallow, trying to keep myself together. “Is drinking a daily occurrence or—”

“No! I drank because my husband fucking cheated!” She screamed. “Why are you men so goddamn stupid?”

“All right, all right, we got it.” Drake steps and reaches out to place a hand on Lisa’s shoulder. “Let’s go inside. My partner and I will take care of your husband, but you don’t deserve to be out here naked. Do you want us to get your clothes off he lawn?”

She snorts, sniveling as she hugs herself again. “They’re his, not mine. So, no, I don’t want them.”

Drake glances at me, and I shrug with a shake of my head, motioning for him to lead the way. Lisa is reluctant but leads us to the door and inside the house. The man, the husband, I assume, is sitting on the couch. Annoyed beyond hell. At the sight of us, he snarls and stands. He’s as big as Devon in height but has a bit more blubber on his stomach.

“You called the cops, seriously, Lisa?”

“I didn’t. The mother of the hoe bag you cheated on me with did.”

His face turns red, and he glares at Lisa, gritting his teeth. He doesn’t say anything, though. A man knows when it’s just best to shut his mouth and not argue against the woman. Plus, he’s a fucking cheater. At least he isn’t a hitter, though. Or I’d be on top of him. I don’t like women beaters.

“Get out of this house,” Lisa demands and then points at us. “They’re on my side.”

I hold up my hands. “We’re just here to diffuse the situation.”

“I pay the rent!” she goes on, her voice wobbling as she turns to face us, a new round of tears streaming down her cheeks. “I pay all the fucking bills in this damn place because I’m the only one who works while he sits around and watches tv and jacks off to porn all fucking day long. I should get the say of who stays and who doesn’t.”

“She’s got you there, buddy,” Drake says and beckons for the man to stand. “Let’s just step outside and talk about this while we collect your belongings. Let’s make this as painless as possible.”

He doesn’t move, only staring at us. “This is my home too,” he states stubbornly.

Lisa snorts and throws her hands up. “You know, fine. Stay for all I fucking care. See if your little whore can pay the fucking bills. I’ll leave.” She looks pointedly at me. “Can you stay until I leave? I don’t feel safe being alone with him.” She bats heavily wetted eyes.

I nod. “Of course, we can. Take as much time as you need. We aren’t going anywhere.”

She sniffs and turns, storming towards the back of the house, where I assume a bedroom is, to pack her things.

“Fucking woman doesn’t put out very much. What did she expect me to do, relieve myself only while waiting for her? You guys get it, right?”

I snap my eyes to him, bewildered at his words. “Absolutely not. She’s your wife. You’re loyal to her. And by the sounds of it, you’re a lazy fucking bastard. You had zero right to stray from your marital vows when she’s obviously done everything to keep this place going for you. So, I suggest you shut your fucking mouth right now.”

“Are you harassing me?” He snarls and takes a step toward me.

I don’t budge. He doesn’t scare me. I’ve been in front of worse guys than him. “I’m telling you the truth, and as long as I don’t raise my fists to you, I’m in every right to say what I damn well please.”

“I’m ready,” Lisa announces.

Her husband glares at me for a moment and looks at Lisa. “The car is in my name. You can’t fucking take it.”

“We’ll drive you where you want to go,” Drake cuts in.

Lisa nods, holding her chin high. “Fine, keep the lousy car. It’ll be out of gas in a couple of days, and you’ll be fucking screwed.”

With that, she follows Drake out the front door, leaving me alone with the husband. I stare at him for a long moment, sorting out my thoughts. It’s hard enough for me not to punch the living shit out of him.

I hate cheaters. It's why I don’t like being with Donna, but I feel stuck in the fucking relationship. I turn sharply on my heel and follow my partner out before I can do something that lands me back on desk duty. After the last I punched a guy, I spent three months sitting behind a fucking desk. I was told to be grateful I wasn’t fired. It was worth it. I was also told to get my temper in check and see somebody about it. I didn’t consider it then, but now I’m thinking maybe it was a good idea. Because I’ve been feeling angry a lot lately. I can’t tell if it’s because of Donna, Gracie, my job, or whatever else. But everything makes me angry anymore. Maybe it would be a good idea to talk with somebody.

Not now, though. I’ll deal with it later.

I watch as Lisa gets into the back, unrestricted, with her bags. I look up and wave to the neighbors still mingling about. I’m pretty sure they will start gossiping once she’s gone, but maybe it’s a good thing. The woman who her husband had cheated with was living right next door, telling me this wasn’t a good neighborhood to be sticking around in anyway.

I get into the passenger seat and pull the door closed behind me.

“Where to, Lisa?” Drake asks.

“My mom’s, and thanks, by the way. I’m pretty sure even if I could take the car, you wouldn’t let me with still being drunk and all.”

I glance at her in the back. “We wouldn’t dare let you. Where does your mom live?”

She gives us the address and then falls silent, sinking into her drunken thoughts. I can’t help but stare at her, thinking about Gracie. Except this chick isn’t handcuffed and slurring her words, raving on about – well, I don’t know what. Half the time, she never even made sense.

“Everything will work out,” I tell Lisa, defeated. I don’t want to think about Gracie right now. “You deserve someone better than that asshole.”

She smiles and nods, wiping at her eyes. I turn back to look out the windshield, pushing away all thought of Gracie yet again. I know I have to stop thinking of her, it’s only going to hurt me more in the end, but it just happens. I think it’s why I’m so angry a lot. It’s stupid and so dumb that I can’t make myself stop. I did, for a while, when she wasn’t around. Now I have to live with her for a little while longer. Hopefully, I can return to an empty mind when I move back in with my parents – after I talk to them first.

Chapter 20

Gracie

I squirm between Donna and Kate, feeling the pressure of being sandwhiched by them. Donna smells of her usual perfume, citrus, which reminds me of oranges and makes me want to barf for it. She wears way too much, and our arms pressed together doesn’t help the matter. If anything, it makes it worse. Kate’s perfume is subtle, jasmine, but mixed with the orange stench, it makes me want to throw up even more. It’s too pungent, and I still don’t understand why I’m sitting between them.

I should’ve just asked Colton to come with me, but I haven’t talked to him since the night of our first date. I’m not sure who did or didn’t win that game, and I don’t really want to find out. Marcy hasn’t even talked to me either, but that’s on her. I texted her a few times, but her lack of response tells me she’s still mad. Or upset. I’m not sure which, but I do want to know. I want to make things better with her.

I hope I see her at this family BBQ. I want to talk to her, to make things better with her. I want my best friend back. I’ll do anything, and I have to tell her that.

Until we get there, though, I’m stuck in the middle of Devon and Owen’s girlfriends. The two women on this planet I hate the most, and I’m pretty sure the feeling is mutual between the three of us.

“Will you quit moving around?” Donna snaps, strands of her hair slapping my face as she jerks her head around to face me. “It isn’t our fault you have such a fat ass, Gracie. So, quit moving.”

I huff through my nostrils, gripping the fabric of my leggings. Devon and Owen are always automatic invites, being as much part of the family as Marcy. No matter the relationship between the men and me, they’re always welcomed at my parents’ home. If I dared to deny either of their women access, though, trouble would be stirred because it was my family home. They are the guy’s guests, no matter how much I dislike them. I have to treat them the way I was raised to treat guests. As long as they are on my parent’s property, that is. Rules fucking suck.

As my gaze flickers upward, a pair of hazel eyes in the rearview mirror captures it. It's only for a flash of a moment, though then Owen turns his head without a word spoken to me. He isn’t going to stick up for me. No surprise there, honestly. I know if he dares speak out, Donna will just have one of her infamous fits and, like always, toy with his emotions. I’ve seen enough from her to know what a manipulator she truly is. But I have to keep my mouth zipped shut because Owen will get pissy if I don’t. Mostly because Donna is his girlfriend, it’s his duty to stand up for her. He has way too good of a heart to openly admit what a ratchet bitch she is.

My parents’ home, my childhood home, welcomes us as it looms overhead when we finally pull up to it and park behind my brother-in-law’s car. I had grown up being watched by my older siblings enough to know which car belonged to who. I stagger out, and my legs feel like jelly from the cramped position I had been in as I shake myself free. What’s normally a two-hour drive stretched into what felt like ten, and I was the one who’d been blamed for the suffocating backseat throughout the entire ordeal. Stretching my arms over my head, my eyes trace up the two-story home I had grown up in. By the time I was born, it had only been my folks and me, so the five bedrooms, attic, and basement had all been nearly empty. Such a big house for the remaining child out of four and was a lonesome thing indeed. But my parents had scrimped for so long before being able to straight out buy it that letting it go just because their three oldest were practically out of the house when number four was born had been out of the question.

My heart clenches in my chest at the sight, and nostalgia washes over me in waves, homesickness prickling me like needles upon my skin. Exactly what always happens when I return home.

The brush of an arm pulls my eyes away from the bedroom window right above the front door, and I watch as the guys follow their girlfriends like lap dogs. I drag my feet behind them, feeling the emptiness beside me all over again. Frustration sweeps through me. A small part of me had thought I would get my love life back on track by getting sober. It was a mess before, obviously. I didn’t have good relationships outside of Devon or Owen. Now, however, I didn’t have anyone.

I shake my head. I know being single isn’t the best thing in the world, but it’s better not to get my head wrapped around something potentially dangerous for me and my sobriety at the moment. I have to keep a clear head and a tight grip on my sobriety.

Then again, I technically do have somebody. I’ve got Colton. He’s around. Though, I really don’t know what we are or if we’re anything after that disaster of a first date. Would he even consider going on number two with me?

As I push through the eight-foot wooden gate, I come to a stop. All four of my siblings, their spouses, and all their kids are mingling about. Trish and her husband have five kids. Ryleigh and her husband also have five. Wyatt and his wife have four. Then, there’s the fact that Trish and her husband were just made grandparents with their oldest having gotten knocked up, and I easily spot the stroller next to them. Ryleigh’s second oldest also popped out a kid. Twenty-two family members altogether. That doesn’t account for Marcy, who I spot standing next to Landon, her back to me. Or for Devon and Owen and their girlfriends, and it doesn’t account for my parents and me. It’s a huge giant-ass affair, and I can feel the pressure against me. There are too many people. It’s the first family BBQ I’ve attended actually sober, and I’m sorely reminded just how big of a family I have. I feel even lonelier than before. Not having somebody by my side makes my chest ache.

No wait, that’s actual pain. Am I having a heart attack? No, I can’t be. I’m only twenty-three, dammit. I’m not having a fucking heart attack. But I can’t breathe, my breath becoming labored as the world tilts around me, closing in. Everybody is growing tighter around me, pressing against me. It’s like in one of those movies where a trip wire in a dungeon or on an abandoned boat or whatever is activated, and the walls just start closing in. It’s like that, except it’s the fence around us closing and pressing the entire family together and closer. The baby screams, loud in my ears and blocks the murmuring voices out.

I can’t take it. I have to get out before I break. I cover my ears and turn, hurling myself back out the gate and collapse to the ground, drawing my knees up before dropping my forehead to them.

A hand on my back jolts me, and I look up through a blurry vision to see Marcy’s distorted shape standing above me.

“What do you want? I thought you hated me,” I croak out.

She sighs. “I don’t hate you, Gracie. Just because I got angry doesn’t mean I hate you.” She sits down next to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, squeezing tight. “What happened?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know. I just – I couldn’t breathe, and everything felt like it was just – just closing in. I had to get out of there.”

“Sounds to me like you had a panic attack,” she says gently. “I used to get them to, freshman year of college. It was so far away from home; I didn’t know anybody and didn’t know my way around anything. It was scary.”

I look at her. “Used to?”

She nods. “They went away after a while. Once I got my bearings and made a home there. Once I started focusing on my life together so I could enjoy it. You’re always cooped up in that apartment, or you go to the diner or meetings. You aren’t around a lot of people like this. It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Especially since it’s your first one sober in a really long time.”

I nod and look down at my hands. “I really am sorry I’ve been a shitty friend, Marc. I want to be a better one to you. You deserve that.”

She squeezes my shoulders again. “I know, and I’m sorry I went off.”

“You had every right to,” I look over my shoulder as the gate hinges squeak and Landon steps out. “Don’t worry. I’m not stealing her from you.”

Marcy giggles and looks at him. “Gracie had a little panic attack. Huge crowd, first time sober.”

Landon nods in understanding, but I don’t think he truly comprehends it. I don’t think Marcy does either, but at least they’re being supportive. I feel like shit right now for taking them away from the BBQ. I stand up and brush off the back of my pants, trying to pretend I’m feeling a little better.

“Go and enjoy the BBQ. I’ll be okay. I think I’m gonna go inside and take it easy.”

Marcy hesitates but slowly stands and moves next to Landon. “You are sure, Gracie?”

I nod, forcing as kind of a smile as possible on my face. “Absolutely. Go enjoy.”

They both hesitate a little more but finally relent and go back into the yard. I draw in slow breath of air and brace myself, stepping to the gate, but Donna steps out before I can even push it open. She glowers at me, and I shrink back.

“Why’re you even here, Gracie?” she snarls at me.

I stare at her, unsure of what kind of answer she wants to hear or exactly what she means.

“Everybody was just so much happier when you weren’t in the picture. Especially Owen. He was happier thinking you were off dead in some ditch, but now he has to be reminded of the biggest mistake of his life every single day. Because little Gracie’s a baby and can’t live on her own.” She wrinkles her button nose. “Why don’t you just do everybody a favor and just disappear again?”

She turns on her heel and goes back into the yard, no doubt to whine about something to Owen. Probably how bored she is. I know she doesn’t like these functions. Plenty of people have told me about her antics. She hates coming around mine or Owen’s families and prefers hers to take precedence.

Squaring my shoulders, I push the gate open this time and slip into the backyard. Nobody blinks an eye in my direction, so I slide to the side of the house and make my way to the sliding glass doors that would lead me into the kitchen, where I suspect my mother is cooking. She knows I’m coming, which means there’s going to be a salad just for me. Because I don’t eat meat, and she knows that and won’t let me starve. I just have to get inside before I have another fucking panic attack. I don’t even know why it happened or how to explain it. But whatever, I don’t want it happening again. I don’t like feeling so empty inside afterward, so confused.

Chapter 21

Gracie

Voices chatter, their words unintelligible as they drift through the kitchen.

“Daddy,” I sing, bouncing as I pop into their existence. “Oh, Daddy!”

He turns with a smile plastered on his face, wisps of red hair barely managing to grip his scalp jostling with the movement. Holding out his arms for my arrival and enticing a squeal of delight to escape from my lips, I hurl myself into his arms and bury my face into his chest, feeling the tight wrap of them around me. For the time being, everything else disappears. All my problems, the panic attack from moments before. Everything just vanishes. If I had to pick one person in the entire world as my favorite, it would be my dad. Even if it sounds childish, I can’t help it. The man and I have a bond I can’t explain and don’t even want to try to. He was the one I had called for in the middle of the night when I’d woken from nightmares as a child and the one I always looked for in the crowd at school concerts. I love my mother, too, no doubt, but it’s no secret that I’m much closer to my dad than I have ever been to her.

“Hey sweetie,” my mom greets, brushing her hand through my hair as she passes from behind. “I have your salad ready. I had to protect it from those savages out there, but I succeeded, and I’m still alive to tell the story.”

I giggle at her words and insistence on trying to be funny before pulling back to wrap my arms around her, behind her this time. “Thank you, mama.”

At the young age of nine, I had proclaimed being a vegetarian. My mother, the sweet woman, had turned around and switched my food, always ensuring I received whatever I preferred, no matter what anyone else was eating. Vaguely, I recall how she had claimed it was just a phase I would outgrow once I realized the difference between my food and everyone else’s. I would just eventually drop it as if it were no big deal. But that was thirteen years ago, and I’m still going strong, refusing to let up on my devotion to not eating meat, poultry, or fish. I absolutely refuse to be part of that sick human gene that just loves feasting on what had once been alive. Besides, for as far back as I can remember, the mere thought of eating any of that crap has always made me want to vomit.

My mother is and always has been a blessing for making sure I didn’t starve on the daily.

Moving to the only empty counter in front of the window that looks out over the packed backyard, I pull myself up to sit on it, swinging my legs.

“So, how’re your meetings going, Gracie?” It’s dad asking, pressing the most important question first and foremost.

I roll my head on my shoulders and let out a slow exhalation, as if biding my time in response. “I’m still going to them.”

Both of my parents pause in their actions, exchanging a look I can’t see, then turn to look at me with arched eyebrows.

“They’re going good,” I add quickly, holding up my hands in defense, knowing they’d begin to worry if I didn’t say something about it. “Really. I’m still sober, I promise.”

“That isn’t what we meant, Gracie,” my father says in a clipped tone. “And you know it.”

I shrug, looking down at my hands. “I know.”

They’re silent for a moment, and I know they are sharing a look again. I don’t look up, though.

“Gracelynn,” my mother’s stern tone draws my eyes up to her. “What’s going on?”

I turn and look out the window. Kate is lingering just behind Devon, and Donna’s flirting with one or more of my nephews, their fathers, and even my own damn brother. Owen’s sitting at a table, completely ignored. Anger boils in the pit of my stomach.

“I want them back,” I finally speak, my voice cracking, and my shoulders drop. “But I can’t have them.”

They don’t have to ask to know who I’m talking about.

I turn back to look at my parents. “May I move back in here, please?”

Both their eyebrows shoot up in surprise. But it’s daddy’s words that shock me.

“You can’t move back in here, Gracie.”

I jump down from the counter. “You can’t be serious? You’ve always said—"

“We know,” my mother cuts me off, her words gentle. “But Gracie, you’re doing so well. We don’t want something drastic to cause you to backpedal.”

“I’m not! If you make me stay there, I will relapse.” The threat leaves my lips before I can stop it.

“What on earth are you talking about, Gracie? Just because we want you to succeed doesn’t mean-“

“It’s because of them!” I blurt out, frustration causing tears to explode, tears streaming down my face. “I can’t do it. I can’t be around Owen and Devon right now. Watching them parade around with their girlfriends sucks ass. It makes me want to drink, to forget everything. It isn’t fair. Please, I need to move back in here.”

Pain flashes in both of their eyes. My desperation is clear, and I know if I beg enough, they’ll give in. I’m the baby of the family. I know I demanded to be treated like an adult when I got sober and that acting like this now will throw that out the window, but I’m desperate.

I wipe at the tears threatening to overflow. “It just hurts so much.”

“It’s going to,” my mother says gently, and I feel her fingers brush through my hair. “You haven’t allowed yourself to feel the pain before. It was always cloaked with… your addictions. You’re sober now, and it’s going to be all over the place for you. Have you been going to your therapy lessons?”

I snivel but nod. I can’t lie. My brother-in-law is the boss of my therapist. He would know in a heartbeat if I didn’t go.

“I lost them,” I repeat. “Is it possible to get them back? Both of them. I want both back.”

“I don’t think—"

“Reuban,” my mother hisses. “Our daughter is actually talking to us. Don’t shut her down.”

“I’m not shutting her down, Heidi. It’s just I’m her father, and I don’t exactly feel comfortable about hearing my youngest daughter, or any of my daughters, wanting two men at once.”

“Fine,” I snap, my cheeks blistering with a blush. “I’m done.”

“Gracie,” my mother starts, but I ignore her as I stomp to the living room.

Their voices argue, muffling the further I draw away. My mother's words stop me as I reach the front door and grip the knob.

“Please talk to me, Gracie.”

I pause. I pushed her down the stairs and broke her leg. I threatened her with a knife. Yet, here she is, begging me to talk to her.

I turn to face her. “Why?”

She blinks, looking confused at me. “Why what, sweetie?”

“Why don’t you hate me for what I did?”

My father appears in the kitchen doorway, lingering on the threshold to watch and listen. I know he doesn’t fully trust me alone with her. I don’t blame him.

“Why would I hate you? You were on drugs and so many things. You were sick. I can’t hate you for that. You’re my baby, Gracie. I know you didn’t mean what you did.”

I shake my head, swallowing hard as I fight back another slaughter of tears. I uncurl my fingers from around the doorknob and drop my hand to my side.

“I know you don’t want to hear it, daddy, but right now, I’m dealing with a lot of shit, and most of it is due to the fact I can’t deal with either Devon or Owen having girlfriends. I want them both. Most girls want one guy, are set on one guy. Not me. I want them both. I’m not normal, and I know that. I’ve never been normal—"

“And nothing is wrong with that,” my mother cuts in. “We love you just the way you are, Gracie. But look, you can stay for a few nights. A week, tops, to get your head straight, okay? But you can’t give up on your life because you’re having a hard time.”

I nod and pick at my cuticles, focusing on them for a moment. It’s time to change the subject. I’m only going to make myself miserable keeping on this topic. Plus, I know that arguing with my parents isn’t going to go down very well. “I did meet another guy.” I finally say.

“You did?” My mother perks up and reaches out, taking my hand to pull me to the couch and sit next to her. “Tell me about him.”

“I met him at a coffee shop,” I start, glancing slyly at my father.

He smiles at me, though I can tell it's forced, and holds up a hand to excuse himself before leaving to join the group in the backyard. I know he doesn’t want to hear about my complicated love life, and honestly, that’s okay. I don’t even know how to explain it.

“That’s a good step,” my mother continues. “Why didn’t you invite him today?”

I shake my head again. “It’s... complicated. I don’t even know if he likes me that way anymore. We had a date, and it kind of got messy.”

She smiles in understanding. “The one Landon and Marcy were jabbering about?”

I flinch. I know Marcy wouldn’t have pressed the subject, so it was my nephew. I’m going to kill him. Not now, though. Instead, I nod in confirmation.

“Just call him, Gracie. You never know unless you ask,” my mom points out.

I hesitate but nod again. I open my mouth to say something, to continue and tell her how Colton makes me feel all fluttery inside, the way Devon and Owen still do at the rare moments they look at me when their girlfriends aren’t around. I want to tell her everything. I want us to have a close relationship, but when I try, something lodges those words inside me, and I back down. I don’t know why, but it scares me to tell her everything. Maybe it’s the whole judgment thing. I don’t want her to look at me differently or treat me differently. Or maybe it’s just that we’ve never had a close relationship before, and the fact that I hurt her doesn’t help one damn bit.

So, I shut down, feeling gritty inside because of it. I want more than anything to have a solid relationship with my mother and gab about everything. The way I’ve seen both my sisters and my sister-in-law do. My sister-in-law even has weekly lunches with my mom. I want that too. But I don’t know how to or even where to start.

Clunky footsteps draw my eyes up to Devon as he steps over the threshold of the living room and kitchen. He stops in his tracks, looking sheepish as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“Marcy told me you had a panic attack. I just came to check on you,” he babbles and smiles at my mom. “Hey mom.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” she greets and gets up.

My heart swells as they embrace. I love their relationship. I love how my mom took in both Devon and Owen long ago like she just knew they were meant to be part of the family and didn’t even question it. I want to be a mom like her one day. I don’t know when exactly, but soon, I hope. I want to hope soon anyway. But it’s still a farfetched dream. Because even to have a kid, I need a guy willing to step in and do that deed with me and right now, my entire love life is fucked up, and my sobriety is shaking. I know it is.

I shift on the couch before standing up. “I gotta go find Trish,” I explain when they look at me.

Nobody asks why as I leave to the backyard. They don’t need to. Maybe it’s a good thing, maybe.

Chapter 22

Devon

My gaze follow Gracie as she leaves the house and goes into the backyard. Her hips sway, and I can’t help but watch them. Realizing that mom is watching me, I clear my throat and pull my eyes away from her and around me. Mom stares at me with an eyebrow cocked, a knowing smile on her face. She lifts a hand and presses her finger to her lips, telling me that my secret is safe with her. I can feel the heat in my face, and I look away, pretending that I don’t know what’s going on. She pats my shoulder and lifts up on her tiptoes to peck a kiss on my cheek before following Gracie out the door.

Gracie is a clone of mom. Straight black hair, beautiful brown eyes, and high cheekbones. I don’t know if mom has some of the same physical looks I love about Gracie. It’d be weird to notice those things about the woman who took me in as one of hers and kept me, figuratively speaking, despite me and Gracie’s breakup.

After a moment, I make my way into the backyard and spot my girlfriend. She’s standing near the side with Donna in deep conversation. That can’t be good. Whenever Donna gets hold of Kate, she changes. She gets more irritable than when she’s on her fucking period. Kate can be pretty impressionable at times, but definitely when with Donna. I eye them as they glance at Gracie, who’s in a corner with Trish. Donna bounces and claps her hands together, excited about something. I’m afraid to find out what it is.

Rubbing my forehead, I turn and approach the cooler that’s sitting just feet away from the grill. Popping it open, I reach in and pluck out a cold beer, snatching up the bottle opener that’s sitting on the stepstool next to it. I pop open the bottle and flick the lid towards the trash can. It hits the rim, bounces off, and flops to the ground to join a small pile of them. I dip my head back and down the beer, the cold drink stinging my throat as it runs down it. The bubbles sting my nostrils, but I ignore it. Withdrawing it, I tilt the bottle and see that I’ve drank nearly half of it.

My eyes flicker up and catch sight of Gracie looking at me. She’s left Trish at this point and is now standing alone, gripping a plate of food. Except, it isn’t me she’s looking at. It’s the bottle clutched between my fingers. She looks a little hungry, or maybe it’s not even hungry. Its lust, desire for what I’m holding. I draw the bottle behind my back, trying to get it out of her sight. Her eyes dart up to mine. I can feel the the alcohol swimming in me, but there’s nothing yet, no buzz or anything else. Just the warmth running down my throat.

I glance back at Kate, but she’s still immersed with Donna. Neither one is paying attention to anyone else, and I know they won’t even bother. Kate is good with my father, but I’ve noticed that’s as far as she’ll go. She doesn’t try to get to know mom or dad here, my second family. Sometimes, like now, I suspect it’s because they’re Gracie’s family, and I know she doesn’t like Gracie. She tolerates her living at the apartment with Owen and me and seems to have warmed up a little now that she’s… seeing another man. But otherwise, Kate just doesn’t like Gracie. Donna hates her, for whatever reason she’s got. I think it has to do with Owen; I don’t know.

I glance back to where Gracie had been standing but find the spot empty. I search the crowd and locate her sitting alone, still facing me. She eats her salad, eyes no longer upon me. While she isn’t looking, I take another swig of my beer, guzzling as much as possible before she can see. Drawing it down, I catch her eyes and then beckon at her. Gracie looks away, but the direction she does tells me that she’s also noticed Kate and Donna chatting. After making sure that the two of them aren’t paying attention, Gracie stands and makes her way to me, abandoning her salad plate. I ignore my girlfriend and turn, going back into the house.

Making sure no one, especially kids, are on the stairs at the back of the living room, I ascend them. The hallway on the landing has two bedrooms and one bathroom on the left, with three bedrooms on the right. Gracie’s old bedroom is the first on the left, and it’s the one I enter. It hasn’t changed. Still clad in black everything, the room is eternal night. The creak of floorboards outside the door turns me to face Gracie as she steps over the threshold and shuts the door behind her, flicking the light on so we aren’t in complete darkness.

I step to her and cup her face, pressing my lips to hers. So many times as teenagers, we’d sneak away from a family event to do this exact thing. To kiss, to cuddle, to just be the two of us. Her arms lace around my neck, and I press into her, our tongues dancing together. Her fingers dig into my hair and tug lightly, inciting a groan to escape my lips. My right hand goes from cupping her cheek to tracing down her front, stopping at the waistband. Gracie gasps and pulls her head back, breaking our kiss. Unwrapping herself from me, she presses against my chest. I obey and step back.

“We can’t do this,” she chokes out, shaking her head.

“Gracie—" I start but stop when she glares at me.

“No,” she says sharply. “I won’t. Not while you’re with Kate. I did a lot of shit when I was high or drunk and everything in between, Devon. I slept with a lot of guys, including married ones, and fucked their marriages up. I didn’t care then. I care now. Kate might not like me, but I am trying to like myself, and that means I won’t go behind anyone’s back to be with somebody.”

I grimace when she mentions sleeping with other guys. I swear I can feel my blood boil whenever the thought of her being with other guys pops up in my head. I even get a bit jealous when thinking of her and Owen being together, but I can accept at least with him. Anyone else pisses me off.

“I want to like myself, Devon. I can’t do that if I’m helping you cheat.”

I’m the goddamn therapist, yet she’s the one talking sense here. What am I even thinking? I don’t think it’s the booze. I want this. I’ve wanted it since she left me. I’ve always wanted her back; every broken piece of her. I’m so proud of her for working so hard to get back on track, to be sober. It’s made me fall in love with her even more than I can remember ever being.

“Are you going to break up with her?” Her question draws me back to her.

“I—” I falter, trying to piece the words together. Okay, so the booze isn’t making my decisions for me, but it is making it hard to think entirely straight. “I don’t know right now.”

Pain flashes in her eyes, and she shakes her head. “I can’t like myself if I’m helping you cheat. I can’t stay honest if I’m helping you cheat. I just won’t do it, Devon.”

She turns to leave the room, but I reach out and grab her wrist. She stops and looks down at my hand before looking over her shoulder at me.

“Just kiss me one more time,” I practically plead, needing to feel her lips on mine.

She’s still for a long moment. A little too long, but part of me thinks the time frame is partly because of the booze swirling in my brain. Once I get something to eat and maybe juice or water, anything but alcohol, I’ll feel better. Usually, one bottle is enough for me for a day. I’m not a huge drinker, and I’ve already had a few too many.

Finally, Gracie turns and steps back up to me, lifting on her tiptoes. I catch her lips with mine, and the rest of the world is forgotten. She tastes like honey, or maybe I’m just imagining that. Either way, it’s been so long since we’ve kissed that I’d almost forgotten how sweet her kisses are. I let go of her wrist and cup her face again. The kiss deepens, our tongues slipping into one another’s mouths. Instead of dancing together, though, they fight. She gives in and pushes me back towards the bed, and I fall onto the mattress when the back of my legs hits it. Gracie straddles my lap, her fingers digging into my hair again, and I grip her waist, pulling my lips from her to trail little butterfly kisses down her neck. I push aside the shoulder of her shirt and run my lips down her flesh, taking in the sweet scent that wafts from her, falling into the past of when it had just been the two of us.

Until it's broken again. Gracie wrenches away and launches from my lap, staggering back from me. Her cheeks are blistered red as she fumbles to fix her shirt. She holds her head high but her bottom lip wobbles.

“I can smell the beer on your breath,” she tells me. “You aren’t thinking clearly, Devon. I definitely won’t be part of your little game while you’re drunk.”

“I’m buzzed, not drunk, Gracie.”

She throws her hands up. “Either way, you’ve been drinking and aren’t thinking completely straight. You have a girlfriend, a nice girl who will do you a lot of good. You need to go and be with her.”

I don’t move. “Do you want me back?”

It’s the first time I’ve ever asked her or even mentioned that we’d once been together – several times. It halts her, and she stammers before pulling herself together.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re happy and—”

“No, I’m not,” I cut her off. “Kate’s a nice girl, and I love that about her, but I don’t love her the way I’ve always loved you. I’m not meant to spend my life with Kate, Gracie. I’m meant to spend my life with you.”

She blinks, staring at me for a wild moment, looking at me as if I’ve suddenly grown a second head. “I hurt you—”

“I forgive you.” I shrug.

“I sold your ring.”

I shake my head. “Rings can be bought.”

“I love you, but not just you,” she says softly. “I love Owen too. I love both of you, and I really like Colton. It’s really confusing, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it. I don’t want to choose, Devon. Which means I probably can’t have just one of you. Not that it matters, you and Owen have moved on, and that’s what you need to focus on. Not me.”

I pull myself to my feet. “Gracie, we can figure things out—”

“I’m moving out,” she says quickly, shutting me down. “I can’t really move here. I can stay for a little bit, but I’m going to get a place for myself. I can’t stay with you guys anymore.”

With that, she leaves the bedroom, me standing in the middle of it, completely confused. I feel a little empty inside, and I don’t know if it is the booze or something else this time. She isn’t serious, is she? The chatter of people drifts up the stairs and into the slightly open bedroom door, reminding me of everybody mingling in the backyard. I wonder if Kate has even noticed my absence. She probably has and will expect a reason, but that’s the least of my concerns at the moment.

If Gracie moves out, the chances of anything with her, including friendship, will be thrown right out the window. And I’m not willing to let her go, not again.

Chapter 23

Gracie

I’m ready to go home before I do something I’ll end up regretting. Or maybe even something I know is crossing the line and can’t go back from. Because I have to admit it, I so badly wanted Devon to rip my clothes off and take me right there in the same bed I had given him my virginity. But I know that’s a line which, if stepped over, neither one of us will ever be able to retreat from. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, but Devon is a good guy. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into something that will eat him alive from the inside out. I know him too well. Cheating on Kate will rip him apart until he can no longer bear it. I don’t want that for him, and I won’t let him get to that point.

Deciding that Owen probably isn’t the best option to tell I want to go home and knowing full well that if I go around Devon alone again, I’m going to lose all self-discipline, I decide to change tactics and locate my purse. I can’t remember where I put it, but I know I was carrying it when we’d arrived, so it’s around somewhere. Sure I left it in the kitchen when first approaching my parents, I find its absence unnerving. I know I left it here. At least it’s the last place I remember having it.

Searching high and low in case one of my parents put it up so little kid's grubby hands couldn’t get into it, I find it nowhere. Maybe I didn’t bring it into the kitchen. I only vaguely recall carrying it into the room. Maybe it's outside. Did I sit it down out there before coming in? It’s possible, and with that in mind, I go back out. The crowd of my family has thinned just a smidge by this point. Most of everyone is still here, but when I look around, I find my brother, his wife, and their four kids absent. They must’ve left. That makes me sad. I didn’t even really have a chance to talk to them and catch up. I was always close with my brother growing up. His was the house I’d go and spend the night at if our parents went out of town or had a date night or anything, one of the many perks of having adult siblings. My parents never really had to rely on finding a babysitter when they had three kids, plus each of their spouses to rely on in a time crunch.

“Gracie,” an angry voice spouts my name, and I turn, finding my oldest sister clutching my purse in her hand.

One of her twin boys is standing next to her, the barely legal-to-drive teen looking away from me in shame. I notice how it’s gone eerily quiet now, all attention on us. I swallow, knowing that this can’t be good. Mostly because my sister is glaring at me. She’s seething with anger. She and I have never really gotten along, always butting heads. Mom and dad have always claimed it's because we’re just so much alike. I could practically be her daughter because of our age difference, but also because I’m a younger version of her. Then again, she’s a younger version of mom.

Ryleigh holds out my purse. “Why don’t you tell me what my son found in your purse.”

I blink, thoroughly confused as to what she’s even talking about. “Tampons?” I guess, thinking of the few extra I have on hand just to be on the safe side.

She can’t seriously be mad at me carrying tampons around, can she? She’s the one who taught me that trick. To always be prepared for an emergency, especially after the one time I had leaked through both underwear and pants in public.

Ryleigh isn’t amused or happy. She doesn’t smile and let it go. She simply just keeps glowering at me, nostrils flaring. After a moment, she turns my purse and dumps the contents onto the grass. I watch as my extra tampons, a few panty liners, cell phone, and keychain tumble out, clattering to the ground. On top of those items are a couple of pens, some gum, and little bottles. The bottles I don’t recognize as my own, but I instantly. recognize what they are. They’re glass and swish with brown liquid. There are only two of them, but it’s enough. I shake my head, my lips parting to start in on my defense, but I don’t get a chance to say something.

“Are you fucking serious?” Trish exclaims as she steps into the little clearing in which Ryleigh and I are standing. “We literally just talked about this, Gracie.”

I shake my head vigorously. “No, those aren’t mine.”

Ryleigh cocks an eyebrow and tosses my purse to the ground to join the little smile, putting her hands on her hips. “They were in your purse, Gracie.”

I shake my head again. “No. They aren’t. I swear, they aren’t mine. Somebody had to put them in there.”

“Just like somebody had to put the nude magazines in Charlie’s room.” Ryleigh snorts with a roll of her eyes.

“Mom,” her son blurts, his face turning beet red in embarrassment. “Please.”

She ignores him, too focused on me. I look at Trish for help, but she’s looking at me in hurt. “I swear, they aren’t mine,” I tell her, desperate for her to believe me.

But Trish doesn’t look convinced. She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Gracie. You haven’t been sober for an entire year. The first year is easy to slip away from. Look”— she steps forward—“it happens, okay? The first year is always hard. You’ve been working hard, but sometimes it happens. You just have to admit it. Because as long as you do want to stay sober, we can get you more help—”

“I am sober! Those aren’t mine!” I shout, desperate for someone to believe me, but when I look around at my entire family, I feel everyone against me.

When my eyes drop to my parents, neither one meet my eyes. My mom, especially, looks like she’s about to cry. Daddy won’t even look at me, but I can tell by the way his eyebrows are pushed together that he’s angry. He doesn’t talk when he’s angry. He doesn’t like yelling, but I think his silence is far worse.

“Daddy?” I start, but my voice cracks when he glances at me.

There’s nothing but disappointment in his eyes.

“They aren’t mine,” I repeat, with less determination to prove myself than before.

I look at Owen, who has Donna latched to his arm. She’s smirking at me, but Owen is simply staring. No emotions, nothing. I spot Devon coming out of the house and pushing himself through the crowd to see what’s happening. It's already bad enough that Owen has to witness this, please, not Devon too. It’s too late, though; besides, I’ve nowhere to run. I’m literally cornered at this point.

“They aren’t mine,” I repeat, but I’m literally defeated now. “They aren’t.”

I stare down at the pile, struggling not to cry in front of everyone. Of course, nobody believes me. I can’t necessarily blame them. I was warned in rehab that it would take time for those who love me to believe that I could actually stay sober. That I would have to work hard to prove it. I was told that they’d be expecting me to slip. I guess I’m lucky that Trish is willing to somewhat go out on a limb, to hope that I want to be sober again if I actually did relapse. That’s a plus, I suppose. Because the last time I relapsed, nobody believed I wanted to get sober.

In one last effort, I look right at Devon. He’s watching me in scrutiny, looking like he’s struggling to decide if he wants to believe me or not. “They aren’t mine.”

I want him to believe me. I want everyone to believe me, but right now, even just one person will do.

“All right.” Devon nods. “I believe you, Gracie.”

A gasp rings out, and my eyes snap to Kate, who looks hurt. After a moment, she clears her face and squares her shoulder, jutting her chin out as she steps up next to Devon. Her hand slips into his, visible for me to see and no doubt to remind me of their relationship. Or maybe it’s to remind him. I can’t tell the difference. I’m pretty sure it’s to remind both of us who Devon is with.

“If Devon believes you, Gracie, then so do I,” Kate says, giving me a tight smile.

It doesn’t reach her eyes, and I know she’s only siding with Devon to ensure he doesn’t slip away from her.

“Come on.” Devon jerks his head. “Let’s go home.”

He pulls Kate with him and doesn’t look over his shoulder as he pushes through the crowd. I turn and get on the ground, scrounging for my stuff to shove it back in my purse. I bat away the little whiskey bottles, hesitating for a moment as I stare over them. Everybody already thinks I relapsed, so taking them wouldn’t be a surprise. I could drink them, and nobody would even blink an eye at me because they all expect me to do it.

A hand on my shoulders draws my eyes up to Trish, who’s kneeling next to me.

“Sobriety isn’t easy, Gracie. It’s okay if you relapse. You just have to get back up and back to sobriety.”

I glare at her and turn, snatching the rest of my items up. I push away the little whiskey bottles and stand up, turning to face my parents. If I have to be honest, nobody else’s feelings about this entire thing matter as much as my parents do. Well, okay, what Owen and Devon think also matters. And Marcy too. Nobody else.

Still, if I have to pick anyone over the rest, my parents' opinions matter the most to me. I don’t want them to think of me as the drug addict, booze-riddled daughter they had to have been thinking I am for so long. But it’s pointless to even now. Because they aren’t even looking at me. In fact, they’re no longer even outside. They’ve gone back inside, and their absence makes my heart sink and my shoulders droop.

I turn and follow Devon and Kate out of the crowd and backyard. Nobody stops me, and it's honestly probably for the best. I don’t know if I can take it if anyone tries to talk to me right now. I haven’t even looked at Marcy, and I don’t want to. She already thinks I’m a bad friend. If she’s even slightly convinced that I’m relapsing, she’s really going to think I’m the worse person in the world, and our friendship will forever be damaged. I will never be able to get her back then.

I climb into the van as Devon revs the engine to life. He looks at his phone for a moment, and I can only guess it's Owen he’s texting. Finally, he pulls out of the driveway.

“I changed my mind,” I say and lean forward, ignoring my seatbelt. “I don’t want to go home. I want to go to the diner and see Colton.”

His eyes flicker to the rearview mirror, and I notice them crinkle, tightening around the edges at my proclamation. But he doesn’t say anything against it, and I know he’ll take me there as requested. Still, even I feel the burden in my heart. Me and Devon’s shared kiss lingers in my mind, and I’m hungry for another one, but Kate’s sitting in the passenger seat, and there’s nothing I can do about it. So, I want to be somewhere where I can be in control of something, even if it’s simply talking to Colton and figuring out our relationship. Simple things that are in my control.

Chapter 24

Gracie

The hallway is eerily silent. I could swear there were nurses and a few doctors mingling about. Maybe some patients and their family members, I think. I know my family has been in and out. The arrival of the new baby has everyone in a fritz, cooing and googly eyed over her.

It’s a little annoying. I don’t mean to be grumpy, but the fact that everyone was called for this birth before sunrise has put me in a bad mood. Because it’s supposed to be my day. Everyone is supposed to pay attention to me. Instead, they’re all over the baby, in awe and worshipping her. Not a single happy birthday has been given to me.

I get the excitement, but I’m still annoyed. A girl only ever turns fourteen once in her life. Plus, it doesn’t help that it’s way past dinner time, I’ve only had vending machine chips to munch on, and nobody has given me a present. I know they exist; I saw them wrapped and piled on the dining room table before we were forced to leave this morning. They’re waiting for me, eager for me to rip open that paper and find the treasures inside.

But I’ve been stuck here all damn day.

Grumpiness doesn’t even begin to describe my feelings at this point.

Which is why I don’t really care much about the nonexistent nurses and doctors and patients and family members when I step into the hallway. I’ve needed a breather for a while now, and not having them jostling about gives me that. Everybody only cares about the mother and newborn baby right now, not the moping teenager scuttling about. Them side-eyeing me and clicking their tongues in annoyance because I get in their way by accident stings more than they realize.

I just want to avoid them all. I don’t want to be here anymore. I want to leave, do something for myself. But I’m stuck.

I know mom and dad don’t mean to forget, but they have in their excitement, which hurts. I don’t say anything, though. I don’t want to come across as whiney. Especially after my sister just nearly died while giving birth. Still, I’m allowed to be a little upset about my forgotten birthday, aren’t I?

The hallway is longer than I remember. Dimmer too, like the lights are flickering out of life. Not another creature stirs, not even a mouse, which is probably a good thing considering this place reeks with the stench of bleach.

