Too Close to Resist (21 page)

So, yeah. She was going to kick some ass, and make this life what she wanted it to be. No matter what.

CHAPTER TWENTY

“W
E
NEED
TO
TALK
.”

Kyle swiveled in his chair to see Grace standing in his office doorway. Her expression was grave and she was dressed in black pants and a silky purple top. Aside from the dress she’d worn to the party, he’d never seen her nearly so dressed up.

He’d also never seen her look so...intimidating. Maybe at one time he’d been a little bit afraid of her, of the threat of her making him feel anything, but this was different.

This was a little as though he was going to be taken to task by a stern teacher, and he wasn’t quite sure where he’d misstepped to earn it.

“About what?”

“You.”

Ah, that did not sound good. At all. He wasn’t sure what exactly had changed since this morning, but apparently something had. She had that battle light in her eye, the kind that said she wouldn’t surrender.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to face it. “I have a few hours left of work. Do you think it could wait?”

Her eyebrows drew together and she studied him. Everything about her was grim and serious and his heart twisted. “Everything is all right, isn’t it?”

He’d been holding her off, and he’d sensed her dissatisfaction with it. He just needed more time to figure out what to do. Maybe if he told her about the appointment to see his dad in jail without going into details.... Maybe if he gave her a little glimpse without showing the monster within.

This relationship thing was all about balance. Finding the right amount of things to reveal without taking that one step too far that would make her afraid or uncertain.

He’d find that step. He just needed a little more time.

“I think we really need to talk about...well, the future. If it’s really important that we wait until tonight, I can. But I’d prefer to talk about it now.”

The future. Yes. He could talk about that, even if the formal, grave way she spoke made him nervous. She wanted to talk about them. The future of them, and that was good. So good he relaxed and opened his mouth to agree with her, but Susan appeared at the door.

“Um, Kyle?” She wrung her hands together, a gesture so unlike her his stomach turned, though he wasn’t sure why.

“I’m sorry to interrupt. There’s a man at the door for you.”

Kyle frowned. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

“He said his name is Tony and you’ll know who that is. I... Do I need to call the police? He seems a little threatening....”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t possibly be. He had a meeting at the prison tomorrow and his dad wasn’t set for release for another four days. It couldn’t be. No. Impossible.

“Kyle?”

He stood, legs shaky and unsure. “I’ll take care of it,” he managed in a rusty voice he could barely hear over his heartbeat.
Can’t be. Can’t be. It simply can’t be.

He pushed past Grace, ignoring her questioning glance. He got to the hallway, then turned to both women staring at him quizzically. “Stay here.”

“Do I need to call—”

“Just stay here,” he snapped, striding down the hall, his heart racing, his breath coming in slow, shallow puffs.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be happening. But when he unlocked the front door and opened it, there he was.

“Sonny boy. Fancy meeting you here.” Tony didn’t look particularly like a drug addict might. He didn’t scream “abusive, negligent, sorry son of a bitch of a father” at first or even second glance. He didn’t look like a man who’d been to prison more times than Kyle could count. In newish jeans and a faded black T-shirt and work boots that had likely seen zero hours of actual work, he looked like any man you might pass on the street. Short hair, clean-shaven.

Until he smiled, and the rotted teeth and ugly sneer gave a peek at who Tony Clark really was.

In a dream world, Kyle could just clock him right now, right in the nose. Pound in his face until this never ever happened again. How had this happened? Kyle had a plan. How on earth had this happened?

“Your release isn’t until next week. I checked myself. I—”

“Good behavior and politics, boy. A lethal combination.” He smiled again, making Kyle’s stomach turn.

Remembering where he was, Kyle glanced back at the house. Grace was inside. Grace, whose abusive ex was still on the loose. Who wanted to talk to him about him. Who looked so serious and...

He had to nip this in the bud now. Now. No punching. No violence. None of Dad’s usual tricks could work. Not with Grace so close. Kyle could not let that happen.

“How much do you want?”

