Too Close to Resist (20 page)

Because he’d said he loved her just moments after shutting her out of part of himself. Grace didn’t know how to handle that, to process it.

The relationship was new, yes, but the feelings were real and deep. Still, she hadn’t spilled her guts over everything in her life. A lot, but not everything.

Maybe he just needed time to warm up to the idea of sharing. If even his oldest friend didn’t know everything that had happened to Kyle, why should she expect a few weeks and love to make him spill all his guts to her?

She was expecting too much. Rehashing traumatic events wasn’t easy. She knew that better than anyone. It wasn’t as though she’d told him the details of what Barry had done to her. Kyle knew it had been a severe beating, just as Grace knew that Kyle’s parents had treated him badly.

How could she expect more?

There was a difference, though. Tiny, but bothersome. If Kyle asked her, she would tell. She’d asked him to talk to her, and he’d all but refused.

She squeezed her eyes shut, listened to the sound of his even breathing, pressed her nose against his arm.

Time. Time would make it okay. Time would make everything okay.

It had to.

Sometime later, she finally fell asleep, but it was fitful. Snatches of senseless dreams. Just splashes of color and light and pricks of pain. Nothing concrete. Nothing meaningful.

When she woke up, her eyes were gritty and her throat was sore. She felt vaguely achy and not at all a happy woman in love.

Kyle kissed her temple. “Morning.”

Grace took a deep breath, soaked in the feel of his skin, the smell of him, in her bed, with her. It was enough. She’d had so little for so long, he was enough just the way he was.

“Morning.” She snuggled in, willing away the niggling part of her brain insisting something wasn’t quite right.

His finger stroked up and down her arm for a few minutes and she held her breath, hoping maybe he’d say something. Maybe he’d just needed some time before he explained himself. Maybe—

“Well, I want to get an early start.” He kissed her again, then slid out of bed. “No sense in waiting around for people to start showing up.” He pulled on a pair of sweatpants that had somehow found its way into her room over the course of the past week.

Grace sat up in bed, watched him pull the shirt over his head. He seemed relaxed and easy and she wanted to feel that way, too. She wanted to wallow in happy and love, but she couldn’t quite make that step.

“Kyle, about last night...”

“I’m going to go run through the shower. You can sleep a little longer if you want. It’s awfully early.”

“Kyle—”

He gave her an absent kiss. “I’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready to help.” He left the room as though it was normal to leave someone with half a sentence unsaid.

Grace flopped back on the bed. Maybe she just had to accept that this part of him was closed off, and maybe that was for the best. The only way he could cope. She could almost understand that.

It was the “almost” that was a problem.

* * *

K
YLE
FELT
THE
weight of Grace’s uncertain stare the entire morning. While everyone else ate doughnuts and cleaned up, chatting cheerfully about memories over the past five successful years, Grace watched him. As if she stared long enough she could unlock his secrets and figure him out.

He wasn’t going to let that happen. Instead he put on his best normal-person disguise and chatted and laughed right along with his coworkers.

Screw the past and any memories that made the future more daunting.

Of course, he couldn’t quite manage that yet. He had to take care of his father. Something with money, of course. Maybe a preemptive visit. He’d never tried that before. So surely if he tried this, kept Dad away...then everything would be fine. He’d really be able to bury it all and Grace would never see a glimpse of it.

The niggling worry that he was kidding himself was quickly and ruthlessly pushed away. He’d spent ten years working on controlling every impulse and emotion. Grace had tested that, yes, but only because he’d wanted the end result. Her.

Since he didn’t want this result, letting the ugly part of himself loose for all to see, or for even one to see, he could control it. Absolutely.

Unless dear old Dad detonated that bomb before Kyle had a chance to defuse it. But that wouldn’t happen. The walls of his jail cell would keep him and Grace safe. For now.

“I think it’s clean, boss,” Leah said.

Kyle looked down at the spot on the rug he’d been scrubbing. Gone. Long gone by the looks of it. Kyle forced his mouth to curve upward despite his utter lack of feeling behind it. “Of course.”