It’s also taking me forever to walk down. It’s like it’s growing with each step forward, lengthening. I just want to leave, and the only way to do that is to make it to the end.

Only when a dark figure appears in the door frame, do I stop. It’s just us two, but I can’t make them out. It looks like a man; his filled-out form tells me that. All the women I know have curves, but I could be wrong. Still, gut instinct tells me to strongly consider the idea of the person being male. It doesn’t remind me of Devon or Owen, though, so I don’t move toward them. Something about the way they’re just standing there makes me nervous. The dark figure steps forward and draws up what I assume is their arm, pointing it in my direction.

They step forward beneath a dim light to give me some view of them. It isn’t their face I notice, though. Or their body. Or clothes. Or anything else on them. No, it’s the muzzle of the gun pointed right at me.

I open my mouth to scream, but the gunshot ringing out makes a sound instead. My head jerks back and hits the ground with a thunk. I didn’t feel myself falling, and I don’t remember even tripping. The slam of my head is all I feel. I’m pretty convinced it’s split open because ringing in my ears tells me so. I want to believe that anyway, but the fact I’m staring up at a flickering light tells me that it might not be entirely so. Or maybe I did hit my head and have just yet to go unconscious.

Screaming replaces the ringing in my ears. Panicked voices swirl around me. Cries, my name shouted, screamed, pleaded with. Shadows fall over me and momentarily block the flickering light. Hands press against me, but I only feel the slight pressure of fingers on me. I don’t move. I don’t blink. I don’t think I can. I feel like I’m floating in a pool and just relaxing. The light above me is so easy to imagine is the sun as well. I can easily pretend I’m in our backyard pool, enjoying a lazy sunny afternoon.

My mom’s voice penetrates the calm, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. It’s like water has clogged my ears. I want to say something, to acknowledge her, but I can’t get my lips to move. The light just grows brighter.

Then it hits.

The pain is everywhere. Not an inch of my body is free of it. It’s like a bolt of lightning striking me. The scream leaves my lips, and the light snaps away, shadows falling over me, as a fuzzy face appears. I can’t tell who it is, but the pressing of their fingers hurts.

It fades. I go numb, and my body goes lax. I blink, and my vision pixelates. My mom screams, and my dad shouts; both plead. I can barely make out their words, but they sound desperate. I just want to sleep.

I blink and it begins again – a vicious cycle.

* * *

I bolt upright, gasping for breath, clawing at my chest. The thick blanket I was covered with slides from my body, dropping to the ground with a gentle thud. My head is spinning from suddenly sitting up. My hand flies to my stomach, pressing against the area that a bullet had once punctuated. Now and again, I feel its phantom touch. These days, it’s more adamant than it used to be. I think it’s just because before, being high or drunk made it impossible to feel anything. Sober, I can feel it all and think about it on repeat.

I hate the constant reminder of what happened. My brain has a lot of room to run over the memory these days, though. I haven’t brought it up with my therapist, not yet. I don’t know how to, but maybe I should. I know I won’t just get over it. I need help.

Later though.

Right now, I need to remember where the hell I am because I’ve woken up on a mud-brown couch that is extremely comfortable and not in my apartment. The light is peeking through slightly open curtains, which tells me the sun is up, but the sliver of it hasn’t touched me just yet.

I look around. In front of the couch is a rectangle coffee table with a few magazines and a couple of remotes on the surface. A big-screen TV is turned off. There’s a kitchen right to the side, a small dinette room, and a little foyer all adjacent. It isn’t a very big apartment, unlike the one I live in. There are three doors on the back wall. I assume one leads to a bathroom, and I suspect the other two are bedrooms, but all are closed, so I’m not entirely sure about that.

This place isn’t my apartment, but it’s so comforting at the same time. I don’t feel afraid here.

I rub my eyes and throw my legs over the couch, pulling myself to my feet. An area rug greets them, saving me from the bitter cold of the wooden floor. I stretch my arms over my head and yawn, dragging my fingers through my knotted hair. I’m not home so, I know I’m not brushing my hair anytime soon.

The flush of a toilet turns my head in time for the middle door on the back wall to open. Colton steps out, clad just in his briefs. He’s lean, muscular, with abs lining his stomach, and puffs of hair covering his chest. I have to clamp my teeth tightly together to keep my mouth from dropping open and drooling at the sight of him.

When he spots me, he gives me a sloppy smile, his eyes still sleepy.

“Morning, sleepy head,” he greets.

My eyes fall to the bulge in the front of his briefs and back up to his eyes. “Morning,” I croak.

I shuffle forward and slip behind him into the bathroom, closing the door, so I can take my morning piss in private. I remember now. I remember arriving here after dusk. I didn’t say anything when I had arrived, and Colton hadn’t pressed. He’d just turned on some movies and watched them with me while we munched on some goodies from his cupboards. I remember his grandpa also lives here. He’d only popped in once on his way into the apartment and to his room after winking at Colton.

I must have fallen asleep at some point during one of the movies. The blanket on me was a sweet thing I assume Colton had given me. I feel grateful he didn’t ask me anything. I don’t even know what I would say if he were to bring it up at all. How can I explain any of this?

I shake my head as I get done with the toilet and flush. I wash my hands and then splash my face with cold water, gasping as it drenches me but does the job of waking me up. Drying myself off as best as possible with a hand towel, I enter back into the living room.

“Coffee?” Colton asks, holding up a mug for me to see. “Do you take cream or sugar?”

The mug has The Simpson’s on it and catches my eye instantly. “Cream, please.”

He nods and goes to the refrigerator in the corner of the little square kitchen. I stay on the side of the living room as it doesn’t look like there is much room in the kitchen. He moves about, making the pot and our mugs.

“Thank you,” I finally say while he pours creamer into the Simpson mug. “For letting me stay and also, not really pressing me.”

Colton slides the mug across the counter, throwing me a smile. “What’re friends for?”

The question stings my heart. Friends? I shake my head. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

He looks at me with arched eyebrows. “Is that what you want to be?”

I don’t reply. I don’t know.

“Gracie,” he says gently but sternly. “We don’t have to label anything or move so quickly. Nothing like that, all right?”

I don’t have a toothbrush here, so I’m pretty sure my breath stinks. I want to kiss him. His full lips are just asking me to press mine to them, but I still myself. Instead, I grab my mug and take a giant drink from it to keep from kissing him. When I lower the mug, I look up at him beneath my eyelashes somewhat shyly.

“Well, I guess we can call last night a second date if you want.”

He grins and nods in agreement, taking a giant gulp of his coffee as well. My dream drifts back into the forefront of my mind, fresh. I push it aside, desperate to forget it and just focus on the moment.

Chapter 25

Devon

Kate and I have sat in silence for the last ten, maybe fifteen minutes, watching whatever mindless crap show is on. It’s something she picked, a sitcom, or something family-friendly. I didn’t really pay attention to the name; now, I’m only staring at the screen to keep my eyes somewhere.

When it finally goes to a commercial, Kate mutes the television and rises, snatching up her empty coffee mug to refill it. She also grabs mine, not even bothering to ask if I want a new cup. After almost three years together, she knows me well enough to know that I function on up to three cups of coffee on a good day. Today is a bad day. I didn’t sleep well at all. I tossed and turned, couldn’t get comfortable, and my mind wouldn’t shut up. Even with Kate lying next to me, I just couldn’t get myself to shut down and go to bed.

I did fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night. I’m pretty sure it was well past midnight when I finally passed out, though. I can definitely feel it. I just want to go back to bed, but I know I’ll just end up in the exact same position as the night before. I won’t be able to fall asleep.

Because the door to Gracie’s room has remained closed all night and the apartment's front door has to since Kate and I got here. Gracie didn’t come home, and neither did Owen. It’s natural for Owen to spend nights at Donna’s or even his parents to get a break. Donna refuses to stay here, and I suspect it’s because of Gracie. But still, I’m used to him being gone now and again. Gracie, on the other hand, has always come back. Except last night after we’d dropped her off at that damn diner. I don’t like Colton. Well, I sort of do. He’s cute, but not enough to catch my eye. Apparently, he is to Gracie since she has her attention on him. I hate him for that. I hate that he has Gracie, and I don’t.

I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose. That’s a dumb thought. I have Kate. She’s beautiful; I’m not blind to that. She’s kindhearted, has a stable job, and wants to be a wife and mother. The perfect combo for a man like me who wants the same things. But my heart and mind are on the woman who’s a drug addict, alcoholic, gambler, and a complete mess. I don’t know why, I don’t know how, but that’s who I want to settle down with, and now I feel it slipping away from me. Which means I need to accept that she’s moved on, and I have to keep my focus on Kate. Because Kate doesn’t deserve a boyfriend who’s in love with another girl.

“Here you are,” she chirps, the clinking of the mug drawing my eyes to it as she sets it on the coffee table.

“Gracie still isn’t home,” I say the words before thinking them out. “She didn’t come home last night.”

“You’d know,” Kate says bitterly, her eyes avoiding me. “You were up and down checking every hour.”

I blink, furrowing my eyebrows in confusion. “Why’re you mad about that? She’s my roommate. I was just concerned—”

“We dropped her off ourselves, Devon. There was no need to be up and down all night,” she snaps but sits back down next to me, cupping her hands around the mug and staring down into her coffee.

This close, I can tell it's pure black. Black coffee isn’t Kate’s favorite, and I know she only ever drinks it when she’s truly tired and trying to keep herself from falling asleep. Did she really not get enough sleep last night because of me?

She looks at me suddenly, her mouth set. “You love her.”

It’s not a question. It’s a straight-up accusation, the truth spoken. I stare at her, trying to figure out what to say to that. I don’t want to lie. Somehow, Kate always knows when I lie anyway.

“She was my first love; I don’t think I’ll ever get over that,” I tell her and sit up, reaching for my coffee. “Which means I will always care, Kate. But I’m with you. We’re together.”

When I glance at her, I see her lips pursed but sadness in her eyes. I know she wants me to love her the way I do Gracie, but I can’t make myself. I love Kate in the way I need to for us to be together. But I don’t love her for the way to ask for her hand in marriage, to make babies with her, or have a long life with her. Years of dating, that’s all I’ve got, and it’s all I can promise her. I’ve always been honest about that. I’ve always told her I have no plans to ask her to marry me. She deserves so much better to have her dream of becoming a mother come true. Sometimes, I feel like I’m quite literally stringing her along.

“Maybe you need to move out,” she suggests. “You can move in with me, or we can get our own little apartment together. You can actually save the money you put into this apartment.”

I shake my head. “I don’t even pay on this apartment, Kate. I help with groceries and other bills. Not rent—”

“Because Gracie’s dad pays for it,” she recites, her tone sharp as she turns to glare at me. “Is that seriously how you want to live the rest of your life? Having your ex-girlfriend's dad pay for everything? That’s really pathetic, you know.”

I grimace at her words. “No, that isn’t—”

“It is.” She cuts me off. “Devon, you’re mooching off your ex-girlfriend’s dad. You live with your ex-girlfriend. Regardless of the fact she was your first love. You have to get over her, and the only way you’re going to do that is by not seeing her every single morning when you wake up.”

“Gracie can’t live on her own,” I defend, remembering what Owen told me when he threatened to move out himself. “I can’t leave her alone.”

Kate snorts with a heavy roll of her eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me? I’m your girlfriend, right goddamn now. I live alone. How come you’re okay with me being alone and not her?”

I don’t answer. I can’t answer her. I want to, but I just can’t. I know she has a point, but she won’t understand how fragile Gracie is compared to her.

“I’m your girlfriend!” Kate screams.

I stand up as the tears flood her eyes and race down her cheeks. I reach out, wiping them, and she moves back quickly.

“I’m your girlfriend,” she repeats. “Not Gracie. Ever since she came to live here, you act like she’s your fucking girlfriend instead of me. It’s not right at all, Devon.”

I know she’s right. I’m supposed to have moved on from Gracie. But our kiss lingers in my mind. Desperation to be with one another had been there, burning white-hot. I felt it, and I know she felt it too. But it can never happen again. Not unless I’m single and she walks away from whatever is going on with her and the diner boy. I’m also smart enough to know it isn’t a good idea. It can’t be. Because last time we tried for about the fifth time, she took off and sold my mom’s engagement ring for fucking drugs.

“Has Donna told you about the couple’s retreat?” I ask, trying to think things through, but everything is so muddled in my mind.

I don’t like feeling out of control. I like control. I need control.

“Yes, and we’re going, right?”

I nod, and the words leave my lips before I can stop them, desperation to keep from losing control. “Then we can get married.”

“Married?” she squeaks, her eyes widening, the corners of her lips curling up into a smile.

Why the fuck did I say that?

“Really?” She clasps her hands together and bounces on her heels, exhaustion forgotten, for the moment.

My stomach tightens. I feel like I’ve just made a mistake, but now I have to push forward. I’m an idiot. “Yes, married. We can get married. It’s like you said, I need to get over Gracie. We can get a small apartment together, or I’ll move in with you, whatever.”

It isn’t a lie, not really. She is right. I have to move on. I have to make a life for myself and not forever be hung up on Gracie. I’m smart enough to know that. So why does it still hurt to think of leaving Gracie completely behind? Because I know once I marry Kate, I’ll have to cut ties with Gracie and in doing that, her family. My second family. Being around them is just the same as being around Gracie, and it won’t be good for me.

I’m only offering to marry Kate to forget about being in love with Gracie. To move forward, to move on with my life. I know that’s the best thing for me, and marriage might be the best option at this point. It’ll force me to focus on Kate instead of Gracie. I still feel like crap just thinking about it, though, and I regret my words.

“After the couples retreat?” she repeats, drawing me back to her.

“Yes.” I nod. “Something small, for now. We can do a big thing for an anniversary if you want. But small for now.”

I know Kate doesn’t care about having a giant wedding. She never has. She just wants to be married and have kids; that’s it. That’s all her dreams consist of. I feel bad that I’m only marrying her for my own selfishness. I don’t say anything, though, because I have no desire to hurt her feelings when she already realizes the truth.

I glance at Gracie’s bedroom door again as we sit back down. Kate misses it, though, as she rattles on about us getting married and what kind of life we’re going to live. My heart feels like it sinks and plummets out of my body.

She giggles in my ears, clapping her hands excitedly as she bounces on the couch cushions, babbling on and on about the wedding and our marriage together.

My eyes flicker to the front door, waiting desperately for Gracie to return. I want to kiss her again, to hold her in my arms again. I want her and me to be an us again, like we used to be. It’s too late now. I promised my life to Kate. I’m a fucking idiot. What the hell is wrong with me?

I rub my eyes and lean back, turning my eyes to look at Kate. I force a smile when she looks at me. In her excitement, she misses it being forced. I’m barely giving her any attention. I know I’ve landed in hot water and need to get out of it.

My mind wanders to the end of the family BBQ of the day before and to Gracie pleading with everyone to believe her. I believed her. There was no shred inside of me that told me those little whiskey bottles were hers. I don’t know why, but the look of fear and desperation just told me that she was telling me the truth. Or maybe it was the kiss we’d shared that had had my mind clouded. Because while I was a little hesitant to believe myself. But I want to. I want to believe that they weren’t hers and she isn’t slipping, that she isn’t about to fall into a relapse. I want to believe it so badly, just like I know Owen and her parents do as well. But Gracie has proved us all wrong too many times before, so it’s hard now. I’m going to try, though. I need to try to keep believing her.

Chapter 26

Gracie

I shut my bedroom door as heavily as possible without slamming it. Slamming it shut would only alert the guys that something is wrong, and I don’t feel like explaining my frustrations. It’s more than just annoyance at this point. I’m far beyond confused, and I hate it. My body almost feels like it’s on fire right now, and I need to relieve myself. I can’t ask Colton. It doesn’t matter that I stayed at his place for a whole night. We didn’t do shit sexually. And we just shared our first kiss. Asking him to touch me might be pushing a button that isn’t ready to be pressed.

I cross my room to my dresser and pull open the top one that houses my underwear and socks. I dig into it and to the bottom before gripping the vibrator. Tugging it out, I roll the little blue vibrator between my fingers. It’s a small one, and I want to upgrade eventually, but asking daddy for that kind of money is a little awkward, and I can’t really lie to him. Not that I’m not good at it, but I’m really trying not to lie these days.

I press the button on top of the vibrator, the silicone covering with rivulets vibrating between my fingers. I press it again and shut it off to go to my bed. I set the vibrator down on my pillow and pull my shirt off before shoving my pants down. Next, my bra dropped to the ground, and underwear are last.

I sit down on my bed and adjust to lay my head on my pillow and prop my legs up before grabbing my vibrator. I allow myself to think of all three guys now. I want to think about them all.

About Colton in his briefs, his hair falling just above his eyes, chest full of puffs of it, and the lines running down his stomach to show off just how much he worked out. I can’t help but drool at the sight. When it’s mixed with Devon’s image flitting through my mind, muscles rippling down his arms, a slightly pudger stomach from spending so many hours a day sitting in a chair, I seriously feel my panties go wet. Then, there’s Owen. He’s leaner, with a tighter form then Devon and even Colton and I think it’s just from his job as a cop. But his dirty blonde hair and sharp jaw is what gets to me. All of them have that hair chest. I’ve officially seen all three without a shirt and I can’t lie when I say I fucking love hairy chests.

I press the vibrator on and let it start between my fingers. I press against the nub of my right nipple, licking the fingers of my free hand and squeezing my left nipple, twisting it gently. I lay my head back and close my eyes, letting myself fall into fantasy land. To where all three guys are mine. To where they let their erections pop out of their briefs, pointed out like rods for me. I graze the vibrator down my skin until I hit my vagina. I slow my movements and gently run it down my clit, sending flares of pleasure zipping through me.

I dip my finger down, a groan escaping my lips, as I jam the vibrator into me. It lights everything up, shooting through me as I slowly push my finger in and out, feeling the walls cave in and pull apart with each thrust. I lick my fingers of my free hand again and tug and twist my nipple, playing with it for a moment before switching to my other nipple and repeating the action. I buck my hips, pushing my finger deeper inside. I thrust harder, a little faster. My breathing becomes labored.

Colton undresses inside of my mind again. I reach out and grab Devon’s erect cock. Owen wears his police officer’s jacket only; the rest of him is nude. All have erections just for me. All are handsome in their own way and drive me insane. Owen climbs on top of me and thrusts himself into me while Colton makes himself visible next to me, Devon standing next to him before sliding to the ground and taking Colton’s dick in his mouth. Owen pushes deep into me and entices a moan to escape my lips, my head falling back. He’s vibrating profusely, sending waves of pleasure shooting through my entire body. I drip out, my walls close and open, close and open. I gasp for breath, hips bucking as he moves faster. Colton groans, and I side-eye him and Devon. Colton grabs Devon’s head, tugging his head back and forth quickly. Devon reaches down to his own dick and grabs it, pumping himself. Owen moves faster, and I whimper, the pleasure searing through me, building. I groan, and my hips buck up as I release, exploding as I fall back to the bed.

I blink rapidly, and the guys are gone. I’m alone in my room, and I feel myself still pumping against my finger and the vibrator, the orgasm running its course. With a groan, I pull out my finger and drop the toy next to me. Sweat clings to my forehead and pastes my hair against it. I close my eyes, feeling my body roll over in numbness that I know is the pleasure trickling through.

Fuck, that felt good. My head is spinning. But as the high of my self-pleasure begins to fade, I feel the emptiness that’s left behind. I know it’s from the lack of guys actually on and around me.

I pick the vibrator back up, reaching to my bedside table for a Kleenex to wipe it up. When I’m done, I get up and cross back to my dresser, putting it back in the place it belongs to avoid prying eyes. I don’t feel like getting dressed again, and part of me wishes I could just leave my room butt-ass naked and not worry about what others will think about it. It isn’t that the guys will criticize me. It’s the fact that they’ve got girlfriends and can’t look. I want them to see what they’re missing, but I also feel like traipsing around in my birthday suit will only result in them avoiding me for the time being. That they’ll get on me for doing it. I wouldn’t blame them, but I don’t want them to tell me that. I want them to get erections from seeing me. I want them to want to take me right there in the middle of the apartment and have their way with me. Fuck, I want them.

I hate how my mind works. How my body craves all three of them now. Because Colton had to wake up in only his briefs, didn’t he? He had to give me a fucking view, knowing I wasn’t allowed to touch. Fucking assholes.

I lay back down on my bed and twist both of my nipples, allowing a tingle to prickle through me. I let myself relax and stare up at the ceiling. I don’t want to do anything right now. I feel too good right now, and I know it’s probably because of masturbating. Nothing wrong with that, and for the moment, I simply revel in it.

I like pretending I can be with them. I like living in a fantasy land where only the four of us exist together. No other girlfriends, no tension. Just us together.

“Gracie,” Devon says loudly, and my door opens, yanking me out of my daydream, my head snapping to the side to meet his eyes.

He stares at me, and I deliberately run my tongue over my lips, tugging at my nipples as if to prove a point. His eyes start there and run down to my pussy. I part my legs and see him swallow nervously. His hand grips my doorknob tighter. When I got home, I found it just Devon here. So, I know it’s just us. He hesitates, struggles, and steps further into my room. Slowly, he pushes the door closed, his free hand fumbling with the buckle and zipper of his pants. I run my hand down and part my folds with my fingers teasing him. I’m still tingling all over with pleasure and can go for another round. Except this time, it won’t be my hand doing the job.

I know it’s wrong. Devon knows it’s wrong. That fact is sizzling right between us, but we ignore it for the time being. Devon’s pants and briefs drop, letting his erection pop right on out just like I’d imagined. I groan in desire for it, eager to feel him inside of me again. I point at my bedside table drawer where I keep the condoms and watch as he moves to retrieve one, closer than before. As he lingers above me, his eyes sweep down my body again, and I feel excitement flutter through me. I love the way he looks at me, appraising me. Like I’m the only girl he’s ever been with in the world.

This is wrong. He’s got a girlfriend, but I don’t care at the moment. I don’t want to be a secret; I told him that the day before. But I literally can’t comprehend exactly why at the moment. For now, all I care about is getting him inside of me and feeling him again. I know it’s selfish, and I probably shouldn’t allow this to happen, but as Devon pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the ground, even the little bit of hesitation inside me disappears.

Devon dips down and captures my lips with his, just like he had the night before. Instead of pushing him aside this time, I grab at him and pull him down on me. Laying down on me, he presses his erection against my thighs, ready to thrust in.

“Devon,” I breathe, wrapping my arms around his neck and digging my fingers into his hair.

We kiss heavily again, full of heat. I push at his chest and grab the condom he’s still holding, offering it to him. Devon eyes it for a moment before taking it and sitting up on his knees. I watch as he pops it open and slides the latex condom over his dick. As he crawls back over me, Kate flickers through my mind. She’s a sweet girl, for the most part. Very defensive of her relationship, can’t blame her for that. But a sweet girl, nonetheless. She doesn’t deserve this. She doesn’t deserve to be cheated on.

The latex presses against my folds, and I push at his chest again, stopping him. “What about Kate?” I ask.

He stops, blinking in surprise as if he, too, hadn’t been thinking straight.

“Kate?” he echoes and then pulls back, sitting on his knees again. “Shit. I even told her we’d get married.”

I sit up on my elbows, eyes widening. “Are you fucking serious? You’re about to fuck me, and you’re literally fucking engaged?”

Now I’m hurt, and my self-pleasure is fading. He looks away from me, pressing his lips together, and takes a long moment to respond. “Not exactly engaged. I just said we’d get married after the couple retreat.”

I pull myself to a sitting position. “That’s basically engaged,” I point out, my voice hitching, bottom lip wobbling. “You were about to fuck me, Devon.”

I’m hurt. I really am.

“I don’t want to be a secret,” I continue. “I don’t want to be a side whore. I want something meaningful. I don’t want that bullshit I’ve been through before. I told you that last night.”

“I know—”

“I don’t think you do,” I interrupt. “You’re supposed to be the logical one, yet you’re thinking with your fucking dick. Like a typical guy. You see an easy lay and try to take it. Then you’re going to go off with your housewife and have a family and—”

He kisses me, shutting me up. I fall for it again, unable to help myself. For a moment, I fall prey to his touch, to my desires and dreams. Then I get my head together and push him off me again.

“I’ll make it right,” he promises and reaches down, yanking the condom off his dick before climbing off my bed. “I swear, Gracie. Then you and I can be together again.”

I shake my head in denial. “Easier said than done, Devon.”

He grabs up his clothes, redresses himself, and leaves my room. Again, that empty feeling is all that’s left behind.

Chapter 27

Gracie

I stand behind the podium, gripping the edge of it. The group is smaller tonight, fewer people. But it’s enough to have a meeting. Even if only two others were sitting in the wooden chairs, the meeting would still happen. I’m glad there are people, though. Because talking to air would just honestly be depressing.

“Hi, I’m Gracie, and I’m a junkie.”

“Hi, Gracie,” they greet in unison.

Somebody coughs, but I stare at the back wall instead of the people. I might like the audience because it’s good to have people to talk to, but I’m still nervous about talking to people in general. I’ve never been good at it, and my ramblings in these AA meetings have proven I don’t do well talking in front of people.

“So, the other day, I almost had sex with one of my exes. A good guy, not one of the crappy exes I’ve got. Though, I don’t really know if I should even call the crappy ones exes. They were in it for sex and drugs. This good one, he’s a really good one, and it’s my fault I lost him. It felt really good to almost be with him again.” I draw in a sharp breath, trying to hold back the tears that have wanted to flood over ever since I refused Devon access to my body. “But he’s with somebody else right now, and I know that if he had gone through with it, he would’ve regretted it and hated himself. I don’t want that for him.”

I pause for a moment. The person coughs again. It sounds wet, like they’re about to hack up a lungful of mucus or something. Maybe they chew. I don’t know, but it sets me on edge anyway.

I push myself to continue. “I also think I’m falling for this other guy. I don’t know. Maybe I just really like him. It’s really confusing that I like him and two of my exes. I think I like them all. I know it sounds ridiculous, and the exes are taken, so I probably have no chance. But I can’t figure it out. I hate it. My mind feels so crowded right now. I don’t know exactly what I want. I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m trying to figure things out, figure my life out.” I rub my forehead. “I never really had a chance to figure it out. I see people who have started businesses, families, are engaged to be married, whatever. And I’m literally just… here. I feel like I’ve wasted my life. I have nothing to show for it. I know people say that being sober is a big accomplishment, but if I ever go to my high school reunion and say, ‘Hey, I’m sober’ as my accomplishment, my peers are just going to roll their eyes at me. Especially since I was always high or drunk or something, it won’t really be a surprise, I guess, for them to find out I’m an addict.” I trace my fingers along the wooden panel. “I want to do something with my life, but I really don’t know what. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know what I want to do. I don’t want to end up serving tables for life.”

I wipe my eyes and find that the tears have spilled over. I rub those away as well, blinking profusely to keep another torrent of them off my face.

“Sobriety makes you think of everything you’ve missed, everything you have to catch up on. My dad pays for everything because… I don’t know. I am apparently a lousy adult. I am a moocher, and I know it. I don’t like it, but I really don’t know how to change it. My dad insists on paying for everything, and I hate it. People think that I love mooching from my dad, and I really don’t. I want to be an adult by myself, but I really don’t know how to do it.”

I fall into silence for a long moment and simply stare at the back wall. I hear the coughing again, and the wooden chairs creak as the listeners shift in their seats.

“Being sober kind of sucks sometimes,” I say honestly. “It really does, but I like it too. Even if I don’t understand how to be me.” I hesitate before forcing the words out. “I went to a family BBQ last weekend. Little bottles of whiskey were in my purse. I don’t know how. They weren’t mine. I swear somebody put them in there to try and give me a bad name. But no one believes me, not that I can blame them. I did a lot of stupid shit when I was high or drunk or both. I lied, stole, kept secrets. Everything in the book. But I swear, I’m trying so hard. I want to be sober; I want to stay sober. But barely anybody believes that those bottles weren’t mine.”

I’m done now, and I step back from the podium. I linger for a moment, then step down and make my way to one of the empty chairs. Trish isn’t here at this meeting. Something to do with her eldest having to be hospitalized with her pregnancy. It probably helps that her husband is a doctor.

Someone else takes the podium and starts talking, but I instantly lose track. I barely even greet them along with the others, their name slipping out of memory right after it comes off my lips. I don’t care. They aren’t my concern. We’re supposed to listen and not judge. Not judging means forgetting whatever it is they’re going to say.

“We have refreshments and cookies in the back,” the leader tells us at the end, finally grabbing my attention.

My mind has wandered so far that I didn’t even realize that time slipped away so quickly. I feel like I just walked in and sat down. I still feel empty, desperate to fill the hole. So, I get up and make my way to the table pushed against the back wall. I pour myself a cup of red fruit punch juice and grab a handful of cookies, wrapping a napkin around them. I take a second napkin and repeat the action. I have to fill the hole, and I can’t do that with drugs or booze. I can’t make them fade away by any substance. It’ll just have to be juice and cookies for now. It’ll have to do.

I take a back chair and sit back down. I’m alone today. The guys had to work, so they aren’t here to morally support me. Without Trish, I don’t really have anyone else to talk to. Marcy is my only friend, and I’m okay with that. Having too many friends is asking for trouble. Still, at moments like this, I sometimes wish I had even just one more person to sit with and talk to.

I wish Trish was here to hear me talk about those little bottles. To hear me practically beg for somebody to believe me. I wish my father or mother was here to hear me begging to be believed. They’re the ones I want to believe me the most. Not Trish or even one of the guys. Not even Marcy or my therapist. I do want them to believe me, yes, but it’s my parents who I want to stand by my side no matter what. Because I can’t remember the last time they did that. All I remember is disappointing them, again and again.

I shove cookies in my mouth and chew until they’re so mushy I can finally swallow. I repeat the action until the cookies in my hands are all gone, and then I down the juice. People are talking around me, a few laughing, gossiping. I ignore them as I get back to my feet and approach the table again. With fewer people in this meeting, there are more cookies than normal leftover. I grab another two handfuls and sit down again, shoving the cookies into my mouth all over again. I do it a third time, but after that one, I feel eyes on me and look up. The leader is watching me in earnest, an eyebrow cocked. He’s leaning against a chair, lips pursed, corners twitching as he tries to obviously keep a smile or laugh off his face. I’m on my fourth round, but these ones I drop back to the plate upon the table.

“Hungry, are we?” His teasing voice tells me he’s approached.

I recognize it from when he’d been talking up front, not looking at him. I proceed to ignore him and pour myself another cup of juice.

“It’s a form of poly, by the way,” he tells me.

I choke on my juice and gasp for a breath of air as I pull the cup away from my lips, turning to face him. “Wh-what?” I sputter, trying to pull oxygen back into my lungs.

He doesn’t blink. “Poly. The relationship thing you’re trying to figure out. I’m poly. I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend. All of us together, knowingly.”

I start to shake my head. “I don’t think so. I mean, isn’t poly like… multiple?”

He nods. “Yes. The three guys you want. Typically, I suppose. Depending on the genders of the relationship, like in your situation, it could be referred to as a harem in a way.”

I stare at him, baffled. “There is no relationship except for me and this new guy. The other two are—”

“He almost had sex with you,” he cuts me off and leans towards me. “Which means he obviously wants you back. You said it yourself, though. You saved him from hating himself. Once he figures it out, you all are going to have to figure it out.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “And what about the other one? He practically hates my guts.”

“Well,” he starts slowly as if truly considering his words. “Did you do anything to piss him off before?”

I shift and shrug, averting my gaze for a moment before looking at him again. “He tried to get me sober before, and it worked for a little while. But then I relapsed, stole money from him, and took off. Kind of left a crappy love, apology note.”

“There you go then. He doesn’t hate you. He’s angry, hurt, but he doesn’t hate you.”

I glower. “How do you even know? You don’t know him—”

“No, but I am a guy, Gracie.”

Shit, he knows my name. He actually paid attention. Now I look like an idiot not knowing his name.

“Look,” he reaches for a napkin I haven’t crumpled up and pulls a pen from his pocket, writing it on the napkin. “Why don’t you come over for dinner on Thursday evening? We would be happy to answer any questions for you.”

I can only stare at him when he holds out the napkin with an address and Thursday at seven in the evening written on it.

“Wait, isn’t a harem like multiple girls or something like that?” I question, trying to find a flaw in what he’s telling me.

What if this is just a ploy? A way to get me to try and finally feel like I have something figured out, so I show up at his house, expecting to be able to ask questions, and instead, I end up locked in a basement, drugged, and eventually killed. He can play it off as I relapsed and disappeared into the void. Everybody would believe that without hesitation.

“It’s the twenty-first century, Gracie. A harem can be multiple guys and one woman too. Just come on Thursday, all right? Bring a friend with you or this new guy, whoever you’re comfortable with bringing. I know you want answers. If you figure out this isn’t something you want, you can just walk away. If it is, we can help you, I promise.”

I hesitate and look down at the napkin scrawled with his handwriting. Finally, I take it and notice his name is written on it as well.

“My dad’s middle name is Luke,” I tell him.

“Good, then you’ll remember my name easily. My number’s on there too. Let me know if you’re coming and if there are any guests, so we have enough. Thursday is Mexican-style food.” He squeezes my shoulder and leaves my side.

I watch until he’s out of sight and grab a handful of cookies again, shoving them into my mouth. Except, I don’t feel as empty this time.

Chapter 28

Colton

I straighten my shirt for what feels like the millionth time in a row and look down at the dinner meal of spaghetti and garlic bread. It’s simple and easy to make. I didn’t want to overdo it and make something fancy for something that I’m not even sure about. I don’t know what mine and Gracie’s relationship is. She came here for the night to get away from stress. I feel grateful she chose me to run to, but I know better than to think it means anything deep for the two of us.

I’m still going to treat her to dinner, though. Because if there’s even a chance of us having something, it starts with gestures like these. Right? I believe so. It is what my last relationship was like. Then again, I was the only one making one-hundred and fifteen percent of the effort. All the while, my so-called boyfriend was out seeing another man for a side dish. No, wait, I was the side dish.

I don’t think I would be with Gracie. Even if she doesn’t officially know what she wants yet, I at least know that I wouldn’t be a side dish. Because even though she obviously has her issues, I know for a fact she won’t lie to me. I really hope she won’t fucking lie to me, anyway, and I’m going to cling to that hope with my life. Because I’m a sucker when it comes to those I like and might eventually fall in love with love later on. I just want to believe the good in them. I know I have that problem, but I don’t think it needs to be worked on. Because I want to have faith in people, to find the person I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.

The door opens, and I look up to see grandpa enter. He grins and flashes me a wink upon noticing the attire I’ve put together. I don’t have my usual biker jacket and wrinkled-up stained shirt on that I like wearing outside work.

“I take it this nice little dinner isn’t for the two of us.”

I grin, but gesture at the third plate I did put on the table. “You’re invited. It isn’t a date, grandpa.”

He clicks his tongue and cocks a bushy, white eyebrow. “Not a date? That doesn’t sound like a good sign.”

I shrug and check the timer for the garlic bread in the oven. “I don’t want to push it. I want Gracie to let me be her boyfriend or whatever she wants, on her terms.”

“Hmm,” he hums, crossing the floor and bending over the table to look at the candles I sat in the middle of it. “Candles seem a bit of a date preparation. I may be old, Colton, but I know what a date looks like.”

I shift my feet. I did sit a plate down for him in order to join us, but it was mostly out of courtesy so he wouldn’t feel left out, and that way, he could join us if he wanted. I kind of hope he doesn’t, but I’m not going to deny him.

“You’re in luck,” he continues and picks up one of the plates, sitting it on the island between the kitchen and living room. “I have a date myself tonight.”

It’s my turn to cock an eyebrow. “You do?”

He nods and takes his glasses out of his breast pocket, putting them on his face. His eyes twinkle beneath the lenses. “I do. A nice lady from the assisted facility home. I met her at Walmart.”

“You hound dog,” I tease, and he chuckles.

“I can be.” Grandpa shakes his head. “Don’t tell your mother, though. For some reason, she thinks I’m supposed to die alone since your grandmother died two years ago.”

I grimace at the mention of my mother, my shoulders tensing. I hate the mention of my parents. I don’t get why they can’t accept me as me. I don’t want to do the whole college bullshit, and they’re still pissed at how things ended. They also refuse to believe that I’m bisexual. They want a straight son who goes to college to get a good degree, finds a good woman and career, settles down, and marries to have a family. Not a son who has to live with his grandfather at the age of twenty-one, wants both guys and girls, doesn’t really care, and has no desire to settle down any time soon. If marriage comes, it comes. But it’s not within sight at the moment, and that’s perfectly fine with me.

They just can’t accept that, and it isn’t fair.

I’ll live with grandpa for the rest of my life to avoid that toxic bullshit if I have to. I miss my brother and sister, though; I can’t deny that. If I ever visit, it’ll be for them, not our parents.

“I won’t tell her,” I promise my grandfather.

He winks and pats me on the shoulder as he passes me. “You’re a good boy Colton, even with messing up. You’ve learned. That’s what matters.”

I grin. He’s an old man; sometimes, his hips hurt too much to get out of bed, and I have to step in and help him. But the rest of the time, he has more energy than I sometimes do. When I get old, I want to be like him. Boisterous and full of life.

I watch as my grandpa leaves. I feel like he’s barely here most of the time. Always up to something. I don’t question him and his whereabouts; when I’m gone and return, he doesn’t question me either. We’re both adults. I stick to my schedule, though. I try to stay out of trouble these days. Lack of friends helps in that department.

Shortly after grandpa leaves, a soft knock raps on the door before it creaks open, and Gracie pops her head around it.

“Evening,” I greet and wave her in. “Did you have a good meeting?”

She nods and sniffs the air, closing the door behind her. “It smells good in here.”

“Spaghetti and garlic bread,” I motion towards the stove where the pot of noodles and sauce are still sitting.

Gracie hesitates, then crosses the little apartment into the kitchen and peeks into the pans. When she turns back around, she’s biting her lip and looking at me guiltily.

“I really appreciate it, Colton, but there’s a little problem,” she starts and looks over her shoulder before back at me. “The sauce has meat, and it’s already touching the noodles.”

I blink, confused. I remember her getting a salad on our dinner date, but I thought that was just a weight thing. Does she really want to eat salad on repeat? “I don’t get it,” I finally admit, furrowing my eyebrows.

She chews her bottom lip, shakes her head, and looks over her shoulder one more time before looking at me sheepishly. “Colton, I’m a vegetarian.”

I feel my heart sink at her words, and my face falls. “You are?”

She nods and looks at the ground. “I told you before, Colton. At the restaurant.”

“Oh,” I say quickly, exhaling. I’m embarrassed that I forgot about that. “Right. You’re absolutely right. You know what, there’s salad stuff in the fridge. I can make you a salad, and I’ll eat the spaghetti. Is that okay with you?”

Her eyes shoot back up to me, and she smiles, little dimples dappling into her cheeks. Her brown eyes twinkle, and warmth spreads through me at the sight. I like her smile. No, I love her smile. I want her to keep smiling because of me. Or if it isn’t me, I want to at least make sure she’s always happy.

“I’d like that.” She nods. “Do you want any help?”

I shake my head quickly. “No, I got it. Um, you sit down. You look a bit exhausted.”

Gracie shakes her head. “You’re supposed to be personal in the meetings; doing so can be a bit mentally exhausting. I’ll be okay.”

I hesitate, staring her over. She’s in the same outfit she showed up in last night, which tells me she didn’t even bother going home for clothes or anything. “Do you… need something to wear?”

Her eyebrows shoot up in question, and I continue quickly before she can think the wrong thing.

“So we can wash your clothes. Or maybe we can call somebody to bring you clothes if you don’t want to go home.”

She looks down at her outfit and then back up at me. “Yeah, I guess I can call somebody.”

The happiness of moments before is now gone, her cheeks splotched in red, and I suddenly feel like a fucking idiot. I just want to be able to put my foot in my mouth to keep myself from saying anything else idiotic. I watch as she digs her phone out of her purse and excuses herself to leave the apartment to make her call. When she’s out of sight, I move back into the kitchen and get into the refrigerator to take out the salad items and make them for Gracie.

By the time I finish it and take out the salad dressings we’ve got to choose from, she enters the apartment again, shoving her phone into that black purse of hers.

“Devon’s bringing me an outfit,” she tells me, but I take in the deflation from her previous mood.

Yes, she looked and sounded a little exhausted, even before, but now it’s like she’s completely given up even trying. I sit the dressings on the island next to the salad bowl and lean over it to assess her.

“Gracie?”

Her eyes flicker up to me, and she gives me a tight-lipped smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Bags hang beneath them, looking more defined with her fake smile. “I’m all right,” she finally says and runs her fingers through her hair. “It’s just been a really long week. I’m drained.”

I nod and watch as she sits down on the couch, not facing me. She doesn’t even bother with the food anymore. “Gracie?” I start again but continue this time when she whips her head around to face me. “You don’t look okay, and I don’t think it’s just from being tired.”

She stares at me for a long moment. Those big brown eyes of hers simmering at me like she is contemplating if she really wants to tell me anything personal. “I went home this weekend, yesterday to be exact, to a family BBQ. Little bottles of whiskey were in my purse. Everybody saw.” Her eyes drop, and her shoulders fall. “I didn’t put them there, though; only Devon believes me. His girlfriend too, but I think she does just in default because she’s with Devon.”

I push off the island and round it to approach her, sitting gingerly beside her on the couch. I reach out and take her nearest hand in mine, wrapping my fingers around it. When she doesn’t jerk it back, I squeeze gently.

“I believe you, Gracie,” I say gently. “Somebody who wasn’t interested in their sobriety wouldn’t be so upset about the whole thing, and they definitely wouldn’t have gone to a meeting tonight.”

She looks up at me, gratitude sparking in her eyes, and leans into me. It's automatic that I follow her direction and our lips mash together. I let go of her hand and reach up, sliding it to the back of her head to hold her in place, our lips parting to allow tongues to enter one another’s mouths. Our tongues dance, our lips move in unison, and then it breaks. Gracie pulls back, breathing heavily, her cheeks flushed crimson. Her eyes sparkle wildly as she jumps to her feet, snatching up her purse. Confusion creases her eyebrows together as she opens her mouth, ready to say something to me but can’t seem to utter a single word.

She groans and then runs out of my grandfather’s apartment. I sit there, letting her go and chastising myself for suddenly kissing her out of the blue. Then again, she had wanted it to, or she wouldn’t have leaned into me. Right? She wanted it too, not just me.

I groan and get up, locate my phone in the kitchen, and dial Landon’s number.

Chapter 29

Devon

“Will you just stop?” Kate huffs, annoyed yet again.

She’s clasping a magazine with brides on the front, eager for us to get married. I ignore her and look at my text messages again, taking in Owen’s text.

Owen: The retreat is pushed back a bit.

