CHAPTER TWELVE
I slept in the next morning. Well, if you consider eight o’clock sleeping in, which I did at this point. It felt glorious, until I remembered why. Gracin didn’t text or call asking why I wasn’t there for our morning run. That bothered me more than it should’ve. He was giving me the time I’d asked for. I wished I didn’t need it.
Mom sat in the kitchen in a pale pink robe Dad had given her for Valentine’s Day this year. She’d smiled when she first saw it, but the underlying sneer wasn’t hard to miss. Still, she used it so it wasn’t a complete fail of a gift. Her gaze focused on something outside, and the sun haloed her face like an angel. I tripped over my own feet, drawing her attention.
“Carly, sweetie, how are you?” Mom pulled out the chair beside, and I slid into it without bothering to get coffee. Her arms wrapped around me, squeezing me against her. “I never see you anymore with that job of yours. We haven’t talked since …”
I didn’t need her to elaborate. “I’m fine, Mom. I’m just glad it’s over.”
“I wished you would’ve come to me sooner,” she whispered into my hair. Her tears dampening my hair. “To think, you’ve dealt with such a trauma for so long all alone.”
Here we go. I rolled my eyes.
“Am I such a terrible mother you couldn’t tell me what happened?” Her quiet tears turned into heavy sobs.
I loved my mother, but her reaction was exactly why I hadn’t told her about Derrick. Everything became about her. If I’d told her, she would’ve wondered what she could’ve done to prevent it. Because, yeah, it was her fault Derrick had raped me.
So I did what I always did. I told her the truth, with the parental twist. “I was terrified, Mom. I thought I’d done something wrong.”
“But you didn’t, baby,” she said.
“I know that now, but I was just a kid. I thought … I deserved it.” The tears filled my eyes as I admitted it to my mom. “That’s what he’d told me. I teased him, so I was asking for it, so I wanted it. Even though I begged him to stop.”
“Oh, baby.” Mom tugged me tightly enough suffocation was a possibility. “I’m so sorry.”
“Me, too.”
I let Mom comfort me until my stomach grumbled. She heard it and went into comfort food mode. She made bacon, scrambled eggs, toast, and even broke out the juicer for fresh orange juice. It didn’t make everything go away like she always thought food did, but it was nice to spend some time with Mom. In a few short months, I’d be at U of N and she’d still be in Branson. It bothered me, so I let her make chocolate chip pancakes.
And I wondered what Gracin would think of the crap I shoveled into my mouth.
My heartache grew the size of a humanity-ending asteroid.
I ate two stacks of pancakes, letting the food fill the big hole inside me. Each time I talked about what happened with Derrick, which totaled three times, the hole grew bigger instead of smaller. Maybe I’d been fooling myself about being over what had happened, but I needed to keep moving forward, to keep talking about it with those who love me. That was the only way I’d heal.
∞ ∞ ∞
Gracin didn’t push anything over the next two days. Actually, I was bored out of my mind. Denny and I texted every day, but I didn’t see it happening. Our schedules didn’t mesh, and quite frankly, getting rejected by Gracin stung more each day instead of less.
Sleeping in for three days rocked, but I missed my morning runs. The rush they gave me suited my daily needs. No need to find the nearest zipline or bungee cord if I ran every day. I woke up early and slipped on my shoes. Even if I ran alone, I wanted to get back into the groove. My heart lurched when I remembered each run with Gracin. I shook my head to dislodge the memories as my phone vibrated off my nightstand.
Will you run with me today? Gracin texted.
I smiled and glanced down at my running clothes. Sure.
His response was just as fast. How long will it take you to get ready?
Actually, I already am.
Good. I’m in the driveway.
I forced myself not to run out the door and jump in his arms. The situation didn’t call for something so drastic, and it’s not like I hadn’t seen him over the last few days. But I really hadn’t seen him. I’d been around Gracin the performer, not Gracin the person. I missed the person.
He leaned against his truck with his head down and one heel propped against the tire. Put him in jeans and a cowboy hat, and he looked like the cover a country album. The image cemented in my mind, and it was way too hot to ignore. When his hazel eyes glanced up and met mine, I knew I’d suffer the rest of the summer. He pushed off the truck and crossed his arms, shuffling from foot to foot.
Was he nervous?
I strolled toward him, stretching my arms above my head. Gracin bent over, stretching his legs. Just like that, we fell into our usual routine. Halfway into the run, the sweat dripped off my nose and chin. The summer had barely started but an early heat wave had the humidity at record levels. If I didn’t have to work, I’d jump in the lake and not come out until September.
We sprinted the last two blocks, Gracin beating me easily. I fell on the concrete and reached my arms over my head.
“Get up, Carly, or you’ll start cramping.” How he managed to form words amazed me.
