Her soft hand in mine felt right. So damn right.
I had hoped that it wouldn’t, that her touch would burn, that it would make my skin crawl. I had spent the morning praying that she wouldn’t look good, that my body would have no reaction to hers when she arrived. I had nearly convinced myself in this last week that we didn’t have a connection, that I didn’t love her, that she meant nothing to me.
But that was horse shit and I knew it.
Grace was the lighthouse in the darkness of my life. And she had been since the moment she’d sat her perfect ass on my bar stool four months ago.
Her father was the cause of my darkness though, and no matter how desperately I wanted to be with her, I couldn’t get past that ironic fact.
I didn’t want to talk about our dads. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say. I just wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to see her smile, make her laugh, hear her say my name.
I knew the moment that I’d agreed to see her that this was going to suck. I couldn’t think of anything she could say that would change things, but I hoped that it would nonetheless.
There was no hope for Grace and me.
The moment she’d walked in my door, the pressure in my chest intensified, becoming nearly unbearable.
While we sit in silence, our hands connected in a way that was both familiar and strange at the same time, I study her face. She’d tried to conceal the dark circles under her eyes, but I could still see them. Her normally bright eyes, eyes that always sparkled with excitement and mischief, were dull, a sadness in them that made my heart ache. A sadness that I was the cause of.
Her nails, that were always perfectly manicured, were ragged, the polish chipped. Her hair was messy, probably from driving with the top down, but she’d done nothing to tame it when she’d arrived.
Despite all of that, she was still beautiful, and my body still responded to our close proximity.
She’d come to talk about her father, and all I could think about was how badly I wanted to strip her of her clothes and slide inside her while forgetting about how shitty the universe was, to get lost in her the way I always did when we’d made love.
“Bronn?” she questions, startling me back to the present.
I shake my head, trying to clear it of the inappropriate thoughts I’m having. “Sorry.”
She pulls her hand from mine, and my fingers throb at the loss.
Pulling in a deep breath, she turns and faces me. “I’ve spent the last week getting the exact details of that day from my father.”
Here we go.
I know that this is what she came here for, but I’m not ready.
Grace’s gaze darts around the small room, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes finally meet mine and she admits, “My father did shoot your dad.”
Air leaves my lungs with a whoosh. I’m not sure I heard her correctly. I was expecting her to deny the truth, to tell me that her father was framed or some other bullshit story. What I was not expecting was her to admit that her father was guilty.
I eye her, watching as she picks at her nails, her focus still on my face.
“But it wasn’t a robbery gone wrong.”
And there it is.
The denial that I knew was coming. I knew that he would fill her head with lies, convince her that he was a saint, falsely imprisoned all these years.
The glimmer of hope that I had, that maybe there was some chance we could still work this out, vanishes. The anger that I’d spent so long working to suppress rises.
It’s clear that she believes whatever bullshit he’s fed her, and it pisses me off that she’s so easily accepted what he’s said as truth when the evidence has always been clear.
I spring to my feet, needing to put space between us. Pacing, I push a hand through my hair and then turn back to where she’s still positioned on the edge of my bed.
“He’s lying to you,” I bark, the harshness of my tone causing her to flinch. “Your dad walked into that gas station with a gun in his waist band, his intent to rob my father. When my dad pulled his own gun out, your dad killed him.”
She shakes her head, her hair flying. Her face is intense. “No, that’s not what happened. Why would my dad go rob a store with me in the backseat of the car?”
I lift my arms. “Because he was a piece of shit! I don’t know what made him do it the day he did.”
She leaps to her feet, holding her hands up. “Please, just hear me out.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I motion for her to continue.
“We were out for a drive. Something Daddy and I did every Sunday. It was hot that day, I remember. I’d asked him for a treat and something to drink. We were in the middle of nowhere, so he told me that he’d stop when we could. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I woke up we were parked in front of your dad’s gas station. I remember I was groggy, out of it. But then I heard loud bangs, and it scared me. I got out of the car, barefoot, and raced to the door. It was locked, I couldn’t get inside.”
Her voice is laced with sadness, but she’s calm. I don’t know how she’s keeping her cool. Even though we’re talking about the day my father died, my chest still swells from admiration at how strong she is.