He doesn’t know it yet, but I promised Kate to marry her after the retreat. She thinks it's soon, so she has to hustle with wedding plans. I now regret asking her to marry me. I don’t want to; I just wasn’t thinking straight when I said that. I can’t take it back now. Yet I will. I have to, especially before this retreat. I don’t care much for the idea of going, and I really don’t see a need for it any longer.

I put my phone down again and round the couch and Kate. She turns to watch me, leaning on the back of the couch to see my every move. I haven’t seen Gracie for a few days now. She’s doing a really damn good job of avoiding coming home, and I don’t like it. Owen has been staying with Donna, claiming he’s doing it to avoid Gracie. Though, I think he’s avoiding everyone at this point.

Everything is a mess.

I enter Gracie’s bedroom against Kate’s protests. My eyes flicker to the bed, the last time I saw her in person. Butt ass naked, legs parted, and ready for me to take her. My dick hardens at the memory, and I clamp my teeth together. I haven’t told Kate yet. I don’t know why. I don’t want to marry her, and I know for a fact that if I tell her, she will dump my ass. I deserve it. I know that. I’m just not ready to let go. Not yet anyway. I will have to before any wedding date is set or before she even goes blabbing to all of her family and hyping them up. Because that is going to be embarrassing as fuck when I have to let her down.

“Devon, you shouldn’t be in here. This is Gracie’s room,” Kate reprimands me gently.

I turn to face her, cocking an eyebrow. “I just want to figure out why she’s gone right now.”

She stares blankly at me and narrows her eyes. “You don’t believe that the whiskey wasn’t hers,” she accuses, astonishment in her words.

I press my lips together, refusing to answer Kate. I hate admitting it, but I didn’t believe Gracie. I still don’t. I want to, and I want Gracie to think somebody is on her side so she can accept help again easier, but this lines up with her past way too well for me to believe her easily.

I turn away from Kate and go back to browsing. I cross the room and pop open a dresser drawer. Socks and underwear greet me. My eyes fall to a pair of thongs, and I swallow heavily, pushing them aside. I have to steal myself, so I don’t pick them up and run them through my fingers with Kate right fucking behind me. The last thing I need is for my current girlfriend to see me ogling over my ex-girlfriend’s thongs.

Pushing them aside, I stop at the small pile of toys. The vibrator I’d seen her using and a few other things I don’t recognize. I’m not very privy to sex toys, but I do recognize the dildo towards the back. It honestly isn’t a surprise she has toys. Nine months without a boyfriend or a man to fuck would make a woman horny. Hell, it would make me horny too.

Not finding anything to justify my thoughts, I close the drawer and pull open the next one.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Kate asks, her voice soft.

I turn to face her, my eyes dropping to the little baggy of white powder. I step up to her and reach out, snatching it out of her fingers and pulling it up to my eyes. The little crystals are lumpy and only fill half of the little baggy. It’s enough, though, for someone to get quite a few hits off it. I look around Kate, and my heart sinks to see the open bedside drawer where Kate found it. My chest tightens, and I feel the desire to cry, about to explode. I really wanted to believe her. I had hoped my fears would be alleviated if I searched her room and found nothing. Then I could come to terms and accept that somebody was framing her. Now, I can’t do that.

Kate shakes her head and reaches out, running her thumb down my cheek. When she withdraws it, tears coat her finger. I reach up and wipe at the tears I hadn’t felt running down my cheeks.

“What else can you expect from a drug addict, Devon? You should just move in with me before she comes back. Owen’s going to move in with Donna, so you don’t have to worry about him. Gracie obviously doesn’t care about her sobriety. Which means she doesn’t care about you either. You need to put distance between the two of you so you can get over her.”

I thumb the little crystals in the bag and leave the bedroom without another word, going to the bathroom. There, I dump the drugs into the toilet and flush them down. When I return, sober from the silent crying, I face Kate standing in the middle of the living room.

“It’s just a relapse,” I tell her. “We can help her again.”

I locate my phone and swipe at my contacts.

Kate snorts in annoyance. “Are you fucking serious right now, Devon? She’s a goddamn drug addict. She’s hiding her drugs like a fucking teenager. Which means she knows what she’s doing. It isn’t just a relapse. If she wanted help, she’d ask for it. She’d try harder. She would actually care if she wanted help. She’s probably been doing drugs and shit again for months for all we know.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong, Kate.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise at my words, and she plants her hands on her hands. “Excuse me?”

“You’re wrong,” I repeat, knowing just how crazy I sound. “Gracie isn’t like that. This is just a relapse. We can help her.” I cross the living room and snatch up my keys, knowing exactly where I’m going.

I pocket my phone without calling Gracie’s dad. Not yet. I don’t want to tell him just yet. I need to talk to her first, to get her side of things. I know Gracie wants help; she doesn’t want to slip on purpose. I can feel it. That’s how well I know Gracie. Or at least, I’m pretty sure I still know Gracie so well. I want to believe I do. She fell into drugs and alcohol, which doesn’t mean she’s a different person. Entirely, anyway. She’s still my Gracie, the one I knew. The one I could always make laugh and buy chocolate for when she was on her period. Dark chocolate is her favorite. I know her. Owen knows her. We got her back once. We can get her back again. This is just a fucking relapse.

I pull open my van driver’s door, but a hand on my arm stops me, and I turn to face Kate. Her bottom lip is wobbling, desperation shimmering in her big blue eyes.

“Please, Devon, don’t do this. I’m your girlfriend. I am so much better than Gracie, and you know it.”

I breathe out and push the van door closed as I face her full on. “You are better than Gracie in the sense that you’ve had your life together. Gracie slipped when she wasn’t supposed to. Addiction is a disease, Kate—”

“It’s not. It’s a fucking choice, and Gracie chose to do drugs.”

I step towards her, glowering down at her. “She chose to start drugs, yes, but she didn’t choose to be addicted. That came after, without her consent. Addiction is a disease, and she doesn’t deserve to be shunned away when she can get help for it. Treatment.”

Kate rolls her eyes heavily and crosses her arms over her chest, scowling up at me with her head tilted back so she can see me full front. “She doesn’t deserve help if she chooses to do drugs and drink or whatever else she does.”

I shake my head haughtily, squaring my shoulders. “That’s where you’re wrong. Because if it was you, Kate”—I step even closer to her, closing in the gap between us just a bit more—“I would do the same for you. I would get you help, time and time again just because I care about you.”

Her jaw sets, defining the lines around her mouth as she tries to keep her composure as best as possible. “You’re in love with her.”

It isn’t a question this time. I don’t respond; I don’t need to. Kate and I both know the truth.

“You were never going to marry me, were you?” she asks softly, looking down at her hands.

My eyes flicker down to the magazine she’s still gripping in her left hand, clasped in her hand tightly, rumpling the pages. I close my eyes for a moment, putting together the words delicately, so I don’t upset her too badly. I open my eyes again and reach out with my free hand, brushing my fingers across her cheek.

“No,” I admit, and I feel a jab in my heart. It isn’t as bad as the pain I’d felt slash through it when Gracie had walked away from me, though, so that’s a plus. “I’m sorry, Kate. You’re a wonderful woman; any man would be lucky to have you. But I can’t marry you. I can’t be your husband or the father of your kids. I can’t buy a house with you. I’m not the man for you, but there is a man out there who would die to give you everything you want. You don’t deserve to keep being strung around by me.”

She nods, a shaky smile quivering the corners of her lips as she pulls back and out of my reach. “I want it to be you, though.”

“I’m sorry,” I say gently. “You are a wonderful woman, Kate, but I can’t be the man for you.”

Kate juts out her chin, glaring at me, balling up her fists at her side. “What’re you going to do then, Devon? Go confess your love to Gracie and beg her to stop using drugs?”

I shrug. “I don’t know what I’m going to do, Kate. I really don’t.”

Kate licks her lips. “You’re supposed to be a fucking therapist, Devon,” she accuses, her eyes narrowing on me.

“Doesn’t mean I know everything,” I tell her, trying to keep sudden anger out of my voice. She’s trying to grip to threads that are loosening quicker by the moment. “Why don’t you go get your stuff packed, and I’ll take you home when I get back?”

Kate sniffles, squaring her shoulders. “No. I’ll just call my brother to come and get me. You probably shouldn’t come back tonight to be on the safe side, so he won’t beat your ass.”

With that, she turns on her heels and stomps back into the apartment building. I watch until she’s completely out of sight before climbing into my van. The beat-up old van that I got as a teenager. My pride and joy. As long as I keep taking care of it, I can keep it running for a long ass time. The engine revs beneath me, and I pull away from the curb, heading in the direction of Gracie’s favorite diner. I now understand why it’s her favorite. I don’t know if I want her back exactly, not right now, but I know I need to start figuring things out. Even if, for the moment, it’s just a friendship having to be rebuilt. Because up until this point, Gracie and I’s relationship has been extremely strained.

I need to talk to her, to start however I can to fix things. To get her to see that sobriety is everything, and that she doesn’t have to be scared to ask for help. Relapses happen, it’s okay, and I want her to know that. I need her to know that.

Chapter 30

Gracie

I throw open the door to my parents’ house and traipse in, taking out my key from the lock before pushing it closed. It slams shut and alerts the teenage boys to my presence. They turn in unison to stare at me, brown eyes staring wide at me. They aren’t the same shade as mine, but they’re brown enough to show their Walker lineage. The brown eyes are from daddy’s side of the family. So is the red hair that adorns the triplet’s heads. The three of them, my father and brothers, all have the crowns of red hair.

I wave to my nephews but continue walking past them and towards the stairs to the second floor of the house. They turn back to their video game, and I eye them for a moment, hovering just at the bottom of the staircase. When their backs are turned, it’s hard to tell which triplet is which. It also reminds me that both of my sisters had a set of twins, and my brother had triplets. He just had to one-up both of them. The reminder is sordid and clenches at my heart. All three of my siblings started having kids early. Even though it took my brother and his wife a few years to finally conceive the triplets due to some complications, they still had them early enough. Here I am, twenty-three and without any kids. I was close, but that was lost because of the choices I had made.

I feel the emptiness all over again as I ascend the steps and am reminded of my loss. My brother’s two-year-old daughter squeals from inside the guest bedroom, the door ajar as I approach it. As I pass, I peek in and see both parents tending to their adopted child. After the triplets, my sister-in-law had an emergency hysterectomy, but that didn’t stop them from looking into having more kids.

I push forward again and go down the hall to my parents’ room at the far end. Their door is cracked a little bit, and I can hear the television from within speaking, gentle laughter emitting from the open door, but before I can reach it, my phone rings and draws me to a stop. I shove my hand into my pocket and draw it out, seeing Devon’s number for the fifth time. He’s been calling and texting insistently for the last hour.

Irritation flashes through me, and I hit ignore yet again. I’ve lost my nerve now, though, and instead, I back off from my parents’ room and go back down the steps. My nephews don’t take notice of me this time. Later, they’ll probably ask what I was doing here, and nobody will be able to answer. But the fact they know I arrived will have my parents calling, checking up on me. I leave without bugging my nephews or letting anyone else know I’m here. I take my purse off my shoulder and sit it down on the porch swing.

I feel more alone than ever before.

I know I probably shouldn’t have run out of Colton’s the way I did, but kissing him had freaked me out. Not because of the kiss itself. Not because he kissed me, and I kissed back. No, it was because of how I felt afterward. In a way, sparks did fly, and it scared the hell out of me. It still does. I’m more than confused now.

I leave the porch and my purse behind. I don’t look over my shoulder as I step onto the sidewalk and make my way down the block. I pass familiar houses, and my feet slapping against the cement reminds me of the old days. I used to walk this street day in and day out. Despite it being so familiar, nothing but a stranger greets me. I haven’t made this walk in so many years. The last time I did, I was running away from Devon, desperate to get my next fix and not let him see it.

I know I ruined everything good I had in life. I know I deserve people not to believe me, but I have been trying so damn hard, and it just isn’t fair. Donna’s a complete and utter fucking bitch, out to destroy anything and anyone in her way; yet, she has the world. I made one mistake and was pulled under, and now that I’m trying to keep fighting to keep my head up, no one comes when I scream.

The park is at the end of the two blocks from my house. Walking distance was a must when my parents moved into our home. The schools are all close by as well, another plus for them. They wanted everything within close proximity and got exactly that.

I sit down on one of the swings and tilt my head back as I push the swing back and forth with my legs. Trees dot the park, but not as thick as I remember when I was a kid. I think some have been cut down, or maybe I had just been so little, and they had seemed so many. It used to look like a forest to me, but now it looks like a garden of trees.

Laughter drifts over to me, and I skid to a stop, whipping my head around to see the group step into the park. The streetlights have popped on now and cast them into shadowy figures, but I recognize the stumbles as they stagger, their bodies barely able to keep them upright. I know the signs well. My heart picks up speed as I get up from the swing and start to make my way back out of the park. During the day, it’s a place for little kids to enjoy. Not a care in the world for them. At night is when the creatures appear. The drunks and druggies. Their minds only on the next high, the next drink. They don’t care for anyone or anything else except what they want.

I know from experience. I used to frequent this park when my mind was in a haze or a blur. I don’t exactly recall what I used to do, but the few times I woke up on the children’s equipment, most of the time butt-ass naked, told me that whatever it was probably wasn’t pretty. I don’t want to recall them. I don’t want the memories to pop back in and make me drown in them. I used to force myself to remember things, and in doing so, I landed myself in hot water from the pain that came with remembering.

“Hey, pretty thing,” a voice slurs, too close for comfort.

I turn to face him and take a hefty step back, wanting distance between us.

He shakes a bottle in front of me. The liquid content within sloshes against the sides, and I take in a whiff of the intoxicating scent. My stomach flips, and fingers curl into my palms as I take another step back, but the drunk steps forward in place of it, keeping the same distance between us.

“Want a drink, pretty thing?” he hisses and shakes the bottle again.

A little of the liquid spews from the top and splashes over his hand, intensifying the scent. I do. I really do want a drink, but I don’t say so. Instead, I take a step back. I know that if I don’t keep trying to get away, I’m going to cave. He takes a large step toward me, closing the gap between us, and jerks his hand. The booze splashes across my front, but I lurch backward, out of his reach as he tries to grab at me with his free hand. I spin on my heel and run, my eyes on the corner of the street that would lead me back to my childhood home.

My father jumps into my mind. Owen drifts across. Phantom promises of safety echo inside my head. Laughter rings behind me, drifting away as I push myself further from them. The ass is too drunk to come after me. I stumble to a stop only when I finally reach my parents' lawn and bend over, clutching my stomach as I gasp for breath, feeling like I want to vomit from running so far and so fast. My head spins, and I have to close my eyes, trying to grip myself together to keep from fainting. My shirt is sticky and wet.

“Gracie.” My father’s voice is sharp.

I whip my head up and straighten up, feeling the heat of the run on my cheeks. “Daddy—”

“Don’t,” he says flatly and holds his hand out, but his eyes aren’t on mine. They’re on my soaked shirt, and I know in my heart the scent that is wafting off me. “Take it.”

My eyes fall to the breathalyzer he’s holding out to me. “I’m not drunk. Some ass spilled his drink on me.” I know, though, even as the words fall from my lips, that he won’t believe me.

Nobody will. I’ve spoken these words more than three times in the form of lies. Now that it’s the truth, it’s hard to believe.

His eyes meet mine. Disappointment flashes through them, unrelenting, though. So, I step forward to him and see my mom standing behind him on the porch. She has her arms crossed over her chest, and Devon’s next to her, holding my purse. Both are staring down at me. I catch Devon’s eyes. In the dim of the porch light, only sadness glitters in them, but it’s enough to tell me; I’m alone this time.

I force my eyes to pull away from him and dip my head, letting the breathalyzer enter my mouth. I breathe into it and wait for the hundred minutes it takes to log the content. Or at least, that’s how long it feels. I don’t know why I’m on edge. I’m not drunk. I’m not high. I’m nothing, yet it feels like I should have something to be guilty for.

When it beeps, I draw my head back and watch as my father looks at the numbers, eyebrows scrunched together. Confusion twists his face as if he just can’t believe the machine or he can’t believe how I could fool it in his mind.

“Well?” My mother demands. “What does it say, Reuban?”

“Zero,” he says loudly. “She doesn’t have a single ounce of alcohol of any kind in her.”

“But she smells—”

“I already told you, an ass spilled it on me,” I cut my mother off, my lips wobbling as I force sobs back. “Anything else?”

“I found coke in your bedroom,” Devon states flatly.

I blink at him. “What?”

“Coke. Cocaine. Ice. Or whatever it’s called, I don’t know. I found it in your bedroom. I flushed it down the toilet.”

I stare at him in aghast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Devon glares at me and descends the steps of the porch, jaw tight as he approaches me. He’s a head taller, and when he’s angry, he seems like a fucking giant. So, when he towers over me, I instantly cower. Devon isn’t one for anger. Owen, I can handle. Devon? Not a damn chance.

“I found it in your fucking room.”

I shake my head vigorously. “That wasn’t mine. I haven’t even been home—”

“Don’t lie,” Devon growls and jabs a finger into my chest, but the unshed tears I see this close give him away. “Just tell the truth, Gracie. Tell the truth so we can get you help again.”

I square my shoulders, raising my chin. “I am not on drugs, and I am not drinking again,” I tell him loudly, so my parents to hear clearly as well. “It wasn’t mine.”

“It was in your room!” he bellows, and I shrink back again. “Just fucking admit it.”

I feel the crack or at least what I imagine is my insides cracking. I know I did a lot of shit in my past. I know I put everyone through bullshit. I know things I did were wrong. I lied and stole and didn’t care. But I care now. I care so damn much, and I have been trying so fucking hard. I will not allow anyone, not even Devon or Owen, to force me to take the blame for something that isn’t mine.

I stand straight up and step toward Devon, whose eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He takes a step back. “I didn’t,” I say calmly. “It’s not mine. The whiskey wasn’t mine. I am fucking sober. You can accuse me all you want, everybody can, but I know the truth. I do!” I scream.

This time, he doesn’t say anything as I spin on my heel and storm off. I hear my name called, but exactly by who I don’t know. I don’t care right now. Maybe I’m not thinking too straight at the moment. Maybe I should’ve grabbed my purse, but I won’t have anyone accusing me of shit I didn’t do.

I get it; I do. Don’t get me wrong, I know exactly why no one believes me, and I understand it, but for fuck’s sake – just one damn time, I want someone to believe me.

And what the hell was Devon doing in my room anyway? That’s my room, my private quarters. That cocaine, though. It wasn’t mine. What the hell was it doing in my room?

A blaring horn turns my head around, and the shine of headlights throws my hands over my eyes as I stagger back before it comes to a stop feet from me. As the driver's window rolls down, I turn to keep walking in a completely different direction with no real destination in sight.

“Gracie, get the fuck in,” Devon demands, a plea in his voice.

I flip him off and hear him groan. After a moment, the rumbling engine cuts, darkness swirls around me again, and the car door slam tells me he’s gotten out to follow on foot. I keep walking, pretending I didn’t hear shit. Until he grabs my wrist and spins me around, that is. His free hand cups my face, and his lips press against mine. My body and heart betray my want to run, and I fall prey to the kiss. I break it quickly, though, and wiggle out of his grasp, which isn’t hard as he isn’t holding me hostage.

“Leave me alone, Devon.”

“Were you keeping the cocaine in case you did relapse?” he asks.

I stop, and for a moment, I linger before facing him. “It’s not mine,” I repeat, my voice cracking. “It really isn’t. I didn’t buy it, put it there, or anything else. I want to be sober, Devon. I really, truly want to be sober. I haven’t wanted something so bad since I wanted to just live after I got shot.”

He’s silent for a moment and then looks over his shoulder before looking back at me. “Get in the car, and we can talk. Please.”

Chapter 31

Devon

I wait until Gracie is buckled up to say anything. I don’t move the car; not yet. We need to talk first, and then we can go. To be safe, though, I flick the locks into place. I know well enough it won’t entirely stop her; she’s got a button on her door as well, but at least it’ll stall her long enough for me to grab at her if I need to.

I turn to face her, barely making her face out in the dim light of the headlights fully. The one overhead had already flickered out, having done so when she closed the door. “The cocaine—”

“Not mine,” she says quickly, cutting me off, but I hear the catch in her voice.

I know Gracie well enough to know she’s about to cry. I reach out and grip the steering wheel hard to keep myself from reaching out and pulling her to me.

“It was in your room,” I repeat, reminding her of my traitorous act of going through her things.

I know I shouldn’t have done that, but it’s too late now.

“Not mine,” she states flatly. “It isn’t mine, and it seriously fucking sucks you’re even asking me this. It’s also fucked you even went through my room.”

“It was in your bedside table drawer, Gracie,” I tell her. “Look, I’m not even mad if you’ve relapsed. Relapse happens. I know sobriety is a struggle. So many of my clients have gone through it and—”

“I’m not a fucking client,” she shrieks, stopping my words. “I’m not your client, Devon. Do you understand that? I’m not!”

I’m silent for a moment. Her hair is so dark that it matches the blackness in the car, and I can no longer make even her figure out. Not that I bother trying. I can hear a few sobs wracking her, and the sound alone tugs at my heartstrings. I swear, I don’t want her to cry. I want her to smile and laugh, carefree like she used to. I can remember the first time I had met her. I’d known her in passing, and I’d heard about the law enforcement line throughout her family line. I used to think that was an exaggeration, but I’ve known better for years now.

Her father, two of her uncles, her grandfather, now retired, and her honorary uncle, who is her father-in-law. Now Owen. Because I’m not an idiot, and neither is he. He might be angry with Gracie for his own reasons, but he sure isn’t leaving her life anytime soon, if ever.

Still, I know now that even though her family had made me nervous, I wouldn’t change how I met her for anything. I’m glad I had to drive her home from that party, even if she was drunk.

I want to marry her. The real deal, all over again. I want her to take my name and have my kids. I can actually imagine myself settling down with her, not Kate.

Kate. Thinking of her reminds me of the fresh breakup. I hold my tongue, not saying anything about it. Now isn’t the time.

“Do you know what I specialize in?” I ask her, trying to fill the silence, other than her sobs, with some sort of noise. Small talk.

Fuck, I hate small talk.

Gracie snivels. “What?”

I clear my throat. “I specialize in addiction. My patients, most are all addicts of something.”

She’s silent for a moment. “Because of me?”

I nod and look out the window, reaching to flick the lights off, so they don’t drain my battery and drown us in pure darkness. “Yeah, because of you. You know I’ve always wanted to be a psychologist. I just never knew what exactly I wanted to specialize in, though, not for a long time.”

She says nothing for a few minutes, and I don’t press on the subject. I know better than to. I need to let her sort through her thoughts on her own.

“When did you decide?” She finally asks.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, letting out a slow exhalation of air. Finally, I pull my hand down and look at the seat I know she’s sitting in. She’s no longer sobbing; if I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought she wasn’t there.

“The day you left me,” I say softly, but make sure she can still hear me.

There’s more silence. She’s taking in my words, stewing over them. What she’s thinking, I don’t know. I want to know, but again I don’t press it. I refuse to be a poker. I pride myself in allowing people to feel comfortable enough to open up around me, especially Gracie. She used to be an open book, used to tell me anything and nothing. Now I was lucky to get her to tell me what she ate for breakfast.

“I am sorry for that. The way I left was shitty. I should’ve at least talked to you in person.”

Her words surprise me, and I jerk my head in her direction, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. These were words I didn’t expect to hear from her. “You’re… sorry?”

I can’t help but make my statement sound like a question. I just can’t shake the feeling of surprise.

“Yes,” she breathes out. “It was childish of me to just run out. I did it to you and to Owen.”

I clear my throat, trying to figure out how to respond to that. “That – that’s really mature of you, Gracie.”

It’s the truth. It really is mature and shows how much she has grown. The Gracie before would’ve never just up and taken such high responsibility for her own actions. I think I’ve fallen in love with her a little more with this rise to this level of maturity.

“Thank you.” She falls back into silence.

Finally, I let myself reach out and run my fingers down her arm once I locate it and curl them around her hand. She stays still for a moment and then takes her hand out of mine.

“You’re with Kate,” she reminds me.

I don’t tell her about the breakup yet again. I can’t seem to get the words to work properly, and I don’t even try hard. I don’t want to try very hard. As much as I want Gracie back, and I know she wants me, now’s not the time to play around. With the drugs found, it could be something serious. I don’t know why she’d lie about it, but whether she is or not has to be figured out. That is the main priority, not my relationship status.

So, I draw my hand back and put both into my lap. “Gracie, you’ve come a long way. You don’t have to be afraid to tell the truth. We can help you—”

“Shut up!” she snaps, and I hear the click of the lock. “It wasn’t mine, I swear.”

Before I can say anything, the door pops open, swathing us in light from overhead. With one leg out the door, Gracie looks back at me. Her eyes are swimming in tears, glittering brown orbs that, with any other emotion, would just look gorgeous. Right now, though, my heart feels like it’s going to plummet from the sadness that basks her face.

“Why won’t you believe me?” she asks, her shoulders dropping.

Gracie shakes her head and turns away from me to climb out of the car, making me realize she’d undone her seatbelt and I hadn’t even noticed. I fumble with my door latch and get out quickly, hurrying around the front of the car.

A blaring horn in my ears turns me quickly, and I freeze at the sight of the oncoming headlights. They turn black to light, and in the blink of an eye, I see Gracie standing right in its path. She’s a dark figure against it, and I open my mouth to shout to her, but it’s too late. The truck rumbles on us, bearing down, threatening to crush her, not caring who is in its path. It’s going to crush her, and all I can do is stand here, watching. It’s going to end her life, the most perfect woman in the world. Perfect with all her flaws.

Kate doesn’t have many flaws. She has everything ready, an entire life planned, and I hate that. I love her for many reasons, but I can’t be with a woman who doesn’t let her flaws be part of her. The way Gracie does. Gracie is perfect because of her flaws. It sounds mind-boggling, but it’s the truth.

Still, I can’t move to save her. No matter how badly I want to, I can’t shout to save her.

The ground quivers beneath us, and the truck rumbles down on us. Wind rustles my hair as the truck passes, leaving Gracie and me unscathed. I let out a sharp, shaky breath of air that makes my lungs feel like they’re rattling.

“Gracie,” her name cracks.

I hear the gravel crackling beneath footsteps before her arms wrap around my waist and her face buries itself into my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tight to me, and pressing my forehead into her hair.

“It’s not mine,” she mumbles against my shoulder. “It isn’t mine.”

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” I whisper into her hair, meaning every word.

Because I choose to believe her for good now. She’s adamant about repeating the same truth. And if I know absolutely one thing for sure about Gracie, it’s that she cannot lie. Her tell is wrinkling her nose whenever she does try.

So, I do the one thing I can think of that makes any sense right now. I take Gracie by the shoulders, push her away from me and turn her around, leading her back to the car. When we get to the driver’s side, with her surprisingly not fighting against me, I turn her to face me again and look right into those big brown eyes I adore so much.

“Look me right in the eye, Gracie,” I demand, and she does. “Tell me just one more time that it wasn’t yours.”

Her eyebrows bunch together, and her lips purse, but she does it anyway. “It isn’t mine, Devon.”

No wrinkle of the nose. Not even a twist of the fact to show she’s trying to hide it. I don’t think she knows about her tell, and I’m not about to let her know it.

“I believe you,” I tell her again and draw my hands up, cupping her cheeks. “I really do.”

With that, I kiss her. I kiss her hard. Harder than I can ever remember kissing her. I hear the gasp escape her lips. She doesn’t stop me. Instead, she kisses back, wrapping her arms around my neck as I lower my hands and wrap my arms around her waist. I pull her into me as her tongue darts into my mouth, and I do the same. Our tongues wrestle until Gracie shoves me away.

I stagger, gasping for air, grappling for the right words. “Gracie –”

“We can’t be doing this, Devon. You have a girlfriend—”

“I broke up with her,” I blurt. “We can be together.”

I feel like I’ve said the wrong thing, though, because, in the low light that shines over half of her face, Gracie looks horrified at my admittance.

“Are you fucking stupid?” she shouts, and I flinch. “We definitely can’t be together now. Do you know how bad that’ll look? For both of us.”

I blink, confused at her words. I thought she wanted to be back together.

Gracie snorts. “You break up with Kate and get with me. People will talk, they always do, and I am not going to be your secret. You know I won’t do that.”

I nod in confirmation. “I know.”

“Take me home,” she demands. “I want to go home, Devon.”

I give in and get in the car without another word, buckling up as she follows suit. Locking the doors again, I pull the car into drive and turn it around.

Chapter 32

Gracie

I just want to climb into my bed and forget this day even existed, if only for a little while, when I’m sleeping. Tomorrow I can figure everything else out. I can sort out the mess of whatever the hell is going on. My head is starting to pound knowing that everybody suspects I’m back on drugs and is having difficulty trusting me.

As Devon and I get to the apartment door, muffled voices from within draw my attention. They sound tense, almost heavy. For a second, I suspect that Owen is back with Donna, and they’re having one of their famous arguments they’re prone to. But as I pop open the door, the voices aren’t that of Donna and Owen. Instead, the woman’s voice belongs to Kate, and the male is unfamiliar. A groan beside me, however, says that Devon knows whose waiting is within our apartment's walls.

He materializes just as Devon and I step over the threshold, snarling in anger as he grabs Devon’s collar and shoves him against the wall.

“Luke!” Kate shouts.

The name rings a reminder in my ears, and I catch the sight of the familiar eyes as they catch mine. They’re livid, a pair that belongs to a protector. His eyes widen as soon as he sees me and recognizes who I am. His fingers go lax for just a moment in his sudden distraction, and it’s enough for Devon to shove Luke off him. Luke staggers back in surprise, shaking his head as he pulls himself together.

“You’re the chick strutting around with legs open to take my sister’s boyfriend?” He sounds incredulous and disgusted.

“What?” I ask, and my eyes flicker to Kate.

Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy from crying, and she avoids my gaze entirely.

“Is that what you think?” I ask, my voice cracking.

“This is the slut you were ranting about, Kate?” Luke demands, the word itself sending my cheeks flaring in heat.

“I’m not—” I struggle to defend myself and look helplessly at Devon, trying to beg him to defend me silently.

He catches my eye and steps forward, blocking me from either one of them. “Gracie isn’t a slut. Yes, I broke up with Kate, but just so you understand, Gracie refuses to be with me right now.”

Now he’s just being stupid. What the hell is wrong with Devon? He’s supposed to be the logical one, and lately, all he keeps doing is thinking with his fucking dick. Or maybe it is his heart. Whatever it is, it’s not his damn brain, that’s for sure.

“You know what, I don’t fucking care who you are right now,” Luke snarls and draws towards Devon, but his eyes are on me. “It’s your fault that my sister is crying her eyes out.”

I shake my head and back up, keeping in step with Devon, who is intent on staying right in front of me. Luke glares at me, nostrils flaring, but something else sparks in his eyes. I can’t detect it, but I suspect it has to do with the dinner I’m supposed to have at his house. Do I say something about that? My gaze flickers towards Kate, and I know it’s probably not a good idea to say anything about dinner. At least, not until I have just a moment alone with him. Because with this new edevelopment, I’m not sure he will want me there now.

“Just get your fucking things, Kate. I’m taking you home,” Luke demands, then looks straight at Devon. “She really turned you down?”

Devon squares his shoulders. “For now.”

Luke smirks, obviously smug by the answer, and looks back at me. “I’ll see you at dinner as planned. Goodbye, beautiful.”

With that, he snatches up Kate’s bags and leaves the apartment, leaving his sister lingering behind, shock and anger warring on her face as she gawks at Devon and me. I can’t tell what Devon’s thinking, nor can I see his face to try and figure it out, but I don’t think he’s very thrilled by Luke’s words.

Is he jealous? I want him to be jealous. I know it’s stupid, but the mere idea of Devon being jealous that I’m with somebody after all this thrills me. I’m not saying anything, though.

“Whatever, Devon. Be with the fucking drug addict whore for all I care. You two obviously deserve each other.” Kate sneers at us and follows her brother out, slamming the door.

I jump at the sound, my shoulders tensing as I force my head to stay up and not fall to where I can just look at the ground and cry. I won’t cry. I don’t want to. Her words are just that, fucking words. They aren’t supposed to hurt. She’s saying them out of hurt, trying to hurt me. I know that. So why the hell do they still sting?

Devon’s thumb on my cheek draws my eyes up, and I catch his gaze, my voice catching in my throat to prevent me from saying anything without sobbing.

“You aren’t a whore,” he says gently.

I draw back, knowing he can’t touch me. Because if he does and I allow it, only bad can come from the whole thing. Well, okay, not entirely bad, but I’d definitely be going against my own words from before. I’d be planting false hope in the both of us. I can’t risk that, not right now. Not when I’m still so confused about everything.

So, I do the one thing I know will keep him at arm’s length for the time being.

“I slept with a lot of men before. When I was drunk or high, I didn’t care. I just slept with them. A lot.”

Pain flashes in his eyes just as I had suspected it would. Guilt twists in my stomach, knowing that I’m only doing it so he keeps his distance. It’s a terrible way to do it, but it does the job. Devon backs up and puts his hands up in surrender.

“All right,” is all he says and turns, retreating to his bedroom.

He shuts the door heavily but not as hard as Kate slammed the front door. Left alone in the living room, I feel empty all over again. Like I have for the last few months, I feel at a complete loss.

My feet carry me to the refrigerator, and my hand pulls the door open. Within are Devon’s beers. There are two left now, which tells me he’s been drinking them, or at least whoever’s been in the apartment has been. Not me, but I want to. I want to drink the booze or get high, but the latter of the two I can’t as easily access. I would prefer the drugs, but booze will do for now.

Booze will make me forget everything. I can pretend nothing else exists, even if only for just a little while. I can go back and simply focus on being drunk or high. Nothing else will matter. I won’t have to worry about what people will think of me or what I’m going to do day in and day out. I won’t have to go to therapy sessions or meetings constantly. I won’t have to feel guilty about anything again because I will be so focused on just feeling drunk or high that it won’t matter. I can go back to how things were.

“Gracie!” Devon’s thundering voice snaps my head up, and my eyes flash to him. “What’re you doing?”

I blink and look down at my hand, taking in the beer I am clasping. I don’t even recall grabbing it. Thinking about it, sure, but actually grabbing it? No, I don’t remember that at all.

Devon strides over me and takes the beer from me, which I don’t fight. Devon puts the beer back into the refrigerator, closes it with a snap, and then pulls me away from the cold box. Holding my hand tightly, he pulls me into his bedroom and closes the door behind us.

“Devon—” I start, but he turns to me, shaking his head.

His eyes blaze with anger, nostrils flaring. “Are you fucking serious? After all that about the cocaine not being yours, you come home and go straight for the fucking beer?”

I hold my tongue, knowing it's useless to try and argue. There’s no way he will understand if I try to explain things. It doesn’t matter what he specializes in as a therapist. He won’t understand me.

Devon takes a slow breath, rubbing his forehead and throwing his hands up before he steps over to his bed and plops down onto it. He leans forward and drops his head into his hands. After a moment, he drags his fingers down his face and looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“All right, what is you want, Gracie?” he asks, the corners of his eyes suddenly drooping as if he’s gone three weeks without sleep.

“What?” I ask, startled by the question.

Devon doesn’t blink or fidget. He just stares at me. “What is it you want? You want to go back to being high and drunk? You want to live life on the streets because you don’t have money for anything else? You want your family to turn their backs on you? Or do you want to be better? You need to seriously make a decision.”

I blink, my lips parting to say something, but I don’t know how to respond to that.

After a moment of nothing but silence, Devon sighs and lets his shoulders drop before opening his arms wide. He expects me to scurry to him and curl myself into his arms, to let myself be secure within them and know that I am safe with him. He expects it, and I can’t help but do it. I crawl into Devon’s lap like I used to and lay my head on his chest as his arms wrap around me, holding me to him. His lips brush against my hair, and we stay like this for quite a few minutes, neither of us wanting to break the silence in case it breaks everything else.

When I used to get upset, he’d do exactly this. We’d just sit and listen to each other’s heartbeats for what felt like hours on end. Like now. I close my eyes, letting myself fall back into old habits. I wanted this for so long, and I'm finally getting it back. So why the hell does it feel so wrong? Why does it feel like I don’t deserve this?

My hand clutches at air, and as I pull away from Devon, I look down at my empty ring finger, realization dawning on me.

“I can’t do this.” I pull out of his grip and drop from his lap to stand in front of him. “I hurt you.”

Devon shrugs with a shake of his head. “I’m over it.”

I wave my hand at him as if that makes what I’m saying more definite. “I sold the ring, Devon. For fucking drugs. Do you get that? Why aren’t you angry with me?”

Devon rubs his face, and that’s when I see the shadow of his beard. He’d only let it grow thick once I asked him to, just so I could see what it looked like. Shit, he was sexy with a beard, but he always complained it was itchy and uncomfortable. Now, as a therapist, he has to be clean-shaven and look professional. Maybe I can get Colton to grow a beard?

“I was angry with you. I was pissed and hurt and everything else, Gracie. But living your life in anger is not a way to live. It just makes everything else terrible. It sucks. Besides, watching you for nearly a year work through your sobriety and trying to get your life on track has made me realize that it wasn’t you who had sold the ring; it was the drugs. It was the addiction. I can’t be mad at you for something you didn’t have a choice on.”

I can’t stop myself as I step forward and cup his cheeks, kissing him hard. Instantly, his arms wrap around my waist, lift my feet from the ground and turn us both over so I fall on the bed, and he’s on top of me.

Chapter 33

Devon

I grab the hem of Gracie’s shirt and yank it over her head, tossing it to the ground. My eyes rave over her plump breasts held in the cups of her bra, my tongue dragging over my lips. I feel the poke of the head of my penis against my briefs and the twitch of my dick. I want to just stick it in and pound her so fucking hard. I’ve wanted it for so long, but I didn’t realize it until now. I had to bury all of the feelings for so fucking long. I can live with them now. I can allow them to surface and be real.

Reaching under her, I snap open her bra and pull it forward, grabbing both straps with my hands. I let my fingers drag down her arms, but my eyes are on her now exposed breasts. Her areola is a dark shade of pink, her nipple big and round. As I fling her bra away from us, I reach out and knead her breasts, twisting both nipples between my fingers.

Gracie gasps, and I look up, catching her glittering eyes. She’s watching me, chest beginning to heavy as I keep twisting her nipples playfully. She bites her lip, and my eyes linger there, watching as she drags her teeth. Finally, I release and draw slowly down. I take hold of the hem of her underwear and pants and drag them down as I go, exposing her entirely to me.

I only stop when my face draws into position with her vagina. She’s a bit hairy, but at least it isn’t a mountain full of pub hair. I don’t like girls who don’t shave, at least now and again. Glancing up again to see Gracie watching me in both eagerness and curiosity, I grin and push both hands between her legs, shoving them wide open. She doesn’t object or fight against me. She opens up like a book, and I’m eager to dive right in.

I do exactly that. I don’t give her a warning; I don’t try and pump her into a start. I press my lips into her mound and flick my tongue into her. Gracie squirms in what I assume is surprise. I nip at her vulva, and she breathes out. I feel her fingers curl into my hair and push my head down. My tongue slips in, licking her, and runs around her walls. I let myself be guided by her head as she pulls it back and shoves down, pushing my tongue further. She repeats the actions several times, and I let it happen, lapping up her sweet juices, my breathing becoming labored with each jerking movement. My dick feels swollen, ready to just jump on out of my briefs. With one hand, I reach down and undo my belt, buckle, and zipper. Gracie’s hips buck, and she whimpers as she thrusts them upwards, pushing my mouth deeper. With my other hand, I reach under me and shove my finger into her. Gracie groans, deep desire escaping her throat. I thrust my finger in and out, in and out. Her hips follow the movement, moving faster with my finger.

Before she can explode, I yank back and stand up. Gracie gasps for breath, chest heaving, breasts rising and falling with each intake. Her eyes are on me, though, steamy brown. I kick my shoes off and push down my pants and briefs, shoving them aside with my feet as I pull my shirt over my head to toss it to join the rest of our clothes. Climbing back over her, I press the tip of my dick against the inside of her thigh and reach up, twisting and rubbing her nipple again. I can feel the slick of her juice grazing her thighs, dribbling out from her.

A plea glitters in her eyes, and again, she bites her bottom lip. I draw up, grazing the head against her folds. She inhales sharply, her breasts rising, and I watch them before catching her eyes again.

“Devon,” she breathes. “Devon, I want you.”

It’s all I need to hear. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to hear from her in so long. I give in instead of playing around anymore. I thrust into her, making her hips jerk upwards, shoving me far into her.

“Wait,” I grunt, my teeth clamped together. I can’t thrust, not yet, no matter how badly I want to. “Are you on birth control?”

She blinks, her eyebrows drawing together in momentary confusion as if she’s trying to figure out what I’m saying. Then her eyes widen as she takes it in, and Gracie shakes her head. “No. I’m not.”

I’m already inside her. It’s warm, and my erection is desperate to start pumping. Pulling out to get a fucking condom on doesn’t sound appealing to me or my boy.

“You can just pull out?” Gracie suggests, cocking her eyebrow, seeming to see what I’m obviously getting at.

I press my lips together and eye her. Pulling out isn’t really my strong suit. I get so into what’s happening that I literally forget to pull out because I just want to release.

“I can’t make that promise,” I finally tell her, deciding to just be straightforward.

She stares at me for a moment and then jerks her hips up, shoving me deep into her. I grunt at the movement and fall forward, capturing her lips on mine. Her legs wrap around my waist, and I thrust, pumping in and out. Her breath becomes ragged on my lips. Her nails dig into my skin. I can no longer keep twisting her nipples. Instead, my hands plant themselves on each side of the bed, gripping the sheets hard. Skin upon skin slaps, and sweat beads across my forehead as I move faster. Our lips part as we both breathe heavily. I can feel my dick swelling more if that’s even possible, and I wiggle a little to hit her walls with slaps.

Her hands slip down, and she grabs my ass, pushing me further down. I thrust, and she whimpers before her legs tighten around me and her walls cave in, closing tightly around me. My fingers dig harder into the blankets, and I feel myself push more into her. Gracie lets out a shaky breath, followed by a moan, and I burst open at her release. Or at least, I burst something. I feel like I’m balls deep in her; I’m pretty sure I am anyway. It’s too late to pull out as I’ve already exploded into her.

“Devon!” she shouts, but her voice shaky as her head falls back, legs dropping from around me. “You didn’t fucking pull out.”

I don’t move to pull out. I don’t even try to get out of her, and the fact that she doesn’t even try to push me off is a good sign. She seems mad, but I don’t think she really is.

When I slip out, just a bit, I feel her fingers graze against my tender dick, and it quivers at her touch. She strokes it and draws her fingers up, cupping my balls before kneading them. I lean down and capture her lips in mine, kissing passionately again.

