Chapter Six
SEBASTIAN
Grace sits on the couch, eyes wide and staring at me. Her lips are slightly parted. God, I wish I could feel them against mine right now, that I could go to her, and she’d melt into me, letting me know everything’s okay. But it’s not lust I see written across her face. Several emotions leak through the cracks in her mask I’ve only seen glimpses behind, but the one that fucking stabs me in the heart isfear.
She’s scaredof me.
A guy not much older than Grace—maybe in his early twenties—stands partly in front of her, his brows dipping over his eyes. I’ve seen him around a few times over the years, but I couldn’t say I know anything about him other than the fact he’s obviously connected to Hale, and he took Grace’s photo a couple of weeks ago. So why the fuck is he in here with her? “Out.”
The guy raises his brows at my command, but he doesn’t move—crossing his arms over his chest.
“I said, get the fuck out. Now.” Irritation bleeds from my voice, but still, the fucker doesn’t move. With three steps, I’m right in front of him, but even though I have a good five inches and at least fifty pounds on him, he doesn’t back down. My fists flex against my thighs, but my body wars with my mind when Grace’s eyes drift to them, and she swallows hard.
“Will you be okay here?” he asks her.
“It’s fine, Ethan,” Grace says, but her voice is quiet.
“Are you sure?” he asks, not looking away from me, and I narrow my eyes at him. Grace is silent. Her gaze is still fixated on my clenched hand. My stomach drops, imagining what she’s thinking right now, what she thinks of me.
“Yes,” she says after a moment. This timeEthanglances at her, and I have to force myself to not physically move him out of the way.
“I’ll be outside if you need me,” he says, and after what feels like forever, he finally leaves, shutting the door behind him.
I force my hands to relax before taking a step towards her. “Grace…” I say again. Only then does she look up at me. I’ve seen her broken before when she told me what happened to her. This is something different. She fidgets with her hands in her lap, but it doesn’t hide the shake in them. Her skin is pale, her eyes are red and puffy, and only half her hair remains in the braid she wore earlier today. Fuck, as much as I want to kill Easton for what he did, this is my fault. She ran because of me. “I’m so sorry. You were never meant to be there.” I crouch down, putting myself at her height.
A wrinkle forms between her brows, but she still doesn’t say anything.
Talk to me!
I want to yell at her, grab her by the shoulders to shake her out of this stupor she’s in. My hands twitch, but I resist the urge to do anything that might scare her more.Even though she’s right in front of me, the fear of not knowing if she is okay still runs through me.
With a deep breath,I reach for her cheek. “Grace… I—” Grace flinches at the move, and I freeze before I can make contact. It was only a slight movement, but my heart shatters all the same.
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know you wouldn’t…”
“Of course, I wouldn’t.” My words are harsher than I meant for them to be, but her reaction speaks louder than her words, even if she doesn’t mean for it to, and I drop my hand. The thought of her putting me anywhere close to the same field as the man who hurt her, fucking abused her, makes me feel equally sick and infuriated.
Dropping my head, I notice the tear in her jeans for the first time. Grazed skin shows through the ripped denim, and I can’t stop myself from resting my hand on her knee, careful not to touch her injured skin. “You’re hurt.”
Grace follows my line of sight as I move my thumb along her inner knee. “So are you,” she says, brushing her fingers over my hand, avoiding my swollen and cut knuckles. I close my eyes at her slight touch. When I open them again, I find her studying my face.
“Did you kill him?” she asks, her fingers still tracing a slow, barely-there pattern on my hand.
Fuck, why did she have to ask that?
“Yes,” I say, not wanting to lie to her.
Grace nods and averts her gaze from me, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
“He killed my parents, Grace,” I say, trying to keep my tone softer, but I can’t stop the sliver of pain from cutting through my words. The only silver lining is she must have left before I pulled the trigger.
“I know, I… I know. There was just so much blood, and I…” When she lifts her eyes, tears sit on her bottom lashes. Shit, after the stress of having no idea where she’d gone or what the hell had happened once she left the penthouse, seeing her like this has my chest tightening. Despite everything, I reach for her, pulling her into my arms until she’s practically sitting in my lap. A long breath leaves me when Grace doesn’t fight it. Like the relief of having her in my arms alleviates some of the weight crushing my chest that, up until this moment, had only been getting heavier with every minute. Grace settles against me as I hold her tight. Why does this feel soright?
We sit in silence, feeling the beat of each other’s heart. As much as I want to stay like this, I don’t want to sit on Hale’s office floor for longer than necessary, especially after the encounter I had with him five minutes ago. “Come on,” I say, reluctantly helping Grace out of my lap and to her feet. “Let’s go.” I take two steps towards the door, but when I turn back to Grace, she’s still in the same place.
“I’m sorry. I… I can’t,” she says.
“What do you mean? Did Lucas—”