Dad’s eyebrows raised. “Straight to the chase, eh? A refreshing change not to get all your pansy-ass whiny bullshit about how I don’t deserve a dime from you.” He glanced at the house, too, predatory blue eyes taking in every inch.

“How much?” Kyle demanded, hating that he saw himself in those eyes, that face. He might not have his father’s thick build, but the face? Too many similarities to name.

“Now, that
is
a question, isn’t it? How much money is enough restitution for almost committing patricide?”

And he wished he had. He didn’t want to think of how Grace might react to that. She might keep a gun for her own safety, for protection, but how would she feel knowing wanting to end his father’s life wasn’t about either of those two things?

It was about revenge. “Impressive vocabulary. Use jail time to catch up on your reading?”

Dad’s smile dimmed. “Be careful who you fuck with, son. Haven’t I taught you that lesson yet?”

“How much do you want? I’ll hand it over right now. The longer you make me wait, the less you get.” If he pretended that he was in control of the situation, maybe he could be.
Just keep pretending until something goes right.
That was how he’d gotten here, gotten everything, by pretending he was someone else, not born of this man, not capable of all the violence he felt when he looked at him.

Dad tapped his chin, eyes still watching the house. Kyle’s muscles tensed, bunched, itching for action. He wanted to push his father away. Physically remove him right this second, but...Grace was right inside. She might hear and then see.

How could he get his father out of here without drawing any attention? How could he protect everything he wanted so desperately?

“I’ll give you all my cash, my personal credit card, my debit card. Everything, if you leave right this second.”

“Seem kinda desperate, sonny.”

The door opened and Grace stepped out. Not inside anymore. Right there at the top of the stairs, only a few feet away. Something exploded in his chest. Painful and real. He couldn’t inhale, not with her right there.

How had he ever thought she could be something he deserved?

“Kyle. Is everything all right?” Her tone was concerned, but more than that she moved toward him, as if she would somehow protect him.

But the closer she got, the less he could protect her. The less he had a chance to still come out of this okay.

“Everything is fine. Please go back inside.” Away. Far, far away from this, from him. The real him, the one he couldn’t pretend not to be in front of his father.

Dad’s eyebrows rose. “Well, well, well.”

“If you want the money this time, you will leave right now.” He said it as low as he could, hopeful Grace wouldn’t hear. Maybe if she didn’t hear, things could be okay. Maybe if Dad walked away. He just had to go, and Kyle would fix everything.

“Will I?”

“Take another step and you’re not getting a dime.” He could feel the seconds ticking, the pressure building, and when it exploded he’d be left with nothing.

“Do I need to call the police, Kyle? I’m going to. I’m going to—”

Kyle spared Grace the briefest of glances. “Everything is fine. Don’t call anyone. Just go inside, please.”

“Kyle’s having a chat with his dear old dad. Who are you, sweetheart? Girlfriend? You’re the McKnight girl, aren’t you? The one who got beat up?” Dad moved toward Grace, but Kyle stepped in his path.

“Get the fuck out of here right now,” Kyle growled. He wasn’t going to resort to violence. Not in front of Grace. Never in front of Grace. But it was building, boiling in his veins, his heart.

Dad would not get near her. Not now. Not ever. No matter what.

“Kyle.”

He turned to face her completely then, because he didn’t know how long he would last. How much Dad would poke at her to get to him. “Please, just go inside. I am begging you.” And he was begging. Through the tightness in his throat, the constricting of his chest, through the tensed muscles and clenched fists. Begging,
begging,
her to not see the inevitable.

Because he was fighting it, but the ending
was
inevitable. Maybe Grace seeing this side of him was inevitable, too. Maybe losing everything was just so damn inevitable there was no point fighting it.

Grace opened her mouth to say something, but his father was behind him, talking first. Crowding him, baiting him.

“Pretty little thing. Nice rack, too.”

Kyle tried. He tried so hard to rein it in, to control himself. This was what Dad was after. Reaction. This was what Dad wanted. Him to get angry enough to fight him. Him to get angry enough to want to kill him. Again. That was what Dad lived for, and Kyle would not give him the satisfaction, not with Grace watching.