Finally, I pull the rest of the way out with a grunt. I’m limp now. Everything had been expelled into her. Her legs are shaking, and she doesn’t move. I turn over and drop next to her, reaching down to take her hand in mine. Our fingers intertwine, and her hair brushes against my shoulder as she moves, laying her head on me.

“We shouldn’t have done that,” she mumbles.

I don’t say anything at all. We both wanted it in the moment. So, what the fuck am I supposed to say to that statement?

“It wasn’t wrong,” she continues. “I just – I’m not supposed to be with anyone until I’m at least a year sober. It isn’t like a mandatory rule. More like a suggestive rule, really. It’s meant to help keep our heads straight, to keep us on the path. The first year of sobriety is the hardest.”

I turn my head to look at her and catch her eyes. She’s already looking at me.

“You’re doing great, Gracie. You really are,” I tell her, trying to sound as reassuring as possible.

I do mean it. I’ve seen how hard she’s been working on her sobriety, and I’ve seen how much it means to her. It was why I had to stop her when she’d been about to throw it all away before.

“We can’t do this again. Not until after a year,” she says softly, and I hear the sadness in her voice. “That’s why I’ve been struggling. I didn’t realize it until… well, while we were having sex. You and Owen and Colton are driving me fucking insane. I have to figure out who I am, Devon. What I want. I have to stay sober, and I can’t do that if I’m tugged in all different directions.” She turns her head, pulling her eyes away from me as she stares at the ceiling. “I’m going to move back home with my parents, just temporarily, to get my head straight again. To know I’m stable enough to live with even just you.”

I squeeze her hand gently. “And Colton?”

I watch her breasts rise before slowly falling. “I like him a lot, which is also a problem. I like him and love you and love Owen, and it's making my head spin. It's why I’m having dinner with Luke. He’s got like a girlfriend and a boyfriend or two girlfriends, or two boyfriends, I can’t remember exactly. But I’m going to have dinner with them, ask questions, and whatever else to figure out exactly what I want. What I need to do.” She turns back to me again. “I need to figure out who I am, Devon.”

I can only stare at her. Her words connect easily. I know what she’s saying, but do I want to accept them? I don’t know. Because what if it isn’t just me she wants in the end? Would I be willing to share her? I don’t know, and I doubt I would unless that possibility came to be.

I lean to her and press my lips against her forehead, lingering for a moment. I can probably get her to stay the rest of the night if I ask. She can’t drive anyway, and I’m not about to make that trip again, not tonight. This means tonight is my last night for a while, just a few months, but it’s going to feel like an eternity.

“Just promise me one thing,” I finally say when I find my voice again.

Her eyes lift to mine in question, and I gently cup her chin, brushing my lips over hers.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” I tell her in a near whisper. “Whatever it is, tell me. We can talk, figure things out. Just don’t leave me hanging, not again.”

Gracie nods and pulls out of my grip, not that I try hard to keep hold of her. She curls into me, our naked bodies entangling. My arm slithers around her waist as she moves to lay her head on my chest now.

“I promise I won’t,” she tells me, her voice slightly muffled, but I can hear her.

I kiss the top of her head but don’t say anything now. There is nothing left to say. Now we have to figure out this new path and life entirely. I have almost everything I want. I have my dream career, and one day, I will own my dream house. I’m sure of that. But my dream girl will leave me in the morning, and I don’t know if I will ever have her back in my arms again.

Chapter 34

Owen

Drake pulls the car up to the house, where the ambulance is already parked. A stretcher is being hurried into the back of the vehicle, and as we climb out, shouts enter my ears. Frantic, panic coating their words. The bump upon the stretcher isn’t clad in a black bag, which tells me that whoever it is isn’t dead. Not yet. People are milling about the sidewalk, onlookers trying to see what’s going on. Drake and I push through. The crowd disperses at our presence, a perk of the blue uniforms and badge we’re adorned by.

There had been so many codes shouted that I lost track of some of them. What I am sure of, though, is that there was a drug bust gone wrong, and firearms were pulled. I hate the drug ones. They always remind me of Gracie. I am glad she’s working to stay sober. At least now I don’t have to attend a drug bust with fear in my heart that one of the overdose victims would end up being Gracie.

“In here, officers!” a female voice calls out to us.

I nod to the woman as we make out way into the house, and I have to hold back a groan at the sight. Over the last half-decade, I’ve gotten used to the grit of this job. But still, blood splatter rubs my nerves. I know well enough that it’s okay to be turned off by the sight of blood, but I can’t faint, or I won’t be able to do my job at all.

My eyes fall to the few bodies that lay sprawled on the ground a few feet away from the ones that were obviously in the path of the gunshots. Their faces are pale, lips blue, and foam still slicks one of their chins. A classic sign of overdose. I can’t help but roll my eyes at them. It’s always a pity to see anyone overdose and not return from it, but honestly, if they choose that life, they run that risk. I still feel bad, though.

My eyes rove over the bodies and stop on one. Her dark black hair is covering her face, but the rubber band around her arm tells me how she died as well. My gaze drifts down her body, taking in her curves and stopping on her exposed back. She’s lying on her stomach, and her shirt is slightly hitched up. The tattoo is what looks like a charcoal-shaded treehouse. It hits, slaps me in the face, and I can’t breathe.

The treehouse in the backyard of Gracie’s childhood home is where we had met. Through mutual friends meeting up after school and I’d just tagged along. I’d been there the day she got it when we were sixteen. She’d forged her parents' signature to get away with it, and I had chosen the design for her, the one thing that only she and I would ever understand. I don’t think she ever even explained it to Devon, and they were engaged.

“Gracie,” I say, my voice cracking on her name.

She doesn’t stir, but why did I even bother expecting her to do so? She’s lying there, lifeless because of a needle poke. My worst fears have finally come to life. She was sober, though, wasn’t she? Yes. So, she relapsed. She relapsed, and it was the final straw. Now she doesn’t have a chance to try and start over again. How am I going to tell her parents about this? How am I going to tell Devon about this? How am I going to—

“Owen,” Drake nudges me and nods around the room. “Come on, man. Let’s get to work.”

I can’t move. I don’t think I want to move. The lifeless body of Gracie is all that I can see. I step forward until I’m right next to her and get down on my knees, reaching out to brush her hair away from her face. Her eyes are staring straight forward, a murky brown compared to the chocolate color they were normally. Lifeless, glassy, gone.

“Gracie?” I blink, a torrent of emotions hitting me tenfold.

I can’t breathe. Everything’s caving in on me. I don’t want to be here anymore; I can’t be here anymore. I get up quickly and stagger back, bumping into somebody. Wheeling around, I let out a yelp of surprise. Drake lunges at me, wild-eyed, as his fingers curl around my neck. As my body slams against the wall, Drake morphs, his features twisting before Devon is the one holding my neck.

“You did this to her!” he bellows, tears in his eyes. “You killed her because you were selfish and hateful. You chose to be angry and spiteful towards her instead of telling her the truth. You drove her back to this!”

“No,” I sputter, twisting and turning in his grip. “No, it wasn’t me.”

“Yes, it was!” he shouts and yanks me forward before throwing me to the ground. I land on something mushy and turn, the scream lodging itself in my throat as I stare at Gracie’s lifeless face all over again. “You didn’t protect her like you should’ve. You let her slip away. You’ve never deserved to have Gracie, ever!”

His fists slams into my face before I can stop it. Not that I even try, though. Devon loves Gracie just as much as I do. Sometimes, I wonder if he loves her more than me but other times, I wonder if I love her more than he possibly can. He likes guys and girls, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, it just means his heart has room for more, not just the one like mine.

As I’m shoved back to the ground, I come into eye contact with Gracie. With trembling fingers, I pull my hand up and reach out, grazing over her cold cheeks.

“Gracie,” I try again and then shake her. “Gracie, wake up. Wake up!”

A soft click jerks my head up, and I find myself in view with the muzzle of a gun. As I raise my eyes toward it, I take in Devon, standing above me.

“You didn’t protect her! Now, whose going to protect you?” he snarls, and his fingers rub against the trigger, ready to pull it back and end my life.

But I’m okay with that. I’m ready to just go, so I can be with Gracie and have a different life somewhere beyond. I want to make it up to her, everything. I have to make it all up to her.

Just as Devon pulls the trigger and the loud bang resounds in my ear – I sit up quickly, gasping for air. I sweep my fingers through my hair, feeling the sweat pooled on my forehead.

“Well, well, it’s about time you woke up, sleepy head,” my mother greets cheerfully.

I flinch from the pounding in my head and rub my forehead as I throw my legs off the couch, tossing the blanket aside. I know my mom is behind me in the kitchen, but I don’t get up just yet. Instead, I reach out and pluck up my phone, swiping at the screen and letting out a groan.

“You let me sleep until ten in the morning?” I ask, my voice cracking with the words.

“I did. You needed your sleep, son.” She’s a little too perky for my taste.

Then again, mom has always been an early riser and a morning person. I’ve never understood how or why, but at least one of the three of us in the household is. Without her, my dad and I wouldn’t get anything done.

“I’ve wasted part of my day off,” I whine but don’t move at all.

“Are you hungry?” she asks, ignoring my griping.

“Yes, and coffee too, please,” I pipe up and lean back against the couch, tilting my head to look up at the ceiling.

We’ve lived in this house since I came to live with the Morrisons at the age of nine, fourteen years ago. I’m pretty sure they’ve lived here longer, but this is my childhood home. Before them, it was just house after house after house.

After a few minutes, my mother shuffles into the living room in her slippers and sets down a bowl of cinnamon brown sugar oatmeal and a cup of coffee on the coffee table in front of me. As I lean forward, she kisses the top of my head. I scoop up a spoonful of oatmeal and blow on the oatmeal before popping it in my mouth.

She lingers for a moment, watching me. I know that when she does this, it means she has something to say. So, I wait because trying to press the subject will only make her a little more hesitant and possibly scare her off from talking. Which will only result in her stewing in whatever she has to say until it explodes. Dad and I learned that a long time ago.

“You talk in your sleep, you know,” she starts.

I raise my eyes to her as I sip from my coffee before sitting the cup down. “You’ve told me before.”

She smiles and sits down next to me. I pretend she isn’t there for the time being,

“You really should tell Gracie,” she says softly, putting her hand on my shoulder. “You owe that to yourself if anything.”

I take another drink of my coffee and look at her, not saying anything as I feel like she has more to comment on.

“Your father and I just don’t think you’re very happy with Donna.”

I shake my head and turn back to take another bite of my oatmeal. Donna is not a subject I’m yet ready to discuss. Especially since I’ve been sleeping on my parents' damn couch for the last week for pissing her off over something I can’t even remember.

“You love her—”

“I’m not supposed to,” I blurt out and pinch the bridge of my nose, squeezing my eyes shut tight. “I’m not supposed to, mom.”

“Why? Because she’s an addict? Owen, you of all people know that addiction is a terrible thing that happens, but it doesn’t mean she’s a bad person or anything else.”

I shake my head and open my eyes to look at her again, pressing my lips together. After a moment, I let out a breath. “No. Because she hurt me. She really hurt me, mom.”

Sadness flashes in her eyes, and she scoots closers, wrapping an arm around my shoulders, and pulling me into her with a squeeze. “You have to forgive her, Owen. Not for her, but for yourself. To have peace inside of you.”

I side-eye her. “I’m fine.”

“No, you aren’t. I know because you’re my son. You’re angry, and you have to let it go, or it’s going to lead you down a dark path.”

I rub my forehead. It’s still throbbing, and I can’t tell if it’s from needing more caffeine or the late night I had. No drinking. I’m not a big fan of drinking and haven’t done it in a couple of weeks now, and that was the first time in years.

“Owen, I’m not kidding. If you keep harboring this anger, you’re going to end up making some very poor decisions that you will regret.”

I huff out a breath and down the rest of my coffee before turning to look at her fully.

Before I can say anything, though, my mom continues. “You need to make peace for your heart. I will not lose you, Owen. I’m not kidding, young man.”

I shake my head and look down at my hands. “It’s… it’s hard. I love Gracie with everything. I can’t give the same to Donna, and it just – it makes me angry.”

She kisses the side of my head again, and this time, I lean onto her shoulder. The woman who chose to take me in, provide for me, and love me… she’s my mom.

Chapter 35

Luke

I can’t help it. Gracie has been on my mind since I invited her over. To say I’ve been anxious for this day to arrive is an understatement. I can’t remember the last time I felt so nervous about a chick coming to my place. I’ve had a few over before, in bed, and all. This, however, is different.

Jasper and Adrianna clucked their tongues at me, questioning my decision. I wasn’t sure how to explain to them that when I had heard Gracie speak, something had just lit up inside of me. I knew then that I had to get her to show her true self to herself. It would be a start. A girl like her needs to come out of the shell she doesn’t even realize she’s in, and I want to be the one to pull her out. Neither Jasper nor Adrianna could understand that. I tried to explain it, but it only sounded like garbage coming out of my mouth.

Instead, I decided it was probably best to let them meet her, so they could see the aura surrounding her that makes me want to keep breathing the same air as her. I just hope this isn’t the same as Adrianna. I was obsessed with her in the beginning too. That has faded now and has been gone for quite some time. I can’t remember the last time Adrianna and I had a session in bed with just the two of us. Jasper, yes, plenty of times. But my infatuation with Adrianna doesn’t seem to exist anymore.

Maybe it’s why Gracie spoke to me. A replacement, which I know isn’t exactly the best thing, but I need something to fill that gaping hole that’s been left behind.

The knock on the door makes me pounce like a child excited for a package to arrive or even a parent to come home. Momentarily, it reminds me of the few months after my mother had left when I was a child. I had waited patiently, getting excited with each arrival for months on end. I don’t know when it ended, but I eventually gave up. I haven’t seen her since I was five and Kate was three. But now isn’t the time to think of these sorts of things. I have to keep my head straight and not fall into the pools of thoughts and memories I don’t want to wake up.

I yank open the door and see the woman standing there, better-looking than at the AA meeting. Then again, that place is poorly lit, and everyone is always sad as it is. She looks better now, a little happier. The sight of her before me makes my heart feel like it's fluttering, and I instantly step to the side to let her in, at a loss for words. She’s wearing a pair of black leggings; knee-high crocheted black boots are pulled over them, and a black tank-top with glittery letters hugs her curves. Her long black hair accentuates the outfit, set off by her dark brown eyes that look almost as black as her outfit. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

I know how I look. I know I’m drooling over this woman I’ve barely met. But I know a damn good-looking woman when I see one.

As Gracie turns to face me, my eyes trail down her body without even trying to hide it and graze over her arms. She has no coat on like usual, and I see the scars lining up her forearms. Taking in where I’m looking, Gracie crosses her arms to hide the evidence, but I only smile, trying to seem as assured as possible that I won’t judge her for her past.

I’ve got a past as well. The meetings we both go to obviously show that.

I close the door and beckon for her to follow me into the house's main area, then down the front hall. Turning a corner into the living area, I step aside to reveal my boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Gracie, this is Adrianna and Jasper. Adrianna and Jasper, this is Gracie,” I introduce, motioning between them.

Adrianna is lying elegantly on the couch, sprawled out to give a full frontal view of her beauty. I may not feel the same way I once had, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice how beautiful she is. She really is. She has long legs that are perfect for her modeling career, brunette hair that cascades down her back with waves, and big blue eyes that she adorns with fake lashes daily to ensure they aren’t missed. She’s got curves in all the right places and makes guys’ heads turn when she walks down the street. I swear her agent is secretly in love with her. Adrianna eyes Gracie lazily, her full lips pursing, and I see the flash of jealousy in her eyes as she assesses the younger woman. But when she no doubt sees the evidence of Gracie’s past, calm takes over, and she smirks without a word before picking her book up.

Adrianna is very self-conscious, her self-esteem low despite knowing how gorgeous she is. As a model, she gets so much shit for things she wants to eat and just for having a lazy day to take a break. Perfection is her number one priority, and due to that, she always notices every flaw and imperfection in herself. She compares herself to other women and just downright has difficulty accepting herself. It’s sad.

Then, there’s Jasper. He’s practically a God. I’m in love with the man. He’s sculpted almost perfectly. With a nice, thick cock and a smile that makes dimples cascade into his cheeks. His eyes are bright blue and twinkle even when he scowls. I can’t help but fall to my knees when he wants me. He loves being in charge, and for him, I can easily give in.

It’s exciting thinking about adding an addition to our group. I’ve always wanted bigger, to have more. We did have one extra a while back, but he left with the claim that it was just too much for him. I think Adrianna resents him for that; they had more sex as a couple.

But the mere thought of adding Gracie, asking her to join, has me frustrated. Because of Kate. As my little sister, I’m supposed to respect her feelings, and I do. But I also have to respect my feelings as well. And while mine tells me to move forward with this, she tells me to stay away from Gracie as far as possible. Because Kate’s now ex-boyfriend, whom I had liked, for the most part, dumped Kate for Gracie, which tells me something is going on there and makes me realize I think one of the guys Gracie has so adamantly talked about during AA meetings is probably him. Which is bad, very bad for me.

“Hello, Gracie,” Jasper greets and gets up from his armchair to approach us. “Don’t mind Adrianna. She’s very conceited.” He throws a look over his shoulder at her.

Adrianna scowls but never takes her eyes off the book. They aren’t moving, though, which tells me she’s paying more attention to us than the book. The book is just a cover to keep Gracie from talking to her.

“It’s nice to meet the both of you,” Gracie says, and her voice makes me breathe out happily.

I love her voice. I don’t know why, but when she’s away too long, and I can’t remember the sound of it, it leaves behind a hollow feeling. This is uncannily like when I met Adrianna, but it’s also different this time. Something feels different, but I’m not sure what it is.

Finally, Adrianna tosses her book aside and throws her legs over the couch before rising to her feet. She’s taller than Gracie by what looks like an entire head. Slinking over to me, Adrianna keeps her eyes on Gracie and stops in front of me, cupping my dick. I tense up, but my dick betrays me by going hard beneath her touch. Adrianna leans into me, blocking my view of her face, but I suspect she’s still watching Gracie. I feel her tongue flick at my neck, and I shudder at the touch as it grazes down to my collarbone. As she pulls back, I watch, my dick twitching again. Adrianna steps around me to leave the living room, and I turn to watch just in time to see her shove against Gracie.

Gracie staggers back slightly, her eyes widening in surprise, and looks at me, lips parting to question it.

“Ignore her,” Jasper intervenes, sounding annoyed. “She’s been in a mood lately.”

Gracie purses her lips together and nods, but her eyes follow Adrianna. I reach out and take Gracie’s hand, pulling her further into the living room. I lead her to the couch where Adrianna had been lying and motion for her to sit down. I sit next to her, and Jasper takes the seat on her other side.

She looks between us and then at me, her eyebrows scrunched up in question. I plan to order in, once I know what she wants, and besides, she arrived early, so there’s still time. I’m glad she was early, since it gives us a little more time to figure things out.

I lean down and reach up, gripping her chin to capture her lips with mine. Gracie freezes in obvious surprise instead of kissing me back. After a moment, she regains her composure and kisses me back. I raise my eyes and wink at Jasper, giving him the signal to act. We’d come up with signals last night. Just the two of us. I don’t think Adrianna is into this. I don’t know what’s going on with her, but she’s been pulling back lately.

When I pull back, Jasper takes hold of Gracie’s shoulder to grab her attention. When she turns to him, he kisses her and slinks an arm around her waist. He hoists her up and onto his lap, which she instinctively straddles. I scoot next to him and brush aside the dark locks of her hair, leaning to kiss her neck, feeling her shudder beneath me. My dick thickens in the erection again, twitching. I drag my nails down her shirt and sweep them under, grazing my fingers up her back. I trail them around her side and run up to her bra, toying with it for a moment. She doesn’t stop me, which tells me it’s a greenlight, so I tug the cup of her bra back and squeeze lightly.

She gasps against Jasper’s lips and pulls back, breaking their kiss. I watch Jasper reach up with one hand, dig his fingers into her hair, and pull. As her head tilts back, I see her eyes widen, and her shoulders droop, eyelids fluttering slightly. I draw my hand out from beneath her bra and shirt and reach up, curling fingers around her neck just to test the waters. I squeeze her neck gently at first.

“Harder,” she breathes, her lips parted just slightly, just loud enough for me to hear.

I squeeze tighter and hear a low moan leave her lips.

“I’m ready to order dinner,” Adrianna announces, annoyance in her voice. “Seriously? I thought you weren’t going to do anything until after dinner.”

I let go of Gracie and turn to Adrianna, pursing my lips. “You never have a problem with it when we do things with you before planned times.”

She rolls her big blue eyes. “Your sister is here, by the way,” she says bitterly.

I launch off the couch at her words and grimace when Gracie yelps, crashing to the ground without me holding her from behind. Jasper must have been too distracted to keep a proper grip on her.

“Sorry,” I mumble and adjust myself, hoping my erection doesn’t show.

It's already fading, though. The mention of my sister does that to the little guy. Grumbling, I make my way back to the front house to greet her.

Chapter 36

Gracie

My heart is racing. I can’t stop it. My mind is spinning, and I almost feel like I’m floating like I did when high. Fuck, I’m not high, am I? I really fucking hope not. I hope neither one of them has taken anything and I breathed it in just by kissing them. I mean, that won’t cancel my sobriety because I didn’t know, right? Shit, shit. I need to call Tris. I have to make sure. My hands are clammy, my stomach tight. They would’ve told me, though. Luke would’ve told me.

Would he have thought? I mean, I barely know the fucking guy, and yet, I’m here in his house, kissing him and another guy, getting a little sexual with him. I’m still tingling in excitement from my breast being squeezed a little, but most of it is from the choking. I didn’t realize beforehand that I kind of like that sort of thing. I’m not into big pain, but it is a little exciting to have a bit of fun.

I get up from the couch and fix my shirt, ensuring that my bra is in place. I look down at Jasper, whose legs are stretched out in front of him. A huge giant bulge is evident in the crotch of his pants, telling me that he’s just as turned on as I am with this whole thing. He tilts his head back, and I watch as his shoulder-length hair falls over his shoulders. My parents are going to freak out if they ever meet this guy. He is the epitome of a bad boy. Well, he is looking in from the outside. I didn’t see any motorcycles outside, but they have a closed garage, so who knows what they’ve got here.

After a moment, while the voices in the main hall chatter, Jasper sits forward and turns, reaching out to the side table. There, he plucks up what looks like a cigarette, but as he lights it up, I instantly take in the pungent scent. I know it too well, and it makes my fingers twitch. I can’t stop myself from watching him as he draws the joint to his lips and takes in a large puff of it.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” A voice cracking on the words snaps my head around to face Kate.

She snarls at me, nostrils flaring. Her eyes are bloodshot, puffy, and it's pretty damn obvious she’s been bawling. My stomach twists, knowing it's partly my fault. I open my mouth to say something, maybe even apologize, but I can’t say anything. Words just don’t exist right now.

“First you take my boyfriend, and now, you’re trying to take my brother? What kind of fucking slut are you?”

I blink, feeling the well of tears and trying to push them back before they can give me away. I don’t want her to know that her words do hurt. She sees me in a really shitty light, and I doubt anything I say can or ever will change that.

“You know, whatever. Fuck you.” She sneers at me and turns and disappears down another hallway.

I barely catch a glimpse of Adrianna following behind.

“You want some?” Jasper breathes, and I turn in time to see a cloud of smoke billowing from his lips.

I shake my head and step a little further to him, but my eyes linger on the joint as he draws it back to his lips.

“She’s sober,” Luke chastises as he reappears.

Jasper blinks and shrugs. “A little weed won’t make her spiral.”

Luke plops back down on the couch and takes the offered joint, putting it to his lips. I take a step towards the door, my heart racing. I’m not sure if it’s from being near drugs for the first time in such a long time, from how hot the guys are and still feeling their lips and hands on me, or because of Kate. Maybe it’s a mixture of all of it. Either way, I think I need to leave. I need to escape. I should probably call Devon or maybe even one of my parents to pick me up. Maybe Tris. Somebody. Even Owen. Because despite his temper with me lately, him dropping everything to pick me up after I’d left the diner just because I was scared tells me he’ll do it again.

I hope I’m not reading too much into that, though.

Jasper catches my eyes and winks. “I’m playing with you. Don’t worry. We only do weed and edibles. Nothing major, I promise.”

I nod. I can be around it, as long as it isn’t heavy, right? I can do this. I will do this.

“I have to call my sister,” I blurt out. “I’ll be back,”

Luke cocks an eyebrow in question, and I leave the room quickly, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. I didn’t bring a purse this time. Just my phone and wallet so I have a way to contact people and money if needed. The little amount of allowance I get. I feel low thinking of my money that way. I hate it. I really do. I don’t want to be dependent on my father, and I don’t want an allowance as a goddamn adult. I want control, but I know I can’t entirely have that. Control is an issue for me when it comes to money.

I shake my head, wiping out the thoughts that run rampant in my mind, and bring up my sister’s number. I slip through the main hall and into a room I assume is a sitting room by its location but looks nothing like it. It has a few armchairs, but the rest of the room holds weird furniture and strap things I’m not used to. As my sister’s end rings, I move around the room to take them in. A chair has a wide-open seat and straps to pull down. Seeing it makes realization dawn on me, and I feel the flush creeping over my cheeks.

My gaze flashes to the windows, and I find the curtains stapled around them, obviously intent on keeping the light and any onlookers out.

When my sister doesn’t pick up, I hang up and try again. Yet again, she doesn’t answer. I hang up and dial-up Marcy, desperate to talk to someone.

“Hello?” Marcy greets tiredly.

“Did I wake you?” I ask, checking the time. It isn’t even dark yet. So why the hell is she just waking up?

“I was taking a nap,” she mumbles. “What’s up, Gracie?”

“They have weed,” I breathe and look over my shoulder to make sure neither of the guys are waiting at the door and eavesdropping on me. “And they’re really cute.”

“Woah,” she pipes up, sounding more alert this time. “Back up. Who is really cute?”

“These guys. I’m – I’m trying to figure things out.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “These two guys are really cute, but they have weed.”

“Did they offer?”

“Once, but not after being reminded that I’m sober. And one, he looks like a fucking God. He said they only do it now and again and edibles but nothing major.”

“That’s good then—”

“They’ve got a fucking sex room right at the front of their house,” I breathe into the room, forcing my voice to stay as low as possible. “A fucking sex room.”

She gives a low whistle. “Damn, that sounds sexy.”

I giggle, but I can’t tell if it’s because this is really funny or I’m just nervous as fuck. I think it’s both. Shit, my emotions are fucked up today. “Marcy, seriously. Please, I need you to focus, okay?”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Gracie, you’re doing amazing as sober. You have to remind yourself of that. You’re going to be okay. If anything, just leave. I can come to pick you up if you want.”

“I—” something stops me as I almost agree, then turn to face the door.

Luke leans against the door frame with his arms crossed. Something inside of me stirs, waking. Fear rises, bubbling and ready to explode. But it’s mixed in with excitement as my head spins.

“I think I’ll be okay. I just needed to talk for a moment,” I tell Marcy mechanically, watching as Jasper appears behind Luke.

He whispers in Luke’s ear, and the two leave me again, snapping me out of my trance for the moment.

“Are you sure?” Marcy hesitates.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Thanks, Marc.”

She sighs and mutters something beneath her breath that I can’t quite understand. “All right, Gracie, just call again, I guess.”

With that, we hang up, and I sit my phone down on a table, removing my wallet too before going to find the guys. Kate is gone by the time I locate them in the massive kitchen. I’m overwhelmed by how huge the place is. I’m obsessed with the space.

Adrianna slings her purse over her shoulder, sticks her perfectly carved nose up at me, and leaves, heels clicking on the tiles floor. I don’t remember her wearing those minutes before, but whatever, I guess. I watch until I can no longer see her and jump as the front door slams behind her.

“She’s going with Kate somewhere. She really doesn’t want to be here.”

I feel the guilt roll in and begin to squash the euphoria I’d felt moments before. “I’m sorry—” I start, but Luke only chuckles and holds up a hand to stop me.

“It isn’t your fault. Honestly, I think she and her agent have something going on. He’s married, so keeping up her life right now matters.” He rolls his eyes.

A married man. I’ve been with a few of those. But never sober. I don’t say anything. I have no right to judge or comment.

“So, what do you eat?” Luke asks, drawing out his phone. “I’ll order in.”

“I’m a vegetarian,” I tell him automatically and take in the black and white checkered kitchen. “As long as it's vegetarian, I don’t care. Your place is huge.”

“Luke’s a lawyer. He makes a pretty penny,” Jasper snickers.

Fuck, his voice sends waves crashing through me. It's husky, intoxicating. I know it’s wrong to latch onto something and make it a new addiction, but honestly, I can live forever just by listening to his voice.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Luke says, sounding slightly absentminded, his focus on his phone. “Jasper here runs a pretty successful tattoo business.”

Jasper shrugs, and the movement of his shoulders gives a slight view of ink drawn upon his shoulder.

I tilt my head in curiosity. “Tattoos? For how much?”

He grins and those dimples come back to life. “For pretty women like you, it’s free the first time with me.” He winks and incites a giggle to leave my mouth.

Shit, he’s making me giggle. I tuck a strand of hair behind my hair, going a little shy. “When is your next open appointment?”

“Now, if you want,” his smile turns into a mischievous grin. “I have a set up here.”

I bite my lip. Do I really want to do this? Oh, why the hell not. I’m already here, so I might as well. “Okay,” I agree.

His eyes light up. “What do you want?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, and I don’t know where. How about”—I step towards him, running my tongue over my lips—“somewhere you pick?”

His eyes glint in excitement, and he grazes down over my body, biting his lip. Luke finally steps up to him and whispers in Jasper’s ear. Jasper chuckles and nods in agreement.

“Deal.” He winks at me and beckons for me to follow him out of the kitchen.

Chapter 37

Luke

I watch as Jasper guides Gracie to lay down in a leather chair, his fingers trailing down her front and to the waistband of her pants. Her shivering at his touch doesn’t go unnoticed. Jasper lingers for a moment, a little hesitant, but continues after making sure that she isn’t going to push his hand away. Jasper pulls Gracie’s underwear and leggings down just to the middle of her thighs to give a view of what lays beneath. I swallow roughly. She’s a bit prickly, shaved, but in full view.

Slipping his hand between her legs, Jasper parts them easily, as I watch. My dick tightens, pushing against my briefs, and my eyes meet hers. The corners of her lips curl up mischievously, and she winks at me, teasing me. It takes my entire willpower not to step over to her, shove Jasper away, and start eating her out, I fucking swear.

I cross my arms over my chest, gritting my teeth. I have to keep it steady, now isn’t the time to just lose myself. I tug my gaze away from Gracie’s and back to Jasper, who’s retrieving his tattoo needle and getting ready. He’s seen more of women on his chairs than this. It’s not a surprise that going in to draw near Gracie’s vagina isn’t a huge deal for him. He’d once told me that he had tattooed a woman’s breasts fully, then angel wings down under right after. This is just a piece of cake for him.

I watch as Jasper pushes Gracie’s right leg further to the side and begins the drawing. It’s simple, and something I hope won’t take too long. I don’t want Gracie to be entirely uncomfortable. I catch her fingers tightening around the armrests, her teeth clamping together as a hiss escapes her lips. A bit of an uncomfortable spot, I picked it deliberately. Gracie glares at me, knowing I did it on purpose, but I can only smirk at her.

The gentle hum of the tattoo needle drifts through the room, neither one of us saying a word. It’s quiet enough for me to just think.

I know I probably shouldn’t be welcoming Gracie due to Kate, but the brat can get over it. Sure, I’ll hear about it at family dinner on Sunday, but oh fucking well. I’m a grown-ass man and can make my own decisions. Our parents will know that and respect it. Dad will be annoyed, chastise me for a while, but then be over it. Simply because Kate is his favorite, and that has never been a secret. He won’t make me stop seeing Gracie if that’s what I choose to do, so I guess that’s on the plus side.

Then, there’s the matter of Adrianna. What the fuck am I supposed to do with her? The title of the house is in all three of our names. I can’t exactly kick her out for acting weird or strange or anything. But something’s going on, that’s for damn sure, and I don’t like it. I also don’t like that whenever Kate comes around, the two of them disappear to Adrianna’s room for a few minutes and then leave for hours at a time. It rubs me wrong, and the fact that they just did it sets me on edge. Those two girls were up to something, and I must find out what.

“There we go,” Jasper announces, sitting up and pushing his rolling stool back.

Gracie pulls herself to an upright sitting position and bends over, examining the tattoo. It’s a pair of shaded dice meant for good luck.

“I like it.” She grins up at us, her cheeks flushed bright pink, and I have no doubt it’s because of being exposed to the two of us.

I watch as Jasper takes his place back in front of her and makes sure there isn’t any damage or any infection possible. He tells her how to care for it, even though she seems bored by the rules and lets her pull up her underwear and pants.

“We should probably get dinner,” she finally says, her voice breathy.

She avoids looking at us. I look at Jasper and cock an eyebrow, shaking my head in amusement.

“We ordered, remember?”

She blinks. “Right.” Gracie gets to her feet. “Then, what should we do?”

I take a step toward her. “You came here to get answers, remember? Do you want to ask questions and get vocal answers, or do you want action for them instead?”

Her eyes flicker to Jasper and back to me, biting her bottom lip. The action itself is seductive enough to make me want to grab her waist, pull her to me, and smash our lips together. I hold myself back, though. It has to be consensual; she has to be okay with it.

“You said you’d help me understand multiple partners,” she reminds me.

I nod. “Do you want to sit at the table and talk, or do you want action?”

Again, she looks at Jasper and then back to me, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “Can we – do both?”

A grin splashes across my face, and Jasper chuckles.

“Absolutely, kiddo,” Jasper agrees, and I swear Gracie’s blush turns a deeper shade of pink.

“Kiddo?” she half-teases and wiggles her eyebrows at him. “Can you be sure it’s okay to call me that?”

He shrugs and swoops on her, reaching out to grip her chin and tilt her head back to look down into her eyes. “I can assure you that you are younger than me. I know that for a fact. I’m not going to ask you your age. But I will tell you mine.” He grazes the pad of his thumb over her lips and drags down her bottom one momentarily before releasing it. I’m thirty-four.”

“No way,” Gracie snorts but doesn’t move. “You don’t look thirty-four.”

Jasper laughs, deep and guttural, and sets me at ease. I love hearing his laugh, but when Gracie joins in with her giggles, something else flutters inside. I want to hear it again. I want to make her laugh and see her smile. I want to make her happy.

Fuck. I’m not supposed to be doing this. I had promised myself going into this that I wouldn’t allow myself to get attached. She belongs to other men. Three, if I remember correctly. She can’t belong to Jasper and me too. Can she?

“Well, thank you, Gracie. Luke also doesn’t look like he’s thirty-one, does he?”

Her eyebrows shot up high, and Gracie looks right at me incredulously. “Thirty-one?”

I shrug and wave my hand over my face. “What can I say? I’ve got a boyish charm,” I joke.

Gracie laughs, and it's music to my ears. I have to make her do it again. “I like older.”

A rapping on the door interrupts us, and I excuse myself to go and answer the door. Our bags are right there on the porch, and I take a moment to watch as the driver pulls away. As they do so, I focus on the car sitting outside the house. The passenger window is down and gives a view to Adrianna. She’s turned to the driver, their lips smashed together, her arms up, and no doubt her fingers dug into his hair.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I snap a picture of the two of them, zoom in to get as close as possible, and take another.

Yes, it’s the three of us: Jasper, Adrianna, and me. We are in a relationship. However, that doesn’t mean we’re open to any of us flitting about with anyone outside of our relationship. We can talk about it, see where it goes. But hiding it? That’s just downright cheating. I called it. I knew she was cheating on us. I was just pretty sure it was with her fucking agent. Then again, it still could be.

As I close the door, I realize that even in the pictures I took, I can’t define who the person she’s making out with is. It could be her agent, but it could be someone else. Maybe she’s two-timing that poor bastard too.

I carry the food to the kitchen and set it up on the bar. Jasper and Gracie join moments after, and he pulls out her barstool for her. As Gracie sits down, I pop open her to-go container and eye it.

“What the hell did you get her?” Jasper asks, unsure of what we’re looking at.

But Gracie’s face lights up. “Green Curry Buddha Bowl,” she announces and claps her hands excitedly, bouncing in her seat. “Thank you!”

I smile at her happiness and open a tea in a to-go cup, pushing it to her. I hand Jasper his spaghetti and Coke and take my sloppy joes and Coke. I sit across from the two, taking my sweet ass time with eating as I watch her. Apparently, I’m not the only one. Jasper’s dawdling, too, and he fucking loves pasta.

After about fifteen minutes, I put down my fork with an almost half-eaten container and pick up my phone, opening up my photos.

“Here,” I hold it out to Jasper. “I don’t know if she’s out front right now or not, but she was when the food got here.”

Jasper takes the phone and, seemingly unable to help herself, and Gracie peeks over his shoulder to see what it’s about.

“Is that Adrianna?” she asks.

“It is.” I nod and rub my forehead. “You know, communication is key in all relationships. Especially these types, where there are more than two people. This way, we can all be on the same page. We aren’t exactly an open relationship. We’re exclusive in who, well, joins. We talk with each other, discuss it, and see if the person is a suitable match for the entire group. We all have to be happy with them joining. If one isn’t, they don’t join. What Adrianna is doing is basically cheating.”

Gracie shakes her head, frowning as she looks back at the photos. “That’s really messed up.”

“It is. It’s also why you need to be open with the guys you get in a relationship with. They have to understand that your heart doesn’t belong to just one of them,” Jasper tells her and sets the phone down on the bar. “We’ll talk to Adrianna later.”

There’s a moment of silence as we fall back to eating. Both Jasper and I simply pick at our food, taking small bites. We’re both thinking about the same thing; how to proceed with Adrianna. This isn’t the first time she’s cheated on us, and if we let her stick around, I doubt it’ll be the last.

“All right. So, Gracie,” Jasper pipes up after sipping from his Coke. “We’ll finish eating, then go into the living room to talk. You can tell us about your guys, and we can go from there. You can stay the night since you chose both options.” He winks at her, inciting another giggle to escape Gracie’s lips.

I can’t help but watch her. Gracie seems far more relaxed tonight than when we’re at AA meetings. There, she’s usually full of tears and looking stressed out. Now, she’s completely relaxed. I want to believe it is due to the scenery change and maybe even the topic. I’m going to try to avoid discussing AA to make her as at ease as possible.

As we all finally finish and get up, taking our drinks with us, I linger behind Gracie and Jasper. They’re talking in low voices, laughing and giggling, and it brings more joy to my heart than I can remember having in a long time.

In the living room, the two sit on the floor in front of the couch, but I take the cushions myself. Glancing up, Gracie waves at me and adjusts her spot to lean against my legs, and I drag my fingers through her hair.

Chapter 38

Devon

I sit a plate of lasagna and cottage cheese down in front of my father’s spot and my own at the table before taking my place. A pitcher of sweet tea sits in the middle of the table, and I take it, pouring it into my glass. The table seats six and used to have four chairs filled every night for a while. It dwindled to three, then two every other week when I visited. With Kate, it was back to three, but I’m on my own again.

The vast space of the house is evident like it usually is when it’s just my father and me – a pressing reminder of the voices that used to fill the halls, now only jumbled up memories inside one’s mind.

I was three when my older brother passed. His voice has always been garbled in my mind besides the few home videos my parents had taken of him, which are now packed in the attic. After my mom passed nine years ago, dad just couldn’t face many reminders of the half part of our family yanked away. There’s one shrine on the living room mantle with a picture of mom and Landon, and that’s it. Well, okay, so the interior design and furniture are exactly what mom picked out. That’s it. I think the design is just because my father can’t get himself to redo it because doing so would mean officially letting go of the love of his life.

They’d been married thirty-two years. It’s no surprise that he can’t let go. If I were to lose the love of my life after so long of a marriage, of creating an entire life, I wouldn’t want to let go either.

“So, where’s Kate tonight?” Dad asks as he pours his tea.

I cut a slice of my lasagna, spearing it. I hesitate, trying to figure out exactly how to tell him. My dad likes Kate. I know she has never been his absolute favorite, but he at least likes her. I decide to just spit it out. Better get it out before I can make it any worse by withholding.

“We broke up,” I try to say as nonchalantly as possible, but I’m ready for him to chastise me.

“So, you’re getting back with Gracie?” he asks hopefully.

I’m taken by surprise. “What?”

He blinks, his wrinkled face twisting as he smiles wanly at me. “Look, Kate’s a good girl, and I have no doubt you’d have a good life with her. But you wouldn’t be happy, and you most definitely have never been in love with her.”

I stare at him, pressing my lips together. “I love her.”

He shrugs with a shake of his head and scoops up some cottage cheese, taking the bite. “There’s a difference between loving and being in love.” He sits back and looks at me. “Right before I met your mother, I was dating this girl named Margaret. I loved her. I was as happy as I could be. I met your mother while dating this girl and fell in love. I was more than happy. I wanted to be with her, your mother. That’s all I could imagine, could see for my life. I was… on cloud nine, I guess you could say. Loving is just liking someone enough to know that you could make a decent life with. Being in love means knowing that no matter what flaws life throws at you, you’ll do anything to make it work with them.”

I’m not entirely too surprised that my father is encouraging me to get back with Gracie. Well, okay, so I am a little bit. But that’s only because they'd been skeptical of her when I’d first introduced him and mom to her. I couldn’t blame them. It was before Gracie was deep in drugs and was still a true version of herself, but she was a little scary. That part of her just made me fall for her even harder because she wasn’t afraid to be herself. It meant she was clad in black from head to toe and demanding. At least she knew what she wanted, who she was. Because of that, my parents came around to liking, and eventually loving her.

They were as sad as I had been when she slipped away and lost her entire being to drugs. But my mom used to say to hold tight, not to let go. That she’d come back if she knew someone was holding on to let her back in. If she had no one, she was lost. My mom had faith that Gracie would come back to us on the day of her last breath. It saddened me she wasn’t alive to see that she had been right. But I’m sure wherever she is watching down on us from, she does see it.

“I have something for you,” my dad tells me, drawing me from my rumbling thoughts.

I look up from my food, which I’d been scrutinizing intently, and watch the old man get up. He uses a cane these days, and his footsteps shuffle along at a snail’s pace. It worries me, especially in this big old house.

My dad leaves the dining room for a moment, and when he returns, he’s holding a red velvet box in his hand, and I swear my heart drops. That can’t be what I think it is.

Taking his seat again, he holds out the box, and I reach out, taking it from him for the second time in my life. I pop it open and stare down at my mother’s ring, my heart skipping a beat at the sight.

“This is mom’s ring,” I say, even though he obviously knows that.

“Gerald’s grandson found it on eBay and recognized it.”

I can only stare at it. It’s a blue sapphire, picked special for my mom.

“I know how it got it there. Gerald’s grandson explained it to me,” my dad said gently.

I raise my eyes back to him again. I intentionally hadn’t told him about Gracie selling the ring. I didn’t want him to be angry with her. She sold it because of her addiction. She hadn’t been able to control it. I didn’t want dad to hate her because of that.

