“Thank you.”
The soft words have me twisting in their direction, and I come chest to chest with Grace as she places our water glasses on the bench.
“For what?’ I ask, wracking my brain for anything I could have done that would warrant the comment. My eyes flick between hers, and from the depth of her stare, I know it’s nothing as simple as clearing the table.
“For giving me a chance when you could have turned me in.”
“I didn’t do it for you,” I say, my voice thick. It was true at the time. I didn’t do it for her. But something tells me if I had to make the same choice again, knowing everything I do now—which is still fuck all—that statement wouldn’t be so true anymore.
“It doesn’t matter,” she states.
Loose hair falls from her braid, framing her face, and I can’t help but reach for it, pushing it back from her eyes. My hand settles on her cheek, and she leans into it, almost instinctively.
It feels like there’s an invisible rope around my chest, and whenever I’m near her, something tugs on the end, drawing me to her. A gravitational pull I’m no longer sure I have a chance of denying.
Her dark blue eyes hold so much, too much, for someone her age.
“How old are you?” I ask the question that’s filtered through my mind several times over the last week.
Grace’s mouth opens but closes again without a word. Looking away, her brows pull together in thought before she brings her eyes back to me. “Twenty,” she says, but there’s a sad quality to her voice.
The scar above her eyebrow steals my focus, and I run my thumb over it. The rope pulls tighter, and it takes everything in me not to fall completely into her. “Who are you running from?” There’s more to her story, and I wish she’d fucking tell me what it is. I should care that she’s almost ten years younger than me. I should care about a lot of things. But fuck, I hate myself that I don’t.
I want to know what she’s hiding.
I want to know who gives her nightmares every night.
I want to know everything.
My gaze flicks to her lips, waiting for her to give me an answer, but her breath hitches.
Grace’s face is still cradled in my hand, and I would only need to lean down to take her mouth with mine—pry the words she refuses to say from her with my tongue. Without conscious thought, I find myself leaning down just like that until my lips hover over hers, so close I can feel their warmth radiating onto mine. “Tell me,” I say, the words causing my lips to brush against hers.
Grace shakes her head, the move causing even more friction between us, but whether she realises or not, she’s answered one of my questions. I step even closer to her, but she takes a stepaway,and we end in exactly the same position. I’m not letting her get away so easily, though, and I take another step, but this time when she retreats, she backs into the island bench, effectively blocking her escape. With one last step, I bring myself to where I intended to be the first time, though I have to say this worked out even better.
“Tell me,” I say again, still wanting a name, this time adding more pressure to my lips, so shefeelsthe enunciation of my words as I speak.
Grace draws in a breath, but with our position, she sucks the air straight from my slightly parted lips, and I almost lose it.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” Grace rushes out, and the question is so unexpected I almost jolt back.
It’s clear she’s trying to distract me from our non-conversation, but the moment is gone. For now. One day she’s going to tell me.
I should say no. Things have already gone too far between us. I’m not sure how much further I can push it before I lose all restraint, but I’m also not ready for the night to end yet.
“Okay.”
I let my hand fall from her face, and we go our separate ways for the moment.
After taking Shadow downstairs, I find Grace set up on the couch in front of the large flatscreen television in the lounge area. I take a seat on the end of the couch, leaving enough room between us so as not to impose on the space she put between us minutes before. I can’t even remember the last time I sat down to watch a movie or any television.
Shadow wanders past Grace and me, and although she’s still a little wary at times, she doesn’t seem to be afraid of him anymore. Though she mustn’t be expecting it because when he leaps onto the other end of the couch, she jumps at the sudden move, inadvertently putting her closer to me. When Shadow curls up beside her, she relaxes a little when he appears content to stay where he is. I can only imagine she’s keeping one eye on him, though.
I suppress a chuckle at the thought, but not well enough, and her head spins towards me. “What?” she asks.
“Nothing,” I say, but I can’t stop the smirk that breaks through at the adorable crease between her brows. The crease deepens, but her eyes light up, and I wish I could see them at their brightest.
“What should we watch?” Grace asks.