Chapter Twenty-Two
SEBASTIAN
The house is empty when I get home from work. Well, apart from Shadow, who greeted me as soon as I was through the door. Mason’s car wasn’t out front, and I know he wouldn’t have left Grace alone, so they’ve obviously gone out somewhere. I like that she’s been able to get out a little more since we moved out here. She’s still wary around other people, but she can usually handle it with Mason or me.
Tired after a long day, I shower and change into a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. By the time I make it back downstairs, I half expect Grace and Mason to be back, but the house is quiet. With no one to distract me, the weight of what I lost seems to come crashing down on me.Fuck.
Making my way to the back doors, I waste no time sliding them open and stepping outside, but I don’t let myself breathe until I’m completely outside and away from the entertainment area. Standing on the grass, I tilt my head back to the darkening sky and let out the breath I was holding.
It’s been nearly nine months, but the pain of losing them feels like it is getting harder to control with each day. Somehow, I’d been able to separate myself from it by staying away from here. I’d felt grief, and it fucking hurt, except it was nothing compared to this. Each breath is like a razor slicing into my chest—every cut leaving a path for more pain to seep through.
Being around Grace usually helps, but come to think of it, I’m not sure that I’ve actually been in the house alone the entire time we’ve been staying here. I don’t fucking like it. Not one bit.
“Hi,” Grace says softly, climbing onto the outdoor lounge chair I’d found myself settled on.
The blanket she has wrapped around her shoulders falls over us, and I don’t get a chance to move over before she settles half on top of me, tangling her legs with mine. I’m not sure whether it’s because she doesn’t quite fit comfortably beside me without me moving or because she simply wants to.
Grace and I could have comfortably fit beside each other if she’d given me a moment to move from the middle. Either way, I’m not complaining.
The lounge is large with a sturdy base—enough for my feet not to hang off the end unless I were to try to lie flat without being angled by the pillows behind me. With the plush couch-like cushion beneath us, the piece of furniture is similar to a daybed. Definitely one of the extravagant items Mum bought that no doubt had Dad rolling his eyes.
“Hi,” I say, wrapping an arm around her as she settles.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“I just needed some air,” I say, picking up a piece of her dark brown hair and wrapping it around my fingers. The sun has slipped below the horizon, and the moon shines low in the sky. It’s not quite a full moon, but it has to be close. It’s still early, but this close to winter, the sun is all but gone before it even hits six o’clock.
“Where did you go?” I ask.
Grace shifts against me at the question. “Just to the store with Mason,” she says, but there’s something off with her tone. Almost like there’s a twinge of guilt.
“You don’t need my permission to leave the house, Grace. I was just curious,” I say, hating that she might feel that way.
Grace holds me tighter. “It’s beautiful out here,” she says, changing the subject and turning her head to look at the sky. “You can actually see the stars.”
“Mmm, Mum loved being out of the city.”
“I like it too,” she says quietly, followed by a shiver. As winter approaches, the cool night breeze wraps around us, seeping through the lone blanket covering us.
“It’s cold out. We should head in,” I say, but Grace shakes her head.
“I like it out here.”
A part of me is relieved at her words. I don’t tell her that the thought of going inside right now has my chest tightening so hard I struggle to breathe. Instead, I make sure the blanket is covering her properly and tighten my hold on her, hoping my body heat gives her some warmth. We lay silent for a while, gazing at the stars with nothing but the sound of our steady breathing.
Grace shifts in a burst of restlessness. “Have you spoken to Easton recently?” she asks, and I’m taken aback by her question.
“I talk to him most days,” I say, and whilst it’s true, I can’t remember the last time we reallytalkedabout things other than work or Deveigne.
“Have you seen him?” she asks.
“Not for a few days,” I say, confused as to where she’s going with this. “Why?”
Grace sighs. “You spend all your time with me. Outside of work, I mean.”
“Are you saying you’d rather me not?” I question as my brows crease.
“Of course not. I just… I don’t want you to lose your other friendships because of me,” she says, and I can’t help but hear a pinch of guilt in her voice.