“I’m glad she’s better,” he says and spears more lasagna, shoving it into his mouth.

I set the ring next to my plate, take up my fork, and eat again. We chew in silence for a few minutes. The only sounds are that of clinking silverware and the swallowing of our tea.

“So, there’s something else we need to talk about,” he starts, and I swear my heart flops at that. “You need to get out of that apartment. Somewhere more… stable. When you and Gracie have kids, you’re going to need a yard and a place they can be loud and—”

“Dad!” I stop him. “Kids? Seriously? I don’t even know if Gracie and I are back together. We’re at this – this weird place in our relationship right now.”

He doesn’t even flinch with his question. “Have you two had makeup sex?”

I shift uncomfortably. Talking about having sex with my friends is one thing, but my dad? It's fucking weird.

He chuckles. “Sounds to me like you two are back together. As I was saying, you’re going to need a more stable place. I know that moving out of the apartment isn’t going to be easy. Especially since Gracie’s father is holding it up right now, but that gives me the perfect excuse to move into an assisted facility home.” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth to retort. “Please, son, don’t argue with me. I want to do this. I need to do this. I can’t live in this big old house by myself anymore, and I don’t expect you to move in just to give an old man company. But your mother and I bought this house, and I would hate for it to go back on the market when it can be given to a family member.”

I drop my fork and stare at him. I don’t know how to respond to any of that. I don’t want him to move out, but the idea of having a home for me and Gracie is thrilling. A place where we can start a family if she wants one as I do. A place big enough for everything we would want in life.

“We can still have weekly dinners. Whatever you would like,” he continues and smiles. “Plus, I won’t up and disappear with grandchildren coming.”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t even know if Gracie wants kids right now, dad. I have to figure out our relationship before we get into the kids thing.”

He shrugs. “That girl’s crazy about you. I’m sure there will be children eventually.”

I can see it in my mind’s eye. Two girls with Gracie’s hair and eyes and a little boy resembling me. A happy life. Except, there’s more within the life. Owen with his arm around her shoulders and the motorcycle guy lingering nearby. All of us with her, sharing her. And Gracie is so fucking happy.

I still don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about possibly sharing Gracie. I’m open to whatever it takes to make her happy. But at the same time, I don’t know how it would work. How would we each get to be without fighting over her time? How would we not lose our minds seeing her with other men?

“Are you… absolutely sure, dad?” I ask slowly, trying to piece everything together in my mind.

I don’t like feeling out of control. When I don’t understand something, I strive to get all the answers. I’ve always known exactly how to do that. Study and highlight the passages that’ll be on the test. Write the notes, and make notecards. Ask the questions and demand the answers. It is how you learn.

I don’t know what to do now. There is no textbook to study for this. I don’t know the questions to ask. I don’t like it, and I need Gracie to tell me what the fuck is going on so I can have somewhere to start, something to figure out.

“I am son, really,” he assures me.

We fall back to eating in silence again, but my head is everywhere but the dinner. Gracie makes me question everything; she always has. She’s a wild girl. But one that makes me want to drop everything and follow her to the edge of the rainbow so we can jump right into the pot of gold at the end together.

“Dad,” I say slowly, deciding to throw caution to the wind. Some answers are better than nothing, I suppose.“What if she wants me, but more?”

The question doesn’t even seem to faze the old man. “You mean like both you and Owen?”

I shrug with a nod. “Maybe one more? I don’t know for sure, but the way she was talking the other night—”

“Let her decide. She’ll come to you when she’s ready. Look, I don’t fully understand all this new stuff you kids are into. Growing up, being gay wasn’t even tolerable, let alone all of this new stuff. Transgender, sexual orientation, and having more than one partner. I’m not going to pretend I understand any of it, okay? I’m not against any of it, though, I promise. And I do want you and Gracie to be happy. In order to do that, you two must communicate one another’s needs. No matter what it is. You don’t have to be ashamed of what you want, and you better not make her feel ashamed for what she wants. That isn’t the son I raised.”

I nod again. “I know dad, and I would never make her feel bad about herself. I never have.”

It’s the honest truth. Because in my heart, Gracie has always deserved the best, the world, and everything her heart desires. So, if that means she wants three men, I will have to learn. I can share, but I’ll have to learn to live with them being with her too.

Chapter 39

Gracie

Being fully naked in front of men is not new to me. Two or more at a time wasn’t unheard of in my past. I can remember times when money was scarce, and I’d strip down to give someone a full view. I’d even climb into bed with the monster if I needed to. But that’s all in the past now. Even though I don’t want it to count, I know it does. Because of it, I feel gritty while standing in front of the bed of the two men. I feel like I’m trying to get something out of it yet again.

So, I cross my arms over my breasts and shy away from them. Right now, they’re messing around, clad only in their whitey-tighties. It doesn’t help my situation that I’m the only one fully naked, and it’s so similar to those nights I would strut around just for a couple of syringes to get me through the night.

I can feel the pressure in my chest building, ready to burst into tears.

I hate this. Because I want this, I really do. I love how lean the men’s bodies are and how hairy they are. Jasper has long hair, and Luke’s, well, it isn’t short, but it isn’t terribly long either. It grazes his ears, which I think is odd for a lawyer but hell. I’ve never been this close to a lawyer before without being the one they were defending. All mine had buzz cuts. Maybe he does something different than what I’ve been associated with; it would explain the hair.

They aren’t drug dealers looking for a fix to give me a fix, and I have to remind myself that. I’m not here to shoot up. I’m here to find myself.

So why the hell can’t I get out of this head space?

“Gracie?” Luke asks, drawing me out of my thoughts as he sits on the edge of the bed in front of me. “Are you all right? You look a little shaken up.”

I don’t miss the way his eyes graze down my body, lingering for moments at the right places. I can feel the heat flush across my cheeks. I like the way he’s looking at me. With appraisal and something else, a little… what is it, hunger? Devon looked at me the same way the other night. I remember that Owen used to look at me the same way. I want Colton to look at me this way as well, but that will have to wait.

I don’t notice I’ve stepped forward until I’m wavering just feet in front of Luke. He’s waiting patiently; his head tilted back slightly as he looks up at me.

“You’re just an alcoholic,” I start slowly, and he nods in confirmation. “I’m a junkie and alcoholic. When I was…. Doing all that? I did things I’m not proud of, and sometimes my brain reminds me of it.”

He smiles in understanding, and I swear, my knees are about to lock and make me faint. Do women faint in real life? Is that a thing outside of movies?

Luke opens his arms and waits for me to step hesitantly into them. As I get within touching distance, he pulls me the rest of the way, presses his forehead against my chest, and I trail my trembling fingers through his hair.

Luke wraps his arms around my waist when he looks up at me. “You don’t have to be ashamed of who you are when you’re with us, Gracie. That’s what I was trying to tell you earlier. You can be who you are, flaws and everything.”

Jasper takes a spot next to Luke, more serious-looking than his friend is. “Do you want to do this, Gracie? Remember, this is all about communication and consent.”

I hesitate. I don’t want to back out and seem like a chicken. I can still learn things without being in bed, can’t I?

“It isn’t that I don’t want to,” I start slowly, my eyes roving over them. “You’re both very handsome, but—”

“Your mind is just in a place it shouldn’t be right now,” Luke supplies gently. “We understand that. You see, this is another thing. We’re all on the same page together.”

I nod and pull out of Luke’s embrace, locating my bra and underwear from the ground. I quickly pull them on and instantly start to feel better. I join the two men on the bed, Jasper scooting over to give me the middle place.

“Having this type of relationship isn’t easy. Honestly, I think it’s harder than a monogamous relationship. You have to think of everybody, not just you and one other person. You must respect everybody’s boundaries and please everybody the way they prefer. It’s kind of like a little community. You have to figure out what works for your group and how it’ll work. Living arrangements, chores, life. Like a little family.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. These two have been pulling me along all evening, but I haven’t minded. I don’t even mind us almost having sex, but my nerves are too jumbled up right now.

“How do I know if I really want more than one?”

“Because you do,” Jasper pipes in. “Luke’s told me about how you talk about these guys. You do want them; your heart doesn’t want to settle on one.”

I stare at the ground, frustration boiling in me. Do I want these two guys as well? They belong to another chick, who by now, I’m pretty sure, has royally fucked up in the relationship. I lay back on the duvet, staring up at the ceiling. The bed dips on both sides of me, and they each take my hand on their sides, clasping tightly.

I don’t know how I’m supposed to take this or what I’m supposed to do. Is this the beginning of something? I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the tears held back. I’m more confused than before now. I want to be with Devon and Colton; if I ever get Owen back, that’ll be a miracle. Now these two guys. I don’t know if I want to be with them, but I like them.

“I should go,” I announce and sit up abruptly, tearing my hands out of theirs.

“I can drive you,” Jasper offers.

I look at the clock next to the door and hesitate. It’s well past nine at night. After a moment, I nod in agreement and snatch up my clothes, pulling them on.

“Gracie, if we made you uncomfortable—” Luke starts but stops when I put up a hand and turn back to him.

“Not that. I came here for answers, and I got my answers. So, thank you.”

I don’t need to tell him about the confusion spinning through me. Luke doesn’t look convinced, as if he knows there’s more for me to say that I just won’t. I ignore that look and look around the room, trying to remember where I left my phone. Recalling that I set it down somewhere in that strange sex room, which I am still curious about, I leave the bedroom without another word.

I can hear them talk behind me when I’ve crossed the threshold and pretend not to hear them. There’s no reason for me to butt into their conversation.

Walking back to the front of the house, which seems to take forever in this massive home, I locate my phone and wallet exactly where I thought I left them. Swiping the screen, I stare at the multiple texts that line down my phone. Many of them have Devon’s name, obviously panicking, but why I don’t know. A couple are from Colton, and – surprisingly – two are from Owen. I open those first, and feel my heart feels like it’s going to drop into the pit of my stomach.

Owen: Seriously, Gracie? This is bullshit.

I suddenly don’t feel good as I pull up previous messages. There are texts from me, taunting them about moving on, about having found “better.” I didn’t send them through.

“Ready?” Jasper asks, snapping me back to the moment.

I turn to face him and swipe out of the text messages. It’s a good thing he can’t hear my heart because it's thrumming so wildly, that I’m almost convinced it will explode and leave my chest.

“Yeah,” I croak out.

I flip open my wallet as I turn to him and look down to see a few of my cards missing and what little cash I managed to have. My palms go sweaty, and my heart plummets again. I feel like I’m back in time, scrounging for money. I don’t like being without money these days. It reminds me so much of where I used to be, and I never want to return there.

“No,” I say. “Where’s my money?”

“What?” This grabs his attention.

I shake my wallet towards him. “My money. Where is my money?”

Jasper groans and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Luke!” he hollers and waits until he comes out. “Her money is gone.”

I jut out my chin, bottom lip wobbling. “Somebody was also texting from my phone.”

Luke wrinkles his nose and holds up his phone. “All right, I’ll call my sister.”

He leaves the room, and Jasper pulls out his keys, jangling them. I pocket my wallet and phone, deciding I’ll deal with it later. As Jasper turns, I follow him out of the house to a sleek black car in the driveway. I don’t know my cars, but it looks pretty fancy to me. He pulls open the passenger door, and I slide in, opening my phone again. The texts to Devon say things like I don’t love him, I don’t want to be with him, and that he will never be good enough for me. So many more. His texts are panicked, convinced they’re truly from me, and begging me to call him to fix things. Those to Colton are similar.

My heart skips a beat.

“Gracie?” Jasper asks, his voice sounding slightly distant. “You all right?”

I shake my head vigorously. “There are texts, so many of them, and not from me. The guys…” My voice catches on my words.

His fingers curl around mine and squeeze my hand gently. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”

I turn to Jasper, and my breath catches with how close he is. He’s lingering just inches from me, seeming to hesitate to kiss me. I lean forward and make the move instead. His lips are chapped and rough, but I don’t mind that at all. Reaching up, I dig my fingers into his hair and hold it tightly. Our tongues dance, fighting. As he pulls back, he nips my bottom lip, and I breathe heavily, feeling the heat caress my cheeks.

“This isn’t good,” I breathe out. “I can’t – I can’t like you guys this way. I can’t want you. I want my guys and—”

“It’s okay to want more than one or even three. You do know that don’t you?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know what I want. I’m sober, Jasper. I go to therapy once a week and like a million AA meetings a week. I have schooling and just don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I want from school or life. I’m just trying to figure out who I am on a general basis. What I want is far off—”

“It doesn’t have to be,” he interrupts. “Gracie, you don’t need to figure out these things right away. I was twenty-eight when I realized I wanted a tattoo shop. I didn’t know before then. It’s okay not to figure everything out right away. Trust me.”

I swallow but nod. Oddly enough, I do trust him. Then again, you can’t help but trust somebody you were standing naked in front of minutes before.

Chapter 40

Colton

“I’m telling you; this doesn’t sound like her,” Devon insists, running a hand through his already messy hair.

His eyebrows have been bunched together for a good half hour, and he won’t fucking sit down. I roll my eyes and lift my beer, taking another long drink. After Gracie’s texts had started coming, Devon called demanding to talk to her. I’m still not sure how he got my number, I think from Gracie at some point. I came here right away. He’d also called the cop. Which makes me nervous, on edge, but I’ve kept my mouth shut since.

I rub my forehead, staring at the opposite wall to avoid watching Devon pace back and forth. If I keep watching him, I’m going to be sick.

“It sounds exactly like her when she’s high and drunk,” the cop says, sounding irritated.

I look right at him. I’m not a big fan of cops, but the sadness in his eyes tugs at my heart. He’s really against believing that Gracie wouldn’t do this. I don’t know what she did to him, but it had to be bad to see him so adamant on not believing this. Still, the fact that he’s here shows just how much he still cares about her.

We all do.

“She wouldn’t do this,” Devon repeats, desperation in his voice. “She wouldn’t. Gracie’s been doing so good. She wouldn’t do this.”

I look around the living room again. The couch is black, and it matches the two armchairs on either side of it. I saw the apartment’s design only briefly, but I know that this is so much different compared to it. Devon said this is his childhood home, which makes me want to see the room he grew up in. I don’t say anything, though. I don’t think this is an appropriate time to do so.

A rapping on the door draws our attention right before it opens, and Gracie steps over the threshold. A man sweeps in behind her, his hair falling over his shoulders. I know him from somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Look, I can explain what happened—” the man starts.

“You should fucking leave,” the cop, whose name I really don’t remember, cuts in. “Seriously. Thanks for bringing her home, but this doesn’t concern you.”

“Owen,” Gracie starts.

“Don’t.” He stops her, turning to snarl at her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I actually thought you were getting better.”

“Owen—” Gracie tries again.

“Seriously,” Owen cuts her off again. “Fucking don’t. I’ve been trying so fucking hard to forgive you for all the shit you pulled, and then you go and do this shit.” He waves his phone at her. “You know what the worst part is? I fucking love you still. I’m not supposed to love you. I’m supposed to hate you, and I want to.” Those words widen Gracie’s eyes. “I want to hate you so much, and the fact that I fucking can’t makes it even worse. It isn’t fair.”

With that, Owen turns to face Devon and, by default, me as well.

“Don’t contact me again regarding Gracie. I don’t fucking care what happens.”

He leaves, crashing into the man who had yet to leave, and slamming the door shut behind him.

“Thanks for bringing her home.” Devon clears his throat. “Well, to my father’s anyway. I’ll take her home later.”

The man stares at the door, lips pursed, before finally turning back to us. “I should go as well.”

“Thanks for bringing me, Jasper. I appreciate it,” Gracie tells him.

His eyes flash to us and then back to Gracie. As we watch, he cups her cheek and leans in, kissing her hard. I bite my tongue to stop myself from doing or saying something stupid.

Jasper. “You’re a tattoo artist,” I blurt.

He pulls back and whips his head around, blinking in surprise. “I am.”

Gracie’s cheeks turn bright pink, and she pulls back from Jasper, disappearing down the hall I have yet to explore.

“I’ve seen your picture before,” I tell him.

“Can you just go?” Devon snaps. “Look, I appreciate you bringing Gracie, but please just go.”

Jasper looks at the disheveled Devon. “She didn’t send those texts, man. I would’ve brought her sooner, but she sat in the car crying for about twenty minutes because of what happened. Freaking out over what you three will think of her because of it. My bitch girlfriend did it, or I’m pretty sure it was her. Maybe it was Luke’s sister. I don’t fucking know. But either way, it wasn’t her. Luke and I had her occupied all night and she didn’t once touched her phone until it was time to leave.”

“Fine, thanks for letting us know. Can you leave now?” Devon points at the door.

“Don’t give her a hard time. She’s a great girl,” Jasper comments and leaves, pulling the door closed with a snap behind him.

I look at Devon, who’s staring at the hallway Gracie went down. I don’t know where it leads, but she obviously seems to know where to go within the house.

“I’ll go talk to her,” I offer when Devon doesn’t say anything else.

Devon shakes his head. “Gracie!” he bellows.

Her padding feet tell me she’s taken off her shoes right before reappearing.

“You and I are going on a picnic on Saturday.”

Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but Gracie smiles. I love her smile. If smiles could light up a room, I would say that hers does that. But then it fades, sadness glittering in those brown eyes.

“How long is Owen going to be mad at me?”

“He’ll get over it. You know that. Are you hungry?”

Gracie shakes her head. “I’m going to lay down.” She goes back down the hallway.

I turn to Devon with an arched eyebrow. “Will he get over it?”

Devon doesn’t look at me. Instead, he stares at the hallway entrance. “I don’t know. Owen has a lot of anger and shit he’s got to work through. Plus, that girlfriend of his doesn’t help matters at all. She’s a bitch, and I don’t use that word much to describe females.”

I shake my head in bafflement and finally get up, deciding that I am going to talk to her. I don’t say anything to Devon and instead just make my way down the hallway. I draw up to the last door on the right. It’s cracked open and has a sliver of light pooling beneath it. As I stop right in front of it, I hear her sobs drift out, and my chest clenches. Slowly, I push open the bedroom door and step over the threshold. I’m met with a room that looks like it belongs to a teenage boy who never left. I can tell it's Devon’s childhood room, and I guess that his father has never bothered to change it.

Gracie’s sitting on the edge of the twin-sized bed, bent over with her face in her hands, sobbing into them. I stalk over to her and sit down, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She pulls away instantly, so I drop my hands, not wanting to press it and upset her by doing something she’s uncomfortable with.

“Want to do something tomorrow?”

Gracie wipes at her face and draws her head up, blinking profusely. Her brown eyes glitter in tears, making them even more beautiful. In a sad way, which is.

“I can’t be with just you,” she croaks.

I’m not surprised. But I don’t want to tell her that.

“I want Devon too. Owen too, but I guess I’ll never get that. Kind of deserve it, I suppose,” she snivels, dropping her eyes to her folded hands in her lap.

“And what about Jasper?” I tilt my head a little in curiosity. “You seemed to like him.”

She draws in a breath of air and exhales slowly, it shaking. “I don’t know. I like him and Luke too, but I don’t know yet.”

I nod in understanding and reach out, placing my hand on top of her two folded ones. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Look, I want to be with you, Gracie. I want you to be happy and if that means I have to share you, then so be it. I’m not going to just walk away. Besides, you owe me a second date still.”

She giggles at my reminder and sniffles, leaning onto my shoulder as she turns her hand over, so our palms are clasped together and intertwining our fingers.

“You can come in,” she says loudly as the floorboard creaks outside the room, alerting me to our listener.

I look up and nod at Devon in greeting, trying not to move, so Gracie isn’t disturbed on my shoulder.

“So, we have to share you?” he asks, but there’s relief in his voice.

I look at him in surprise, eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. Is he really relieved to know that we must share her? Devon seems like the type of man who would not want to share his woman with any other man.

Gracie lifts her head and leans forward to look at Devon. “Yes. I’ve made my decision. I can’t be with just one. If you don’t want to—”

“I do,” he cuts in and moves further into the room. “I just wanted an answer, Gracie. That’s all I’ve wanted, and now, we can move forward and figure things out.”

“You don’t mind sharing me?” she asks curiously.

Devon inhales with a shake of his head, looking torn down. “To be honest, I do. It’s going to take some time not to be jealous of another guy touching you.” His eyes flicker down to mine and Gracie’s folded hands. “But I will work on that. If this is what you truly want, Gracie, I’m willing to be part of it. I want to be with you. I want you happy. I’m happy simply having you back, and I really don’t want you feeling so confused about yourself that you turn back to drugs or booze for answers.”

Gracie pulls her hand out of mine and stands up, holding it out for Devon now. I watch as he hesitates just for a moment before taking it. Gracie tugs lightly and leads Devon to sit down on her other side. Gracie kisses him first, and from my position, I see his fingers snake through her hair and hold the back of her head. Gracie turns to me when they part, and I don’t hesitate to lean in and kiss her as hard as Devon had done.

My arm wraps around her waist, pulling her closer. After a long moment, she pulls back, both of us gasping for breath.

Gracie looks back at Devon and tilts her head slightly to look up at him. “Are we going home?”

He smiles warily. “That’s something we need to talk about. My dad wants us to move in here. He’s moving into some assisted facility home. I’ve already tried talking him out of it, but it was no use. Do you want to live here with me? Actually, live here?” His eyes flicker up to me, lingering on my face for a moment before looking back at her. “We can figure out the whole relationship with Colton together too.”

Gracie peers over her shoulder at me and then back to Devon. “You want me to live with you… like usual?”

Devon snorts with a shake of his head. “No, I mean actually live together. As a couple. Not roommates.”

Gracie looks at me again and back to him, seeming extremely conflicted about the whole thing. “But – but Colton—”

“I have my grandpa’s place,” I interject. “Besides, we should figure out the relationship before I make any jumps to living with anybody or vice versa.”

Gracie bites her lip and finally nods. “Okay, I guess so. I mean, I’ll have to talk to Daddy first.”

Devon nods and leans forward, pressing his lips to Gracie’s forehead. “You’ll see. Things will get figured out.”

Chapter 41

Gracie

“Here we are,” Colton announces as we step onto the field at the park.

It’s empty of people, much unlike the rest of the park. There is no pond in this area and no equipment for kids to climb on. No shade from trees dotting the field. I know from passing it on several occasions that people tend to come into the field to let their dogs run, play frisbee, or do both at the same time. Neither of which Colton nor I have. We’re just two people standing in the middle of the field of overgrown green grass dotted with yellow and purple flowers. Morning glories, I think.

I watch as Colton sits down, stretching his legs in front of him. He then lowers himself back until he’s lying flat on his back and looks up at me, stretching his arms out as he gives me a lazy smile.

“Come lay with me,” he says huskily.

Something flutters inside of me at the way he speaks to me. Just to me. When it’s only us, it’s all about us. I haven’t had this much attention from a single guy not wanting anything in exchange in a long time, and it feels so good. I don’t want to damage this, but my stomach curls as I remember mine and Devon’s night. I’m going to have to tell Colton eventually. Sooner than later. Because if it’s later, it’ll only hurt Colton even more, and I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing about anything.

I don’t understand the relationship between Colton and me. I don’t understand what’s going on with Devon and me. I sure as fuck don’t understand anything about Owen these days. My mind is a mess, and that’s a dangerous thing for me.

Finally, I sit down next to him, plucking at blades of grass around me. I feel Colton shift behind me, and I notice him sitting back up. He lingers inches from my face, ready to kiss me. I so badly want to kiss him, but I stop myself from doing so.

It’s eating me alive, and if I keep it bottled up, it’s going to erupt, and not in a good way. Then again, this kind of news isn’t exactly a good thing either way. But if I don’t tell him, I will turn to remedies that aren’t healthy.

“I had sex,” I finally blurt, the heat flashing across my cheeks as my shoulders tense in wait for him to hit me at my confession. “With Devon. A few nights ago.”

I squeeze my eyes shut in wait. I can feel the phantom hands of my ex from last year on me, and the snarl of his voice haunts my mind. I can practically feel the spit of his words as he rips at me, reminding me how terrible I am. That I’m just better off falling back to habits I so badly want to stay away from. His fists against my face, his fingers in my hair as he hauls me against the wall. Broken glass, everywhere.

The longer I wait, though, it slowly dawns on me that it isn’t happening in reality. At this, I peel my eyes open and see Colton looking. His eyebrows are furrowed, but he doesn’t look mad. Not mad? Why isn’t he mad? Why isn’t he screaming? Why isn’t he hitting me, calling me every name in the book?

Fingers brush across my cheek, and I realize then that tears have flooded out of my eyes, unwarranted.

“Thank you for telling me,” he sounds a little confused. “I know that you’re in love with him. I can never compete with who your heart wants.”

I let out a rattle of a breath. Relieved. I look down and find my hands balled into fists on my legs. Forcefully, I peel them out and look at the crescent shapes left behind from my nails.

“I don’t want to lose you,” I say hoarsely, my throat searing from the fight it takes to hold sobs back.

Again, his fingers brush over my cheeks, and I look up at him. He leans into me and presses his lips against my forehead. I close my eyes slowly this time. Not in fear, though; I know that.

“I don’t want to lose you either,” he murmurs, his lips moving against my forehead.

I pull back and look up at him. “Devon wants us to work on things, and that’s really confusing. But I don’t want to—” My voice cracks, and I lose the motivation to keep talking.

I don’t know how to explain it. He was in the same house and had the same conversation with Devon and me. But I’m hoping that Colton not moving in as well isn’t going to put him off from whatever all this is.

“You don’t want to end things with me,” he says, sounding slightly amused. Or at least, I’m sure that’s his tone. “Gracie, it was already decided last night that all of us would work this out. Together, sweetheart.”

“I’m not a guy,” I interrupt him, my voice heated as I depend on myself. “There isn’t like—"

He snorts. “We’re allowed to go after what our hearts want. Nobody will hold this against you; if they do, they aren’t meant to be part of your life. The people who really love you will accept you as you.”

I stare at him. He isn’t wrong. My brother-in-law's sister is gay and has a wife, and nobody has ever held that against her. I’m pretty sure one of my brother’s triplets is also gay, which isn’t an issue. But it proves we can go after what we want. But being gay and having a relationship of three or four or however many people at a time- is completely different. Not to mention that just because Colton accepts this and encourages it doesn’t mean the others will be. Devon - he seems to be more open-minded. Owen? He’s with Donna. Shit, he’s with Donna. I can’t think of him joining us, and even if I dare to, there’s no guarantee it’ll ever happen. Even if they break up. I know he still hasn’t forgiven me for the way I took off the last time, and I don’t blame him one bit. Especially after the whole text thing. With our history, it isn’t surprising he’s refusing to believe anything I have to say about it.

“I’m not mad,” he assures me, taking my hand in his before lifting it and pressing his lips to it. “I promise, all right?”

I nod with a small smile. I’m still shaken up inside and can feel it too. Colton squeezes my hand and pecks my lips before laying back down and releasing my hand. Colton stretches his arms above him, closing his eyes. I watch him for a moment, my eyes straying to the hem of his shirt as it slips up his abdomen just a little to reveal the flesh beneath.

How did I land him?

When I left rehab, I believed that I would never get Devon or Owen back. I also knew I would never get a good guy for a long time either. That or I would die a crazy cat lady. I had accepted that upon leaving rehab. I was okay with that. But now, I have Colton and Devon. Everything would be perfect if I could just have Owen too, but I know that is asking a little too much at once.

I run my fingers along Colton’s exposed flesh and bite my lip to suppress the giggle when he shivers beneath my touch.

Withdrawing my fingers, I hesitate before laying my head next to his. I don’t get this whole thing, but it’s a lot better than being stuck in a place where I’m about to crack, that’s for damn sure. The sky is pale blue above us, with puffy white clouds dotting it and drifting lazily in every other direction. They’re no threat and probably will evaporate sooner or later. I close my eyes, let the sun graze my cheeks, and breathe out slowly, calming myself down.

I don’t want to drink. That’s the last thing I want.

His fingers brush against mine before curling around them. My fingers flex, a reflex against his touch, and wrap around his. He squeezes gently, and I turn my head. He’s already looking at me, waiting. His lips are inches from mine, and I want to kiss them. They are full, parted slightly as if waiting for me to kiss them. Or him to kiss me. Neither of us moves through.

“What do you want to do?” he suddenly asks, taking me by surprise.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Like in life. What do you want to do? What do you want to be?”

I stare at Colton. Something about the way I’m looking at him makes him bite his lip, looking at me apologetically.

“Was that a wrong question?” he asks and twists his hands, intertwining his fingers through mine again.

I shake my head, smushing grass blades beneath my head, and turn my eyes back to the sky. I squint my eyes against the sun's brightness, biding my time before answering. I’m not sure how to explain it. The words don’t seem to want to come. I have to figure out how to say what I need to, though.

“It wasn’t wrong,” I finally say, drawing the words out. “I just - I really don’t know what I want to do. I’m taking classes, but that’s about it.”

“Classes? What kind of classes?”

I shake my head and pinch the bridge of my nose with my free hand. “Basic classes for now. I don’t have a real major in mind.”

“What about outside of school?”

I turn back to Colton, biting my tongue before I sit up. I don’t let go of his hand, and the way he grips mine tells me he isn’t about to let go either. After a moment, he follows my lead and also stands.

“This.” I raise our folded hands. “I don’t have a whole lot going on. Daddy says I have to focus on my sobriety and schooling.” I wrinkle my nose. “I just don’t think college is the right thing for me.”

“So, tell him,” he urges. “Just talk to him.”

I shake my head and look down at my lap. “I can’t. I really messed up with my parents when getting high and drunk. I hurt both of them really badly, and they still want to take care of me. I can’t just quit.”

Colton is silent for a moment. “I think your dad would be okay if you were just honest with him, Gracie. Isn’t lying one of the ways you hurt them?”

I grimace. He’s not wrong. I had to lie when I was getting high and drunk. Lying had always been one of the worst parts because even a little white lie grew bigger each time it had to be told and explained.

He’s right. I have to tell them. I have to be honest with them.

“Will you go with me?” I ask in a soft voice.

Colton squeezes my hand and leans into me, pecking my cheek. “You have to do this on your own, but I’ll show up on my bike later on if you’d like. I’ve known dads to freak when I pop up on it.”

I giggle. “Oh, definitely. Daddy’s going to freak when he sees you on that.”

Colton chuckles and lays back, staring up at the sky with squinted eyes. “Their expressions are always one to put in the memory banks.”

I turn my body to lay on my side, scoot so close to him, our bodies pressed together, and bury my face into his neck. I don’t want to talk anymore. I just want to enjoy the moment. I’m so tired.

As if sensing it, Colton reaches ho with his free hand and strokes his fingers through my hair. I feel his lips on top of my head, and then he lays his chin there. His heart thumps in my ears, so soothing. I don’t want this moment to go away. I want it to last forever.

Chapter 42

Gracie

I tug at the sleeves of my shawl, once more self-conscious about being out in public, exposed. I hate it. I hate being in front of anyone, let alone complete strangers who will judge me with a glance. If they see the scars of the track marks, they’ll stick up their noses and sneer at me. They’ll silently reprimand my parents for raising me to be an addict, and they’ll whisper to their loved ones how nasty I am and throw side glances our way. I want to melt away, to sink into the ground where nobody can see me. I don’t want them to know I’m my parents' daughter simply to save my parents the shame.

But everything is covered up. They can’t see, so they can’t judge. Still, I feel so damn exposed being outside of my comfort zone.

My parents have always deserved better. Even when I was clouded with drugs and drowning in booze, I knew that in the back of my mind. They deserved so much better from me, and I gave them so much crap.

I wish I could take it back. I wish I could go back and change things, but I can’t, and I know that. No matter how badly I want to change things.

“Heidi?” a voice calls, drawing me from my thoughts and our attention to a heavy-busted woman.

Beads, diamonds, and jewels adorn her neck, jangling as she moves. Even her hands are covered with stones that glitter in the low light of the restaurant. Her dress reminds me of old-timey movies I watched with my parents growing up. The woman is all decked out, intent on showing off her obvious wealth. I feel underdressed now. A shirt, jeans ripped for design, a pair of black crocheted boots, and my shawl to cover my arms. It’s a simple outfit I thought was cute, and even Devon agreed. But compared to this woman, I look like a fucking homeless person wanting a handout. I don’t remember brushing my hair, but I’m sure I did. Still, I reach up nervously and pat at the straight strands of black hair.

My mother’s even dressed up a bit more than I am in a nice dinner dress, navy blue that goes well with her complexion, and one diamond-studded necklace to match her earrings. She even has her hair pulled back nicely. It’s nothing like the woman who obviously knows her, but at least she tried. Even my father is wearing a decent outfit, no straight jeans though he prefers them over anything.

The woman casts me a glance as she bustles up to the three of us, her puffy lips pressing together. The judgment is there. Her eyes sweep down my outfit before looking pointedly at my mother, a little more satisfied by her dinner outfit. I shrink back a little, shifting behind my father to hide myself a little.

“Oh, Jenna, how’re you?” my mother chirps, and I detect the falseness in her tone.

It’s the tone she uses when she secretly hates someone, griping about them in the privacy of her home. The smile remains plastered on her face until the person is gone. I’ve never heard my mom snarl at anyone before.

“Well,” the woman swells up, showing off the jewels slung around her neck. A smile curls up the corners of her lips, her eyes glistening as she shoots me another look. “And who is this?”

“This is Gracie,” my mom introduces me, her voice lighting up happily. As if she’s proud to be doing so. “Our baby.”

My father nods, but since he’s behind me, I can’t tell if he’s smiling or not.

“Your baby?” the woman sounds genuinely shocked. “Forgive me”—she puts a hand to her chest in feigned exaggeration—“I truly thought I had met all your children. We’ve known each other for five years, after all, Heidi. You’ve never mentioned this one.”

I flinch. Her words are a slap to the face. I drop my gaze to the ground, no longer wanting to look at the woman. Five years. For the last five years, I was shooting up, guzzling booze, and living on the streets. Of course, they hadn’t mentioned me. They were embarrassed and didn’t want people to know they were related to a junkie and an alcoholic. I can’t blame them, and I won’t.

“I’m sure we’ve mentioned her, Jenna,” my mom says casually. “We told you we have four children, and you’ve only met three of them and their families until now.”

Jenna hesitates, her eyebrows scrunching together as her lips purse while she eyes my mother, thinking over her words. “I must’ve forgotten then,” she finally says a little airily, trying to brush it off. “And does she have any grandchildren?”

“No,” my father finally pipes up. “She’s getting her life together and doing very well on it.”

His words make me want the ground beneath me to open up and swallow me whole. He glossed over the words, careful not to give away exactly why I must get my life together. He doesn’t want her to know; neither one of my parents do. It means they’re ashamed of me.

I feel the tears burn the corners of my eyes and tug at the sleeves of my shawl again, staring at the ground to keep myself as composed as possible. Besides, if I’m looking directly at the woman and start crying, she’s going to press, and I suspect that my parents won’t want to explain.

“We’re here to have a family night, Jenna,” my father finally tells her, sounding a little sharp. “We’ve barely had time with Gracie since she got home, and we want to spend some time with her.”

“Oh, of course,” Jenna chirps, and when I glance up again, her eyes flash to me before laughing and giving her goodbyes to my parents.

As she scuttles off and back to her table, we notice the waiter at our table, patiently holding our menus. We approach the corner table, and I sit on the far side while my parents make sure they face me. I choose my seat to keep an eye on anyone approaching us. I don’t want to be talking with my parents about something and then have someone pop up and hear something they aren’t supposed to.

Our menus are set down in front of us, and we order our drinks. My mom gets a raspberry tea, and dad orders a diet Pepsi. I copy my mom. I know my mom would much prefer wine and my dad a beer, as they always got when we’d go out to eat growing up. I don’t say anything, though. I know their change in beverage choice is to help make me feel at ease. That’s the thing, though. It's frustrating when everybody changes to accommodate me, to treat me like I’m about to explode and jump on the table to grab their cups and drink like a fucking lunatic just from smelling the alcohol. What I loathe the most is people thinking they’ve got to walk on eggshells around me.

I don’t say anything because I don’t want my parents to have to get some twisted answer about it. I don’t want them to feel even worse than they already do just by being associated with me.

When the waiter is out of sight of us, already out of earshot due to the low chatter that fills the restaurant, my mother starts the conversation.

“How’re your AA meetings going, Gracie?”

I stare at her. It’s all we talk about when I’m with them: AA and therapy and sometimes school. I’m so sick and tired of it. If this is what our conversation is meant to be, we could’ve stayed home and eaten a three-person meal for free. At least there, they wouldn’t have to worry about running into people they’ve hidden me from.

“They’re fine.” I shrug and look down, picking up my napkin and tearing at it to keep myself somewhat busy.

“Are they helping?” she asks, pressing me.

She knows they do if taken seriously. With Tris being an alcoholic and sober for so many years, she’s talked so much about the meetings being a blessing for her. I simply nod.

As if sensing I really don’t want to talk about it, my mother falls silent.

“How is school?” my father asks, changing the subject.

I snap my eyes to him. His jaw is set, eyes tight as he stares directly at me. I might be daddy’s little girl and get what I want if I stomp my foot just right, but he’s still strict regarding certain things. School, for example. I don’t even get why he’s asking. My grades go to his home, and he receives emails about them. He knows exactly how I’m doing.

“I don’t know. How am I doing?” I counter, cocking an eyebrow at him.

My father looks at me, unamused by my sass. For a minute, we stare each other down. As close as we are, sometimes it can be hard when we argue.

“Gracie is doing good,” he finally comments, breaking eye contact with me as he turns to my mother. “The lowest grade she has is one C, and that’s in math.”

I scowl and dip in my chair, crossing my arms. “Never been into math,” I grumble.

My mother laughs a little, and the sound makes my heart soar. I can’t help but get excited when my mother gets happy because of me. I sit up a little straighter, forcing my face to stay as stoic as possible and not give in to my thrill.

“That’s good, Gracie. We’re proud of you—”

“I want to quit,” I blurt, the words rushing out before I can even consider whether I want to talk about this.

I’ve known I’ve wanted to quit since my talk with Colton, but bringing it up to my parents has been my setback whenever I’m around them.

After the words are in the air, I look right at my father. He makes the big decisions, especially when it comes to the arrangement he and I have. As I guessed, he isn’t happy. He’s staring at me with a mixture of surprise and anger, his jaw ticking, cheeks and ears red. He doesn’t say anything, and because of that, I shrink again in my chair, dropping my gaze.

“Gracie,” my mother starts when my dad doesn’t say anything. She stops, however, when our waiter appears and sets our drinks down.

When we tell him we’re not ready to order yet, he flits off with the promise of being back in a few minutes to check. I watch his back disappear after checking on a few tables, chatting inaudibly with them.

“We had a deal,” my father finally grunts, finding his voice.

I look at him again. “I know. But I don’t want to do it anymore. I can’t. It’s boring, and I just – I want to do something else.”

He sighs and rubs his lined forehead, the tufts of red hair that still cling to his scalp jiggling when he moves. He doesn’t believe in toupees and has said many times that people will just have to watch his head go bald because he’s never wearing one of those.

“Reuban,” my mother chastises, her voice a warning before turning back to me. “So, what do you want to do, Gracie?”

I shrug and pick at my nails. “Colton offered me a position at his grandpa’s diner. As a waitress. You said I have to go to school or get a job. I can get a job. I also want to do my pottery again.”

My father sighs and huffs out a breath of air, trying to pull himself together. “Okay, okay,” he says slowly, thinking over his words. “Let’s talk about this.”

Chapter 43

Gracie

“Talk about it?” I echo and scoff, rolling my eyes. “What is there to talk about? If I don’t do schooling, will you bring me home? Then do it. Or what? You’re going to cut off the money, so I’m forced to live without it? So be it. Devon’s dad said we could live in his house. Devon asked me to move in there with him. I don’t need your money to live with him.”

They share a look. I don’t know what is written on their faces, but it's mutual understanding between the two of them. They look at me again, my father’s expression gentler now. It makes me feel like they are about to walk on eggshells again to accommodate me.

“We don’t think you living with us would be a good idea, Gracie,” my mother starts.

My eyes widen. “Seriously? You’ve always said—”

“We know, and you’re welcome to come home for a few days if you need space. But not to live.”

I shake my head vigorously. “You don’t understand. I can’t do it with school anymore. I don’t believe there’s anything I want to do with it and—”

“Then you can quit,” my father cuts in, surprising both my mother and me. “If that’s really what you want to do, we will support that. But you can’t come home and live.”

I gawk at him, lips parted in surprise, before pulling myself together. “But – but you said about the apartment—”

“I know what I said, and I stand behind what I said. You and the boys will have to figure something out as a team. See what works for the three of you.”

I huff and shake my head, annoyed by the reminder that I’m pretty sure Owen doesn’t even live with us anymore. “I guess I can talk to Devon, but I think Owen sort of moved out.”

“Then get somewhere smaller you can afford together or”—daddy hesitates before continuing—“get somewhere just for you. If needed, I will help with the down payment, but then you’re on your own.”

I stare at him, my cheeks flushing with heat as sudden anger fills me. “So, you’re just going to make me do it on my own?”

He doesn’t change tactics, but I see something flash in his eyes. I know if I press hard enough, whine enough, he’ll give in and provide for everything I need. All I have to do is trap him – when he’s alone. With mom next to him, it’s a little trickier. She’s stricter than daddy. Even with Ryleigh and Wyatt, who had her wrapped around their fingers, she has always been more adamant about not bending to their will.

“We are,” he clears his throat. “I am. You’re a grown adult, Gracie. It’s one thing to help you with your living situation while you’re doing school, but since you no longer want to do it, we expect you to be the grown adult you are.”

My mouth falls open, but before I can say anything else, the waiter reappears as if he’s been summoned out of a lamp or something.

“Are we ready?” he asks a little too cheerfully for my taste.

My eyes flash up to him and narrow. I doubt he’s really this cheerful. He’s just got a job to keep, and the main part is keeping his customers happy. If he stomps to them, grumpy and irritated, he will get bad reviews and, more than likely, be fired. Kudos to him for keeping up a smile.

“I want spaghetti, no meat in the sauce at all,” I tell him, recalling a couple of plates when we’d passed a few tables on the way to ours.

I’m not exactly very hungry, but hey, at least I can pick something to munch on. My mother orders some salad, and daddy gets a steak, receiving the stink eye from mom. He isn’t supposed to eat things that can possibly spike his cholesterol. Seeing her look, he orders a side dish of cottage cheese and is given an approving nod. Even if it isn’t much, it’s the small things that matter. I watch the two of them in silence and, once more, find myself craving that kind of love.

I know I had it once before. Twice, in fact. Owen and Devon would do anything to make me happy, to give me what I wanted. They wanted to be with me, to give me their lives. While Owen had never proposed, we’d talked about marriage as teenagers a few times. I used to think it was just stupid teenage love giving into false dreams, but now when I think about it, I truly think he had been serious. Devon – oh sweet Devon. Maybe if I hadn’t run away, things would’ve been different.

