Grace

 

I want to touch him. I want to cry out. I want to beg him to fuck me. And I don’t want to say a word. Because the look on his face when he turns me around is one of sheer pleasure. And my heart flutters with excitement knowing I’m the one who put it there.

 His voice hypnotizes me. Soothes me. In that moment, I trust him. I give him control because I know he can handle it. And I know that, that unapologetic control is exactly what I’d been waiting for. He bends me over the edge of my bed, his hand flat on my spine. A rustle of fabric and the metallic growl of his zipper and he’s entering me. So hard. So full. Flesh against flesh. Hungry and possessive. Devouring my body with pleasure. He fucks me. No mercy. The pleasure borders on pain, and it’s threatening to eat me alive. The pressure of his fingers against my throat. The thrust of his cock. Sweaty flesh and breathless whispers. Time stands still. The cloud of grief blows away. All my fears vanish with every drive of his hips. The only thing that matters is him. This. Us.

 With a fist in my hair, he turns my head to face him. His tongue blazes a trail of heat along the seam of my lips. Then he kisses me. Claiming me. Taking what’s his.

“Do you want to come?”

“Yes.” The word is a plea. A prayer. Please. I’m about to come undone.

“Ask me.”

“May I?”

“Come. Give me everything. Let me have you.”

His permission releases the hold I have on my senses. Pulsing, clenching, covering his cock in my arousal, I come. Hard.

I lie there, breathless, face against the soft down of my comforter. The air around us full of sex. I can still taste the peppermint on his tongue. Deacon gently slips the silk belt from my wrists then rolls me over onto my back. The skin on my breasts glistens with sweat as I fight to catch my breath. He leans over me, deep blue eyes full of satisfied pride.

“You haven’t even begun to enjoy what I can do to you.”

 

***

 

 

I’ve never felt so pampered, so cherished as I did after I gave myself to Deacon. He spent the night stroking my hair and tracing his fingertips across my bare skin. Making me feel precious and safe.

He left this morning with the promise that I would see him again before the gallery showing. He had things to do, and I needed to try to make it a full shift at the hospital. I don’t want to think about him leaving. Or what happens after that. Or the fact that he’s just started putting me back together, and losing him will only tear me apart. My heart can’t manage any more pain right now. So, I do what I do best. I block it out. I focus on saving people. Because in its own funny way, that’s how I save myself.

 

I park next to the emergency entrance, no more than fifty feet from the door, right under the parking lot lights. I manage to make it a full six hours before the grief threatens to swallow me whole. I thought going back to work would take my mind off the fact that I’m completely lost without my father. But I was wrong. I’ve tried for the past two days to get back into some sort of routine, but nothing helps. Every sound, every smell, every thought leads to my dad. Until last night. Until Deacon showed up at my door knowing exactly what I need without me ever saying a word.

 

When I get home, Natalie’s car is parked in the driveway. She has a key. Why didn’t she just go inside?

“You could’ve just gone in,” I tell her once she rolls down her window.

“I lost my key. And I wasn’t sure when you’d be going back to work.”

Her eyes are bloodshot, and I’m ashamed to admit I can’t tell if it’s from drinking or crying.

“Well, I would’ve called you and told you but…”

“Look… I just came to get a few things. I didn’t come here to argue.”

Is she serious right now? I laugh. Loud, obnoxious, and amused. The nerve.

“Wow. Now? Now you show up? See, Nat, that’s the thing. You didn’t come here at all. Not after Mom died. Not when Dad was sick. Not when he got worse. You never came. And now… Now you show up asking for stuff? That’s fucking rich. Even for you.”

She rolls her eyes, raising her window as she shifts the car in drive.

“We can’t all be perfect. Amazing Grace.” She laughs and shakes her head. “Saving the world. Too bad you weren’t able to save Dad. And you can stop trying to save me. But you can bring me the lamp on Mom’s dresser. The stained glass Tiffany one I got her for her birthday. If you’re ever in my neighborhood.”

Her window closes, the glass nothing more than a steel wall standing between us, and she pulls out of the driveway without another word.

 

 She’s right. I couldn’t save him. The monitors. The medicine. The sleepless nights making sure he was still breathing. And he’s still gone. Three hours later, the doorbell jars me awake. I didn’t even realize I’d cried myself to sleep on the couch. Lucas stands in the darkness of the entryway, his eyes shining with tears. I lift him up and carry him inside.

