Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (27 page)

“
Yeah,” Grace said, relieving her elbow of lifting duty as she fell back against the bed.

Laney shut the door. “How are you feeling?”

“
Like I’ve been run over a couple of times.”

Laney stood at the foot of her bed. “The doctor told Quentin you’d be sore for a couple of days. He wrote a prescription. I can go and fill it for you.”

Grace wished for once Laney would act like a parent and make decisions on her own, especially since Christophe was no longer around to make them for her. “Don’t you have to get to work?” she asked, not letting Laney off the hook.

Her mother’s gaze fell to the dirty jeans on the floor, and Grace watched as she picked them up and tossed them in the hamper inside her bathroom door. “Not today,” she said, walking back to the foot of the bed. “I called in so I can take care of you.”

Elephants somewhere must be flying, because Laney calling in to work to stay home and take care of Grace was a fluke. Christophe was the one who had always stayed with her, usually because she somehow managed to get hurt. Come to think of it, Grace never stayed home because she was sick. In fact, she couldn’t remember ever being sick. Which was odd, once she thought about it.

She glanced at her mom, looking so hopeful she took pity. “Okay, if you think the meds will help.”

“
I do. Is there anything else you want me to pick up? I can get you some of your favorite snack foods, a movie?” Laney’s eyes lit with excitement. She seemed all too eager to be given a to-do list. Grace shook her head, still not used to any part of her new life. Everything, and most everyone, had changed with it.

After agreeing to let her mom get everything she suggested, Grace moved as slowly as an eighty-year-old grandma to her closet before shuffling to the bathroom. She went to the bathroom, changed her clothes, and brushed her teeth, not bothering to brush her hair or wash her face. It took all of her energy just to get dressed and pee. Before heading downstairs, Grace slowly knelt next to her bed, reaching for the backpack that held Pandora, and ran her fingers down the front of the bag. I hope you’re worth all this, she thought.

It felt like it took an hour just to get down the stairs and to the sofa in the family room. Someone had laid out a blanket and pillow against the armrest of the sofa, and Grace sighed with gratitude at the sight. She slowly eased back against the pillow and tossed the blanket cockeyed across her body.

“
Hey, you need anything?”

Barely opening her eyes, she saw the glass of lemonade in Quentin’s hand as he stood next to her.

“
Thanks.” She sat up enough to take a drink without spilling it or choking on it. Drinking deeply, she saw Quentin leave from over the lip of the glass. He came back with a brush and a smile. “What?”

“
I’m going to brush your hair.”

“
I don’t need you to,” Grace said stubbornly, putting her half-finished glass of lemonade on the coffee table.

“
Yes, you do. It looks like a couple of rats have nested in your hair.”

He was right, it did. Upstairs, in front of her bathroom mirror, she couldn’t have cared less. Now that Quentin had noticed and
pointed it out, she suddenly did. Thrusting her hand out, she demanded the brush. “I can do it.”

“
Scoot forward and relax.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and urged her forward. She moved grudgingly to make room for him. Sulking on the middle cushion, Grace stretched her legs out the rest of the length of the couch. Quentin sat behind her, one leg stretched out beside her, the other dropped to the floor.

It didn’t take long until he was able to brush from the crown of her head to the ends of her hair. After each stroke of the brush, he’d follow with a tender hand. Before she knew it, Grace was leaning into his gentle ministrations.

“
There,” he said, putting the brush on the table. “Much better.”

Quentin patted her shoulder awkwardly, then he slipped back so he could stand up. Beyond comfortable, she fell back against the pillow. Without a word, he picked up the brush and walked out of the room.

Grace watched him leave and tugged the blanket over her shoulder, wishing she could understand why her relationship with him was so unique. Quentin’s feelings were completely different from anyone else’s she’d ever sensed, making him very, very unusual. He could feel hers because of the band, and she felt his because of her curse. What if when she touched him she was really feeling her own emotions through him? Great! Talk about projecting one’s feelings onto someone
.

Quentin didn’t return. Laney came back just as Grace was dozing off. She eyed the prescription bag in her mother’s hand, uncertain if she wanted to take any meds or not. The bag of chocolate Dove Promises didn’t get by her either. Nor did the rented chick flicks. Oh yeah, sappy romance is exactly what she needed. Not! Laying the items on the coffee table, Laney scrutinized her from head to toe. “Is there anything else you need besides water?”

“
Nope, just the water.” Grace picked up the bag and tossed it aside. If she needed the drugs, they were there at least, but she’d rather not take anything. Her mom returned with a glass of water, then slipped into the DVD player, of all the thousands of movies to choose from,
City of Angels
. Seriously? Grace thought. Is this some kind of cosmic let’s-mess-with-Grace joke? She couldn’t find the humor in it and didn’t appreciate the irony.

“
Anything else,” her mom asked.