“Turn around, honey—let me get a look at your ass.”

Kyle squared and used every last ounce of force to knock his fist into his father’s face. It only took a second, possibly two, to understand he’d ruined everything.

Everything. And there was no way to pretend enough to ever get it back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

G
RACE
WATCHED
IN
horror as Kyle turned and smashed his fist into the older man’s face. She winced. She couldn’t believe... But there it was right in front of her eyes. Kyle doing to his father what Barry had done to her.

The ugly thought made her sick enough that she pressed a hand to her stomach, her back to the house. There it was. Instead of just dating a man who used his fists to show his displeasure, she’d fallen in love with one.

Kyle’s father cackled out a laugh, blood dripping down his chin. Grace had to look away. God, this wasn’t happening. But when she closed her eyes, she saw Barry. Barry’s fist hurtling toward her.

God.
God
help her.

There was another crack of bone against bone, a grunt that sounded suspiciously like Kyle. Grace forced herself to look. Now there was a trickle of blood coming from Kyle’s nose.

She stepped toward him before stopping herself. He was in a punching match with his father, and he didn’t look to be at all ashamed of it. In fact, if looks could kill...Kyle’s father would be long gone.

A chilling thought.

“I’m not doing this with you again. I’m not.” His voice was rough and gravelly; his chest hitched a breath in and out.

“Funny. I got blood on my face and you got some on yours. Seems like you’re doing it again just fine. Got a gun lying around you can point at my head like old times?”

Grace’s body went ice-cold. Whatever had gone on in that trailer during Kyle’s childhood was even uglier than she’d imagined, if this conversation was any indication.

But of course, she didn’t know for sure because Kyle had never told her.

She reached for her phone to call the police, but when no more punches were thrown, she paused.

Kyle pulled his wallet out of his pocket and threw it on the ground in front of his father. “Take whatever and leave, or I will call the police.” He trudged up the stairs, toward her, never making eye contact. “Please go inside first,” he said, so quietly she could barely make out the words.

She didn’t know what else to do. She certainly didn’t want to stay outside with Kyle’s father any more than she wanted Kyle to. So she stepped inside, Kyle at her heels.

What did she say? What could she possibly say in this moment to make it...something other than heartbreaking and painful and downright frightening.

“Should I call—”

“Everything is fine, Susan. Would you please give Grace and me a minute?” He sounded so damn weary, she wanted to soothe him.

Until the picture of his fist connecting with his father’s chin flashed across her vision.

Kyle sank into the couch, cradling his head in his hands. “I’m so sorry, Grace. So sorry you had to see that. No apology will ever be enough.” His voice broke, but he didn’t look at her. Didn’t make a move to reassure her. He just sat there, and she didn’t know what to do.

Because the sad state of affairs was she didn’t know him. Not really. She thought she’d fallen in love with him, but he’d never let her see all of him, so he felt like little more than a stranger now.

After a few silent minutes, he looked up. The blood under his nose was smudged across the palms of his hands, his eyes blue and intense, shiny with what she suspected were tears.

Her heart broke.

“You’re afraid of me.”

And then it broke even more, because she didn’t know what she was. “You would never hurt me.” That, she supposed, was the difference here. Though the event had reminded her of Barry, there were some things she knew Kyle simply wasn’t capable of.

Or thought you knew.

“No, I would never hurt you, Grace, never like that.” His throat convulsed and he shook his head. “But I am capable of hurting people. More than capable. I...can’t seem to help myself.”

“He said...” Part of her was trying to excuse him, to make it okay. But how could this be okay? Her throat and eyes burned as she tried to make any sense out of any of it. “He was trying to get you to hit him.”

“Yes. He always does, and he always wins. Always.”

Always. As if Kyle didn’t have a choice in the matter, but of course he did. Everyone had a choice.

“I’m sorry you had to see it. I’m sorry I didn’t think... I should have known. I should have predicted this. Letting myself love you was a recipe for disaster from the beginning, and I knew, but I wanted you too badly to really think.”