Maybe I would’ve already had kids by now. An actual home. I would know where my place was and what needed to be done. I wouldn’t feel like I was simply drifting out to sea with no land in sight to guide me back home.

But I did run away from both of them.

Now, I’m stuck between wanting all three. I know I can have them all at once right now, but it isn’t up to me to make that call. Besides, Donna has Owen wrapped around her little finger. I don’t know what he sees in that bitch, but for fuck’s sake, why did he have to pick the devil’s spawn to be with?

When the waiter is gone, our conversation picks right back up.

“What if I can’t do it and end back up on the streets?” I accuse, knowing this is going to press daddy’s buttons. That’s the whole point.

“Gracelyn,” my mother reprimands, and I know I’m in trouble now. She’s used my full name. “Don’t you say things like that. You aren’t going to end up on the streets. You’re going to work hard and pay your bills. If you get a little behind and need help, we will help you. We are happy to lend a hand if you’re clean and not spending it on drugs or booze. You know that, young lady.”

I scowl but dip my head and drag my glass in front of me, sipping from the straw. The raspberry tea has a tart taste that I’m not used to, but it isn’t so bad. I could get used to it.

I know I’m being petty, and it’s probably a good thing they aren’t completely giving in to me, but I still don’t like it.

“Gracie,” my father starts, and I draw my eyes up to him. “I know it doesn’t seem fair right now, but you will thank us later.”

“So, you’ll brag about me then, right?” I ask, my voice cracking on the question.

I didn’t want to ask it, but my brain sometimes doesn’t seem to listen.

Surprise flits in their eyes at the sudden change.

“What’re you talking about, Gracie?” my mother asks, looking just a little hurt.

Good.

I sit up again and jut my chin in the direction of the crowd around us. “I heard what Jenna said. You never talk about me, and I know why. You’re embarrassed to have me as a daughter.”

Their eyes widen in unison, and they look at one another with unreadable expressions. For fuck’s sake, I hate when they do that.

It’s daddy who speaks this time, though. “Gracie, we aren’t embarrassed by you, sweetie.”

I snort. “Yeah, right. That’s why Jenna didn’t even know who I am.”

“Jenna is a gossiper,” my mother explains. “Once she knows something about somebody, everybody knows the exact same thing. We aren’t embarrassed, but we don’t want the entire town or even the whole state to know our family business. We chose not to tell her because we didn’t want to have to explain anything. We did tell her we have four kids, but that’s as far as we went with her. She doesn’t even know about Tris being an alcoholic.”

I’m still not convinced. “Not just her. You are embarrassed by me, by what I am. Aren’t you?”

My mother’s face softens, and she reaches over the table. I let her take my hand and squeeze it gently. “Gracie,” she says sternly enough for me to meet her eyes. “It isn’t embarrassing to have a child as an addict. It really isn’t. It’s heartbreaking. I’m not saying that to make you feel worse about it; I’m being honest. It’s heartbreaking because you’re our baby, and we don’t want to lose you to those things. We don’t want you to fall back into them. When we were called when you overdosed and when your father found you having overdosed – we would’ve died with you. You’re our baby.”

I press my lips together and look down at our folded hands, the tears stinging the corners of my eyes again. This time, they fall down my cheeks. With my free hand, I wipe at them quickly.

“I don’t want to be an addict,” I finally croak out, sniffling. “I really don’t, and I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about, Gracie,” daddy says and reaches out, squeezing the wrist of my free hand. “Addiction is a disease. It sucks that you were hit with it, but what matters is you’re trying to stay sober. That’s what counts. We’re very proud of you for that.”

I snivel again and pull my hands out of theirs as I glance up in time to see the waiter approaching with our food. Folding my hands in my lap, I watch as our plates are set down, and the two men chat for a moment before the waiter leaves to allow us to eat.

“So, Gracie”—my mother perks up—“tell us about this new guy you’ve mentioned before. You said he has a bike.”

That has my father scowling in annoyance. “No, no bike,” he mutters.

I sniff and giggle at my father’s protectiveness. “He’s the one with the diner. Colton. He’s really sweet and nice. I like him a lot.” My cheeks flush bright hot. “But I also met this other guy, Luke,” I start slowly.

I know better than to mention that they smoke weed a little. If my parents find out about that, they might freak. I get why, and it’s because of that I’m not going to say anything. Besides, the guys respect that I’m sober and don’t pressure me.

“A new one?” my mother asks with arched eyebrows.

I nod and twirl a few red splashed noodles around my fork. I check the sauce to make sure it’s meatless and then take a bite. I chew and swallow, focused on that for a minute before continuing. “He’s helping me.”

“In your sobriety? I thought Tris—”

“Not that,” I cut her off. “He’s helping… figure other things out.”

“Is he the one who convinced you to quit school?” Daddy asks, sounding a little annoyed.

I shake my head and look up at them, setting my jaw. “No, not that either.” I squirm, feeling the discomfort, but I want to have an open relationship with my parents. Besides, going this route will mean I’m going to need them in my corner. I’m going to need their support to understand. “He’s in a polyamorous relationship and introduced me to his girlfriend and boyfriend. It made me realize a lot of things about myself.”

They share another look, and I really fucking wish they’d stop that.

“Okay,” my mother says slowly. “Go on.”

I clear my throat, raising my chin. “I think that’s sort of what I want, in a way. But not like a girl. I want the guys. I know I can’t really do it without them wanting to, but I do know that even if Owen especially never wants me again, I don’t want just one. Colton and Devon, and I do want Owen, but I don’t know if he’ll ever take me back. Or even dump Donna. I don’t know.” I’m rambling now and know it, but I have to get the words out before I chicken out. “You probably don’t even want to hear this or—”

“We do,” my mother cuts me off with a smile. “We’re glad you’re finally accepting yourself.”

I blink. “What?”

She shrugs and spears her salad as my father takes over to talk so she can eat. “We always knew you weren’t going to pick just one, Gracie.”

Chapter 44

Devon

I stare at the black purse that sits on the table, hesitating. I know better than to just go through shit, especially when it doesn’t belong to me. But Gracie’s attitude lately has been… well, off. I don’t know how to explain it. She claims she’s just trying to figure things out, but it doesn’t sit well with me. I don’t want to believe otherwise, but with Gracie’s past, it’s still rubbing me raw. She claimed that the drugs found in her room weren’t hers, and I chose to believe her, but I just can’t wrap my head around why it was in her room then. Especially in the bedside drawer. I chose to believe her at the moment, but with more time to think about it, nothing about it makes any sense whatsoever.

I want to believe her badly, but it’s not like she hasn’t done this before.

I snatch up the purse and drop it like it's suddenly grown as hot as coals. I can’t do this. I don’t want to do this. I grab the purse again and open it, knowing that if I don’t at least peek, I won’t be able to settle down. Besides, if there’s nothing to be alarmed about, Gracie can yell at me later about going through her purse. I’ll be honest with her, won’t I? I don’t fucking know. Maybe she won’t have to know if there’s nothing inside the purse.

I move around a few items. Tampons, gum, some pens, and – I stop, staring at the bottom of the purse. Two little baggies of white powder lay at the bottom. Gracie’s arms fill my mind. Track mark scars line them. This means she shoots up, not snorts. I know well enough that the little baggies at the bottom of the purse are to snort. I’m not stupid. I know druggies can switch if needed, if they want to anyway. If they absolutely need to. Maybe Gracie needs to. A drug addict relapsing will do anything for a fix, even if it isn’t their preference.

I throw the purse down on the table and pull out my phone, dialing up Gracie's sister. If she’s relapsing and in denial, she wants help. She needs help.

“Tris?” I greet her when she picks up. “I think we have a serious ass problem.”

* * *

I stare at the little baggies, my fingers covering my eyes with my elbows propped on the table. I can feel my foot jiggling beneath the table, my view distorted. All I can see are the little baggies, and my mouth goes dry. I don’t know what to say. Gracie has a way of making my thoughts so fucking jumbled up.

“So, what do we do?” Mom asks, sounding defeated. “I can’t go through this again with her.”

“Mom,” Tris chastises, and I look up at her, “this isn’t like before.”

“How the hell is it not like before? She’s fucking hiding drugs—”

“I don’t believe that,” Tris defends and crosses her arms.

I stare at Tris, feeling the same amount of exhaustion as mom does. I don’t know if I can do this with Gracie again either, but I have to save her. I have to do what I can to try and save her. If it doesn’t work, I will forever walk away because I don’t want to spend the rest of my life chasing someone with a death wish.

“The evidence is right here, Tris,” Mom says bitterly and waves at the baggies on the table. “What else do you need to see she’s back at it?”

“Just because they were in her purse doesn’t mean shit. For one, Devon shouldn’t have even been looking in her purse.” Her words spark my interest, and I draw my head up as Tris grabs the little baggies, waving them in front of her parents' faces.

Mom frowns, staring at the little baggy in her face. “Then why does she have it? Holding it for a friend?”

Tris shrugs and tosses the baggy onto the table. “I don’t know, I really don’t, but I don’t believe Gracie is relapsing on this shit. It’s worse than heroin. We’d know if she was doing it, trust me.”

The front door opens and turns the four of us to greet Gracie’s older brother, his wife, and Marcy and Landon.

I catch Marcy’s eye, who shakes her head and averts her gaze, catching sight of the little baggies. The corners of her lips curve downwards, and she looks back at me with heartbreak in her eyes. I know how much Marcy loves Gracie. They’ve been friends since kindergarten, and the two are more sisters than friends. This has seriously got to suck for her.

Marcy reaches out and grabs Landon’s arm, tugging him to a stop. “Maybe it’s a bad idea for us to be here—”

“No,” Tris cuts in. “Marcy, you know Gracie. Do you honestly believe she’d just relapse?”

Marcy shrugs with a shake of her head. “I don’t know, honestly. I feel like I haven’t known Gracie in a long time. I’m sorry.”

“I still don’t believe she’d just change her drugs—”

“Then what?” I snap, snapping my focus back to Tris. “Why were these baggies in her damn purse?”

Tris glowers at me, lips pursed. “You’re the fucking therapist here. You, of all people, should know she wouldn’t just change drugs like this.”

“He’s too close to this,” dad cuts in. “At work, we’re pulled off a case if we’re too close because it clouds our minds, our judgments. It doesn’t matter that he’s a therapist. He’s too close and too in love with Gracie. He’s grappling with the truth right now.”

I roll my eyes. “I’m right here. You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here.”

Dad leans onto the table towards me. I can see the hurt in his eyes. “We have to listen to Tris; she knows this better than we do.”

I sit back in my chair, staring at Gracie’s overturned purse. Everything has been dumped out on the table, items scattered about on the wooden surface. Her phone and wallet are missing, which I assume she has with her.

“We have to believe she isn’t relapsing. If we give up on her now, we’ll lose her for good. I’ve been watching her for almost a year now. She’s been working so hard to stay sober. She wouldn’t just give it up.”

“Then what’re we supposed to do?” Mom asks, falling into a chair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Dad sits next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, pulling him into his chest. They aren’t my biological parents, but they are as close as they can get. My heart tugs at the sight. I pull my eyes away from them and down to the little baggies. They’re fresh, untouched. Which tells me they were bought recently.

“I don’t want to lose her,” I finally say, speaking towards the table but loud enough for all of them to hear me. “Not again. I just got her back.”

A hand clamps down on my shoulder. I raise my eyes to Landon, and he gives me a tight-lipped smile. I know he understands; it’s obvious in the way he looks at me. If roles were reversed, Landon would want somebody in his corner.

“We’re not going to lose her,” Tris promises. “We just… we have to figure out what’s going on.”

I drag my fingers down my face and fall against my chair. “How the hell are we supposed to do that?”

“We ask her,” Tris states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We give Gracie a chance to actually talk. Not straight up accuse her. That’s only going to make her defensive, and once that happens, all hell will break loose.”

“So, an intervention?” I ask and shake my head. “No. We can’t do that without Owen or Colton. They’re part of her life.”

Tris doesn’t even blink in my direction. “Then call them.”

“Owen won’t come,” I tell her. “He’s really pissed off at her.”

Tris looks at me, deadpanned. “Everybody here knows how much Owen loves Gracie, just like you do. You ask him to come, and he will, no matter how ticked off he is.”

She isn’t wrong, and I know that. I don’t say anything, though. I just leave the house, pulling out my phone to do the deed.

“Hey, man,” Owen greets, sounding tired on the other end.

Dad said he and Owen have been pulling twelve-hour shifts lately. Maybe he just got home from one, or I woke him up after doing one.

“So, I found drugs in Gracie’s purse.” There’s silence on the other end, but at least he hasn’t hung up. “Tris is convinced they aren’t hers, though. She wants us to give Gracie a chance to talk.”

“Talk for what?”

I huff out a breath. “She wants Gracie to be able to explain herself.” Owen’s silent again. “Look, man, I know you’re pissed at her—”

“And why aren’t you? She fucking walked out on you and sold your mom’s engagement ring.”

I grumble. “Because I decided I’m not going to lose her again, that’s fucking why Owen. Staying pissed at her only pushes her away. If she’s relapsing and we’re not there for her, she’s never coming back. Is that seriously something you’re going to be okay with?”

Owen doesn’t say anything for several long minutes, and when he does speak again, he sounds more than exhausted. “I don’t want to lose her either, Devon, but what she did – to the both of us—”

“I know, man,” I say softly. “Really, I get it.”

Owen clears his throat. “So, how do we talk to her?”

“An intervention, I guess.”

Owen sighs heavily on the other end, and a distant voice speaks, muffled. Owen mutters something indecipherable beneath his breath. “Just text me the details. I’ll be there. But Devon?” He pauses for a split second. “It’s so fucking hard to forgive her.”

I grimace at the crack of his voice. “I know,” I say softly. “Trust me, I know.”

With that, we hang up, and I return inside, sending Colton a text. There’s no reason to call him, to disturb him. I don’t know the guy very well, but I know that even one text saying it involves Gracie will bring him running.

“When do you want to do this?” Dad asks Tris when I take my seat again.

“Sooner than later. We have to get answers from Gracie.”

I cross my arms over my chest and look at the contents strewn on the table. I reach out and pick up a couple of ridged coins, flipping them over and over in my fingers. There’s a full year of sobriety coin missing. Gracie’s so close, just weeks away now. I want to believe so badly that she wouldn’t just throw it all away. I trace the number six on the coin I’m holding, showing half a year under her belt.

“I can’t believe this,” mom groans, rubbing her face. “We just went to dinner with her. She was thinking of going back into pottery.”

My eyes shoot up to her. “Pottery?” I question, genuinely surprised.

Pottery was Gracie’s favorite thing in the whole world. It’d slipped away when her attention was only on drugs and drinking. Nothing else existed for her outside of them. Her wanting to get back into pottery says something. My eyes fall back to the coin, and I set it back on the table.

Chapter 45

Gracie

I follow Colton into my parents’ house, looking over my shoulder again at the numerous cars parked out front. I recognize my brother's car, my sister’s car, and both Devon and Owen’s cars. My parents' cars both sit in their regular places in the driveway, blocked by the rest. Colton’s motorcycle sits next to the curb, away from the cars, for an easy getaway.

“Come on,” Colton beckons, holding the door wide open and steps to the side as I dip inside.

I step over the threshold and come to a stop. Everybody is sitting in the living room. Owen and Devon are both on the couch, with one cushion open, which I assume is for Colton. My parents sit on the side of the couch, each in a chair, and Marcy and Landon are across from them. Tris and my brother stand next to our parents. Right smack in the middle of them all, facing us, is one single wooden chair. It's empty, and it isn’t hard to guess it belongs to me.

The door closes behind me, and Colton steps around, going to take his seat next to the guys, making my assumption all too correct.

“Gracie, come sit,” my mom motions at the chair in front of them all.

I shake my head, eyeing the chair. I don’t move. “What is this?”

My father clears his throat and rubs his face as he stands, rounding his chair. When he turns to face me again, he’s holding two little baggies that I recognize as meth. I’d been offered it before but never once tried it. My eyes flicker to the table and take in the sight of my purse slumped on it, everything that had been within dumped on the table.

“You went through my purse? Again?” I accuse, hurt that they’d stoop so low.

“I did,” Devon states, and it feels like a punch to the gut when I look at him. “I had to make sure you weren’t… I found the drugs…” He can’t continue, the words lost as he tries to speak to them.

I look at my father again and the little baggies, shaking my head. “Those aren’t mine, I swear.”

“It wasn’t yours last time either, Gracie,” my mother chimes in and stands. “But we keep finding drugs in your possession.”

My father tosses them back on the table and rubs his face. “Gracie, just admit this. So, we can get your help—”

“I’m not admitting to shit!” I say loudly.

My father looks at my mother and then back at me, the corners of his eyes tugged downward in sadness. He looks down, but I see him catch Owen’s eye. Owen turns to look at me, his jaw set.

“At this point, Gracie, it's rehab or jail,” Owen tells me, the words grating.

I balk. “What? You can’t do that to me.”

“We can,” my father says softly. “Because these are illegal drugs. I talked to my boss. These are your only two choices—”

“But it isn’t mine,” I say loudly, my voice wobbling. “How is that even fair? I’m being punished for something that isn’t mine. I’m ten months sober—”

“But you’re in possession. Which means you were thinking about using—”

“It isn’t mine!” I scream and wheel around on the hell of my shoes to face Tris. “You believe me, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, but I couldn’t stop dad from contacting his boss. The drugs are in his house, Gracie, and they were found on your stuff.”

I shake my head vigorously. “I didn’t buy them; I didn’t put them anywhere. They aren’t mine, I swear. I don’t know why this keeps happening, but they fucking aren’t mine.”

“Gracie, why don’t you just sit—” Devon starts.

“Shut up!” I snap at him, and his eyes widen in surprise.

I honestly feel like I’ve been punched at this point. I want to crumble, to disappear, to sink beneath the earth. I’ve been betrayed by the one person I actually thought was on my side. Okay, one of two.

“And what about you?” I look right at Colton. “You believe this?”

Colton lets out a heavy breath. “I know you’ve been acting a little weird and—”

“So, you believe this,” I say bitterly, the crushing blow I needed.

I don’t bother asking Owen. Of course, he believes it. He won’t even try to entertain the thought I’m trying to stay sober.

“So, everybody except Tris believes that this shit is mine?”

Tris clears her throat. “I believe you’re still sober, Gracie—”

I throw my hands up in the air and turn on my heel, leaving the house. I slam the door behind me and drop to the porch swing, leaning to place my elbows on my legs, burying my face in my hands. When the door opens, I look up and come face to face with Owen. I stand quickly, but he grabs my hand and pulls me to him before I can escape. His arms wrap around me, and he pins me against his chest. I go still, tense, and finally, I release it as I lift my arms to wrap around him. I feel the press of his chin on the top of my head, and we stand there for a few minutes without a single word to each other.

Eventually, he pulls back and steps to the side, holding out an arm to show me back inside. I feel warm, maybe a little giddy, after being held by him like that. I hesitate, but I step back into the house when Owen looks at me pointedly. He shuts the door behind us.

I push back my hair and look straight at my parents. “It isn’t mine. I’m not holding for anybody. I didn’t buy it for a just-in-case opportunity. It isn’t mine. I really don’t know how it got there.”

They share a look, and then my father nods. “Fine, but you still have to pick somewhere to go. Rehab or jail. Just until we can sort this out.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m still being punished? That isn’t mine. Why am I being punished?”

“Gracie, if it really isn’t yours and you had nothing to do with getting it, it means somebody is doing this to you. It means you’re being targeted,” Owen says gently and I look over my shoulder at him.

“Targeted for what?”

Owen shrugs and leans against the door. “You tell me. What kind of activities are you involved in, Gracie?”

I turn to face him fully. Our shared hug was too good to be true, apparently. “I don’t know what the hell you mean.”

He doesn’t even blink. “Any gambling?”

I glare at him. “I haven’t gambled in almost a fucking year.”

“Fine, old gambling issues. Got any of them? Any people from your… past that would want to take you down?”

I shake my head but decide to be completely honest. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t remember a lot of shit, Owen. Maybe? But I really don’t know.”

His face drops, and Owen shakes his head, looking over my head. I turn to face everybody else, but it’s my father that I catch.

“Daddy?” I plead, and his face twists. “Please, say you believe me. I swear it isn’t mine; I have nothing to do with it. Please, I don’t want to go somewhere I don’t need to be.”

My mother steps forward in front of my father, blocking his view from me, ultimately cutting off eye contact. I turn back to the door, but Owen’s still barricading it, and my way back out. I give up. I move across the room and around the couch, taking the chair that is obviously for me. When I’m sitting, Owen pushes off the door and comes to sit back down, putting Devon in the middle of him and Colton.

I’m facing the guys head-on, staring at the three of them, daring them to say shit right to my face now.

“Gracie—”

“It isn’t mine,” I cut Colton off. “It really isn’t.”

“Then where did it come from?” My dad asks. “Gracie, please, just be honest with us—”

“I am!” I explode and draw in a shaky breath of air, closing my eyes as I pinch the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. “This isn’t fair. I’m being accused, and nobody will even try to believe me.”

“You can’t blame us, Gracie, after everything you’ve put us through before,” my mother says gently. “You have to understand where we’re coming from.”

I look right at her. “So, you lied to me. You hate me.”

Surprise widens her eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You hate me,” I accuse. “Because of what I am… an addict.” I stand right up, my fists balling up at my side, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “I know the shit I put everybody through, I really do. I have to think about it a lot. I talk about it in therapy, a lot. Do you really believe that I would just do it all over again?”

“Nobody hates you, Gracie,” she says gently. “We’re just all very concerned for you.”

I point at Owen. “He wants to hate me.”

Owen snorts. “Of course, I do, but I don’t. Just admit the fucking truth, Gracie,” he demands.

I turn to him, and Owen tilts his head back, looking up at me in anger. I step towards him, his eyes never leaving me, taking in every movement I make as I advance on him. When I get right in front of him, I bend down and plant my hands on both sides of his head so he has nowhere to go, forcing him to listen to my every word.

“Your girlfriend is a controlling, manipulative, narcissistic bitch. She’s a big, fat cheater. The only reason she’s with you is that you have a stable income and can provide her with what she wants. She can never love you. That is the fucking truth. I hurt you. I get that. I took your money and ran away when all you wanted to do was help me. I get that. I was a bitch; it was fucked up what I did. I will do whatever the hell it takes to apologize to you, day in and day out, for the rest of my life. I don’t expect you to take me back because that would just be selfish of me. That is the fucking truth. Those drugs aren’t mine at all. I have nothing to do with them. You can be mad at me all you fucking want and treat me like shit for what I did to you. I deserve that. I get that I deserve that. But I don’t deserve to be accused of shit I have absolutely nothing to do with.”

Owen hasn’t moved as I talk, but when I’m done and about to push myself away from him, he grabs at me. His fingers latch in my hair, and he lingers for a long moment, making our eyes connect. Finally, he lets go of my head, and I pull back.

“Fine,” I say with a heavy shrug. “Whatever you guys want. I’ll go to stupid rehab again, but I’m telling you, I had fucking nothing to do with it.”

I look at Tris, who’s watching me with crossed arms.

“It isn’t mine,” I repeat, but I’m defeated now. I have no energy to keep fighting this. “I’m not going to relapse or holding for anyone, I promise. If this was ten months ago, I would’ve considered it. I had nothing to lose then. I have everything to lose now,” I look around at all of them hopelessly. “So why would I throw everything away now?”

“Can you prove it to us?” Tris asks and holds out her arm, palm up, a little plastic sealed cup sitting on her palm.

I stare at it. I’ve done enough piss tests to know what it’s for. I step up to her and take it from her, holding it up to my parents to see, and then make my way to the downstairs bathroom.

Chapter 46

Colton

“She’s been in there a really long time,” Gracie's mother comments, fidgeting in her chair, fingers curled around her pant legs.

Mrs. Walker looks exhausted. Dark circles tug her eyes down, and there’s basically no color in her face. I can’t help but admire her, though. Not in a weird way. Just in the way that makes me see what Gracie’s going to look like at an older age, and I like it. I’ve seen the photos around the house. Quite a few girls in this family look exactly like the woman I’m staring at. The one I assume is Gracie’s older sister and her daughter and then Gracie herself. I can’t stop imagining having a daughter with Gracie and her being another replica of this family line.

I don’t know why that excites me. I’ve never thought of settling down, but I haven’t been able to get the damn images out of my mind since I met Gracie. Most people would say that’s love and our souls connecting. I don’t know if I believe that sort of crap, but something is happening when I close my eyes and see us getting married, having children, and growing old together.

I don’t believe she’s back on drugs. I’ve seen how people act on drugs, and Gracie hasn’t. Plus, I really think she’s just been trying to figure life out entirely, not relapsing. How can I know, though? Everybody here knows her, has known her for so long. If they think she’s relapsed, maybe I’m wrong then.

Still, I feel like Devon’s struggling. Sitting next to him, I can feel the tension riddling his body. He wants to believe the same as I do, but his history is far greater than to allow him to do so. He knows the truth about her and has seen firsthand when she falls.

I look over and see him clenching his hands in his lap. Hesitantly, I reach out and place my palm on top of his fist. Devon tenses and looks down, his eyes flashing to mine. He swallows nervously and glances at the hallway where Gracie had disappeared to pee in the cup. He stares at the dark entryway for a moment and finally peels his fingers out from his fist before turning his palm over and clasping mine. I squeeze gently, trying to assure him.

“Heidi,” Gracie’s father starts, wrapping an arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight to him, “everything’s going to be okay.”

When I look at them, I see desperation. I see the love they have for their youngest, shoulders drooped. They so badly want to believe the same thing as me, but they know better. I guess they’ve watched more firsthand than even Devon and Owen, which means they know the signs better. They know what to expect and where or how to look for the signs. They want to believe they aren’t about to lose their daughter again. I can’t imagine what must be going through their minds. I never want to be put in their position, watching my own daughter turn into a stranger and then have her finally come back, only to have the possibility of losing her all over again.

The return of Gracie catches all of our attention. Neither Devon nor I move our hands at her presence. I honestly don’t think she’ll care. If anything, I suspect she’s going to be happy to see us… what, getting along? If I’m going to have to share Gracie with him, hey, I might as well get something out of it too. Devon is good-looking, with a strong jaw and muscles lining his arms. My parents would never approve simply because he’s a man, but fuck, I’m lucky to have both together.

Gracie rounds the couch and sits the cup of pee on the table, tightly sealed and dried, telling me she wiped it off or didn’t get pee on it, I don’t know. But at least it isn’t getting piss all over the shiny wooden surface.

When she looks up, my heart flips at the sight. Her eyes are bloodshot, her face stained with tears. Her hair is pushed back and wiry as if she’d been running her fingers through it, and I recall how long it had taken her in the bathroom. She must’ve been in there trying to collect herself.

When her eyes meet mine, I know that I’m right. At least, I can feel it in my bones. She hasn’t relapsed, and all she wants is for somebody to believe her. Her bottom lip wobbles, and Gracie draws in a shaky breath, holding her chin up before turning to face her parents.

“There,” she says tiredly and steps to the side, letting her parents have free access to the cup. “Have at it.”

Her sister steps forward, jaw set, as she glowers at Gracie. “Don’t be like that, Gracie—”

“Be like what? Nobody believes me!” she says loudly.

“Gracie,” her sister chastises. “Now you know that isn’t fair. You’ve done a lot of shit in the past to make it hard to believe you. The only way to get people to start believing you is by doing what it takes. Telling the truth, proving yourself. Getting defensive and fighting the whole way will not help your case.”

Gracie stares at her sister for a long moment, silent as if she’s rolling over the words in her mind. Finally, she turns and looks pointedly at Devon. Devon clears his throat and rubs his chin, nodding in agreement.

“She’s right, Gracie. You have to do what you have to in order to prove the truth.”

Her eyes flicker down and catch sight of our hands together. This time, she looks at me, and I swear I detect the corners of her lips twitching. She doesn’t say anything, though. Instead, Gracie turns back around and plops back in the chair that forces her to face us. I grimace. I feel so bad for her having to sit front and center. It must feel demoralizing.

The tearing of paper draws me back to Gracie’s sister, who’s now holding a strip test. She’s bent over the table, and the piss cup is open as she dips the strip in. It kind of reminds me of a pregnancy test. I only know that from the scare a girlfriend and I had in high school, something my parents will never know about.

“How long do we have to wait?” their mother asks, sounding flustered, maybe a little jittery.

I watch the test, trying to pretend that I’m not watching what I am watching. As I tear my eyes away from it, I catch Gracie watching the test as well. Her foot is jiggling, her fists clenched in her lap. I give in this time. Taking my hand out of Devon’s, I get up and round the table, stopping in front of Gracie. I can practically hear everybody in the room catch their breath as they watch me. I hold out my hand and wait until Gracie reaches up, a little hesitantly, placing her palm in mine. I tug her up and pull her into my arms, holding her tight to my chest and pressing my chin on the top of her head.

Her arms wrap around my waist almost instantly, and I feel her nails dig into my back as she clings to me. Her shoulders don’t quiver in silent sobs, but I’m pretty sure that if I let her go now, she’s going to lose it.

“It’s done,” Gracie’s sister announces.

Gracie pulls back, her jaw set, as she turns to her sister. I also turn, feeling Devon’s eyes on me but ignoring him.

I still don’t know Gracie’s sister’s name, and I don’t think now is the time to ask. I watch as she holds up the test and turns to face her parents. Their dad gets up first and approaches her, looking down at the test.

His bushy eyebrows burrow together in confusion, and he shakes his head, looking as if he’s struggling to come to terms with whatever the results are.

“Reuben,” Heidi demands. “What are the results?”

“They’re negative, mom,” Gracie’s sister answers and turns to face us. “How is it negative?”

I blanch. She can’t be serious, can she?

“What?” Gracie asks, sounding choked. “It’s negative because I haven’t done any drugs. I’m fucking sober, Tris!”

The sister, whose name I now know is Tris, shakes her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’ve been acting weird—”

“Because I’ve been trying to get my life on track. There isn’t a fucking guidebook for this shit. There’s also not a guidebook to tell you how to deal with shit like love and the fact that I want to be with multiple guys, not just one. Do you even know how confusing that is? No, because you have Chase. All you need is Chase. All any of you have ever needed is one person by your side, and I feel like a fucking freak wanting more than one, more than even two. You don’t know how hard it is to stay sober and feel like a stranger inside yourself.”

Tris glowers at Gracie. “I’m sober too—”

“From drinking, Tris. That’s completely different than drugs, and you damn well know that. I have nothing. When you got sober, you had your husband, kids, and everybody ready to support you.” She waves her hand around dramatically. “This never happened to you. You relapsed, and everybody was sympathetic because of what happened to you before that. Everybody even thinks I relapse and flips out on me. You have no idea what I have to go through, so don’t pretend you do.”

Tris opens her mouth to say something but then snaps it closed again. Gracie wheels around and leaves before anyone says or does anything, including Devon and me.

When the door slams shut, I let out a slow breath to have something to do for a moment, and then I speak. “She really is trying. I know I don’t know her like the rest of you, but she is trying,” I tell them.

I drop my gaze to her mom again. She’s slumped in her chair, face in her hands. Her father is still standing, staring at the door Gracie had left.

“Then what about the drugs? The test was negative,” he says that confusion still riddling his face.

“Somebody’s setting her up,” Devon pipes up. “Either that or she’s holding for whatever reasoning.”

I shake my head vigorously. “I don’t think she’s holding. I don’t know a lot about addiction, but I doubt an addict could hold and keep themselves from using.”

“Biker boy has a point,” Tris huffs. “Something else is going on.”

This time, I look right at Owen. He hasn’t spoken or moved through the whole ordeal. His face is cloudy this time, though, jaw set, ticking. He looks like he’s about to explode. His clenched fists in his lap even say so. He catches my eye, and a trickle of ice sweeps down my spine.

“I have to go,” Owen says and stands, not even waiting for anybody to say anything as he quickly leaves.

I watch him disappear out the door. He knows something. A piece of the puzzle he isn’t ready to share. I don’t know him well enough to know if he will ever share. Maybe one day, but for now, he’s hiding it.

“Yeah, well, I have to get packing,” Devon clears his throat. “Gracie and I are moving into my dad’s home over the next couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, Gracie told us about that,” Heidi says a little weakly. “Do you need help?”

“I’ll be helping,” I pipe up and move towards the door.

“We’ll let you know if anything else comes up. Love you guys,” Devon gets up and crosses to Heidi, pecking her cheek before patting Reuban on the shoulder.

As I turn to open the door, Heidi’s next words make me hesitate.

“We just want Gracie to be happy, safe. We don’t care about what her heart wants as long as it makes her happy.”

Envy boils momentarily in me, and I shove it down, leaving the house without even looking back. My parents would never accept that. If they get wind that I’m even considering a relationship with a man and a woman, they will freak out. But knowing that alone makes me want to be part of this much more.

I look around when I step off the porch, but Gracie’s already gone, and so is Owen’s car, leaving my bike free to pull out.

Chapter 47

Gracie

I’m still fuming as I enter the little store. I don’t exactly know why I’ve come here, but my feet carried me here. My mind is running, spinning. I can’t settle on one single thought now. I need something to douse the anger, to make it go away. I want the hurt to go away. I know I’ve done wrong in the past. But why can no one see how hard I’m trying? They see the past and nothing else.

I know Tris was right. I must keep proving myself for everyone to really see the change, but I would’ve thought just one person could’ve believed me. Even Devon and Owen are having difficulty doing so. At least I’ve got Colton. Then again, he wasn’t exactly around when the fire was burning. He came at a good time, when the embers were lit but not flaming. He’s lucky that way. He doesn’t know the worst; therefore, he can’t judge me.

I stop at the counter, lingering to the side as some guy pays his bill. My eyes remain on the cigarettes, half tempted to buy some just to ease the pain inside. Maybe I’ll take up chewing, but that just sounds gross. My eyes don’t stop until they drop to the roll of lotto tickets. My fingers twitch. There are so many. So many possibilities to win. I’ve been lucky on them before, and it’s been so long since I’ve done any.

My eyes flicker to the store door, but nobody I know is even dawdling outside. I have free reign. No one can stop me. Strangers don't know my story, don't know that sometimes, I get a little carried away. I don’t have to get carried away, though. I can stop at any time. I stopped drugs and alcohol. It took a bit of time, but I did. I don’t have a gambling problem. Just because I lost some money and had to borrow it from my niece, resulting in my father having to pay her back, doesn’t mean shit. That was by accident. Besides, I’ve worked that off with daddy as it is.

“What can I get for you?” the burly man behind the counter asks, his voice slightly gruff.

I glance around to see the rest of the store empty and him talking to me, still standing by the side of the counter obviously waiting for my turn. I take a step up to the front and point at the tickets. “The two-dollar ones,” I tell him, biting my lip. “Five of them.”

Two-dollar tickets aren’t bad. Ten dollars altogether won’t kill me. It won’t even break me, for now. Besides, if I don’t win, I won’t buy anymore. It’s that simple. It has to be that simple. He hands me the tickets, and I give him the money to purchase them, leaving the little corner store. I look around again, and once more, I don’t see anyone I know. I barely even recognize where I am. A group lingers on a stoop across the street with their backs turned to me. They’re laughing, though, and it drifts over me. I can detect the distant scent of booze and know that they’re all drinking in broad daylight.

They remind me of the people I used to hang out with. No matter what time of the day, we drank or got high. I got high more than drinking, but it really didn’t matter what hour of the day or night it was. When I needed a fix, I got it. Shrill catcalls enter my ears, and I spot a couple of the guys looking right at me.

I step back and turn to walk away, shoving the lotto tickets in my pockets. Pounding feet enter my ears before two guys appear on both sides of me. I turn and head back to the store, needing to get somewhere others are. Even if it is just one person. Daddy taught me a long time ago when you’re uncomfortable in someone’s presence, get to a place that has security in some form. A grocery store has cameras. If these guys try anything, at least there will be evidence.

Hands grab at me before I can return to the store, pulling me back, shoving me against the wall. Rancid breath stinking of booze clouds over my face and stings my nostrils. I like the scent; it reminds me of my other life. A life I sometimes dream about and want to go back to but know that I can’t. Simply because it isn’t a good life. I know that I see that.

One of them presses his face in front of mine. He has a little hoop looped around his eyebrow and one that hangs on the corner of his lip. I cringe inwardly at the sight. I don’t understand people who do facial piercings. That’s never been my thing, but whatever pleases them.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you?” he breathes.

I pull my head as far back as possible, pressing against the brick wall behind me. His fingers grip my arms tighter, making the feeling in them go almost numb. I can’t move even if I want to. My eyes sweep down his body and catch sight of the gun beneath his coat. I suck in a breath and raise my eyes back to him.

“What do you want?” I ask.

He grins, yellows teeth with a few black spaces of some missing show back at me. “I know who you are. My… friend has been looking for you, Gracelyn.”

I grimace. “What friend?”

“George,” he says bluntly.

My heart sinks at the name. It's only one name, a first name, but it’s all I need.

I shake my head vigorously. “What does he want?”

The guy in front of me chuckles. “So, you do remember him.”

I nod, gritting my teeth together to keep myself from bursting into tears. “I left on decent terms. There’s no reason—”

“Your little friends owe him a lot of money.”

I blink, confused now. “Friends? I don’t have any friends who would want anything to do with that side of my life. Not anymore anyway.”

He snorts and lets go of my right arm, snatching my throat. I gasp for breath, but his fingers tightening constrict every labored breath of air to leave my mouth.

“Your little girlfriends. You know, the redhead and the blonde. He said they’ve been using your tab, and you owe him a lot of money for them.”

I squirm, kicking out as I scratch at his hands. “Get off,” I croak.

His grip tightens, and yellow dots flash in front of my eyes.

“This is a warning, Gracelyn. I don’t have to tell you what happens if you don’t comply,” he yanks away, and I collapse to the ground, gasping for breath.

The two leave, laughing as they make their way back to the group. My head spins, and the tears I had been forcing back release this time. I quickly wipe them away and clamber to my feet, my body trembling violently as I start to make my way down the street. After a few minutes and my head clears, the dots connect.

I have no one to call, though. Kate is Luke’s sister, so he’s out of the equation. And Devon and Owen won’t believe me. They’ll roll their eyes and claim I’m just jealous or making things up to give excuses for the drugs. When I’m sure I’m far enough from them, to where they can’t see, I stagger to the brick wall and slide down. I fall to the ground and let out a shaky breath of air, drawing my knees up, wrapping my arms around them, and burying my face into my pants.

The tears explode, followed by the sobs. I never wanted this to be part of my life. I never wanted to have to deal with people like George.

Drawing my head up, I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. With difficulty, I get back up to my feet and continue onward with my walk.

After a while of putting the group far behind me, I pull out my phone and slide open the screen, my hand shaking so badly that I can barely draw up the contact to call. The other end rings a few times before going to voicemail, and I hang up, redialing the number.

“Hello?” a sleepy voice finally greets when he picks up.

“Jasper?” I ask, almost hesitantly.

His tired voice doesn’t sound familiar, but I know better than to second guess.

The male on the other end clears his throat. “Yeah… who’s this?”

“Gracie?” It sounds like a question, but I’m just hoping he hasn’t already forgotten about me.

“Gracie!” he greets, sounding more awake now than before. “Are you all right?”

I let out another ragged breath and look around, trying to find some landmark but seeing nothing familiar. “No, and right now, I don’t know who else to call.”

“What’s wrong?” He sounds more sympathetic this time, more alert and caring.

“I—” I hesitate, unsure if I should tell him what had happened. He could tell Luke before he even picks me up, and that’ll just blow a hole in everything. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

I want to drink. I want to smoke. I want to forget everything. I know I can’t, though. I mustn’t. I so badly want to stay sober, and it’s just the absolute hardest thing to do.

“Okay, and there’s nobody else to call? I’m not against coming to get you; I just… those guys seemed protective of you the other night.”

I shake my head, but it takes a moment to remember that he can’t see me on his end of the phone. “They are, but… I just, I don’t want to be around them right now. And I don’t want to be alone. If I’m alone…” My voice cracks, and the words stop.

I don’t think I can keep speaking the words, but when Jasper keeps talking, I can tell he understands what I’m not saying.

“What about your sponsor?” he asks gently, obviously just trying to cover all bases.

Frustration flickers through me. I know he just wants to be cautious, but I also want him to shut his damn mouth and do as I ask him.

“I don’t want to see her either.”

I refuse to go into detail. I don’t want him to know everything. If I can keep him and Luke from knowing the gritty details, I think I can have something of a relationship with them. A relationship with people who don’t know the extent of everything I’ve been through is what I need right now. I don’t want to be looked at like every move I’m making is the wrong one.

“Okay, Gracie, where are you?” he asks, finally giving in.

“I don’t know.” I look around and find a street name on the corner, but the letters are faded.

“What are you near? Anything?” he presses, now sounding a little frustrated on his end.

“Um, the store. It’s a little market store. I was just there. It’s right around the corner.”

He speaks to someone on the other side of the phone, but his hand must be covering the receiver, or he stepped away because I can’t understand his words.

“Text me what market store it is so I don’t forget, and I’ll be right there. Don’t go anywhere, Gracie, got it?”

“Yes,” I agree, and we hang up.

I can hear the chatter echoing in the air as I edge back towards the corner. I don’t want to be anywhere near that group and what they could possibly, and no doubt, would do to me given a chance. Growing up with a cop as a father, I’ve heard way too many stories for my liking. I know better than to put myself right smack in front of them, alone and vulnerable. So, I decide to stick to the shadows and out of their line of sight as I text Jasper.

Chapter 48

Owen

“What’re you doing, Owen?” Donna’s voice interrupts the rampant thoughts running through my mind, and I stop what I’m doing but don’t face her. “Come on, please, you can’t leave now.”

I toss one of my shirts into my suitcase and finally turn to face her. “Give me one damn good reason I shouldn’t leave, Donna.”

Her face pales, and she fidgets, tugging at her shirt and licking her lips profusely. “You – you just can’t.”

I cock an eyebrow and shake my head, turning back to continue my packing. Donna’s silent, but I know she’s still behind me. She isn’t going to let me go easily. She never has. She’s always fought for me to stick by her side; I think I understand it now. It’s the money. The assholes I’ve caught her with plenty of times have never held down a stable job. Half of them were fucking drug dealers.

That is why I’m leaving. I just know that Donna has something to do with what’s going on with Gracie. Exactly how, I don’t know. I don’t have solid evidence; therefore, it’s hearsay, but I’m not sticking around.

“Owen, I’m pregnant,” she blurts out.

I turn to face her again, unamused by this tactic. “Is it mine?”

She bites her bottom lip, chewing, and shrugs, casting her eyes down. “Most likely,” she mumbles, and I roll my eyes at the low sound of her voice.

I know better than to take the bait. “Fine. I want a DNA test when it's born. If it’s mine, I’ll be part of its life, but I am seriously done with you, Donna.”

