Shattered Grace (Fallen from Grace) (5 page)

“
Are these seats taken?” Emily asked in her best flirty voice.

Grace didn’t recognize the other guy until he and Tommy looked up to reply. “Hey, baby!” Tommy reached for the empty chair to his left and pulled it next to his own. As soon as Emily sat, he grabbed her chin with his thumb and finger and pulled her in for a lingering kiss. Grace winced. Way too much PDA, in her opinion.

“
Yum. Strawberry, my favorite,” she barely heard Tommy say. Grace almost gagged.

Not that she hung out with guys a lot, but she couldn’t help but wonder why these two were out for coffee so freaking early in the morning, and together no less. She tried turning her attention elsewhere since Tommy and Emily weren’t finished with their morning greeting.

“
Geesh, you two. Get a room,” the blond guy scoffed.

“
Right?” Grace couldn’t resist a grin as she nodded at him in agreement.

He glanced up at her. “I don’t think we’ve ever really met. I’m Zeke.” She steeled herself as she took his offered hand briefly, before settling into the chair to his left. His hand was so soft and warm, she had to fight the compulsion to turn it over just to see if it was perfectly manicured as well.

“
Grace. Nice to meet you.” His touch didn’t give her the heebie-jeebies, so she figured it was safe enough.

So this was the new guy who’d moved to town a couple of months ago. The one all of the girls at Woods Cross High wouldn’t stop talking about. Grace studied him for a second as he sat back in his chair, completely at ease. He wore his streaked blond hair a little longer than most other guys, especially in front where it fell over surprisingly deep blue eyes lined with thick black eyelashes that most girls would kill for. The most appealing part about him though, was how tall he obviously was. Tommy looked short next to him, and he wasn’t. Yep, she could see why he was a hot topic.

“
I’m glad you’re finally talking to me,” Zeke said.

Grace was puzzled and glanced at Emily for backup, but she was still too engrossed in her boyfriend’s lips. Grace shook her head in mock disgust. Zeke sat, still considering her, apparently waiting for her response.

“
Zeke, right?” Grace said.

He pointed a finger at his broad chest. “Zeke.”

Grace smiled. “Well, Zeke, I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’ve seen you around school, but we have no classes together and you’ve never tried talking to me.” She stared back at him, playing with the straws in her coffee.

“
No classes, huh?”

“
None.”

Zeke’s grin turned impish. “You sure about that?”

“
Well, let’s see.” Touching a finger to her chin, Grace contemplated in playful thought. “Yep. I’m sure.”

“
I hate to pop your confidence bubble, Miss Grace, but we most certainly do have a class together.”

“
Okay fine, I’ll bite. Enlighten me, Obi-Wan.”

“
You’re going to feel real stupid, you know,” he teased, cocking his head sideways.

“
I’m still waiting.” Grace pursed her lips, determined not to smile.

Zeke was fun. And cute. Why hadn’t
she talked to him before now?

“
Third period,” he prompted, pulling her from her quiet ponder.

“
Keyboarding.” Her reply was a statement rather than a question. He nodded slowly. “We don’t have Keyboarding together.” Inside she wondered how the heck she could have missed him.

“
I’m the one banging on the keys two rows ahead of you.”

Grace tapped her fingers in a rolling motion on the table, tilting her head sideways in curiosity. “That’s you?”

“
One and the same.” He smiled.

“
Well, Zeke, I hate to burst
your
confidence bubble, but did you happen to notice how many people are banging keys around me, even two rows ahead of me?”

“
Oh, that? Yes, well that has been a problem for sure.” His face split into a huge grin.

Watching Zeke’s face light up with a smile pulled Grace’s mouth up as well. She couldn’t hold it down, laughter spilled from her lips. She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, wiping away the pooling tears.

“
How about I make sure you see me tomorrow?” he asked in a husky, flirtatious tone.

Despite herself, Grace couldn’t keep from peeking at him from under her lashes. “I’ll make sure to talk to you then.”

The teasing banter had caused her cheeks to warm. Self-conscious, she turned away, looking everywhere but at Zeke. With no one left to safely look at, she pulled her hand up from her lap and focused on her dark-painted nails instead.

Apparently winding down the PDA, Emily and Tommy finally pried their lips apart and contributed to the conversation, taking some of the heat off Grace and lightening the mood. The mindless chatter and laughter that followed had Grace’s heart beating easier.

It was nice.

Momentarily able to put her grief aside, she didn’t think about her grandfather’s death. Surprisingly, Grace found herself looking forward to coming back later that night.

After Grace dropped Emily off, she felt like a nap. Only she didn’t want to go home. She had a feeling her mother wouldn’t give her any space, and the last thing she needed was a hovering mother. The suffocating motherly concern would be simply masking what the lack of space really was about—the appointment with the estate attorney. A.K.A., a ploy.