“Fine,” I huffed, rolling onto my side and forcing myself to stretch. “You trying to kill me or something?”
Gracin laughed. “Or something.”
“Would that something be a sick form of revenge?” I stood and put my hands on my lower back, leaning back to tug the muscles of my abs. Stretching felt better than running.
He cocked his head to the right. “Revenge for what?”
“Losing in a game of tonsil hockey?” This was good. Making a joke out of the incident was better than admitting how much it still hurt.
“Don’t be stupid.” His eyebrows started their epic battle.
“Oh, Gracin, haven’t you learned anything by now? Stupid is my middle name,” I said, still trying to keep it lighthearted.
He closed the gap between us and stared into my eyes. “Carly, you’re anything but stupid.”
The fire ignited between us, well at least on my side of the kindling anyway. Just like the other night, I wanted to press my lips against his skin, tasting every inch of him. He tilted his head, leaning in enough a girl could get second thoughts.
And I opened my big mouth. “Then what am I?”
That seemed to break his focus and he stepped back. He cleared his throat and moved toward his truck, stopping before opening the door.
“You’re a lot of things, Carly, but definitely not stupid.”
He hopped in the truck, leaving me more breathless than after the run.
I went back inside after watching his truck disappear around the corner. Before the kiss, I would’ve been at his cabin for breakfast. Things were on the mend but not quite there yet. Maybe by the end of summer we’d have our usual banter back. If only he’d stop throwing me mixed signals.
“Hey, Carly,” Dad said as I strolled into the kitchen. “Was that Gracin?”
“Yeah.” I’d learned a long time ago not to elaborate on simple questions. I took the orange juice out of the fridge and drank straight from the container.
Dad never took his nose out of his tablet. He’d finally gone green and ditched the morning paper for the digital version. “I’ve noticed things have been tense between you two the last several days. Is there a problem I need to be aware of?”
I almost choked on the pulp. “No. We had a disagreement, but it’s better.”
“Remember,” Dad said, looking at me over his half-moon glasses, “make him happy. This season’s going well so far. It might be possible to extend his appearance here.”
Rolling my eyes, I tried not to snort. Gracin wasn’t going to stay in Branson. This was a stepping-stone for him to get his life back on track.
“Don’t roll your eyes at me, bug.” Dad smirked. He wiped it off his face rather quickly as he set his tablet down and put his hands in his lap. “We haven’t talked since the … incident with Derrick.” His nose wrinkled when he said that name. “I … I made you an appointment to see Dr. Winchester.”
I didn’t have a clue who Dr. Winchester was, so I stared at him waiting for further explanation.
“You don’t know who I’m talking about?” My father was so rarely unsure of himself, and this would’ve been fun if I had any clue what was going on. “Let me rephrase then. I made you an appointment at the Hopewell Clinic.”
The lightbulb exploded over my head. I’d called Hopewell several times over the last few weeks for Gracin’s appointments. He saw a therapist weekly to talk about his issues and to stay sober. Why in the world would my father do this? I didn’t need to see anyone.
Dad held out a hand before I opened my mouth to protest. “Just listen. You say you’re fine. I actually believe you might be, but it would make … it wouldn’t hurt to talk to someone outside of the family about what happened to you.”
I did. Gracin knows everything. But I couldn’t tell my father that. He’d already indicated his discomfort about my friendship with Gracin when he thought we were doing the sheeted tango.
“Please? Just one session. That’s all I’m asking here.” My father never said “please” to anyone. Even when he asked Mom to do something, it was always more of a command than anything else.
“Okay,” I said. Dad sat back in his chair with wide eyes and an opened mouth. He’d been prepared for a battle. “If it means that much to you, I’ll go once, but that’s all.”
Dad’s eyes betrayed his doubt. It made me smile. “The appointment is at two.”
“Perfect. Gracin’s in rehearsal then. He won’t even notice I’m gone.” This was like a moment or something. I wasn’t sure what to do, but a hug seemed to be in order. Dad was just as uncomfortable as I was when I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I really am okay, Dad.”
“I know you are, bug, but I appreciate you going anyway.” He let go and looked me in the eyes for the first time in recent memory. “I just wished this had never happened to you.”
A sad smile quirked my cheek. “Me too, but I can’t change what he did to me.”
Dad hugged me again, harder and longer. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought I heard a sob. But my father doesn’t cry, he yells and screams. Never has he cried. His head rested on my shoulder, and it became colder with a damp sheen that could only be sweat from my run. Because my father doesn’t cry.
