Out of Focus (Chosen Paths #2) (21 page)

He makes no move to kiss me. His gentle stare remains on my face, and I bask in the silence of the moment. I still can’t get over the oddity of sleeping with someone without feeling forced to have sex. The innocence of being in someone’s presence without the pressure of doing anything other than to simply remain.

Moonlight filters through the room, illuminating the silhouette of his bare shoulder and highlighting the loose strands of hair alongside his face. This man, this wonderfully patient man who lies next to me, watching me tenderly, is still such a mystery to me. Yet, I’m drawn to him. Pulled by a force beyond my own comprehension.

Grady’s calm tone pulls me from thoughts. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

My lips twitch as I answer honestly, “You.”

“Really?” His eyes light with humor. “Do tell.”

“Well,” I begin, “I don’t really know much about you. I mean, we’ve spent plenty of time discussing me, what you see and what you’ve observed. I’ve even shared some things on my own. But we haven’t really talked about you. About your life.”

I shrug. “I would like to know more.”

Grady chuckles, and an amused grin settles into his features. “All you have to do is ask, Cass.”

My stomach flips, and I breathe in deeply as I eye his confident expression. What I wouldn’t give to be an open book. To be freed from the need to keep my secrets buried. To be able to offer the story of my past openly, without fear of judgment.

Stay quiet, little girl.

No one will ever look at you the same if you tell them.

Your past is disgusting.

Vile like you.

I clear my throat then inquire, “For starters, how old are you? I don’t even know your age.”

Grady’s smile widens with his answer. “Twenty-nine.”

I grin in return. “Cradle-robber. You’re
six
years older than me.”

Laughter escapes me as Grady waggles his eyebrows, clearly not at all offended by my jest. “Age is irrelevant, sweetheart. Plus, I’m pretty sure this old man owned you at Crow’s last night.”

He did. He totally kicked my ass sparring yesterday.

Jerk.

But then he made up for it by kissing me senseless on the mats when we were through.

A shiver goes through me with the memory. Our slick, sweaty bodies melded together as his mouth claimed mine. Definitely worth the ass-kicking.

“Moving on,” I segue, garnering more laughter from Grady. “How long have you been a cop?”

“Since I was about your age. Graduated with a criminal justice degree, headed to the police academy the very next day, been on the same path ever since.”

Path.

My mind recalls something he said our first night together.

Went down a path I’m not proud of, but eventually I made peace with her death and moved forward.

“You weren’t always on that path though?” I inquire.

The shake of his head is subtle. “No. I wasn’t. After Ashley was killed, I was angry. Hurt. I couldn’t understand why
she was murdered. I didn’t deal well with her loss. In fact, I didn’t really deal at all, at first.”

Grady exhales. “I was piss drunk almost every night for years. Barely graduated high school. And I stumbled along that same drunken path for a long while after that. I picked fights because I was pissed, yelled at my parents because I was angry. When they packed up her room, I fucking lost it. I couldn’t understand how they could just move on with their lives.”

I reach forward and lace his fingers with mine, squeezing his hand for encouragement. He gifts me a small grin before he continues. “I know now they needed to move on. They went through their grieving process, came to terms with her death. It would be many years before I would be able to do the same.”

Bringing my hand to his mouth, he tenderly places a warm kiss on my skin then watches the movement of his thumb as it grazes along my knuckles. “One day, I’d just had enough. I was so fucking tired of being pissed all the time. I was selfish, wasting my life when Ashley no longer had hers to live. Once I came to term with that fact, I got my shit together. I stopped drinking, started therapy, eventually went to college. After a couple years, I knew I wanted to be in the force. I wanted to do my part to protect people, help keep them safe. They never found her murderer, did I ever tell you that?”

My mouth dips, weighted with sorrow, and I shake my head. “No.”

His shoulders lift then fall. “Well, I guess that was part of the reason I made the decision to enter the Fuller Police Force. To catch the bad guys. Another way for me to make some sort of peace with her death, I guess.”

Grady tightens his grip on my hand and fixes his stare on mine. “You’re tired too, sweetheart. I see the same exhaustion clouding those eyes when you look at me, holding hostage that beautiful smile of yours. Maintaining your guard isn’t easy. It takes its toll, physically, emotionally. I know because I’ve been there. But if I was able to find my way, make my peace, I know you can too.”

He winks. “We’ll get ya there.”

I wish.

I wish.

I wish.

I
want
.

I swallow the boulder clogging my throat and nod, releasing Grady’s hand to lift my arm and capture a tear before it escapes. A response I’m becoming quite used to when around Grady. It’s almost as though he’s somehow able to reach inside me and touch those pieces of my soul I thought long dead, bringing them back to life. And as they’re revived, I’m left with no choice but to weep, flooded with the repressed emotions resurrected right along with them.

The old Cassie Cooper would have run for the hills before the first tear even hit the ground.

But this
new
Cassie, the one Grady seems to draw forth, finds it refreshing. Cathartic.

It’s freeing, in a way, to be able to
feel
and
express
the emotion he elicits.

His fingers curl around the back of my neck and he urges me closer, bringing my head into his chest. I allow his arms to curl around me, encasing me protectively within his frame. My cheek rests comfortably against his soft skin as I listen to the sound of his heart beating and his calming breaths pass through his chest.