“Right. He saw you were asleep, saw my dad alone in the shop, and took the opportunity to rob it. Locking the door on the way in.”
She shakes her head again. “No, that’s not it at all.”
“Then what is it? Why did your dad shoot mine if he wasn’t robbing the place?”
She takes a step toward me. “Did you know that your dad was a loan shark?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask with a laugh. My father was a gas station owner, not a fucking loan shark.
She reaches for me, but I take a step back.
“We were poor. Remember?”
When I don’t respond, she continues, “My dad wasn’t perfect. I know that now. Of course, my entire life I’d built him up as this God-like man, probably because I was so young when he died, but I didn’t know everything.”
She’s right about one thing, her dad isn’t perfect. I stare at her, my eyes burning holes in her, waiting for her to get to the damn point.
“Anyway, we were poor. My Daddy had no education and two other people relying on him. He couldn’t make ends meet.” Her head drops and she stares at the floor, her foot sliding in and out of her sandal. “He also had a drinking problem.” Her gaze returns to mine. “Now that was something I did pick up on, even at five years old.”
It makes sense now why she doesn’t drink, and it just shows me how different we are. She’s spent her life avoiding alcohol because of what she saw as a child, whatever it may have been. Yet I spent my youth getting drunk at every chance, hoping to drown the painful memories.
“So, your dad was a drunk. Is that supposed to excuse what he did?” I snap. Hurt flashes across her face again, and a pang of guilt hits me.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop being an asshole. But she ignores my jab and continues with her story.
“He was desperate, so he went to your father and borrowed money. He paid it back and things were good. He was able to get overtime at work, and for a while everything was great. I remember that time, we ate well, there was money for mama to buy me new shoes.” Her sad eyes brighten. “But then Daddy got laid off, and we ended up back where we started.” She turns, going back to sit on the bed, her hands clasped in her lap.
I follow her lead but don’t sit beside her, opting to perch on one of the bar stools instead.
I’m in shock, not believing her allegations about my father. I’d known that Jimmy Williams wasn’t the most beloved man in this town. Everyone knew that he’d stepped out on his wife, had knocked my mom up. In a town that prided itself on its rich history and quaint small-town feel, scandals like this made the locals’ stomach turn.
But I’d always assumed that was the reason that people didn’t care for him. Not that he was involved in shady business.
Something Dani said to me about me not knowing everything about dad comes back, and I wonder if she knew about this. I wish that Grace wasn’t here so that I can call her, to demand that she tell me everything she knows.
If Dad was a loan shark like Grace claims, surely Dani’s mom knew about it. When he died she got everything—the gas station, his money. Wouldn’t she have figured out that he had more money than what a little service station could possibly pull in?
“So, Daddy went back to your father, this time borrowing even more. He never told Mama about it. He was ashamed that he couldn’t provide for her, that she’d gone from living the life of luxury to slumming it with a high school drop out that couldn’t hold a job. He’d even encouraged her to go back to Nana’s once. She wouldn’t though, she loved him.” Her lips tip up in a sad smile.
It’s ironic how similar our story is to her parents. She could have been with Riley, spent her weekends at the country club, lived in a mansion, but she’d chosen me. And now, here we are, lost to each other because of one fateful day, a day that may not have happened the way I always believed it had.
I’m still not convinced of anything Mickey has told her, but my mind starts spinning with the what ifs.
“Anyway. He couldn’t pay your dad back. Your dad was okay at first, kept giving him extensions, but eventually I guess he got tired of waiting. He began sending threatening messages. So Daddy got a gun and started carrying it around with him.”
Still baffled, I interrupt, “So, your dad didn’t rob the store, he just went in there and shot mine so he wouldn’t have to pay the money back?”
Her eyes widen and she jumps up. “What? No! That’s not it at all.” Her hands ball into fists at her sides before she waves them around. “Would you please just shut up and let me finish?”
I don’t want to just shut up and let her finish. I don’t like the direction that this story is going, putting doubts into my head about the man that I’d longed for since I was just a child. I don’t want to think that he was a bad guy, that he was involved in dishonest things.
It’s bad enough that my mother was a horrible person, but to know that both of my parents were shitty would just be too much. What would that say about me?
