Grace

---

When my doorbell rang, I wasn’t surprised.

And when I saw it was Declan, I was overjoyed.

Embarrassingly so.

This thing between us, if I could even call it a thing, was still undefined, and I had no idea where it might lead. But what I did know without any doubt was seeing Declan always made my heart soar, and tonight was no exception.

“Come in,” I said when I opened the door and found him standing on the porch.

He entered without saying a word.

After I closed and locked it, I turned to him, smiled, but the expression dropped when I looked more closely at his face.

Something was off.

He looked...wild, on edge.

“Declan? What is it?” I asked, not bothering to hide my concern.

For a moment he scowled, looked like he wanted to toss that concern away, but in the next breath he softened.

“Shitty night,” he said.

I walked toward him, moving on instinct, and wrapped my hand around his forearm.

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

“No,” he responded, his voice cold, his body stiff.

“Do you need to talk about it?” I asked.

He looked at me, his eyes hard, glittering with some emotion I couldn’t quite name.

“Yeah,” he finally said, his confession surprising me.

“Then talk,” I said without pause.

“I do some fucked-up shit, Grace,” he said.

He studied me after he said the words, no doubt trying to examine my reaction. If he was expecting one, he would be disappointed.

“I’m sure you have your reasons,” I replied.

“Yeah,” he said solemnly, “I do have my reasons. They are fucked up too.”

I’d never heard this kind of talk from Declan, and it momentarily threw me off guard. But I recovered quickly and forged ahead.

“I’m not sure what you’re speaking of. What you’re really speaking of,” I said. Declan started to protest, but I shook my head quickly. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to ask. The specifics don’t matter. What matters is you’re a good man, Declan. You may not know it, but I do. So whatever you’re doing, I trust that it’s the right thing. And you should too,” I said.

He stared at me, that almost scowl still on his face.

“You really believe that,” he finally said.

I nodded and then spoke without hesitation. “I do.”

Declan responded without hesitation but he didn’t use words. Instead, he pulled me close and kissed me. This kiss lacked finesse, but it didn’t need it. His urgency swept me up like a whirlwind, and I found myself lost on the emotions that were clearly still coursing through him.

As he kissed me, he lifted me and turned to walk toward my bedroom, moving in determined strides that were so impressive given that I wasn’t even sure if I knew my own name.

Rather than deposit me on the bed, Declan settled me on my feet and then quickly worked me out of my clothes. He did the same to himself and lay back, his long, strong body lay out in invitation, one I was glad to accept.

I walked toward him slowly and then straddled him, my breath hitching when his cock bumped my slit. I curled my fingers against his muscled abs to brace myself. And then I began to rock and shift, trapping his cock between my pussy lips. I was clenching, desperate for him to fill me, but I was enjoying the game far too much. So instead of taking him inside, I continued to rock, coating his shaft with my juices, enjoying the feel of him beneath me, breath coming out in harsh pants as he stared at me with flinty eyes.

Taken by an emotion I didn’t dare name, I stopped moving my hips and leaned forward. I kept my eyes on his as I kissed him, the barely-there peck such a contrast to the way our bodies were so intimately connected.

Something in that kiss seemed to break him.

Declan paused long enough to kiss me back, but in the next breath, he twisted, flipping me onto my back and climbing between my splayed legs. I could see that wildness in his eyes again, craved it, and Declan didn’t disappoint. He rocked his hips until his cock bumped my clit, then did so again, and again, until I was a squirming mass of need underneath him.

“Please, Declan. I need you,” I said on a strangled cry that only barely touched the depth of my desire.

Declan didn’t speak, but when I looked at him, I saw his clenched jaw, the glittering hardness in his eyes, all telling me that he was as ragged with need as I was.

He thrust, but went slow, filling me inch by inch until we were completely joined. Then he moved, thrusting harder and harder, absolutely unrelenting.

I lay beneath him, thrashing as he drove me higher and then higher still.

“Grace, look at me,” he said in a tight voice.