Anything could be erased with enough work.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

G
RACE
WAFFLED
BETWEEN
her grand plan to get Kyle to open up and keeping her big mouth shut. Accepting that this was the way things were. He kept a part of himself closed off. No big deal. She could accept that, couldn’t she? That she loved the man in the present, and that maybe the man in the past didn’t matter.

Grace shifted in bed. Maybe if they were two people who hadn’t been shaped by their pasts it wouldn’t matter, but it did. It just...did.

Surely if she gave him a piece of herself, he’d do the same. He’d feel safe enough to do the same. This wasn’t about
if
he would open up, it was when.

Grace took a deep breath and let it out. And if he never shared, what then? Did she give up? On understanding him? On them? Pretend it didn’t matter or keep trying?

Damn it. She didn’t know. It was only moderately less frustrating than thinking about Barry, but at least it didn’t give her nightmares.

Kyle slipped in the door, dressed in track pants and a T-shirt. Grace smiled a little because she’d once thought he’d never deign to wear something so casual, even to bed.

“Sorry, got caught up with an email. You could have gone to sleep.”

“I like falling asleep with you.”

It was easy to say things like that to him because he seemed so genuinely pleased in return. As though no one had ever said nice things to him before. The thought that very few probably had made her incredibly sad for him.

Kyle had once told her that what had happened to them wasn’t the same, and he was right. He’d had to grow up in a world where the people who were supposed to love and protect their children didn’t, and that was a different kind of pain, a different kind of trauma from what she’d gone through. She wasn’t sure it made hers better, but it made it different.

It made her wonder if she had any business being here, trying to reach him, trying to understand, but he slid into bed, his arms cool against her blanket-warmed skin. Easy to curl up in him because she was safe here. With him. It wasn’t something to take for granted or give away so easily.

Or push away.

Leave it alone,
the careful part of her mind instructed. The part of her brain that kept her from taking any chances, kept her from trying for anything more than survival. It was a part of her brain that she’d never listened to when it came to Kyle.

So why was she now?

He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Ready to turn out the light?”

Her mind went in circles. It would keep doing that, too, until she did something decisive. She toyed with the collar of her shirt, knowing she had to do it. She owed it to herself, to her happiness, to
their
happiness. “You know that night I had a nightmare and you came into my room?”

He tensed almost imperceptibly, just a slightly harder edge to the set of his shoulders. “Yes.”

“You were up. Did you have a nightmare, too?” Grace forced herself to look into his eyes, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“I don’t recall.”

“I still have them. I, um...” Grace swallowed. “You know, sometimes it’s nonsensical stuff, but sometimes it’s a lot like reliving that night.” His face remained impassive, unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders stiffened degree by degree. “I can feel every punch, hear every curse, and the fear that I’m going to die still overpowers every second until I wake up.” She didn’t have to force the waver of her voice. This wasn’t easy to talk about, but if he had the same issue, they could talk about it together. Share coping mechanisms or even just support.

He didn’t say anything. Not a word. She couldn’t even hear him breathe. Some little piece of her heart cracked off that he couldn’t give something.

And then his breath came out in a whoosh.

“That’s hard,” he said finally, smoothing a stiff hand down her hair.

“I wonder what’s worse sometimes.” Grace pressed her nose to his arm, hoped fervently for something, anything to come of this. “If you expect it. If you know it’s coming, or for it to come out of the blue. I’d seen Barry get irrationally angry, but not violent.”

His silence persisted, but his hand rubbed up and down her arm. He wasn’t stopping her. That had to mean something.

“He was nice enough, but I knew something didn’t feel right about him or us or whatever, so when I tried to break it off I figured it’d be no big deal. I’d never dreamed of him being angry enough to...” Grace had to take a deep breath. If anything, this was a reminder to be patient with him. This was hard. So hard to talk about, and she’d been through therapy, had a supportive family. What had Kyle had?

“It’s not even that he was in love with me or anything. He just started going on about how girls didn’t break up with him. He was in charge, and he got angrier and angrier until when I started to leave, he snapped.”