You’re not going anywhere, little girl.

You’re ours.

Not his to take.

Grady’s words resound in my head, drowning out the whispers of my voices.

I was able to find my way . . . I know you can too.

As he holds me in his arms, I find myself astounded that this man of absolute perfection once traveled a darkened, angry path very similar to mine.

My walls begin to tremble with force from the realization, and gaping cracks tear along their surface.

I’m so fucking tired.

Grady understands that.

He understands me.

Maybe I’m not alone after all.

Willing them to be true, I replay those thoughts, effectually blocking my voices from reentry. Soon after, my relaxed eyes drift shut. Enveloped in warmth and the strength of Grady’s presence, an unfamiliar feeling soothes my insides as it coats the exposed wounds hidden beneath my chest. And as it spreads, my heart fills, brimming with a feeling I haven’t truly experienced since early childhood.

I feel happy.

“CASS. I’M GOING TO
Mom’s. Want to go with me?”

With a spoonful of peanut butter, I turn in the direction of Spencer’s room, eyeing it with abhorrence. I haven’t set foot anywhere near my parents’ house since the second I turned eighteen.

Carrying the spoon with me, I tread toward Spencer’s room, missing Grady’s cooking immensely. We’ve now spent a solid month together, and I’ve become extremely spoiled by several flawlessly cooked meals, as well as tremendously horny due to the many hot make-out sessions at his apartment.

Jesus, but that man can kiss.

A flush warms my face with the thought of his mouth on mine. Of the weight of his body pressed against my chest. Of our naked skin gliding frictionless under his sheets.

And yet, we
still
haven’t had sex. The bottom halves of our bodies have remained clothed, the pure innocence of exploring bringing sensuality to a level I’ve never experienced.

I have no doubt that sex with Grady Bennett will be . . .
fucking phenomenal
. But the buildup, the journey toward getting to that point, is one I wanted to take slowly. Especially with him, because I want it to mean something when we do. I want it to be special.

But it’s been a month, and honestly, I feel I’m ready to take that step. I want to share that with him, to watch his reaction as I give him that part of me. I’m excited for it, actually.

I sigh a surprisingly girly sigh as I walk, then stand in Spencer’s doorway, bringing myself back into the conversation. “Across the street from
my
parents’ house?”

Spencer nods. I pinch my face as though she’s crazy and shake my head. “Oh hell no. Mom found my diary from eighth grade when she was cleaning out my bedroom. I won’t be going back over there . . . ever.”

All truth, especially the last sentence. Man, I miss that diary. It was highly entertaining.

Cocking my hip, I relax my body into the wood framing her doorway and ask, “Do you think you can sneak in my window and grab it? There were some really inventive positions I practiced with Pete Johnson noted in there.”

I waggle my brow for effect and Spencer rolls her eyes, but I spy a grin on her face as she does it.

“Your parents put an alarm on that window the summer of our senior year, remember?”

My face falls straight to the floor when she points out the obvious. I meant it when I told Grady I would never be able to forgive them for that. And I won’t.

I lose myself in my hatred for them, before finally snapping out of it. Bringing my eyes to Spencer’s, I lie, “Yeah, I forgot. Man,” I add a whine, “that sucks. I was gearing up for the big night with Grady.”

I grin at her, cementing the decision in my mind. Tonight.

“You haven’t had sex with Grady yet?” she inquires, not surprisingly taken aback by this information.

I shake my head. “No, just good ol’ fooling around and spooning. Nothing else . . .
yet
.”

This elicits a truly happy smile from my best friend as she responds, “Good.”

I give her a wink, then follow it up with, “You?”

“With Grady? Eww.”

She gags mockingly and I narrow my stare. “No, hooker. With Dalton.”

She smiles the same goofy smile she always has when it comes to Dalton. “No, not yet.”

Thinking on this, I lick the spoon clean then point it in her direction. “He owes you another birthday night. Like, complete redo.”

And he does.

She gave her virginity to him on the night of her eighteenth birthday.

He disappeared the same evening.

It was heart-wrenching to watch my best friend crumble under the absolute devastation of giving her most precious gift to the one person in this world she deemed worthy to receive it.

I can’t begin to imagine the torture and agony she felt after she realized he was gone. Especially since her biggest fear was abandonment from those she loved. It was hard enough to watch her experience it, but to actually
feel
that amount of pain, I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. I gave my virginity away so thoughtlessly, and I hated myself for it. But to have that purity to offer, the gift of doing so with the utmost trust and love, only to have that person take off afterward . . . such a tragedy. For both of them.

She laughs, the idea clearly rooting its way into her mind as she grabs her purse and blatantly asks, “Are you going to be at Grady’s tonight?”

I grin, catching onto her game. “Why yes. Yes, I am. Looks like we’re both doing the dirty tonight.”

I hope.

Spencer laughs upon exiting her room, passing me on the way. I chuckle to myself, then offer her my best instruction before she leaves the apartment. “Make sure he wraps it before he taps it. Safety first.”

I can hear her laughter as she shuts the door, then I make a mental note to follow my own brilliant advice. Flicking off her light, I hit the kitchen and toss the empty spoon in the sink. Just as it clatters against the stainless steel, my cell sounds from my room.