“You could have...” What? What could he have done? Told her, she supposed, but would that really change this reality? “You held a gun on him. That’s...why my gun freaked you out.”

Kyle stared at his blood-streaked hands. “Yes.” He cleared his throat. “When I was eighteen. One of his and my mother’s bouts got more heated than usual. I put a gun to his head, but the police came before I could...”

Relief washed through her, because there was a reason. He had a reason. She stepped toward him for the first time. “So you were protecting her.”

“Don’t.” He shook his head and his look stopped her cold. “Don’t try to make it noble. It’s not. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to end it. I wasn’t protecting anyone.”

The way he said it, as if he hadn’t just
wanted
to kill him, but still wanted to. She knew that feeling, the deep-seated, haunting fear it wouldn’t be over until the bad guy was gone. All the way gone. “I...I understand that, Kyle. Me, of all people. I understand that.”

“Yes, I suppose you do, but that doesn’t change anything.”

“Maybe—”

“If we were together, this wouldn’t be the last time he sought me out, goaded me into that. It won’t ever be the last until he’s dead. So even though I’d never physically hurt you, every time he came by would be a reminder that you have been hurt like that, and I am capable of it, even if it isn’t against you. Barry and I are cut from the same cloth.”

“Don’t say that.” She didn’t want to believe it. Couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t know all of Kyle, but she knew enough to know he wasn’t Barry, or his father. Maybe he wasn’t perfect, but he wasn’t them.

“I thought if I was cold enough, detached enough, it wouldn’t happen. I could control it. My reaction to him. And then I thought if I locked the bad away enough, drowned it in light and good and you, I’d be able to control it. But the truth is, if I couldn’t stop myself for you, in front of you, nothing can stop it. I certainly can’t. Today proves I can’t, and I can’t possibly love you and want you to be a part of that. And I do love you, Grace.” His voice cracked again and he covered his face in his hands.

It felt as though the universe had yanked her off the path she thought she’d been on. Like when Mom had gotten sick, like after Barry. She’d been traveling this path, then, yank, new path. New hurt. New pain.

One minute she’d been confronting Kyle about telling her the truth about what kept him so tight-lipped about the past, the next that path was laying a cold dose of reality on both their laps.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t... I thought I could be someone you deserved, but the truth is, it’s not enough. I’m not enough and I never will be no matter how hard I try. I’m sorry I let it get this far.”

Dread pooled in her stomach, a hard, heavy weight, tears burning her eyes, her throat. “I don’t want this to be over.” She swallowed down the lump in her throat. Even after seeing all that, even though she wasn’t sure exactly what she
did
want, she wasn’t ready to lose Kyle, even with blood on his hands and face.

“I don’t either, but...can you really live with the reality of the situation?” His blue eyes met hers briefly, searching maybe for some answer. Then he shook his head. “I can’t. I can’t live with knowing I’d expose you to that every few years. I’m sorry. I can’t. I thought I could, but I can’t. How could you want a future with someone who’ll remind you of the worst thing that ever happened to you?”

She didn’t have an answer for that question, a rebuttal. He was right. How could she want that?

Something hard and painful pressed against her chest. This was it. How could this not be it? She wanted to argue with him, to tell him he absolutely was enough, and they could find a way through this.

But at the moment, she didn’t know how, and she couldn’t find her voice to argue with him. Or maybe there were just no words to argue.

He stood. Swallowed hard enough she could see his Adam’s apple move. “I’m so very sorry you had to see that, that I frightened you or hurt you. I’m going to go clean up. If you’d like me to stay elsewhere, I will. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

He was talking to her as though she was a stranger, and she felt like one. She felt as if she didn’t know him at all. As if they’d never kissed or made love or laughed together. In the blink of an eye he’d turned into someone else, and she didn’t know how to make that okay.

“You won’t,” she managed to scratch out. She wanted to touch him, hug him, tell him it was okay.

But it wasn’t okay. So she let him leave.