“Grace.”

Was he trying to get her to stop, or was it just a sympathy “Grace”? She didn’t know, but she’d gladly stop talking about it so the images would stop stabbing at her. Grace squeezed her eyes shut, tried not to see Barry’s fists or feel the shock of that first blow. “Do you have nightmares ever?”

That heavy silence again. What was she doing? What was she going to get out of this? Painful memories and a door slammed in her face. So what was the damn point?

“It’s not something I feel comfortable discussing, Grace.”

He talked like that and reminded her of the man who’d always looked down his nose at her. “Fine.”

“I’m sorry if that bothers you,” he said carefully, and she noted he didn’t pull away physically. That was something. “It’s the way I have to live.”

If she could find the right words to make him understand she wasn’t trying to pry or make him relive... She was trying to understand. “I just want to get to know all of you.”

“There are parts of me not worth knowing.”

He said it so easily, she had no doubt it was an ingrained belief. She didn’t know what to do with that, how to combat it. Like telling him he was a good man and having him so easily dismiss it. She just didn’t know how to fight those sad ingrained beliefs.

She curled into him. “I love you.” Damaged parts and all. When would she learn she couldn’t heal someone else’s pain any more than someone else could heal hers?

But what if neither of them ever healed? Could they really build something lasting with so many issues between them? And how long would she have to wait to find out?

He held on tighter. “I love you, too.” And his hold didn’t loosen for a very long time.

* * *

G
RACE
STARED
AT
her phone that refused to ring aside from texts from Mom and Dad. They’d laid off the calling, and she had to be grateful for that. She couldn’t even be angry with them over the texts, considering...

Barry was still out there. The police were still clueless.

Her life was on hold. Stuck in limbo. Waiting for Barry to be caught. Waiting for Kyle to open up. Waiting and waiting and waiting on everyone else.

Powerless.

Once again her life had become all about the things beyond her ability to control. And she hated it.

Grace looked at her phone again, and then purposefully pushed it deep into her purse. This interview might be stupid, a waste of everyone’s time, really, but she wasn’t going to cancel it. She was going to try for something that was at least a little in her control.

She had to start acting as if...as if it didn’t matter what the police found or what Barry might do. She had to start taking the reins of her own life.

If anything in the past few weeks, that was the lesson she’d learned. Other people might be able to affect her, but they couldn’t control her any more than she could control them.

So she was going to start controlling what she could.

Grace hopped off her painting seat and headed downstairs. She’d find the first available driver to get her to town and she was going to start planning the rest of her life.

Leah was walking into the kitchen the same time she did. “Hey, are you busy?”

Leah pointed to the refrigerator. “Just going to grab some lunch.”

“I’ll buy you something from Farillo’s if you can drive me over to State Street by eleven-thirty.” She’d been hemming and hawing with herself for two days over this getting a surprise callback on the résumé she’d sent out to the art gallery for a receptionist job. A shot in the dark. The interview offer was a shock, so much of one she’d spent the past two days thinking about canceling. Forgetting it. But she hadn’t, she’d been rendered immobile with indecision, and now she was glad.

This might be stupid, but it was hers. All hers.

“Ooh, Farillo’s. Sure thing. When do you want to head out?”

“Ten minutes?”

“Sure. Just gotta be back by one.”

Grace nodded, then took off on her mission. She ran through the shower, ridding herself of all signs of paint splotches, then dressed in her best pair of black pants and her nicest shirt. She grabbed the art portfolio Kelly had had her make back when the Martins first showed interest, and marched back downstairs.

She tried not to think about her résumé. It was pathetic. Fifteen years at Cabby’s. But that showed she had loyalty and assistant managerial experience. She wasn’t going to let the pathetic part of her psyche talk her out of this one. Besides, they’d called her. This was on them if she turned out to be not what they wanted.

If all she got was a resounding no, so be it. A no sure as hell couldn’t kill her. Kyle kept shutting her down and out; what was a job turning her away?