“Hey, big guy. What’s got you so sad?”

 I don’t really need to ask. I only need one guess. He sweeps the sleeve of his long sleeve t-shirt across his watery eyes.

“She’s gone again,” he says, his words broken as he works to catch his breath. “I came home from school, and she wasn’t there. But sometimes she works late. So, I waited.” He hiccups between tears. “Then it got dark. And I got hungry.” I imagine him, alone and looking at the door. Checking out the window for her car. Scared and hungry. I curse my sister right now. And I refuse to let Lucas see me cry. I set him on the couch where I was just sleeping. “Where is she, Aunt Grace? Why didn’t she come home?”

 Oh, Natalie. I should’ve known she’d pull something like this. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have argued with her. I shouldn’t have gotten her upset. I should have just given her the lamp without the third degree. I have to find her. I have to fix this. For Lucas.

 “We’ll find her, sweet pea. I promise.” He curls his knees up against his chest and rests his head on the arm of the couch. I pull his gray Converse tennis shoes from his little feet and cover him with a quilt. “Did John bring you?” He nods, his eyes puffy and red. As many times as that poor teenage kid has had to bring Lucas to our house in the middle of the night, I’m surprised his parents haven’t called CPS yet. “Okay,” I say, finding his favorite television show to distract him. “I’m going to go get Annette. Then I’ll find your mom. You get some sleep. Deal?”

I hold out my pinky, and he wraps it around his. “Deal.”

   

 

***

 

 

 My body vibrates with the beat of the music. The scent of sweat, alcohol, and too much cologne hits me like a freight train as I fight through the crowd of the nightclub. A tall, bald guy with more confidence than class grabs my ass when I walk by. It’s been a while since I’ve dated, but I’m pretty sure that’s not the best way to make a first impression. 

 

A familiar scent, mahogany and leather, forces my head around as a pair of hands grabs my waist.

 “Is this where all the doctors come to unwind after a long day?” he asks, and his voice sets my soul on fire. I ache for him the moment he touches me.

 “Only when there are no more bays at Top Golf,” I tease, hoping he gets the humor. He laughs, and his entire face lights up.

“Then you’re good with a club?”

“Only if it’s putt-putt. Clubs aren’t really my thing. That kind… or this,” I say, waving my hand in the air around us.

 “No?” He arches a brow, noting the hypocrisy in my statement.

“No. I’m looking for my sister. Sometimes she… disappears.”

“And it’s your job to find her?”

“I’m all she’s got.” The truth in my words is like a knife through the heart. “She’s not a bad person.” Why am I defending her? “Sometimes she just… loses her way. Acting out is her way of escaping.”

His eyes soften then scan the room around us before coming back to mine. “I know what that’s like.”

“I know you do.” The memory of who he is and who he loves cuts like a razor blade, letting all my insecurities bleed out for the world to see.

“That’s not why I’m here. She’s not why I’m here. Clubs, either kind, aren’t my thing either. The owner is an old friend. I came to say hello before I leave.” Focus on the music, the sound of his voice, not the words he’s saying. You knew he was leaving. But don’t think about that right now. He strokes the side of my face. My eyes drift shut from the sensation of his touch. His fingertips trace my jaw, down my neck, to the top of my bare shoulder. Then he takes my chin between two fingers, bringing my face to meet his. “Remember what I said about looking back?”  

“I do.”

He grins, satisfied and seductive. “Good. Then stay here. With me.” Before I can reply, his mouth is on mine. Powerful and fierce. Owning me. Just like he said he would. I feel the instant swell of my lips when he pulls away. “I know you care about your sister. And I know you want to help.” He takes my hand and leads me through the crowd toward the exit. “But sometimes the best way to help someone… is to let them go.”

I take another look across the crowded dance floor and row of people lining the bar. She’s not here. There are a hundred other places she could be. Am I really going to spend another sleepless night trying to find her? And what happens when I do? I’ll take her home and watch her sleep until I know she’s okay. She’ll wake up and pretend like none of it ever happened. And we’ll do it all again in a few weeks. Maybe Deacon’s right. Maybe it’s time to let her go.