I was surprised his words managed to pierce my consciousness, but I complied, and when I locked eyes with him, I came apart.

Declan held me tight through my climax, and moments later, I held him through his.

---

Grace

---

“I showed you mine, Grace,” Declan said.

“You most certainly did,” I responded, snuggling close to him.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” he said.

I did, but I had tried to play it off.

No such luck it seemed.

“What do you want to know, Declan?” I asked on a deep exhale.

“What do you want to tell me?” he responded.

“Want to tell you? I don’t want to tell you anything,” I said.

He stiffened and I shook my head quickly.

“It has nothing to do with you. It’s all about me. Thinking about that stuff is painful, and I’d rather not,” I said.

“You know I understand that, right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I understand probably more than you could know, but telling you about that stuff with my mother… It hurt, but it also didn’t, you know?” he said.

“I guess,” I responded on a deep sigh.

“That doesn’t mean you have to. I just want you to know that you can trust me, and that I want to know you, all of you, but I won’t push,” he said.

I believed him. And I knew it was beyond time for me to let some of this off my chest. Sean had probably pieced together the details, but he had never outright asked the question, so I never talked to anyone about this.

I guess Declan was a good place to start.

“You know I was married before,” I said.

“I assumed so,” he responded.

“I was.”

“Something in the tone of your voice tells me it was not very good,” Declan said.

“Then that something in the tone of my voice is a master of understatement. It wasn’t very good. It was very bad. Very, very bad,” I said.

Declan stiffened. “He hurt you?”

“In so many ways,” I said.

“Who is he?” Declan asked.

I could hear the edge in his voice, got clear implication, and I worked quickly to stop that.

“No one. Not to me. And not to you. Promise me you’ll leave it at that,” I said.

Declan was quiet for a moment but then finally nodded, though I could tell it was grudgingly.

I waited a moment longer, but then, finally satisfied I went on.

“My father was a minister, well-respected in the community. I was supposed to be the perfect extension of him, and at all times remember that I represented him, his church, and God, in that order,” I said.

“Sounds lovely,” Declan said sarcastically.

“It wasn’t. My father wasn’t a bad man, but he was very concerned about appearances, and making sure that his daughters lived up to the family name,” I said quietly.

“So you have sisters, huh?” he said.

I nodded. “Three.”

“You guys were tight?” he asked.

“We were,” I said wistfully.

I missed my sisters more than almost anything, and though our relationship had been fraught sometimes, I still loved them. But I knew there was no way I would get back to them.

“So what happened?” he asked.

“What happened is what always happens. I graduated high school, went to a two-year college so that I could learn how to manage the books of the church. Then met a nice deacon, he was seven or eight years older than me, perfect in my father’s eyes, acceptable in mine. We got married,” I said.

“You make it sound so simple, Grace,” he said.

“For a time, it was. There was never any particular spark of passion, not really any happiness in our relationship, but it was fine. We were fine.”

I went quiet then, thought back to those days. I hadn’t really been fine. In fact, I had been slowly suffocating, but I hadn’t seen it then.

“And?” Declan said.

“And then one night, we were going through our weekly intimacy session. That was what he called it. And yes, he had a name for it. I think it was accidental, but he pulled my hair, I think it got caught under his arm or something. And I…liked it,” I said.

I waited for the shame, but to my surprise it didn’t come. And if Declan had any reaction, he didn’t show it. I kept going.

“I knew that was very wrong, but I did, I enjoyed it. It took me months to build up the courage to tell him that. To my surprise, it made him happy. Things got much more interesting in the bedroom, and that started to spill over into other areas of our life. For a while there, I thought this would work.

“Until I didn’t,” I said.

I went silent again, breathed out, thinking back on those days. I had been so hopeful, so optimistic that perhaps this marriage that I had worried about for so long might amount to something.

I can remember how hopeful I had been, how disappointed I eventually was.

Declan wrapped his arms around me tighter and began stroking my hair.

I stayed quiet for a moment luxuriating in his touch, his scent, the feel of his body against mine, and then, finally, I continued.