Her blue eyes flash up to me, blinking profusely, her bottom lip jutting out. I have no heart for her right now. Compared to Gracie, Donna is the worst girlfriend I’ve ever had. Gracie was all up in drugs and booze but didn’t cheat. Cheating is filthy and nasty. Donna is a serial cheater, and I’m just honestly fucking done with it.

Donna crosses her arms over her chest, glowering at me. “You won’t have anything to do with it if you don’t stay with me.”

I turn and zip my suitcase up. “I’ll get a court order then. Don’t try me, Donna, seriously. I’m done with this crap.”

“I’m sorry for cheating, Owen, I really am. It’s a mental disorder. I can’t help it! I’ll get help, though; I’ll go to a therapist—”

Her words falter when I turn to face her again and step towards her, towering a good head taller than her, so I have to look down at her. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I snarl at her. “Seriously. Don’t even fucking try now, Donna. It’s too fucking late.”

Donna cowers slightly and steps back, squaring her shoulders as she juts out her chin. “This isn’t fair what you’re doing, Owen. I can’t survive without you. I can’t be a single mother!"

I shrug. “Should’ve thought about that,” I turn back to grab my things but am stopped as she grabs my wrist.

I look down, grimacing at her nails as they dig into my skin. I tug my arm, shaking her off. Surprisingly, she doesn’t fight against me. Normally, she fights when I’m about ready to leave. Somehow, she always convinces me to stick around, just a little bit longer. Not this time. I won’t let her this time. I can’t let her this time. I’m so fucking tired. I want to stop being so damn angry all the time, and the only way I can do that is if I walk away from Donna. She does nothing but make me angry, and it's Gracie that I take it out on. Because while I’m still pissed at Gracie for everything she did, I’m not as ticked off at her as I am with Donna.

I sure know how to pick them.

But it’s like my mother said, I’m in love with Gracie, and I just keep trying to deny it.

“Owen, you can’t leave me! We – we belong together!” she stammers, her voice wobbling hysterically.

I look at her with pursed lips, my eyebrows bunching as I assess her. Her plump breasts were what caught my eye when I first met her. Guess I was too blinded by them to notice her true colors. Now that I know, not even the sex can save us, and fuck, do I love the sex with Donna.

“You’ve cheated on me multiple times,” I remind her. “I don’t even know if it’s mine.”

Donna lets out a shaky sob and crosses her arms over her chest, looking down. I don’t fall for it this time. I can’t allow myself to. I’m sick and tired of being stuck in this endless cycle. My stinging face jolts me back to the moment at hand, and my head jerks, eyes flashing to her as I blink repeatedly. My cheek tingles as I reach up, rubbing it. I’m pretty sure I taste blood in my mouth, and I think I bit my tongue when she slapped me.

“How can you say that to me?” she snivels, her big blue eyes widening. “I love you. I know I’ve done wrong, but I swear, this one—” Her face goes somber, and she drops the act with me just staring at her, refusing to fall for her pity act. “Really?”

I nod and take a step back, holding my head up in defiance as I stare down at her. “I’m going to leave now before I do something I completely regret and something that they will rip my badge off me for.”

Donna’s eyes widen in shock, and she staggers back in surprise at my threat. I know she’s going to go straight to my boss without hesitation, and I’m going to end up on desk duty for a couple of weeks, but that’s better than actually putting my hands on the woman. Donna’s done a lot of shit but hitting me is a new one. And I know well enough that once one partner puts their hands on the other, it's downhill from there. I won’t stick around to let Donna put her hands on me again.

I snatch up my suitcase and sling my backpack over my shoulder before leaving the room. Donna pads behind me, but it's only when I get to the door she pounces again. Her fists fly at me and slam into my chest. I stumble back, gasping for breath, and my suitcase falls from my fingers. She slams her fists against my chest again, and I stagger, squaring my shoulders.

“You’re being ridiculous right now, Donna,” I warn her. “Knock it off.”

“You can’t leave me!” she screams, spit flying over my face.

I wipe away the saliva. “Call one of your boyfriends to stay with you.”

I lose my hearing when her fist connects with my face. I feel the warm gush of blood run over my lips and down my chin. I wipe at it and look at red-coated fingers. Anger floods through me. It reminds me of the times I’ve gone to a scene where a guy has beat on his wife, girlfriend, or whatever it is they are. I’ve landed desk duty a few times for losing my temper on them.

I grit my teeth, pushing down the bile of anger before it can explode. I don’t hit women. That is my number one rule. It’s why I loathe men who put their hands on women. I will not stoop to their level.

I step to the side of Donna and pick my suitcase back up, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“Owen, please,” she pleads.

I don’t look at her this time. The anger is keeping me from doing so. If she hadn’t punched me, I might have caved like usual. But punching is a whole new low for Donna. It’s done what it needed to, though; it kept me from dropping it and just sitting on the couch like normal. She tugs at my arm, and I shake her off again before finally getting the door open. Stormy clouds hang low in the sky, puffy and ready to release.

I haul my suitcase up and make my way toward my crappy little car that I use when off shift. My dad gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday, and while it’s getting old, I love that it’s still running. It might make chugging sounds, and the air conditioner may not work, but it runs, and that’s all I need.

“I hate you!” Donna screeches from the doorway of the house as I draw up to the beige-colored, four-door car. “If this baby really is yours, I’m going to take full custody. You won’t be allowed any!”

Her threat snaps my eyes, and with my free hand, I stick my middle finger up at her. I turn and pop open the driver’s side back door and toss in both suitcase and backpack. Everything valuable and collectible is still at the apartment. Thank fuck too, because I have a nagging feeling that if I had fully moved in, Donna would have that shit sold on eBay by midnight tonight.

I slam the back door shut and dig my keys out of my pocket before climbing into the driver’s seat. I look up in time to see Donna slam the door shut. With one leg out the door, I flick my keys over until I find the house key. Jiggling it off the ring, I toss it into the yard and start the car, pulling my leg in and the door shut before pulling out of the driveway.

A quick glance in the rearview shows me the red smeared down my chin. I wipe at the blood and turn my attention to the window, fingers tightening around the steering wheel. It’s all I can do to keep myself from falling apart. Before I know it, I pull up next to the curb of the apartment and climb out. I glance around and find the van belonging to Devon, relieved they’re here. Or at least, I hope they’re here. Devon is obviously here, but that doesn’t necessarily mean Gracie is. She walked out of her parents’ house and took off somewhere. Hopefully, she came here.

I wipe at my eyes and find them moist with tears that have yet to fully fall.

I look up at the windows of the third floor, lingering for a moment before I enter the building with my code and head to the elevator. The doorman nods at me, barely even looking at me. It isn’t the first time I’ve come home beaten up. He probably thinks it was another guy I went after while on patrol. I’m not about to admit I was attacked by a fucking woman.

I get off the elevator at the dinging of the third floor and make my way down the hallway, pulling out my key, but I find the door unlocked, and no need for it. As I push open the door, deep voices meet my ears.

“Owen?” Devon’s surprised greeting makes me wave. “What the fuck happened to you?”

I grunt. “Fucking Donna,” I grumble, step over a few boxes with an assortment of items in them, and plop down on the couch, laying my head on the back of it.

“What - did you leave her?” Devon snickers, but I sit forward, turning to look at him, and his face falters. “Oh, you did.”

I look at the other guy that has grabbed Gracie’s attention recently, my nerves rubbing together like praying mantis legs. I don’t like him, and I honestly think it’s because Gracie does. If I want to be with Gracie, I don’t want to share her. She’s mine. I’m not controlling, and I know better than to say she belongs to me, but I want it just to be the two of us. Sharing her is not an option. Apparently, neither Devon nor this fucking guy thinks that.

“You going to press charges?” Devon asks, regaining my attention.

I stare right at him. “She’s pregnant, and I don’t fucking know if it’s my kid.”

Chapter 49

Gracie

I roll over in the bed and stretch, feeling the silk of the sheets beneath me. It’s so comfortable that I don’t want to ever get up again. It kisses my bare skin, and I remember tearing the clothes off my body before getting into bed. Neither of the guys was around, and the door stayed closed all night, proven when I look at it. I don’t normally sleep naked, but I didn’t want to pass up the opportunity of sleeping on the silky sheets. For all I know, it could possibly be my first and last time doing so.

Once these guys find out about, well, everything, I’m doomed. Luke knows gritty details but doesn’t know the extent of things. He doesn’t know what lies beneath the surface, and I don’t want him to know. I don’t want him to find out just how fucked up I am.

Jobless, pretty sure I’m on the verge of being homeless at this rate with the way I walked out, and untrustworthy. He knows a few details because of what I share, and that is all. For all he knows, I’m put together outside of AA meetings. The other night, I acted fine. But I’m a mess inside, and I can feel it boiling. It wants to explode. I’ll lose everything if I let it, though.

I stretch out like an angel in the bed and close my eyes, pretending for a couple of minutes that I’m doing just fine. If I lay still long enough, with no one bothering me, I can even pretend that I’m home and in a place I feel comfortable being myself. I don’t know how long it’s been since I’ve felt good enough in a place of my own or anywhere where I cannot be pressured to watch myself. Living with Devon and Owen for the better part of a year has made me realize just how careful I am. I don’t want to do things to anger them or slip and say the wrong thing that’ll piss them off. Mainly because of their girlfriends. Commenting about them has never exactly been the smartest idea. Then there’s the history between them and me and the fact that they’re best buds or whatever they call themselves. That doesn’t help matters.

I have to admit, though, that I need them. I’ve always needed them. Maybe I do have Devon back, but I need Owen too. I hate to admit it, to know that I just can’t feel whole without the both of them in my life. It’s frustrating because all I want is to stop feeling like I’m spiraling out of control all over again, and this time, it isn’t even from addiction.

For fuck’s sake. I just want to get stable enough to set some foundation in life. Like my sisters and brother. Their lives are all in order, and here I am, just fucking winging this shit. I don’t want to ask what they did because then I’ll just have to admit how lame I really am. I want my parents to be proud of me and my accomplishments, but how the hell do I do that when I’m just drifting?

I sit up and look around the room warily for my clothes. They’re bunched up on the trunk at the end of the bed. I don’t remember putting them there. I swear I just tossed them on the floor, but whatever. Maybe I did. Maybe I didn’t, and one of the guys did come in and pick them up after I had passed out. That’s definitely a possibility, but I decide not to dwell on it so much and get up to make my way towards it. If I think about it too long, I will make myself paranoid.

The floor is carpeted, so it’s not cold, and I really like that. The worst part of the apartment is that the floors are all wood, which makes it impossible to want to get out of bed. I hate stepping on the wooden floor first thing. It’s freezing.

Pulling my clothes on, I rummage on the bed for my phone, and when I finally locate it, I make my way out of the room. I know my hair is a mess, but I hadn’t exactly planned on spending the night here. I don’t have a hairbrush, and I don’t dare ask Adrianna for one. I have the nagging feeling that she just doesn’t like me. I get that I’m hanging out with her boyfriends, but honestly - that’s their fault. Not fucking mine. Plus, I feel like there’s deeper reasoning she hates me. Just exactly what, I don’t know.

I locate the bathroom a few doors down and use the toilet to relieve myself of morning piss. Done, I finally decide to find the kitchen and join them for breakfast. Just because I was here one night before doesn’t mean I know where all the main rooms are. I don’t even know where the front door is, for fuck’s sake. These guys can officially kidnap me, with me having come here willingly, and all they need to do is let me wander around. I don’t think I’d ever find my way out of this place even if I wanted to - which I don’t right now.

As suspected, I don’t find the kitchen. I turn right, left, two rights, another left, and I’m pretty sure I’ve turned myself around as another bathroom that looks exactly the same as the one I used pops up continually.

“Gracie,” Luke’s voice turns me around to face him.

He’s looking at me with shadowed eyes, his hands trembling. He looks… angry?

“The cops are here,” he tells me and beckons for me to follow him.

I stare at his back as he turns away, unmoving. Police? He means my dad and Owen, right? No. I don’t think he even knows that they’re cops. It could be them, come in their uniforms to try and talk me back home. The hallway is wood and cold on my bare feet. It stings a little and pushes me forward. I follow him begrudgingly, also knowing that Luke knows this house a hell of a lot better than I do.

As we turn a few corners, we get to the front of the house. Jasper steps to the side and lets me see the cops. In their uniforms, they face me with grim faces. Two of them stand there, but neither is my father or Owen. My heart picks up speed, and my hands go clammy at the sight of them. Has something bad happened to my father? I doubt they’d come to me personally if it was Owen. But… wouldn’t they go to my mom if something happened to my father? She’d call me if that was the case.

“Hello,” I greet, something holding me back from approaching them.

“Hello, Gracie. We recognize you from the photos,” the one on the right smiles.

I flinch. Of course, they would. My father has pictures all over his desk. I’ve only seen it a handful of times, but I know he does. I don’t say anything.

“We have been alerted to possession on your person,” the one on the left finally tells me, stepping up to bat.

“Possession?” I ask, my voice sounding hollow even to my own ears. “I don’t understand.”

“Did you bring drugs into my house?” Luke snaps, the anger in his words startling me. “I swear if you fucking brought drugs in this—”

“I didn’t!” I cut him off, my eyes widening in shock as I glance between the uniformed men and the two who aren’t. “I swear. I don’t have anything.”

“Can you empty your pockets?” the one on the left continues, his voice sharp.

I stare at him, flabbergasted that he would even think that I actually have drugs on my person. I know better than to argue, though, so I reach into my pockets and freeze. Plastic crinkles in each pocket, and I instantly know what they are. I’m not an idiot, and I was in the business way too long to not recognize what I’m about to pull out. I curl my fingers around them, feeling the tears welling in my eyes.

Because these aren’t mine, and I know damn well they weren’t there last night. The pills in one of them press against my fingers, and the powder of the other is crushed between my fingers. I tug them out of my pockets and hold them out in the middle of my palms.

The tears release as I shake my head vigorously. “These aren’t mine, I swear,” I croak out and look up at Luke and Jasper. “Please, you believe me, don’t you?”

Luke glares at me, mouth set in a thin line. “Are you fucking serious right now?”

Jasper rubs the stubble on his chin, sadness glittering in his eyes. “Gracie—”

“It isn’t mine!” I say loudly, the words wobbling. “I swear, it isn’t mine.”

Both the officers step forward, and one takes the little baggies from my hands, dropping them into a bigger one used for evidence.

“Please turn around and put your hands behind your back,” the stricter one commands, and I do as I’m told, biting my tongue when cold metal bites my wrists. “Gracelyn Walker, you’re under arrest for possession. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.”

He shoves me towards the door, and I stumble, feeling the floor slip beneath me. I’m reminded I’m completely barefoot, but at this point, I really don’t care. I whip my head around to look at Luke and Jasper. Jasper is looking anywhere but at me and Luke is still glaring at me, seething in anger.

“I swear it isn’t mine. It wasn’t there last night. I’m sober. I promise I’m sober. I don’t want to ruin my life again; you have to understand that. You have to believe me.” I’m pushed to the door and stagger but relentlessly try to get the men to believe me. “It isn’t mine. Please!”

Jasper’s eyes snap forward and catch mine. Something sparks in them, and I almost convince myself that he’s about to cave and believe my words, but I am thrust out the door before I can be sure. We make our way down the porch and across the gravelly yard, sand and rocks nipping at my bare heels. I try to ignore the sting of pain as the cop puts a hand on my head and helps lower my body to get in the car. When he slams the door shut, I look up at the house. Luke and Jasper stand in the doorway, and all I can do is lean my head against the cool window. I can feel the warm snake of tears as they roll down my cheeks and my shoulders shake violently. I don’t even try to stop them this time. There’s no point.

Nobody believes me. Nobody ever will after this. My record is going to be tainted even more, and there will be no hope of getting it cleaned up. I’m doomed.

I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore. If nobody’s going to believe me, I might as well do what they all accuse me of anyway. I am so fucking done with trying.

Chapter 50

Luke

“You mother fucker!” a voice bellows, and my head jerks to the side right before I’m slammed against the wall. “I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“Owen!” Devon’s voice sounds as he appears behind the guy pinning me against the wall. “Let him go!”

The man, who I assume is Owen, is seething at me. His teeth are bared, nostrils flaring as he presses against me. I can feel his hands shaking despite his fingers being wrapped tightly into the fabric of my shirt. He has a fat lip and bruising down his chin, and I can’t help but wonder who else he’s gotten into a fight with this morning.

Devon reaches in front of his friend and pries the guy’s hands off, tugging him backward. I see his fingers tighten around Owen’s arms, holding him tight from attacking me again. It doesn’t stop Owen from snarling at me with his lips peeled back from his teeth like a rabid dog. If he’s let go, I’m sure he will charge right at me.

“You gave her fucking drugs!” Owen yells, his eyes misting over. I can’t tell if it’s from anger or tears ready to explode. “You took her sobriety away! This is all your fucking fault!”

It clicks, and I roll my eyes, straightening myself up. “I’m a fucking lawyer. Why the hell would I jeopardize my job by giving her drugs?”

Owen juts his chin up, shoulders tensing. “Not for you. For your fucking sister.”

I flinch and furrow my eyebrows together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Owen jerks out of Devon’s hands, squaring up in front of me to remind me what he’s obviously capable of. “She and Devon broke up. That’s motive enough for her to go after Gracie.”

I stare at him as if he has suddenly grown two heads. “Kate isn’t like that. She wouldn’t do that.”

“She’s friends with Donna. Of course she fucking would,” Owen tells me.

I blink, the name not registering in my mind. “Who’s Donna?”

It's Owen’s turn to look at me like I’m fucking crazy. “My ex-girlfriend. She and Kate are friends.”

I shake my head. “I don’t know a Donna.”

Owen shrugs. “Guess you don’t know your sister as well as you thought you did. But that’s not the fucking point. Your sister gave you drugs to plant on Gracie, didn’t she? Just fucking admit it.”

Owen steps forward, and I press harder into the wall, the only distance I can get to stay away from him. My fingers curl into the wall behind me, keeping me from trying to run. Right now isn’t a good time. I don’t say anything and stare at him a little longer. He looks oddly familiar, but I can’t quite place where I know him from. Owen curls his fists at his side, ready to knock me the fuck out.

“You took her sobriety away. You picked her up last night and gave her drugs!”

I glower at him. “For one, Jasper picked her up. Two, I didn’t give her shit. She went to bed almost right after she got to my house last night. She was extremely upset about something that she just wouldn’t talk about.”

His fist flies forward, but before it can hit my face, Devon jerks Owen back, his fingers latched onto Owen’s wrist. Owen squirms in his arms, livid, ready to rip my head off my neck. He wants to murder me. A cop wants to fucking kill me. That’s it! That’s where I know him from, the police station. He’s a goddamn cop who wants me dead. I’ve seen enough shit in my life to know that a murderous cop is the most dangerous person there is, even worse than a damn serial killer, and those fuckers are psychotic.

But I’m not an idiot. His eyes are shimmering in anger, and he’s fuming; the heat of it radiating off him is like a fever. I know what it is, love. He’s in love with the girl and obviously heartbroken at the idea that her sobriety is being thrown away.

My heart skips a beat, flipping before sinking to the pit of my stomach. I know I would be in the same place he is if it were for someone I love, and I was forced to step aside and watch them basically kill themselves with drugs.

“I didn’t do shit,” I tell him. “I really didn’t. I don’t know how she got the drugs, but I didn’t do shit. I swear.”

Owen shakes Devon off, opens his mouth, and closes it before turning to storm off. I watch him go down the hall until he turns the corner and is out of sight. After a few minutes, I turn back to Devon, whose staring solidly at me. He looks ragged, tired, as if he was up all night long. Considering Gracie slept at my house, I suspect that he was up all night worrying about her.

“She got the drugs somehow,” Devon tells me, and his shoulders sag. “Look, I’m sorry that I broke it off with Kate. I just didn’t want to drag it on any longer and give her false hope for a life I could never give her.”

I cock an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

Devon sighs and runs his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. “She wanted to get married. She wanted children. I can’t give her that because I don’t want that kind of a life with her. If I gave it to her, it would just make for a miserable life. For the both of us.”

I press my lips together, but I do understand. At least Devon had the decency to end it before they started a family together and ended up regretting it. “Look, man, the only annoying thing is when my sister pops up crying about the whole thing. What happened between you two is your business, not mine.”

He nods and looks right in the direction where Owen disappeared. “He’s just… really protective of Gracie. He’s struggling too. With everything. He just broke up with his girlfriend and was considering asking Gracie to have a relationship with him, but then we were called this morning…” His voice trails off, making him sound defeated.

I grimace at his lack of words. It’s pretty obvious he’s struggling to come to terms with things.

“She wasn’t high, if that matters at all,” I tell him.

Devon shrugs again, but this time shoves his hands into her pockets. “I don’t fucking know, in all honesty. We keep finding drugs on her, booze too. She claims that none of it has been hers, but… the evidence has kind of been stacking her. She pissed negative on her drug test yesterday, but she left on her own. Probably to get more.”

I shake my head. “If she tested negative, going out to get drugs right afterward doesn’t make sense.”

Devon shakes his head violently and steps back far enough to lean against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. He stares at the ground. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say now. Devon just seems kind of lost at the moment. That’s the obvious difference between him and Owen. Owen’s angry and shows it. Devon’s lost and floundering, trying to hide it. He doesn’t seem to want to admit it at all. If I remember correctly, I think Kate once told me that Devon’s a therapist.

“Gracie’s slipped with sobriety before. Several times. This was the longest she stayed sober. I know addicts slip a lot. I know it matters when they come back into sobriety. That they try. That Gracie is trying, and she’s going to slip. I get that, but she keeps…” His voice cracks, and he shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair repeatedly. “She keeps lying. I don’t get why she keeps lying. If she just admits the truth, we can help her.”

I shake my head. “Addicts only accept help when they truly want it.”

His head falls back, and Devon looks up at the ceiling with partially closed eyes. “I honestly thought she wanted help; I really did.”

I look at the corner where Owen disappeared, silent for a long moment, and then back to Devon. “I think she does. But she’s gone so far in sobriety that she’s probably scared to admit she slipped. She probably doesn’t want anyone hating her for slipping.”

Devon drops his head and stares right at me, jaw set. Something simmers in his eyes, the same thing as Owen. It’s pretty fucking obvious to me that these men love her to death and just want the best for her. It makes it even worse to know that she got arrested at my house.

“What am I supposed to do?” he questions.

I shake my head, scratching my cheek. I think I feel stubble coming in. I’m going to have to shave. I hate stubble. It’s itchy and makes me uncomfortable. Plus, I need to be clean-shaven for my job. I learned a long ass time ago that clients don’t take me seriously if I look fucking homeless.

Devon is no longer looking at me. I don’t even think he saw my attempt at a response. I’m also pretty sure he wasn’t even really talking to me. He’s just talking to talk, to have his voice speaking, to get the thoughts out of his head.

I push off the wall and start off in the direction that Owen had gone. I hear Devon’s scuffling footsteps follow me. I don’t bother looking back at him or even trying to talk to him. He isn’t my friend; therefore, I don’t feel obligated to tell him that I know he’s following. Plus, I don’t think it matters. If he wanted a conversation, he would’ve started it by now. He hasn’t, and I’m not going to, so it’s a done deal.

We turn the corner and find Owen standing with a man with tufts of red hair bouncing on his scalp. He’s nearly bald; the red wraps around his scalp. Lines crease his face; his shoulders sag. He just looks completely run down. Just like Devon, he seems to have been up all night. I know he is without even asking.

Gracie’s big brown eyes are hard to forget. I close my eyes and see them clear as day. This red-headed man has the same color eyes, telling me they’re related. Considering his age, I easily guess that it’s Gracie’s father. Discomfort twists my stomach, and I suddenly feel like vomiting. These two men obviously know Gracie’s father. I don’t know how close they are, but I suspect that if Owen has suspicions about me, he will pass that information onto the man, and I will have to answer to him next. I’m not exactly fond of fathers of girls I like. I haven’t had a good history with them.

I backpedal and slam into a body. My eyes swivel to Devon, and I give him a tight-lipped smile and step to the side.

“Hey dad,” Devon greets.

Owen and the father both look at us. It’s only Owen glaring at me, though. The dad just looks exhausted, not about to kill me.

“Gracie’s tox screen came back negative again,” he tells us in frustration. “She wasn’t using.”

“She was in possession, though,” Owen points out, also sounding upset. “She was obviously going to use them if she hadn’t been caught.”

The old man shakes his head. “No, I don’t think so. If she was going to use, she would’ve before the cops showed up.” He looks pointedly at Owen. “Think about it, Owen. Suit up. We have a job to do.”

Owen kicks the ground and drags his feet forward as the father turns, leading him away. Devon steps around me and follows. I decide to take the chance to slip towards the holding cells, desperate to see her.

Chapter 51

Gracie

I look up as someone approaches my cell block and sits forward as keys clank together before the bars open. I push up off the cold, hard bench. It isn’t foreign to me, but I had really hoped that I would never have to be in one again after becoming sober.

“Morning, Gracie,” the familiar voice greets, a little too lighthearted for my taste.

I don’t move, but I recognize the man as he steps into a shine of light. Owen’s partner greets me with a grin. I’m too tired to smile back, and honestly, I don’t fucking care right now. As he steps aside and lets the gap be wide open to me, I stare at the hole between the wall and bars.

“You’re free to go,” he tells me, motioning at the empty space.

I stare at it and then look at him, unsure what I’m supposed to do. Is this some fucked up joke? I feel like it is. But I don’t know why Drake would play a joke on me. Owen might be pissed with me, but Drake’s a good guy. I know that even if we’ve only had a few interactions together. I’ve never felt like he would play a fucked-up trick like this. Still, I don’t want to move to be on the safe side.

“I promise, this is the real deal. You’re free.”

I blink and look up at him, my eyebrows raising in question.

“Someone came forward and admitted planting those drugs on you.”

I stand and linger for a moment before taking a step back, biting my bottom lip as I eye him. Drake turns and steps out of the cell as I hesitate, still unsure if this is the real deal or not. I don’t believe Drake would do this, but I also didn’t believe someone would plant drugs on me while I was trying so fucking hard to stay sober. I can be wrong about everything and not even know it.

“I’m serious, Gracie,” he tells me over his shoulder. “Unless you want to spend the night in the cell, I suggest you come on.”

I chew my bottom lip and then move forward to follow him, my feet dragging as I push myself out of the cell. When I round the corner and Drake doesn’t try to stop me, I get a little bit more ballsy about being out of the cell. There are no other cops around, not even at the desk across from the holding cell. I don’t know where they went, but they disappeared about fifteen minutes ago and have yet to return. I don’t care. The way the guy kept staring at me made me so fucking uncomfortable. I somewhat hope he snorted up a line of coke and died down. He looked fidgety and a little too skinny. I know the signs of a drug addict all too well. I’m not going to say shit, though. That isn’t my place.

Drake leads me to the main part of the police station. Owen’s sitting at his desk, and at my appearance, he sits back before looking at me. Devon and my father stand right behind him. The relief on Devon’s face makes my heart flutter a little. My father just looks annoyed, lips pursed, and shoulders squared. He only looks at me for a moment before turning his head. I follow his look and land on Kate and someone who I barely recognize as the model Adrianna from Luke and Jasper’s. Adrianna is as gorgeous as I remember her being, and envy burns white-hot in the pit of my stomach. I hate her for being so fucking pretty. Long, caramel hair flows down her back, simmering hazel eyes, and breasts that are puckered in her bra, cleavage showing from the tight shirt that hugs her hourglass figure. And legs to die for. I’m tall like my mother, but nothing like this girl. I hate her, and I want to be her.

Behind Adrianna is a man dressed in a suit who keeps adjusting his tie and talks in a low voice to her, ignoring Kate entirely. Kate is sitting in a chair, twisting her purse strap repeatedly between her hands. Her face is blotchy, eyes puffy. She looks like she’s been crying over whatever is going on.

“Why’re they here?” I ask Drake, the only pair of ears in hearing distance to me.

Drake shakes his head. “They’re the ones who have been framing you. Along with Donna.”

I stop in my tracks, not daring to take my eyes off the two women in the event that if I blink, they’ll disappear, and the cell will reappear around me. That is just a hopeful dream conjured up in my mind to give me some peace. Maybe I am taking drugs and don’t want to admit it to myself, so I’m trying to make up a reason inside my mind that I will be okay with it. I loathe Donna so goddamn much, so of course, I would blame her. I’m not on good terms with Kate for obvious reasons, but it isn’t enough for me to blame her. The other girl, I don’t know anything about, except the fact that I hate how pretty she is. Maybe I just put a group together to come up with some rational explanation in my drug-riddled mind.

Yeah, that must be it. I’m in denial, aren’t I?

I tear my eyes away from the two women and catch Owen’s. It’s like a slap in my face that knocks me back into reality. I’m sober. I’m still sober. I haven’t given up. I’m desperate not to give up. I’m not in denial. I really am being framed. But why?

Owen pushes his chair back and stands, but instead of approaching me, he turns as two cops enter the station, the familiar redhead in front of them with her hands cuffed behind her back. She looks furious. I shrink back, shoulders tensing, waiting for her to start going off on me, but her eyes find Kate and Adrianna first.

“You imbeciles! You are so fucking weak, you know that?” she screeches at Kate and Adrianna. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you.”

Kate’s head snaps up, looking absolutely devastated. “It wasn’t supposed to go this far, Donna! You never said she was going to be put in jail!”

Donna rolls her eyes. “Plans evolve, you yellow-bellied wuss. God, you’re a fucking child,” she snarls, and her eyes snap to Owen, smirking at him. “Almost had you there, didn’t I? You believed that little Gracie relapsed. You would have been crawling back to me if it wasn’t for her.” She jerks her head back in Kate’s direction. “You know Owen if you hadn’t broken up with me, I wouldn’t have called the cops on your little slut.”

Fury crashes inside of me, but before I can do anything, the cop holding Donna wrenches her away from Owen and shoves her towards the hallway leading her to the holding cell. Donna staggers for a moment but is righted quickly before she can tumble to the ground.

“Be careful!” Donna hisses. “I’m pregnant!”

My heart stutters before dropping to the pit of my stomach, dousing out the flames of anger. I’m pretty sure that my face gives me away by dropping. Owen’s going to be a dad, and it isn’t to my baby. Why am I suddenly so upset about this? When I came out of rehab, I knew that he’d moved on with his life. Sure, he may not be with Donna at this moment, but it shouldn’t be a surprise that he has a life with another woman. He’s going to be a good dad. Owen has always wanted to be a father. He’s also always wanted a stable home for his children, but that’s one thing he isn’t going to get. At least he’ll be a good father, unlike his biological dad, who dipped out, and his drug-addicted mother, who died from an overdose.

Maybe that’s why he’s so angry with me. Because he’s seen what drug addiction can do to a person firsthand. He’d tried so hard before to get me sober, and I fucked him over in that process. Of course, he’s angry with me. He’s allowed to be.

I open my mouth to tell him to apologize, but then the low chatter of cops and people around hits my ears and reminds me exactly where I’m at, and I slam my mouth shut. I turn just as Kate is escorted towards the holding cell hallway.

As she passes the group, she turns, catching Devon’s eye. I can’t see her face, but his tightening tells me he wants to console her, to make her feel better. He has such a big heart.

“I’m really sorry. She talked me into it. I didn’t know she was going to pull this last stunt until it was too late. Adrianna put the drugs in her pockets last night when she was sleeping. It was easy for her because she lives there, and Gracie was just spending the night. I didn’t know Donna was going to call the cops. The plan was to just turn everybody against her, to make her relapse for real, and have her just… slip out of everybody’s lives. Like before, but this time, nobody would be willing to take her back. She wasn’t supposed to get arrested; Donna went too far because Owen broke up with her. Donna blames Gracie for that. Also, I know this isn’t the best time to tell you, but I’m pregnant too.”

My heart could just stop now, and nobody would notice with this barrage of information that’s coming out. I watch as Kate is nudged forward and willing goes to the holding cells. When I look back at Adrianna, she’s turned completely around and having a full-blown conversation with whoever the guy in the suit is. Finally, he steps around her, squeezes her shoulder, and leaves as another cop materializes next to her. Adrianna huffs and holds up her chin as she’s led to the holding cells as well. She ignores us, especially me, and disappears into the hallway.

I turn and plant my eyes on my father. “Am I free then?”

Daddy rubs his face and nods. “You’re free, Gracie.”

I move towards the front doors and turn sharply when Devon steps to follow me. “Don’t follow me.”

I’m lying through my teeth. I want him to follow me. I want him to cuddle me, to hold me, to soothe me. But I also want to be alone, away from them. They all believed I would just relapse. I’m still convinced I should just do what they all thought I was doing anyway. Devon hesitates and steps back. I look at Owen, but he doesn’t even try to move. He only stares at me with a set jaw. He’s so held back, determined not to give away his emotions. Owen has always been like that. In front of groups, the only feeling he ever dares show is anger, and I think that’s just because it’s such a high emotion; it isn’t easy to hide. Otherwise, he just doesn’t.

“Congratulations to both of you.”

I turn and take my leave, desperate to get the fuck out of the police station. I don’t know where Luke and Jasper went, but it still hurts that they so easily believed I brought and was even doing drugs in their home. I get a few feet from them and turn to face them.

“Adrianna planted those drugs, just so you know.” With that, I turn and officially leave, tugging my phone out.

“Marcy?” My voice cracks when she picks up. “Just please, listen before you say anything.”

Chapter 52

Colton

“I don’t know where she is,” I tell Owen as I wipe off a table. “I’ve been here all day; I’ve got a job just like you.”

“Yeah, well, she’s gone again.” He groans.

I shake my head when I look up at the man in the uniform, unable to deny my attraction to him. “Everybody believed she relapsed because she was framed and arrested. Would you want to be around the people who so easily believed that?”

Owen glares, his jaw ticking. “You haven’t known Gracie like Devon and I have—”

I slam the rag I’m using on the table I’m standing next to and straighten up. “I get that, really I do. But Gracie’s been working extremely hard at staying sober, Owen. All she wanted was for people to believe her. She’s sober. That matters.”

“Not this time,” he explodes, frustration twisting his face. “She looked… lost when she left the station this morning. Because of exactly what you said, but also because she discovered that Kate and Donna are both pregnant.”

I grimace. That’s a lot to take in. Nobody believed her when she pleaded for them all to do so, and now, the men she wants to be with will have to be shared with these women who framed her forever.

Owen steps forward, glancing at the two couples that sit in the back of the restaurant before lowering his voice. “She lost a baby before she got sober. I think… this hit her really hard, and she might be looking for a way to shut it all out. Colton, please, if you know—”

“I don’t,” I snap and let out a slow breath of air to gather myself. “I’m really sorry, Owen. If I knew where she disappeared to, I would tell you. I really would. I don’t want her slipping either, and I would be stupid to hide her, I know that. So, if I knew, I would tell you. I swear I would.”

He stares at me, eyes giving away the fact he wants to cry. I haven’t known Owen for very long, but in the time I have, he’s always seemed like an angry guy. Seeing him vulnerable at this moment throws a different light over him. My heart hurts for him. I also want Gracie to be safe, but I’m not lying to him. Gracie hasn’t answered my texts all fucking morning. I get why with being arrested, but even after her release, she has yet to even reply to a single one.

“If you call her—” he starts, but his words falter when I shake my head.

“She won’t answer me. Probably thinks I don’t have faith in her either,” I turn back to wipe at the table.

“I don’t want her relapsing because of all this shit, Colton.”

I pause but don’t look up at him either. “I don’t either, but I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. My grandpa is out for the day. I can’t leave the diner.”

He nods when I look up at him this time. “If you hear from her—”

“I’ll let you know,” I promise and turn back to my cleaning, but I am once again distracted when the bell above the door jingles to announce the arrival of someone.

For some fucking reason, today has been an incredibly busy day. I should be out looking for Gracie, trying to find her. But I also have a duty to the diner and so much to give back to my grandfather for everything he’s done for me.

Devon enters the diner, and when he finds us, he hurries over to us. “She’s with Marcy.”

Relief washes over Owen’s face, and his shoulders drop. “At least she can’t get to drugs.”

Devon shakes his head, glancing at the two couples. I sit my rag down and give the men my full attention, realizing that I’m not going to get any cleaning done until they leave.

“I talked to Marcy. Gracie’s really upset about everything. Marcy got her to take a nap, though, so hopefully, she’ll feel better when she wakes up,” Devon tells us.

Devon avoids looking at me, keeping his eyes anywhere but on me. I don’t think he wants to admit that he’s attracted to me. It isn’t hard to see. I’ve caught him admiring me before, but he’s been intent on winning Gracie back to do anything about it. If she wants to be with both of us, though, being together may be possible. I don’t know how these kinds of relationships work, though. I don’t want to overstep boundaries and fuck something up. I guess it’s just going to have to be a feel sort of thing. Get the hang of it and push the limits. If it falls apart, I can back up and reassess.

“So, what do we do?” Owen asks, shifting anxiously in his spot.

Devon clears his throat. “We wait it out,” he shakes his head when Owen and I look at him incredulously. “It’s the logical thing to do. As long as she’s with Marcy, she isn’t going to get into drugs or drink or anything like that. She’s safe right now. I asked Marcy to call me right away if Gracie leaves. We can decide from there. But”—he hesitates and looks between the two of us—“two things. One, we have to figure this out together. I know you aren’t thrilled about the idea of sharing, Owen, but Gracie needs us. We can’t just turn a blind eye to her. She wants all of us, and making her choose will tear her apart. Two, unfortunately, I’m pretty sure she’s into those other two guys. She’s got a big heart, and even if we don’t like the idea, we need to do this together.”

Owen snorts. “Poly relationships aren’t my thing—”

“It isn’t poly,” Devon cuts him off. “Otherwise, she’d be into girls, and Gracie is as straight as they come.” He looks Owen dead in the eye. “Straight as you. She’s strictly into men.”

Owen glowers at him. “Then what the fuck is this she wants?”

“A harem. Reversed. Like when one man has multiple women, it’s a harem. Except, it's reversed with Gracie.” He scrunches his nose. “Well, I guess it’s a form of poly if you really think about it, but it’s better to just classify it by itself so it makes more sense.”

Owen doesn’t look amused. “So, it’ll keep growing?”

“I don’t think so. I think Gracie is only interested in the five of us,” Devon points out. “Look, I know it isn’t the best idea, but do you want Gracie to fall apart because we force something she doesn’t want?”

Owen glares at him. “And what about the rest of us? What if we don’t want this?”

Devon stares at the cop for a long moment and then speaks so slowly, so clearly, to make sure he isn’t misunderstood. “We’ve been best friends for four years, but I have known you an entire decade. I know you’ll be fine with this, as long as you don’t have to do cock shit with other guys.”

Owen swallows, glaring at Devon, but even I can see that the man is right. Owen will do anything for Gracie. Just like Devon and I would.

“I fucking hate you,” Owen growls at Devon.

Devon snickers. “And I love you.”

Owen’s face twists, appalled by the affection, before turning to leave. The bell jingles as he lets it slam shut behind him.

Devon chuckles. “Gets him every time.” He sighs and looks right at me this time. “Come to my house after you get off. I’ll also have Owen and the two other guys meet us there. I think we all need to fucking sit down and figure this shit out together.”

I nod and cock an eyebrow. “What about Gracie?”

Devon shakes his head. “I have a feeling she isn’t going to want to be around any of us tonight. She’ll probably stay with Marcy, if anything.”

I nod and return to cleaning, trying to make myself busy even with him here. If I’m not careful, I’m going to kiss him right in front of these customers, and that’s honestly the last thing I need to do in this place. Definitely not right now.

“Colton,” my name on Devon’s lips makes me tense. He hesitates. “I’ll see you tonight.”

I nod in response, not trusting myself to say anything, and only look up when the bell jingles at Devon’s departure. I clutch the rag in my fingers, my eyes following Devon as he passes the window in front of me. I know that it would’ve been the wrong thing if I had said anything. I would’ve asked him to stay, to go upstairs with me. Or I would’ve simply kissed him.

I’m angry because I can’t kiss him. I don’t know what any of this means. If we’re with Gracie, can we be together?

I shake my head, wanting to abolish the redundant thoughts that run rampant through my brain. I need it to quiet down and give me some peace for even an hour. Things will be figured out tonight. I know they will. They have to. Yes, it will be without Gracie, but that’s probably the best option for the moment. For us guys to figure out what we want to do and then to have Gracie add to the equation. She’s already been figuring out what she wants. I have no doubt she’s most likely come to the same conclusion.

Is it what I want, though?

I think so. Honestly, I’m not too pressed about the whole thing. If it’s what the heart wants, it’s what I’m willing to do. That’s something my parents don’t, and I doubt they will ever understand. They’re too close-minded, and that’s why I’m here. Again, it’s only part of the reason.

I check on my customers and refill their cups before I return to the counter and sit on the barstool, taking out the binder of paperwork that my grandpa is still behind on. It’s a lot better than the mess I started with when I arrived here, so that’s a good thing. I’ve been working diligently on it every single day to get it down. I’ve at least put a dent in it, and a dent is a damn good start. It took me almost four months to make a dent.

After a few minutes of nothing more than simply staring at words that don’t make any sense, my phone dings, capturing my attention. I pick up my phone and swipe my finger across the screen to look at the text.

Jersey: Grandpa has been telling mom and dad about how well you’re doing. They’re thinking of asking you to come home.

I can only stare at the text from my sister, feeling my eyes go wide in shock. I didn’t even know they were discussing having me come home. I don’t know how to respond, though. Because I don’t even know if I want to go home. Going home would mean accepting the way my parents live and following their rules. I won’t get to be with Gracie or even have a chance with Devon. My parents will want me to settle down with a pretty girl they deem appropriate to pop out babies with. I’ll be made to go into the family business, nothing of which I even want to do. I want to be a chef. That’s what I want. They laughed at the one time I told them, saying it was a ludicrous idea that would never let me survive in this world.

I don’t want to go home, no matter how much I miss my siblings. I want to be happy; I deserve to be happy.

I choose not to respond to my sister’s text. I have more pressing matters to worry about now, after all.

Chapter 53

Luke

“This is what you want to do, isn’t it?” Jasper asks, leaning on the back of the couch and eyeing the men around us.

They all nod. Devon and Colton are more willing, open about this whole thing, and are a bit more enthusiastic about it. Owen, on the other hand, is withdrawn. The hesitance is written all over his boyish face, unsure about it. But he’s here, which says it all. It shows he wants to be with Gracie. This will be a huge step for him, and it will take a lot of baby ones for him to get to step Z.

“Number one rule,” I start, bringing their attention to me, “is communication. No relationship survives without it. You all must be in tune with one another. Talk things through, and make sure everyone knows what’s going on. Your feelings matter, even if they seem small. They all matter. Just like in a monogamous relationship.” I look between the trio more seriously than before. “I’m not kidding. Jasper and I are used to three of us at a time. Now and again, a fourth for some fun, but communication between all of us has always been important. It’s vital in a relationship, especially as it gets bigger.”