A small part of Grace hoped her mother wasn’t putting on a show. Another small, more cynical, part of her reminded her she was an idiot if she was seriously thinking otherwise.

Grace shook herself, hoping to rid herself of any and all thoughts of estate attorneys and ulterior-motive-driven mothers. Tomorrow would bring enough stress and worry. Today, she just wanted to forget.

Grabbing for her purse, she searched for her cell. Instead, her fingers brushed against the key her grandfather left her. Suddenly, she knew exactly where she could go for some peace and quiet, and hooked a right on Montgomery to head in that direction.

The large white stucco manor still looked the same. Vines continued to grow up every outer wall like embracing arms. The fringe trees still stood, rooted at their posts, and the green-blanketed lawn was as luxurious and welcoming as ever. Grace wasn’t sure what she expected to see when she pulled up. The house was as she had left it the day before, except now it was dark and closed up. Almost sad-looking, really. No open windows. No doors propped wide. No grandfather waving in welcome under the pillared veranda.

It was lonely, like her.

Tears pricked like needles at her eyes. No longer able to hold them back, she let the results of her grief slide down her face. In the quiet of the front seat, she wondered when her heart would stop hurting. If ever. Not able to imagine that day, Grace grabbed her stuff and got out of her car. With the newly inherited master key, she let herself in and put her purse, cell phone, and sweatshirt on the round table in the center of the foyer.

Grace closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, comforted that the house still smelled the same—like lemon furniture polish and the woodsy musk of her grandfather’s aftershave. It smelled like home. The beat of every memory from inside the house pulsed about her in time with her own beating heart.

Unbelievable sadness brought her to her knees. Desperation kept her there. She would give anything to hear his voice again, to be able to tell him how much she loved him, and what he’d meant to her.

After crying herself breathless and creating snot past the point of being able to inconspicuously wipe it away with her sleeve, she pushed herself to her feet in search of a tissue. Tears dried, snot wiped, she remembered the text she’d received in Emily’s driveway.

Mom:
What time are you coming home?

With a heavy sigh, she was thankful she’d turned right on Montgomery. Her mother was the last person she would turn to for comfort. Not that her mother would give it. Grace was vulnerable and couldn’t deal with the emotional distance her mother had kept between them most of her life.

What Grace truly needed was someone who understood, someone who could offer a little empathy. From the text app, she switched to the phone app with a swipe of her thumb, and thanked her lucky stars she had taken the time to add his contact information.

“
This is Quentin.”

“
Hi, Quentin, it’s Grace,” she said. “I’m sorry to bother you, I—” A very unwelcome sob stuck her words to the back of her throat.

“
Uh
,
Grace. Are you alright?” he asked, in a tone that actually sounded genuine. And sincerity was exactly what she was looking for.

“
I’m fine.” She sniffed noisily. Lovely, she thought. That’s attractive
.
“I just—”

“
Where are you?”

“
My grandfather’s.” She nearly choked on the words.

“
Can I come over?”

“
You don’t have to. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

“
When was the last time you’ve eaten?”

She didn’t expect the question. “Uh, I ate pancakes about six thirty this morning.”
Snork
. How embarrassing
.

“
How about I grab us some lunch? We can eat and talk, or you can talk and I’ll listen.”

She didn’t expect him to drop everything to run on over and console her, but at the same time, she didn’t want to be alone. The only answer? Concede.

Her shoulders rolled forward as she released a large breath. “Okay,” she said.

“
Alright. I’ll see you shortly.”

“
Thanks, Quentin.”

Good-byes ended the call and had Grace running to the bathroom. Her eyes were already puffy and red-rimmed, and her nose was slightly swollen and chafed from blowing and rubbing the past several days. “It doesn’t really matter,” she told her reflection. “You looked worse yesterday.”

Grace blew her nose again, then made her way to the family room, flipping the switch to the gas fireplace. The warmth of the fire called to her as she kicked off her flats and settled among the overstuffed pillows she grabbed from the couch. She sat staring into the flames as she waited, their flickering dance almost mesmerizing. Her body began to relax, and she leaned her head back.

A firm knock against the front door woke her from her slumber. For a second, she forgot where she was. She sat up and shook her head in confusion, willing the fog to clear. On bare feet, she rushed to the door and peeked through the peephole.

On the other side, she saw the distorted image of a huge bag of Chinese takeout and Puffs Plus, completely hiding the man behind them. He’s a saint, she thought, as she opened the door and gratefully accepted the tissue box Quentin held out with a knowing grin. And still insanely good-looking. Good God!