“I don’t believe any of this shit,” I snarl, sliding off the stool. I stalk to the fridge and pull the door open, disappointed to see that I’m out of beer. I need a drink to continue this conversation, to keep listening to the ridiculous accusations being made.
I snatch a bottle of water instead and drain it before turning back to where Grace stands, her eyes burning. If she could, I’m sure that she would have set me on fire with her eyes alone, the way they blaze at me.
“On that Sunday, Daddy stopped into the store to give your dad some money. He’d just gotten another job and was finally earning a paycheck again. It wasn’t nearly what he owed, but he hoped that it would be some sort of peace offering. A show of good faith that he was going to pay him back. But your dad wasn’t happy about it. It wasn’t what he owed, and he wouldn’t take anything less than the full amount. An amount that my daddy couldn’t give him.” She clears her throat and drops her voice. “Your dad threatened me and Mama, Bronn.”
“Threatened you how?” I ask, my heart rate beginning to pick up speed.
“Daddy didn’t want to tell me. I had to force him.” She doesn’t answer me, and it’s obvious she doesn’t want me to know what my father said.
“Threatened you how?” I growl. The mere mention of someone threatening Grace, even if it was my own father, causes my blood to simmer.
She shakes her head, her lips pressed tightly. “I’m not sure of the exact words, but Daddy said that he mentioned what a shame it would be if something were to happen to his pretty little girl in the car. He asked Daddy if Mama always remembered to lock the doors when he was at work, that you could never be too safe, even in a small town like ours.”
I’m horrified at the thought that my father could have ever threatened a little girl when he had a daughter of his own. “So, he shot him?”
“No.” She shakes her head emphatically. “He says he leaned across the counter and told your dad he better stay away from us. Your dad is the one that pulled a gun and shot Daddy first.”
I shake my head. There’s not a chance in hell that’s the way it happened. “Bullshit, Grace. Your dad is feeding you a line of shit.”
“I’m telling you, Bronnson. My dad swears this is the way it happened. He says that there was another man there the whole time,” she insists.
“What?” I’d arrived just after the police, and even though I was young, I know for a fact that there was never another person there.
“Yeah, one of your dad’s men. He was there, in the corner, watching.”
My mind spins. There was no one else in the store; the police never found evidence of another person being there. “So, who was it?”
“He doesn’t know.” Her face falls, defeat in her eyes. “He never actually saw his face.”
“So, what, this mystery man just stood there and watched our fathers have a shootout?” The more she explains, the more insane the story becomes. The likelihood of me believing her falls with each thing she says.
“I don’t know what he did. But I know that he hightailed it out of there before the police arrived.”
“This is the most outrageous tale I’ve ever heard,” I shout, laughing bitterly. “I can’t believe that you actually think this is true.”
She puts her hands on her hips. “It’s not a tale. It’s the truth.”
“I’ve heard what you have to say, and just like I’ve said from the beginning, I don’t believe it. And I’m done listening. Get out.”
I can’t listen to another minute of this shit, but she makes no move to leave. Instead, she crosses the tiny space and stands directly in front of me.
She drops her voice to a whisper. “I would believe you.” Her eyes shine with loyalty, and it hits me square in the gut to know that she means exactly what she’s just said. She would believe me, no matter how crazy the story seemed.
As much as it kills me though, I just can’t believe her father’s claim. And, I can’t change the fact that we are at opposite ends of the road here. There is no meeting in the middle for us, no matter how badly I want there to be.
I love her, so much so that it makes it hard to breathe every second that I spend away from her. But despite what that stupid quote says, love does not conquer all. And this is one battle that we will never win, one hill that we will never climb together.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper back, my hands on her shoulders. “But, I just can’t believe what your father’s told you.”
Her face falls. “But—“
“I need you to leave, Grace.”
I’m keeping my anger in check by a thread, and I fear that if she stays another minute longer that strand will snap. I don’t want her to be around when that happens.
She nods, and without another word walks away from me and through my door.
The moment I hear the door slam shut my shoulders sag, and the control I had disappears. The refrigerator is the first thing that my line of sight lands on, and I try my damndest to put my fist through the freezer door.
Something in my hand pops, and I know that I’ve probably broken it, but the pain radiating up my arm doesn’t compare to the anguish of knowing that I’ve officially lost the one good thing in my life.