Owen rubs his forehead, shifting at the far end of the couch. He’s been extremely disgruntled by this whole thing since we got here. I get how turned off by this idea he is. I also know that his love for Gracie is making it too hard to just walk away at the same time.

So, I address that situation next because it’s vital that everybody is on the same page and not expecting one thing when something else needs to happen.

“You have to be transparent about your feelings and concerns. If you aren’t, nothing gets solved, and problems will rise. You need to figure out your feelings for one another, what you want out of the relationship, and lay down rules.”

“Rules?” This piques Colton’s interest. “What kind of rules?”

“Like exclusivity or being open. If you’re exclusive to those in the relationship, you stay exclusive to them. You don’t invite strangers in or anyone else without talking to the others. You don’t go shopping around. The rules are just like a monogamous relationship, except now you’ve got a few more feelings to consider. A few more people who rely on you to not cheat. Because if you’re exclusive to your people, being with someone outside the group is cheating. If you’re open, that’s just a different set of rules that will need to be followed,” Jasper explains with a shrug of his shoulder, sadness glittering in his eyes.

I know who he’s thinking about. Finding out what Adrianna was part of stung us in ways we have yet to discuss. I don’t know if either of us is even ready to bring it up. We haven’t talked to each other about it. The topic has just been completely avoided. Adrianna has been a big part of our lives for almost six years. It isn’t going to be easy just letting her go, but we can’t keep standing by and letting her pull the bullshit she’s been up to lately.

First, cheating on us. Second, planting drugs? For fuck’s sake, what was she even thinking? How could she even be okay with doing that? Is it just because she likes my sister and was willing to do it for her? I know the two of them are good friends, but I doubt Adrianna is that gullible. Something else happened, and I need to know what. But I’m not ready to talk to her just yet. I don’t know when, but I’ll get my answers when I am ready.

“How long have you guys been doing this?” Colton suddenly asks, drawing my attention back to this moment in time. “The whole…more than monogamous and all.”

“Well, we’ve been with Adrianna for six years. But we had a mutual friend interested in both of us for about four years before that. He’s how we met.”

“He?” Owen cocks an eyebrow and sits forward. “So, you were with all guys before the model chick?”

“Her name is Adrianna,” Jasper says defensively. “But yes. We were each with girls before then, though. We were just introduced to this lifestyle through him.”

I grimace, biting the inside of my cheek. Jace is a sore subject with me. He was the first guy I actually fell in love with, and he fucked me over. I really don’t like thinking about him. Almost seven years, and the pain is still raw. The saying isn’t true; time doesn’t heal all wounds. Maybe one day, I will forgive him for the shit he pulled, but until then, I will always hold him accountable.

“Right,” the cop says slowly, eyeing me suspiciously. “And you two had nothing to do with the whole drug shit?”

There it is. The pressing subject that’s had Owen riled up all day long. I’m not surprised. With how angry he was earlier and how quick he was to blame me, I know he just wants somebody to point the finger at. He can’t ask questions to the girl who did it, and besides, we’re supposed to be with Adrianna. Therefore, it’s even easier to blame us by association.

“We didn’t have anything to do with that, all right?” Jasper states bitterly with a roll of his eyes. “We like Gracie. We wouldn’t do that to her.”

The room goes silent. The three on the couch only stare at us. Colton is the youngest, and he looks it too. His features haven’t sharpened like the other two, but his eyes hold a different story. They glitter in hope and desire but with sadness mixed in. He’s obviously gone through some shit in life that he won’t talk about. I want to pry it out of him, to get him to open. But I know better than to do that, especially with just having met one another.

Devon sits in the middle, keeping Colton and Owen apart. I don’t think Owen knows Colton very well and is also suspicious of him, which is why they’re kept separate. I can’t blame Devon for keeping the peace. He’s always calm and trying to deflect any conflict from starting. He doesn’t like confrontation, but I suspect he will do it if absolutely necessary.

Then there’s Owen. He’s so full of anger and confusion. As far as I've seen, his face is always twisted in a scowl. Every time I’ve seen him, which hasn’t been very often, he’s just been angry. I want to see him smile, but I think there’s a lot of shit built up inside of him that keeps him at arm’s length from everybody. Getting him to open is going to be complete hell.

“All five of us?” Devon suddenly asks. “All five of us guys with Gracie? How is that going to work? Like with sex and sleeping and…” his voice trails off, and he looks at Owen, who stares blankly back at us. “How do we make this work? Share her?”

I wrinkle my nose. “That’s… a way to put it, I guess. We ask Gracie what she wants to do. We communicate, like I said before. Gracie has to be part of it, so we can’t just draw rules or anything up right now. We find out what she wants to do as well. It isn’t going to be easy. It’s doable, just not easy.”

Owen sits forward, his full attention on us this time. “I don’t do guys,” he states flatly.

I stare at him, unamused. He has never once given off being gay or bisexual, so his claim isn’t surprising. “Then you don’t do guys. Have sex with Gracie only.”

He stares at me for a long moment. Neither one of us moves, and nobody says anything.

Suddenly, Owen stands and takes a step toward me. He might be younger, but he sure does know how to make an older man cower. Maybe it’s the whole cop demeanor, I don’t fucking know, but I back up anyway. He’s as tall as I am but a lot more muscular. More… menacing. Especially in his anger.

“Gracie deserves the best,” he warned me, his teeth clenched together to make it sound somewhat like a growl. “I don’t want no prissy guys traipsing into her life that are going to hurt her.”

“We don’t want to hurt her,” Jasper counters, and I feel his hand grab my shoulder before pulling me back. “Seriously, man, that’s the last thing we want for Gracie.”

Owen looks between Jasper and me, jaw set, before taking a long step back. He shakes his head and turns, rounding the couch before disappearing down a narrow hallway to what I assume would be the bathroom area. Maybe bedrooms, I don’t know. I haven’t gone further than the living room by this point.

A rap on the door turns our attention to it, the tension in the group pressing on all our shoulders, so it’s a much-needed reprieve.

Jasper’s the one who breaks the somewhat silence and pushes himself forward to answer the door. Gracie stands on the other side with another young woman and a man. I assume these two are the Marcy and Landon that Devon talked about for a moment. Gracie looks annoyed, with her arms crossed over her chest as she glowers at all of us.

Her friend nudges her and pushes her over the threshold. She staggers for a moment before righting herself, Marcy and Landon following. Landon closes the door behind the three of them and then turns to face us, eyeing Jasper and me warily. He seems as young as Colton and yet, not just quite. He has sharper features than the diner boy, which means he might be a few months or so older at least.

Is he part of this too? Five guys is one thing, but I think six is pushing it. And a chick? No, I don’t think Gracie would want a chick. Especially after all the bullshit that has happened.

“Hi,” Gracie greets Jasper and me. “This is my nephew and my best friend,” she motions between them.

Relief swarms through me at realizing that Landon is family. I can handle five of us guys, but I don’t want to do more than that. I already feel the pressure with the five of us as it is.

I catch Marcy’s eye. She doesn’t look so happy. If anything, she seems suspicious. Then again, Gracie did just say she’s her best friend. She’s probably more protective now because of everything that has happened.

Colton gets up and offers Gracie his seat, which she ignores as she takes an armchair at the side of the couch, ignoring the rest of us. She’s obviously still upset, and I can’t blame her after all she’s been through.

“Gracie, about Adrianna—” I start but am stopped when she puts up a hand.

“It’s done with,” she tells me, but she doesn’t look me in the eye. “Just let it go, please.”

I don’t say anything. I don’t nod or agree or anything else. I simply stare at her, waiting for something else to be said, but the tension has now overflooded into discomfort. Nobody knows what to do or say, including me. I have answers for a lot of things, but even I’m not sure what to say to this.

Chapter 54

Gracie

I wait for what seems like an agonizingly long time. I’m bored out of my mind, but I don’t dare say anything now. I don’t want to press the subject. Really, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to say. I was right. I didn’t do any drugs, and I didn’t drink. As far as I’m concerned, everybody else owes me a ton shit of apologies and maybe a platter of vegetarian enchiladas. That wouldn’t be a bad apology. But nobody has said shit to me. I think that’s what I’m most angry about; nobody has even tried apologizing to me.

I’ve been sober for months now, almost an entire full fucking year. I get why nobody believed me but finding out they were wrong should’ve pushed them to apologize to me for pointing fingers. Nobody has. Not a single goddamn person. Not even my parents have called to apologize.

I need a meeting. I need to get my head clear. I need to do something to make the buzzing stop. But for the moment, I can’t get up or do anything. I don’t necessarily want to right now anyway. I want somebody to fucking say they’re sorry to me. But the guys are quiet. I don’t know why it bothers me so much. I know I did wrong before, so many goddamn times, but that doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to be apologized to when wrong was done to me. Does it?

“Thank you for bringing her home,” Devon finally speaks, turning his attention on Marcy and Landon. “And keeping her out of trouble today.”

Marcy grabs Landon’s hand, intertwining their fingers as she squeezes her arm and looks right at me. “We do for family, don’t we, Gracie?”

I crack a smile this time and nod in agreement. The two look adorable together, and I am happy that Marcy has found somebody who makes her happy, even if it is my nephew. Landon turns his head and kisses the top of Marcy’s.

“We should get going. We have a couple of days left before going back to school and a bit of packing. Going back with more than we came.” He snickers with a shake of his head. “And Marcy starts her new job in a couple of weeks when we get back, don’t you, babe?”

Marcy’s face lights up, and I sit forward. This is news to me. Nothing about this was mentioned all fucking day. Then again, it was sort of focused on me the entire time. My stomach twists with guilt, knowing that, once again, it was all about me. I really need to start paying better attention. Marcy deserves to have the spotlight on her, especially at times like this. It isn’t only about me, and it’s not fair if I take all the attention away.

“I got a call a couple of days ago for confirmation. I’m going to be an elementary music teacher!” she says happily, bouncing on her heels.

I grin. I know that’s Marcy’s dream job, and to see her get it makes me incredibly happy for her. She really does deserve it. She’s worked incredibly hard at school and put in a lot of voluntary hours just to get to this point.

But when the realization of her getting her job dawns on me, my smile fades. “So, you’re staying in Cali then?”

Marcy bites her lip and looks at me halfway. I connect the dots and put together why she didn’t say anything all day. I was already dealing with enough shit, and now, I’m going to lose my best friend.

I suck it up and force a smile to curve my lips upwards. “But you got your dream job.” I try to lay happiness on thickly. “I’m so happy for you. I know how hard you’ve worked to get it.”

Marcy’s face lights up, all worry vanishing. “It’s just for a little while longer. Especially with Landon having a couple more years to go.” She looks up at him with complete adoration and love. “We’re moving into our own apartment, aren’t we, babe?”

I hold my smile, but I can feel my insides twisting. I can’t tell if it's envy, anger, or something else, but it sure as fuck isn’t happiness for the couple. I don’t know why I can’t be happy, and I hate myself for that. Maybe it’s because I feel like I’m losing my best friend when I’ve just gotten her back. I know I can’t ask her to stick around because of me. I’m not allowed to do that. We both pushed forward with our lives. She went in one direction, and I went in the other. I’m not allowed to ask her to give up her life just because I’m trying to pull mine together.

Marcy pulls out of Landon’s grip and approaches me, holding her arms out. I hesitate for a moment and then climb to my feet, wrapping my arms around her. She hugs me tight, and we stay like that for a minute. Marcy is shorter than I am by just a little bit, but it’s enough for me to put my chin on the top of her head. I try not to think about things, about how Marcy is leaving, and it’s going to be a long time before I see her again. I know that if I do, I’m going to break. I’m going to beg her not to leave; that’s the last thing I should be doing. I must suck it up. I’ve gotta let her live her life too, not be wrapped up in me.

“You can come to visit,” she tells me as she pulls back. “Any time, just let us know. We’re getting a two-bedroom apartment just so you can come and visit.”

I hesitate and glance at Owen, Devon, and Colton on the couch before looking at Marcy again. I don’t get a chance to respond before Owen cuts in.

“Different scenery will do you good, Gracie. That’s a good idea, Marcy. Us guys will take turns bringing her to visit.” I look at him as he speaks and the rest nod in agreement.

“There you go then,” Marcy says happily and squeezes me again before officially letting me go and returning to Landon’s side. “We’ll be moved in by the end of next month at the latest. I have to go through all the crap in the big house.”

The big house. I somewhat recognize that name. I know it’s a shared house between Landon and a lot of his football buddies, an attempt at saving rent because they share it together. They’ve all got partners, and I think there’s one couple with a baby coming. I don’t know for sure, but I think that’s what Marcy told me. I wouldn’t be able to do that. I don’t know how Marcy has put up with it for as long as she has. I know the two of them getting an apartment for themselves is exciting.

The guys chat for a moment about football or something. But it isn’t much longer before the two of them leave to get started on their packing or go to bed early, one of the two things. Dinner, too, most likely. My stomach growls, reminding me I’ve barely eaten today with all the chaos.

I sit back in my armchair and fold my legs beneath me. I don’t even know if I’m supposed to bring up my hunger. I don’t know what is going on. I look around, and that’s when I notice all the boxes. Most are piled up against the walls, labels on them in the slanted handwriting I easily recognize as Devon’s. My name is on a few, Devon and Owen’s as well. Some are labeled as kitchen and dining room.

The place isn’t filled to the brim with boxes, so I assume there’s still a lot to get from the apartment. That or they’re in different rooms. I don’t know. I only count three with my name on them. I know I didn’t have much to my name when I came out of rehab, but I don’t think it’s that little amount of stuff.

“Where is everything of mine?” I suddenly ask, barely noting that I’ve interrupted some type of conversation.

“The master bedroom,” Devon tells me. “We have to get my dad’s stuff out before we can officially unpack, though. I just want to get us out of the apartment before the first, so dad won’t have to worry about that month’s rent.”

I look at him, then at Owen, Colton, and finally to Luke and Jasper. Finally, I return to Devon. He likes being in charge, making sure things are within his control. He knows how to settle arguments without even raising his voice, and it only makes sense to look to him for guidance at this point.

“So, what’s going on with…” I bite my lip and motion around the whole room. I don’t know how to voice my question.

Understanding falls over Devon’s face, and he sits forward, hands clasped in his lap. “Honestly, Gracie, it’s your choice what you want. Do you want all of us, one of us? Two of us? When you can tell us what you want, then we can move forward.”

I can feel my lips part in astonishment at his words. So, whatever happens is completely my choice at this point? Is that even a sensible thing to allow? I don’t know if I should be making such a big decision. I don’t know if I’m stable enough to do that.

I start to shake my head in denial and am ready to protest when the words become lodged in my throat. I swallow a couple of times, trying to push them away, but it isn’t until I decide not to protest that they disappear.

I switch my gaze to Luke and Jasper, standing in the front of the living room. Luke is leaning against the wall, arms folded over his chest. And Jasper, with his long hair, stands next to him with his ankles crossed. When I look at the guys on the couch, they’re all staring at me expectantly. They’re all waiting for a decision on my part. My heart leaps into my throat, and my hands go clammy. I don’t want to say or do the wrong thing. I don’t want any of them to hate me.

“I want to be with you all,” I blurt out, the words escaping before I can even think them over. They aren’t even close to what I was thinking, so it’s a surprise even to me that they leave my lips.

“It’s decided then,” Luke states, not at all sounding even a smidge surprised. “So, we figure this out together.”

I peek at Owen. I’m expecting him to be pissed, to be annoyed. I know better than to think he’d be happy about the situation, and I’m right; he isn’t happy. But I’m also wrong because he isn’t exactly pissed about it. He looks slightly irritated but calm at the same time.

I’ve got to address him, though, because I know this will be difficult for him. “I know you don’t like sharing, Owen—”

“We’ll work through this,” Owen cuts me off. “I just don’t do sex with guys.” He eyes the other four and back at me. “So, I’m all yours.”

I’m at a loss for words and can only nod as he gets up, my eyes following him as he goes through the adjacent dining room and into the kitchen off to the side. I don’t dare look away. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to the others or where to go with any of this.

Chapter 55

Gracie

I feel like I’m unraveling, like the spool keeping me together is unwinding. I can feel the pressure now. It’s been three days since the arrest. Three days since I found out that Donna and Kate are pregnant with the guys’ babies. Three days since everyone became wary around me. That or I’m just fucking imagining it. I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case, in all honesty. They’re trying to be careful not to accuse me outright again, but the damage has already been done.

I can feel the desire burning inside of me. It started as embers being sparked. Then the flames finally stoked something and have slowly been rising, blistering my insides, ready to ignite my entire being.

Nobody has done a damn thing to me in three days, and I’m about to snap. Not because I’ve been left alone, but I can still feel the tension even with apologies on their tongues. Maybe it’s just me. I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is all concocted in my head. Mom used to say that I overthink things and let a small scenario blister until it pops into something far worse than it was initially meant to be. Because I pick at it until it does that, leaving behind a hole, a crater. Sometimes, one that bleeds or oozes.

I need to shut my mind down. I must get a grip on myself, or I’m going to drive myself fucking crazy one of these days.

“Here you are,” my therapist greets cheerfully as she reenters the room and hands me a Styrofoam cup of water from the jug out in the hall.

I don’t know what took her so long, but I don’t question it as I take the cup. I can only stare into the clear liquid and imagine plunging myself in for a quick dip. I think swimming in ice-cold water would do me some good to knock sense into my head. Plus, it's better than drowning myself in drugs and booze to make the torrent of thoughts disappear. It might even douse the flames burning white-hot inside of me. I want them to stop. I need them to stop. I feel so suffocated, though; it isn’t even funny.

“So, what’s on your mind, Gracie?” she asks as she settles in her leather chair and crosses her legs.

I look up at her now, taking note of how pretty she is. Long legs and heels to die for. Red heels that match the outfit hugging her body. She has lines, but otherwise, she doesn’t even look close to fifty. I can only stare at her like I usually do for the first ten or so minutes. I know I’m supposed to talk and unload everything, but I can’t get myself to do so half the time. Soon, I will figure out what little tidbit I want to talk about and roll with it for a good forty-five minutes until I can get the fuck out of here. It’s what I do every time, without fail. I pick and choose my topics.

It might not be a good thing now that I think it over, though. Because to get proper help, I need to talk about things. I need to let it out. I can’t do that with the guys because they won’t understand. I can’t do it with my parents because they’ll panic and fret over me. And definitely not Marcy. She’s already got enough shit to deal with. Well, not really shit. But her life is on track, and whining to her will only deter her for a while, which could harm her direction in life. That isn’t fair to her.

I have to tell my therapist. It’s her job to listen, to give me ways to cope and figure out life. She can give me ideas to feel it all out. It’s what she’s supposed to do, paid to do. I think that’s why it’s even harder to want to open up to her. Her concern for me isn’t genuine, and it pisses me off. I want someone to listen who is actually going to be there for me in the long run. I’m just a payday to this woman, and because of that, I see no point in even bother talking to her.

“Gracie,” she says gently, but it’s still a sharp reminder. “Do you just want to sit here for an hour then?”

I tilt my head back and look up at the ceiling. There are a few cracks, but they are hardly noticeable if you aren’t looking for them. “We’re moving out of the apartment.” I finally pick a topic.

“Really?” She doesn’t even sound surprised. Robert probably already told her. “And how is that making you feel?”

A redundant question. A merry-go-round that comes with these sessions. I drop my head and shrug, drawing up my shoulders high before dropping them heavily. “It’s one less thing for daddy to have to pay for.” I can detect the bitterness in my words and have no doubt she senses it as well.

Questions flicker in my therapist’s icy blue eyes as she leans forward, forgetting about her notebook to jot down notes and her computer to type up my diagnosis or whatever it is she does on there. Her attention is one hundred focused on me right now. It’s something of a relief.

“What do you mean by that, Gracie?”

She seems so real, like she truly wants to pry and just chat as if we were old friends. I know better, though. She just wants to pinpoint my issues, maybe put me on some pills, and have me keep me coming here so she can have money in her pocket.

I still speak, though, the words tumbling out now. “He pays for these sessions. He paid for the apartment, made a deal with the guys to help me stay out of trouble in exchange for him paying for it. He paid for groceries and monthly expenses and even gave me an ‘allowance.’” It bubbles out now, spewing forth without my consent, but since I’ve already started, I can’t fucking stop. “I borrowed some money from my niece to pay a debt back and couldn’t repay her, so he did because it was from her college fund. She lent me the money, and now he thinks I can’t use money wisely.” I hesitate for a split second. “I guess he’s somewhat right. I’ve never exactly been good at managing money, but it was an accident, you know? I didn’t mean to get in the hole.” My voice cracks, and I have to pause to take a slow breath, trying to pull myself together so I don’t completely lose it.

Clearing my throat, I remember the cup I’m holding and take a long drink to distract myself momentarily and have an excuse not to talk, even if for a moment.

She doesn’t say anything while I do this. When I put the empty cup on the side table next to the couch, Mariam is sitting back, watching me intently and waiting for me to continue. That’s what she does. She knows if she interrupts, I will lose whatever nerve I’ve somewhat conjured up to talk and just shut down.

“I don’t like him paying for everything. I’m twenty-three. I’ll be twenty-four in December, and my daddy is paying for everything.” I give a bleak smile, shoulders sinking as I shake my head miserably. “I really hate it. It makes me feel like a kid. I can’t do things that normal adults my age do. I don’t have friends anymore, friends that live here. My best friend is leaving again with her boyfriend because their life is together. I’m happy for her, really. It’s just she knows what she wants, and she goes after it. She got it. She got her dream job, and here I am, barely having graduated high school, and I still don’t even know how I managed that one. I’ve done some college, and I just can’t do it anymore, I despise it, but I don’t know what else to do with my life.” I draw in a shaky breath and squeeze my eyes shut, trying to keep the tears from exploding this time.

This is when Mariam takes her chance. I’m already so far in that I might just not close up without her putting her two cents in. “Well, what do you like doing, Gracie? On the side, even as a hobby?”

I shake my head and open my eyes, giving her a watery smile. “I used to like pottery. You know, molding clay on turn tables or whatever. My mom said I was really good at it and should get back into it, but I don’t know if I should.”

Her eyebrows furrow together, and her lips press together in confusion. “And why do you think that?”

I shrug. “It’s a hobby. What good is a hobby when I need money?”

Mariam sits forward in her chair and smiles at me kindly. “Some of the best businesses out there started as hobbies, Gracie. You can get back into it. See how that goes just to find your love for it again. If you feel confident, there are tables you can rent at flea markets and county days where you can sell your stuff. Make your own money.”

I stare at her in surprise. I hadn’t thought about that. I’ve never even considered the possibility of selling anything I make. Is that even possible? If Mariam says it is, then it has to be. It has to. Because she wouldn’t be telling me to do this if it wasn’t, even with my daddy’s money filling her pockets. I know that for a fact. At least she’s honest.

After that, I open up more. I tell her about the guys, all five of them. I tell her about my confusion regarding the relationship, how I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do or press forward. How for the last three days, the house has been open and shut, with all five in and out constantly. I tell her about my desire to be with them all and how I feel so wrong about that but so right at the same time. She tells me to follow my heart and allow myself to be in the moment. To not let it go if this is what my heart wants. Not everybody is the same, and nobody can tell me who I’m allowed to love and definitely not how many at once.

We talk about my AA meetings. I honestly feel like it’s been an eternity since I’ve gone to one and will have to later today. We talk about adding an extra day, that doing pottery on the side and eventually as a money maker will make that schedule a little easier. So, I don’t have to stress about meetings around a work schedule.

We talk a lot about my pottery. I don’t know how, but Mariam manages to convince me to make at least one thing this week to bring to her next week. I don’t know why I agree, but I can feel the excitement bubbling inside of me at the mere idea of having somebody outside of my family tell me their thoughts on my artwork.

What I don’t tell her, though, is how I miss my baby more now than ever. With a clear head, I constantly think about her. Her. I really do believe it would’ve been a girl, even if I hadn’t gotten far enough along to know. It’s worse now, with Devon and Owen expecting. For the past three days, the memory of what could’ve been has kept me up at night. I don’t tell Mariam, though, because it hurts way too fucking much to think about it. I don’t want to be burned if I talk about it.

Chapter 56

Devon

I reach out and grab the phone, hesitating before pressing it to my ear. Being in here doesn’t suit Kate. It’s like her entire life force has been sucked out of her. She wears no makeup, the dark circles beneath her eyes are more profound than ever before, and her shoulders have sagged. The orange jumpsuit hangs from her body, looking a little too big for her, but I assume it’s to make it easier if she’s still in here when the baby inside her starts to make itself known. The last thing she needs is to be wearing a tight-ass jumpsuit that will constrict her and the baby.

My baby.

It’s still so strange to think those words. I never imagined that I would have a child with Kate. It was always Gracie in my mind’s eye. I’m not sure how to handle this. I feel so frazzled. I’m not going to abandon the kid, of course. I will be its father in every way possible. I will do anything Kate asks of me for the child, minus marrying or getting back with her. I’m not abandoning this child. It just feels so fucking weird.

“Hi,” Kate greets tiredly from the other phone and smiles at me through the glass.

I don’t return it. I only grip the phone tighter, my teeth clenching hard together as I glower at her. I’m not happy with her for everything she helped. Obviously knowing this, Kate’s smile fades, and she sighs heavily into her receiver, my end bristling with the sound.

“I know.” She nods, her unkempt hair bobbing on her shoulders. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

I shake my head, unamused by her shit apology. “Why did you do that?”

Kate licks her dried lips, and that’s when I notice her red-rimmed eyes. “I was angry, mostly. At first, she was taking all your attention, and I feared she would take you from me. I made the mistake of telling Donna my feelings. She convinced me to help her. Then you broke up with me, and that really hurt. I wasn’t thinking straight when Donna pressed wanting to do worse to her. I really didn’t know she’d have the cops called, though. I didn’t know she planned to get Gracie arrested, I swear. She must’ve decided to do that after Owen broke up with her. I really am sorry.”

I lean towards the glass, clutching the phone as hard as possible between my fingers. I swear it might break; I think I even hear a small crack, but I’m not too sure about that. “She could’ve gone to jail for a fucking long ass time because of you two. If you hadn’t said something, she’d be the one where you are. Except she wouldn’t get any of the deals you probably will get. She’d be stuck for years. You might have a chance at being charged a misdemeanor or something, but she would’ve been slapped with a felony and her entire life ruined when all she’s doing is trying to fix her life.”

Kate grimaces, and a tear rolls from each eye, trailing down her cheeks. “I know that. I wasn’t thinking. But I knew we had to fess up when I realized what Donna did. I’m so sorry, Devon, I really am.”

I huff out air through my nostrils and sit back, eyeing her with pursed lips for a long moment. She doesn’t try to say anything, and that’s probably the best thing decision she’s made in a while.

“How’re you?” I finally ask, my eyes flickering to her stomach.

Kate smiles warily at me, rubbing her eyes. “Tired. That wasn’t the way I wanted to tell you.”

“When did you find out?” I press.

Kate shakes her head. “The night after we broke up. So not too long ago.”

I nod. “How far are you?”

“Thursday is going to be eleven weeks.”

I let out a huff of a breath, surprised by her explanation. Eleven to twelve weeks ago, our condom broke. I remember that. But Kate was on some birth control implant, or at least, I think she was. Maybe it was a shot. Did she forget to go and get it? Maybe she got it too late, and the baby was already conceived? I don’t ask, though. I don’t even know how to ask that. I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, trying to calm my racing heart.

Eleven weeks will be just over three and a half months. Six months tops, and I will be holding a little bundle that will require me to provide for them, love them, and everything else in the world for the rest of my life. I will have a little dependent who will need me to ensure they survive.

“Gracie isn’t going anywhere,” I blurt as I open my eyes and look at her sternly. “I’m going to be with her, Kate. I’m going to marry her. She’s going to be in this baby’s life too. Gracie’s smart, though. She knows you’re the baby’s mother and will always respect that.”

Kate nods dully. “I know, Dev. I’ve thought about that a lot while I’ve been in here. You and Gracie are meant for each other. I think I’ve always known that and just hoped I could have you all to myself. Even before she came back, I knew you belonged to her. The way you always talked about her, worried about her. You never said it, but I’ve known how much you love her since the beginning.”

Guilt twists in the pit of my stomach, and I smile tightly at her, trying to be as gentle as possible, but even I know it looks forced to someone looking at me from the outside. “I’m sorry,” I start, but the words just sound so hollow on my lips that I stop.

I can’t apologize for how my heart wants to live. I accepted the same truth a long time ago myself. Apologizing for it is just plain stupid.

“I’m not going to stop you from seeing the baby or anything because of her. I’m not a bitch, Devon. I went a little crazy, and I am sorry for that, but I’m not a bitch. I know you’ll be an amazing dad, and I will never deny you from being exactly that.”

I smile in gratitude to her, relieved to hear that. Kate really is a good woman. She’s attractive. I can’t deny that. But she just isn’t who I want to spend the rest of my life with.

“Can I ask you something?” she asks, her voice low on the phone, sadness glittering in her eyes when I look at her again.

I nod in confirmation.

“Did you—” She chokes slightly and draws in a slow breath, two more tears trickling down her cheeks. “Did you ever love me? You said you loved me.”

My heart feels like it’s been stabbed by how she looks at me. “Yes,” I tell her honestly. “Just not the way you needed me to. Not the way we needed for our relationship to survive. Not the way necessary for us to be married. I’m always going to love you that way, always to be there if you need me. Just not the way I love Gracie.”

Kate snivels and nods before wiping her nose on the back of her sleeve. This place has really torn her down. She’s so tired-looking and doesn’t even seem to care about her hygiene. Normally, she’d look for a tissue or something before even considering wiping the snot on the back of her sleeve. My heart hurts for her. I don’t want her to become something she isn’t because of this place. But I don’t think she will, not really. I just have to ensure she’s taken care of the best way I can.

“Can you tell her I’m sorry, please?” she begs, her eyes wide.

That’s when it clicks and makes sense. It isn’t even the place warping her. It’s the guilt that’s twisting her and clawing at her insides. She’s breaking apart over what she did. I reach up with my free hand and press my fingers against the glass, feeling the smooth glass as my palm does the same. Kate does the same, and I take in the chewed-up nails. Nails, which she has always taken pride in. She went to the salon every single month. After a long moment, I take my hand back and drop it on my lap.

“The thing about Gracie is that she’s always been, and still is, a very forgiving person. She isn’t going to be mad at you. Donna and the other chick are a whole different story, though.”

Kate shakes her head and gives a thin smile. “Adrianna did it because she was bored. She helped even before she knew Gracie. She’s the one we got the drugs from. She was my brother’s girlfriend, and I knew they did drugs together in the past. I knew she could get them if we asked. I told Donna, and so we did. She got them. She was infuriated when she met Gracie and saw how much Luke and Jasper liked her.” Kate laughs bitterly. “Funny thing is, she was cheating on them with her agent the whole time. She was cheating on her agent with her lawyer, though. The girl loves to open her legs because she’s a model.” She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily. “Poor Gracie. I know how hard she’s been trying with her sobriety, and we really fucked that up.”

I give her a wan smile. “She’s still going to therapy and AA, so that’s a good thing. She was really upset, though. Wouldn’t really talk to me or any of the guys for an entire day.”

Kate nods and bites her lip, thinking something over before speaking again. “She’s doing good. She’s trying hard, you know.”

This time, I lick my lips. “I know she is, and I’m really proud of her.” My eyes flicker to Kate’s stomach again. “What do you want?”

Her cheeks flush bright red as she glances down at her stomach for a split second before back up at me. “I want a girl.”

I grin. “Me too.”

“If it is”—she hesitates, chewing her lip momentarily—“can we name her Olivia? After my grandmother?”

I bite the inside of my cheek. I know how close Kate and her grandmother were before she passed last year. I want to name my daughter after my mother, but maybe if Gracie ever gets pregnant with a girl for me, I can convince her to do it. Gracie will be more understanding. She was there before and after my mother passed, so she’ll get it much better than Kate, especially since I’ve never really talked to Kate about my mother.

“Sure,” I finally agree when I realize Kate is looking at me anxiously. Relief washes over her face. “Olivia is fine.”

Kate smiles at me, and then it drops almost instantly as a guard comes up behind her, warning her of two minutes before she has to go. “I’m going to miss the first full year,” she cracks out, the tears streaming freely now. “I might be in here for up to eighteen months, Devon.”

“We’ll get it figured out,” I promise her just as the guard reappears, irritated, and demands Kate get off the phone.

She doesn’t fight him and hangs up almost instantly, deciding it’s better not to do so. She waves to me, staggering when she’s grabbed roughly and shoved towards the back door. Before she disappears through it, Kate looks over her shoulder, looking at me sadly. I know it isn’t because she’s leaving me that she looks that way. I know it’s because she will most likely miss the entire first year of our child’s life. My heart flips at the realization as I get up to leave as well, allowing somebody else to take my seat and do their visit.

Chapter 57

Gracie

The little girl sits in the dim hall with her back turned to me. But I know, I’m not sure how but I know, when she looks at me, she will have my eyes. She will have them and my hair, but she will have her father’s laugh. She’s going to be mindful like her father, and the smile that crosses her face will light up the room. Hallway. Building. Everything and anything. I know better than to say that a kid is a lifesaver, that it's putting a lot of pressure on them for merely existing. But I know, a burning ache inside me, that she is the reason I keep breathing.

I step forward, reaching out with full intent to touch her. I want her to turn around, smile, and laugh so I can hear it. I want to hold her, to be her mother. The lights flicker, dimming just a shade more, casting eerie shadows over us. They wrap around us like long-lost friends, but their hugs aren’t warm. Goosebumps race up and down my arms.

I get to the girl, who I just know is my daughter. As I touch her shoulder, my fingers brushing through her hair, she jerks around. Her face snaps up to me, and I scream, staggering back. It's blank. There is nothing there. A smooth surface, like a doll, just being carved into existence.

A click sounds in my ears, and I turn, coming face to face with a muzzle. A little girl's giggle echoes in my ears before she sings the Ring Around the Rosie lullaby. It’s a hollow sound in my ears. I want to run, to get away, but I can’t move. My heart picks up speed; my hands tremble violently.

The muzzle stays right in front of my face, ready to take me down. A door to my left creaks opens, and I take a moment to look, to find the source. Darkness beckons from the wide-open mouth of the room to my side. I turn back to the muzzle, expecting its owner to squeeze the trigger, but it’s gone. For now, anyway.

The little girl giggles again. It swarms in my mind and draws me forward into the room. As I move over the threshold, my footsteps are sluggish, and I allow the gaping black to swallow me whole. My body jolts, and I crash to the ground, palms slapping against the linoleum. Looking up, I see the room full of children. All have their backs turned to me. Some with short hair, some with long hair. All various ages. Even babies that are sitting upright. But all with their backs to me. I scramble to my feet and approach the closest one. It’s a boy. I can tell by his very short hair and the shorts and muscle shirt he wears.

I want to know who he is. I must know who he is. Desperation claws inside me, urging me to reach out and tap his head. At my touch, he turns to face me. Just like the first little girl, his face is a blank slate. The scream leaves my lips, and I stagger back in surprise. I don’t know why, but I know I must see the others. So even though I think the little boy is staring at me, I turn to a little girl. She has shoulder-length hair but is wearing a frilly pink princess dress with a yellow crown on her head. When I brush my fingers on her shoulder, and she turns to me, I fall back again.

Again and again. Child after child, they all have blank faces. No eyes, no nose, no mouths. They have absolutely nothing, and yet, all are staring at me. The more I touch, the more the others turn to face me. The light flickers above us and drops us into even more darkness. I can feel the tendrils of ice trickling down my spine. My chest tightens, feeling like it's burning. I can’t breathe.

A click resounds in my ears, and I turn. The muzzle isn’t pointed at me this time, though. It's pointed at one of the children. The fingers holding the gun are ready to squeeze. My heart leaps into my throat, and I move forward, desperate to stop it. Even if it turns on me, at least it won’t be the child. Or any of the children.

I stumble to a stop when the muzzle swings to me and stares it down. I fall to my knees, ready to plead that none of these children watch what happens. But I blink, and it’s over.

I stare up at the ceiling as my name is shouted. Hands press against me, and sobs echo in my ears. A baby screams nearby, and I know it’s my sister’s newborn. I’m numb, everywhere. I’m tired. I want to sleep. I can feel the icy breath of Death breathing down my neck. I feel like I’m drowning and don’t have the energy to fight against the frosty waves crashing over me. I’m ready for them to pull me down.

I can hear my mother and my father. I can hear them scream at others, their words indistinguishable in my muffled hearing.

I blink. The lights overhead are bright, giant orbs that dangle above me. They grow larger, and the voices grow smaller. A gunshot rings in my ears. The cold feels like needles poking at my skin, little pinpricks that start to move rapidly up and down my arms. My heart thrums erratically, like a hummingbird, and it’s all I can hear. The only sound that vibrates through my mind and the only thing I can make sense of. I don’t want it to stop, but it sounds damn close to doing so.

My eyes fly open, and I sit up quickly, gasping for breath. I scramble to push the blankets off me and sweep my hands over my body. The cold is gone. In its place is a sheen of sweat that covers my entire body, forehead, and plasters my hair to my face. My heart is thumping so quickly that I can hear it in my ears and feel it in my throat. My body shakes vigorously as I wrap my arms across my chest, hugging myself tightly.

A snore makes me jump and reminds me of the slumbering men, one on each side of me. I look to my right and watch Devon take a deep breath before letting it out. His eyes don’t open, though, undisturbed by my troubled sleep. He’s shirtless, and I know that beneath the blanket, he only has his boxers on. My eyes sweep down him, lingering a moment on the tufts of hair that cover his chest. I bite my bottom lip, chewing. I watch him sleep for a moment, calm and peaceful, then turn to look at Colton on my left side. He’d been so easy to convince to sleep in the queen-sized bed with Devon and me. It’s a slight tight squeeze, but we made it work. Colton is slimmer than Devon, and I’m still gaining back the weight I lost with drugs. So, we fit. Eventually, though, we will have to buy a bigger one. Like the ones I’ve seen online that sleep six people. Especially since we do want Owen to join us when he’s ready, of course. He wasn’t tonight. He slept in Devon’s old childhood bedroom, and I think that just because he agreed to feel this relationship out, it doesn’t mean he’s ready to step out of his comfort zone completely.

I guess I’m just lucky he’s come as far as he has. I know he’s still mad about things, and we’ll have to work on it together. But I can’t complain if he doesn’t want to sleep in the same bed or even have sex for a while with me. I’m just going to have to build it back, everything. I know it won’t be easy, but I also know that having my guys back is the best thing I can ask for right now. I fucked up badly in the past, and I’m just fortunate that things are steering back in the direction they were once before going. I just need to make sure I don’t derail again.

I pull myself off the bed, my feet dropping to the floor in the front of it. Carpet greets my feet, a thankful reprieve from the cold floor. It reminds me of the carpeted room at Luke and Jasper’s place, and my heart flops all over again. They went home shortly after dinner, with plans to return the next day after they each get off work. I don’t know how the fuck I’m supposed to make a life happen with five guys, but the mere idea makes the schoolgirl inside me squeal in delight. This whole thing is opening doors I never even imagined existed before.

The six of us must figure out how to go through with everything together, but I know it’s doable. I’m nervous about how my family is going to take this. My parents were understanding about two, possibly three guys. Thinking about their reactions to five guys is a little nerve-wracking, though. I don’t feel scared to tell them. I just don’t know how to tell them. I have no reason to believe they’ll shut the door in my face. If anything, I know they’ll accept me and whoever I want as partners, but I’m still nervous.

I leave the room quietly, the bedroom door having been left open for the night. The house is warm, and I can hear the chugging sound of the heater, loud in my ears as it’s the only thing making any noise. I walk down the familiar hall of the house that I spent so many days of my teenage life within. It’s so nostalgic, and I love that comfort. It smells like lavender, musty, but it’s there. Devon’s mom’s favorite scent. Everything she owned always had a spritz or more of lavender. I guess Myron kept that scent wafting through the house long after her passing. I love it, and I think I’ll do it too. Not have it on my outfits but lingering in the house. A candle here or there, flowers on the table. A squirt of lavender perfume just to keep it alive. I know that Devon will appreciate it. He and his mother had been so close. It had torn him apart when she passed.

I pass a family portrait hanging on the hallway wall. It's dark, but I know well who is in it. Two parents, young. A sixteen-year-old boy and a three old boy. All grinning, all happy. They aren’t forced smiles; even in the smiles, you can see their genuine appearance. The last full family portrait before Devon’s brother’s life had been taken because of a drunk driver. Next to it is another portrait. Another sixteen-year-old boy, almost identical to the first, and the two parents, older looking. Their smiles are softer in it, warier looking. It’s the last one before Devon’s mom got sick and was taken as well.

I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why Myron kept them hung up. I hope I am never in that position myself. He used to tell me that feeling the absence of people you love with all your heart is not something you want to live with.

He’s going to be so excited I’m back in the picture, though. At least, that’s what Devon told me. He and I are going to the assisted home in a few days to have dinner with him, to show him that I’m back and doing good. I can’t wait to see him.

I don’t know why I feel like something is still wrong; something’s missing. Everything seems to be going right, but even I know that not all is ever what it seems.

I stop at the last room of the hall and slip into the open door. Owen sleeps without a shirt or pants, just like the other two guys. I pad across the carpeted floor and pull back the blanket. He stirs, grumbling slightly, and opens his eyes. Bleary-eyed and exhausted, Owen doesn’t fight against me. Instead, he opens his arms, and I crawl onto the bed and curl into them, letting myself be wrapped in his muscular arms. The erratic beating of my heart begins to slow as I lay my head on his chest. Maybe it’s just the fact that Owen’s a cop or that he’s always been the one to step in as protector, but I feel a lot safer with him now after my nasty dream.

Afterword

Gracie’s Redemption Series

Stay tuned for the next books in Gracie’s Redemption Series, coming in 2023!

Book 1 – The Beauty in Grace

Book 2 – The Voice in Grace

Book 3 – The Heart in Grace

Book 4 – The Soul in Grace

Did you love The Beauty in Grace? Don’t forget to leave a review on Amazon and Goodreads! Reviews help indie authros get their books noticed, we greatly appreciate them. Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

About the Author

Reese Jett is a romance author who aspires to become a professional mermaid. The Beauty in Grace (book 1 of Gracie’s Redemption) is her millionth novel and/or story written, but first official to be published with one mess up a little over a year ago. She is also working on a Reverse-Harem, or WhyChoose, Paranormal Romance trilogy that will be set to release come 2024.

Reese is hard at work on her next book, book in Gracie’s Redemption series, juggling a few serialized books as well. She writes about all things romance and lives vicariously through her character, because reality can just be a little too daunting sometimes.

Reese lives near Denver, CO, with her husband, son, two dogs, and two cats. She loves books, is addicted to coffee, wine, and Swedish fish, but in no particular order given.

Instagram.com/reesejettauthor

https://www.facebook.com/groups/802029210496613/