Leah let out a low whistle. “I didn’t get the dress-to-impress memo. Honestly, I’m not sure you want to be riding in my truck dressed like that.”

“It’s okay. I’ll put a towel down. It’s really not that big of a deal.” Grace had to work hard not to fidget with her shirt, with her purse, with her hair as they stepped outside.

“You’re wearing black pants. In my world, that’s a level-eight big deal.”

“How many levels are there?”

“Level one is pajamas. Level ten is that idiotic red dress.” Leah hopped into the driver’s side, pushed some trash onto the floor, then helped Grace put a towel down on the dirty passenger seat.

“I know Jacob gives you a hard time about things, but he’s right about your truck.”

Leah laughed. “I’m a pig. What can I say? Now, don’t think I’m letting you off the hook that easy.” She maneuvered her truck onto the road, headed for State Street.

Headed for the future.

Drama much?

“What am I driving you to?”

“Lunch.”

“Grace.”

Grace placed the portfolio on her lap, swallowed down the nerves. They were stupid. Barry’s threat was something to be nervous about. Being in love with Kyle was a definite cause for worry. A job interview for a job she wouldn’t get? Nothing to concern herself over. She’d just consider it practice for the future, not this one little job opportunity.

But it was at an art gallery. In Bluff City. It was like a symbol. If she got this, she really did belong here. She really did have control of her life.

And if she didn’t...

“Earth to Grace.”

Grace forced herself to smile. “Sorry. I’m a little nervous. I have an interview. A...a job interview. It’s at an art gallery.”

“Oh, man, how perfect. Does that mean you’re staying in Bluff City? That’d be awesome.”

Staying. An idea she’d had in the back of her head since Jacob had suggested it. She’d loved living in Carvelle, but she also liked being here. Close to friends. Friends who had made her an art studio. She’d really felt like an adult for the first time here. Like she was building a life, not just skating by. “I think so. It’s not as if I have a house to go back to. At least not for a while.”

“And it wouldn’t have
anything
to do with the cyborg you’ve recently turned into a real boy?”

Grace chuckled, but it was a sobering thought. “I’ll admit, when I first started thinking about staying, it had a lot to do with Kyle, but it’s more than that. You and Susan and Kelly and feeling... I don’t know. Carvelle has been my whole life. It might only be twenty minutes away but who I am is already determined there. Here, it’s like I get to be who I want to be. You know?”

Leah was quiet for a few minutes. “Yeah. I actually do kind of know.” Stopped at a red light, Leah tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and stared hard at the road ahead.

Grace got the impression there was some puzzle piece she was missing. Something that had happened to Leah, and that was what she was thinking about now. The same feeling she got when Kyle closed down and shut her out.

“Do you think you can ever really know someone? Totally? Or does everyone have some secret side of themselves hidden away and we just have to accept it?” Maybe she really did just need to be okay with not knowing everything.

“I don’t know that we have to accept it.” The light turned green and Leah inched forward. “But I think we all have things under the surface no one else can ever really understand.”

Grace didn’t know what to say to that, or how to feel about it, but the idea that she didn’t have to accept it rattled around in her brain. Was that what she’d been doing? Accepting Kyle’s refusal to let her in? She’d tried, but then she’d backed off.

Maybe she just couldn’t back off.

When the art gallery came into view, she knew she couldn’t dwell on that, on him right now. One life step at a time.

Even though it was a receptionist position, she wasn’t qualified. No college degree, no receptionist experience. All she had was a sad little résumé and a reference from Kelly and her manager at Cabby’s.

Leah brought the truck to a stop right outside the pretty little brick front building that was State Street Art. “Grace?”

“Yeah.”

“Go kick some ass. Then I’m buying
you
lunch.”

Grace mustered a smile. Maybe she wouldn’t get the job, but at least she’d have tried. And there were always more jobs in Bluff City. There’d been an ad online for a cashier at the craft store. Sure, it wasn’t anything like being an electrician or an accountant or even a professional artist, but it was
something.