∞ ∞ ∞
Dr. Winchester didn’t smile. Not once. Not even when I cracked a joke. He was not my type of therapist. Honestly, I didn’t know what type of therapist was “mine,” but I knew it wasn’t someone like Winchester. Keeping my word to Dad, I told the Doc everything, excluding the miscarriage. Only three other people in this world knew about it, and I intended to keep it that way. When we finished, he let me leave without making another appointment. Nice to know I was as well-adjusted as I believed. Or he knew I wasn’t going to make another appointment.
I arrived at the theater at three-thirty to get the dressing room ready for the show. Gracin paced inside, wearing the carpet thinner each day. His black t-shirt was wet with sweat.
“Good rehearsal?” I closed the door behind me and strolled toward the wardrobe. Gracin’s hand grabbed my arm, spinning me around. “What the hell?”
“Where’ve you been?” His eyes danced manically around my face.
“I had an appointment. Why?”
He closed his eyes and let go. “Sorry, I just … I was worried, and you didn’t answer my text messages.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket. Sure enough, there were six messages. I’d silenced the stupid thing when I went in to see Winchester instead of putting it on vibrate, because I knew I’d have to check it if I felt it moving in my pocket. The tiny red light flashed at the top, indicating the battery life was minimal. I turned the volume back up, grabbed the charger I’d left here, and plugged it in.
“Yeah, sorry.” I shrugged. One thing I made sure not to talk to the good doctor about was Gracin, although my mind kept drifting there during the appointment. Lord only knew what would come out of that. Probably therapy sessions for the rest of the summer with a referral to a shrink in Nashville this fall. “I was busy.”
“Just …” His voice strained over the word. “Do me a favor, and tell me when you aren’t available, so I don’t freak out.”
I took my hand off the ugly blue sparkly shirt he wore for his Saturday shows and turned around. This guy was getting on my nerves. One minute he cared, the next he was hanging with Gloria. “Why would you freak out?”
He stared at me before answering. I didn’t divert my eyes from his, searching for the answer I wanted, but the one he wouldn’t give. Finally, he dropped his hands from his hips and sighed. “Because you’re my friend.” He paused and shuffled his feet. “Right?”
“Friends. Right.” I turned around and yanked the ugly shirt off the hanger.
“Carly –”
Fortunately, my latest ringtone cut him off. I answered without looking at the caller ID.
“Carly?” Dad asked even though he had to know my voice by now. “Come to my office for a minute? This won’t take long.”
“Yeah, sure.” I checked the battery on my phone and opted to leave it in the room. Facing Gracin, I said, “My father summoned me. Is it okay if I go? Do I need your permission?”
Gracin deflated and shook his head as he stared at the floor.
“Good. I’ll be back in a bit.” I hurried out of the room. As the door closed behind me, I thought I heard my phone chirp a text message. It could wait. Dad couldn’t.
The smile on my face must’ve been enough to light up the stage. Dad asked me about the appointment, and then he let me out of my debt. Everything I made for the rest of the summer was mine and mine alone. That was enough to celebrate. Ten minutes later, I strolled back into the dressing room.
I opened my mouth to share my good fortune and closed it when I saw the grim expression on Gracin’s face. He sat in his chair with his hands on his tight abs. The blue contacts hid his beautiful eyes. I hated those things.
“What’s wrong?” I wanted to rush up and wrap my arms around him if only to make him smile. All that would do was piss him off even more.
“Whatever plans you have tonight, cancel them. I’ve been invited to a cocktail party at Andy River’s house after the show.” This should’ve made him happy. He’d been invited into the elite circle of Branson. “I need you to go to the cabin and get my black suit out of my closet.”
“Sure, but what does that have to do with my plans tonight?” I crossed my arms and tapped my foot on the carpet.
“You’re going with me.” He stood and handed me the key card to his cabin and my phone. “And someone named Denny called. You might want to call him back.”
I stared at him as he towered over me. “You answered my phone?”
Gracin cocked his eyebrow and deepened his frown. I waited for an answer, but he didn’t say a single syllable. He broke our stare-down, moving away from me and out the door.
My fingers flew across the touch screen as I got to my call log. Denny’s number. Beside it an eight-minute conversation. What in the hell did they have to talk about for eight minutes? A tiny war waged inside me. Call Denny back or text him? As if reading my mind, my phone chirped and vibrated at the same time.
Sorry, Carly. I didn’t realize you weren’t available. Let me know if that changes, Denny texted.
My thumbs typed faster than my fingers on a regular keyboard. What’re you talking about?
But I didn’t hit send. The curser blinked after the question mark, waiting for a command. My thumb hovered over send, then moved down and started to hit the backspace key. I erased each letter with a light tab that got harder until the final letter was gone. Despite the fact that I had no intention of seeing Denny, I was pissed. Questions swirled in my head, but the one I kept focusing on was the hardest one to answer. Why?