“
No.” Grace sighed inwardly. She knew her answer had come out a little short and gruff, but the helicopter mothering was beginning to freak her out a little.

Laney’s gaze raked over Grace. “Are you hurting?”

It wasn’t her mom’s fault she wasn’t feeling in the chick flick mood. “I’m fine. I’ll take my meds and veg on the couch.”

Not seeming convinced, Laney continued to push. “Have you eaten yet? You really shouldn’t take Ibuprofen on an empty stomach, it could make you nauseous.”

“
Not yet.”

“
I’ll go make you some food. You just relax and watch the movie. Here—” Her mom moved the corner of the coffee table closer to the couch. “This will make it easier for you to reach your stuff.”

“
Thanks.” Grace reached for the chocolates, tore it open, and took four out of the bag. Glancing at the four squares in her palm, she shook her head. Even to Grace, her neurotic even-number OCD issue was impossible to understand. She couldn’t even remember now when it started. It felt as if it were always there. Even numbers of things had always made her feel comfortable and right, whereas odd numbers were like fingernails on a chalkboard.

While Grace ate her candy and the oatmeal her mother brought her, she watched the movie. Her body hurt, her head hurt, and her weary heart hurt.

Tearing up during every part of the movie she always had in the past, she was glad Quentin was somewhere else other than the family room—with her, watching her, and feeling her cry.

She thought she was fine until the scene where Seth chose to fall for Maggie, which only reminded her of herself and what she was. If she could fall off a building, shed her massive responsibility, and become normal, she just might take the plunge.

Instead, a few minutes later she simply fell asleep.

“
Come here often?” he asked. He sat next to her on the bench but Grace didn’t look his way, choosing instead to look at the lake that stretched out before them.

A memory nudged below the surface of her mind. His voice was familiar. It surprised her that anyone had found her; she’d thought she was alone. She turned her head, intending to acknowledge his presence, and was met with brilliant emerald eyes. It was him. She’d promised herself to stay away from him, but knew she was safe here.

“
I’m Darius,” he said, his hand outstretched. She looked into his eyes and marveled at how they blazed with fire and color.

Grace took his hand in hers. It was surprisingly cool. “I know.”

His laughter danced atop the glassy surface of the lake. Even here, his laugh was magical. “Still not going to give me your name?”

She loved how her subconscious recreated their little banter. A brave smile lifted the edges of her mouth. “I’m hurt you forgot already.” Her gaze went back to roaming the calm waters before her, the sun beginning to set on the horizon.

The wooden bench creaked as he leaned toward her. With the back of his hand, he slowly moved her hair off her shoulder, causing long tendrils to cascade down her back, and intensifying the shivers the sweep of his hand caused. Whispering in her ear, his lips were almost close enough to feel. “Never.” His breathy response caused the shiver to run deliciously to her center.

“
Never?” she asked, not daring to turn her head toward him. He still hadn’t moved away.

“
No, Grace, never.”

At the mention of her name, she smiled. “Good.” She relaxed a little, settling a little more into the bench. “Why are you here?”

Darius mimicked her movements, making himself comfortable. “To see you.”

“
What about Red?”

“
Who?” He sounded genuinely confused.

“
The tall, beautiful redhead I saw you with at Latté Da’s?”

Another magical chuckle rolled from his chest and bounced along the lake. “Oh, her. She’s a friend, more like a sister. No one you need to be worried about.”

Grace shrugged. “Okay.” Unlike in her normal life, here she didn’t worry about a thing.

Before long, the sun set completely behind the lake, the darkness deepening until a blanket of stars was revealed above them. Overflowing with an abundance of confidence, she shifted her body and leaned to face him. “Why did you come to see me?”

In his eyes, she saw all pretense fall away—the cool facade and aloofness gone. He was just himself
.
“Because I can’t shake you.”

“
Do you use that line on all the girls?” She laughed quietly.

“
Only on you,” he said softly, grabbing her hand. Not taking his eyes away from hers, he lifted her hand slowly to his mouth, brushing his lips across her knuckles. The stroke of his lips sent a quiver up the length of her arm that caressed and burned simultaneously. If he tried to kiss her, she knew she would let him. She crossed her ankles, and smiled to herself, hoping he would try
.

His eyes blazed brighter, and the color deepened. “I’ll see you soon.” The intensity of his stare seemed to burrow straight through to the center of her, touching the very essence of her being. It left Grace breathless. He lifted himself off the bench and slowly walked away without looking back. Suddenly she knew she was in trouble, even here. The kiss on her hand left her wanting more, and she trembled with equal parts longing and fear.

The torture she’d watched her mother go through when her father left was horrendous—beyond heart-breaking. Since the moment she met Darius, he was all consuming. All she could think of was him … still. Every fiber of her being sensed he could cause a great pain that could mirror her mother’s, and that frightened her more than anything. As she watched him disappear, she vowed to find a way to avoid him—even in her dreams.