“Until one time, I did something. I don’t remember what. Something stupid like using red potatoes instead of Idaho potatoes for dinner. He got mad, really mad. He slapped me,” I said.

Even now I could remember my shock when he did that. I also remembered the look of shock on his face, like he couldn’t believe what had happened. Maybe he couldn’t, but he got over it quickly.

“I ran out of the kitchen and locked myself in the bedroom, and I cried. I stopped, and then just went on like nothing had happened. I told myself that it was just a one-time thing, he lost control, but it wouldn’t happen again.”

“It never happens just once,” Declan said.

“I know that now,” I responded. “It started getting worse. Slow at first, and then fast. It started with slaps, then punches, then kicks, then he was choking me. He would kill me one day,” I said matter-of-factly. There was no other way I could say it. I knew that, knew it then just as I knew it now.

“Why did you stay?” Declan asked.

“I didn’t want to. I really didn’t, but one day, I got my courage together, and I sat him down and asked him why he did that. Why he hit me. He looked at me like I was confused, and I’ll never forget the expression on his face, like he couldn’t understand the question. I’ll never forget his answer, either,” I said.

I trailed off, and tears began to well in my eyes, though I swore I wouldn’t let them fall.

“He said, ‘I thought you like that.’ I was so angry I couldn’t see straight, but I was also ashamed. Deeply. I know now that he was a fucking asshole and completely foolish for even saying that, but you have to think about where I was coming from then. All my life I had been brought up to be a perfect wife, and divorce wasn’t even a part of our vocabulary, let alone something that my father would tolerate. So I felt stuck.”

I closed my eyes, trying to fight back the tears that I couldn’t stop from falling.

I stiffened, and then sighed when I felt Declan’s lips against my cheek, catching my tears as they fell.

I squeezed him tighter, and then finally got the wherewithal to go on.

“It got unbearable. I had to do something. So I went to my father. I thought he had seen the bruises before, but I showed them to him, told him what was going on. He hugged me, told me that he’d have a talk with my husband. I felt so happy, felt safe for the first time in years. But the next Sunday, all that changed,” I said.

Declan squeezed me tighter still, but didn’t say anything.

I took another moment and then went on. “We had reserved seats, right at the front of the church. And I sat there, listened to my father’s sermon like usual, but that day, he asked my husband to come up and say a few words. And he did. He told the church how he had sinned, told them how I had driven him to that sin, and asked for their forgiveness. He didn’t ask for mine.”

My tears were gone now, but not my emotions. Instead, anger so deep I thought it would swallow me took their place.

“It was humiliating. I thought I would die before the service was over, but the good little girl that I am, I stayed where I was, even stood in the receiving line at the end of the service. But that night, when I went home, I thought I would die. I knew there was no way I could stay there. Even if I hadn’t been certain that my husband would eventually kill me, I couldn’t stay and see those people gawking at me, judging me. I couldn’t trust my father either. So I did the only thing I could. I emptied out the bank accounts and I left,” I said.

“What about your sisters?” Declan asked. It wasn’t a question that surprised me from him, especially since I knew how much his brothers meant to him.

“They are fine. Happy. One of them got married to my ex,” I said, remembering the day I had run across their wedding announcement in the paper.

“I went back home for a little bit after I heard about their wedding, and I tried to warn her. She told me I was being jealous and meddling, and all three of them asked that I never reach out to them again. I decided to respect their wishes,” I said.

I went quiet then, feeling so exhausted that I didn’t think I could move. At the same time, I felt so wired, like I had just revealed too much of myself.

I knew that I had, and I knew that Declan would never look at me the same.

Still, I was too tired to speak, so I just lay there, waited for his reaction. Listened to the beat of his heart.

Finally, after I don’t know how long, he spoke.

“Thank you for telling me that, Grace,” he said.

“That’s it?” I asked quickly, hating how eager I sounded, but unable to hide it.

He kissed me on my forehead and then hugged me tight.

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Let’s get some sleep.”

I sank into his embrace, and as I drifted off, I knew that I loved him.