The sob that tumbles from her lips echoes in the courtroom.
The anguish should have stirred something in me, should have made me go to her, but I don’t move. I stare as Grace’s knees buckle, going out from under her. I watch as she collapses to the floor, her hands covering her face that is now wet with tears, her perfect makeup running in black streams down her cheeks.
I should be jealous as Riley rushes to her side and scoops her into his arms before tucking her against his chest. I should be angry, watching her wrap her arms around his neck and clinging to him. Her arms aren’t meant for anyone else but me.
I should be irritated when Dani takes my arm and pulls me to our seats. I shake her hand from my bicep and sit stiffly behind the county solicitor. He’s the man whose job it is to ensure that Mickey Chumley stays exactly where he fucking belongs—in prison.
I should feel sadness as I listen to the attorney recount the events of the crime and the day that my life changed forever.
I should feel guilty as I listen to Grace sob across the aisle from us, seated directly behind the man that she thought was dead for all these years.
She’d been so happy to see me, relief written all over her face. I’d been relieved to see her, too. But that feeling had been short lived, just like it always was. Life had a way of giving me a taste of the good stuff before shitting all over me.
That day in the bar rushes back to me, and it dawns on me why Grace looked so familiar. It wasn’t a fluke that her face had reminded me of someone. It was because she was the little girl I’d seen in the back of the patrol car, being driven away from the devastation as I was riding toward it.
She’d been there that day, the day that Mickey Chumley had decided to play God and ruined everyone’s lives.
I would never forgive him. Dani had urged me over the years to try, in the hopes that I would be able to find peace within myself, but I just couldn’t. How could I forgive someone for royally fucking me over?
Grace and I were done.
How could we have any sort of relationship while I lived my life hating her father, the man that she so clearly adored?
No, there was no hope for us.
And that realization left me feeling empty inside.
Dani and I sat through the hearing together, her hand holding mine tightly, but I couldn’t focus on what was being said. When the judge bangs his gavel to dismiss the court, I have no idea what just transpired. I hope that Dani was paying attention, otherwise we’ll have to talk to the solicitor later.
But for now, I need to get the fuck out of here, and fast. I need to think and attempt to wrap my mind around the fact that my girlfriend is the daughter of the man that killed my father.
I rush out, not even bothering to tell Dani that I’m leaving. When I see a crowd waiting on the elevator, I change directions and head for the stairs. I slam the door open and begin my descent, my footsteps echoing in the empty stairwell.
“Bronn!” Grace’s voice is loud behind me. “Wait! Please, wait!”
I don’t slow down and continue to race out of the courthouse.
“Dammit, Bronnson!” she screams, her hand grabbing a fistful of my dress shirt, causing me to pause.
“Just give me some space,” I growl, my back still to her.
I need air. The courtroom had been suffocating. I can’t get outside fast enough, and Grace is only slowing me down.
“No!” she says fiercely, not letting go of my shirt. “Turn around and face me.”
Her courage, her fucking fierceness is admirable, but right now I need to clear my head.
I shake free of her grip and continue down the stairs.
She follows, begging. “Hear me out. Just give me a minute to explain everything. Or at least, everything I know.”
I pause, my hand gripping the railing so hard my knuckles are white. She takes my hesitation as permission to continue and begins to ramble. “My dad, he’s been alive for all these years.” Her voice breaks, but she doesn’t stop talking. “I know he didn’t do what you said. Not the father I knew. He wouldn’t.”
I know that it’s not her fault that her dad is a monster, but, I can’t stand here, unable to get air into my lungs, and listen to her defend him.
I whirl to face her. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
I turn, racing down the stairs while praying that she’ll get the message and let me be. But she doesn’t and continues to follow, calling my name, begging for me to stop and listen.
When I reach the bottom of the stairwell, I begin to push through the exit when her shout causes me to stop.
“Where are your balls?” I turn, glaring at her as she continues. “You’re acting like a puss, running away from me!”
I have to give it to her, she’s got a point.
I should be a fucking man and stay. But I can’t.
“You’re right. I have no balls. Just like your fucking father when he robbed my dad and killed him.”
Her face crumples and guilt courses through me, warring with the anger that’s simmering in my blood. I don’t want to hurt her; I don’t want to be responsible for her sadness when I’d worked so hard to replace it with happiness.
She scrubs a hand over her face and composes herself. “Bronn, I love you!”
The world stands still as the words leave her mouth, and I fight to take air into my lungs. I knew that she loved me, but the words hadn’t been uttered until this moment.
Scoffing, I shout, “Great. Just fucking great. You love me.”
She pushes up on her toes until her eyes are level with mine. “Yes. I do. I fucking love you. And you love me, too. I know you do.” She places a hand on my heart and my stomach lurches. “You don’t have to say the words for me to know how you feel.”
She’s right. I do love her. I’ve been in love with her since the day her nana had called me trash and she’d defended me. But, fuck, I don’t know what to do about that now. And I can’t think with her in my face, her flowery perfume filling my nose, the nearness of her causing my body to ache to hold her. I need to get away, and I need to do it now before I say something I regret.
“You don’t know how I feel.” I step back, breaking the contact between us. The place where her hand was just resting still tingles.
“I’m so fucking stupid,” she moans, her hands in fists at her sides. “I thought you were different. But maybe Nana was right. Maybe you are trash.”
We stand in the stairwell shooting insults like arrows.
I shrug. “Well, it’s no wonder you liked me so fucking much, since you came from the epitome of scum.”
Her lips quiver, but not a single tear falls as she stands in front of me while we trade jabs.
“Turns out you were right all along. We aren’t so different after all. We both have losers for parents.”
Her cheeks redden, her eyes flashing with fury, but she keeps her composure. Her voice is steady as she reminds me of what I am. “You bastard.”
I laugh, wanting her to believe that she isn’t having any effect on me. “You’re right. Thanks to your beloved father in there, I am a bastard.”
She stomps a foot, denial flying out of her mouth so loudly the words bounce off the walls. “He didn’t do it! He didn’t murder your father!”
“No? How the fuck do you know? You thought he was dead up until a few days ago.” I sneer as Grace squeezes her eyes shut.
She opens her eyes as she takes a step toward me and lowers her voice. “He wrote me letters. Lots of letters. He explained what happened in them. I’ve read them a hundred times since I found them. I know he’s telling the truth. Please, Bronn, you have to listen to me. Come with me, read the letters yourself. Please,” she begs, her eyes full of unshed tears.
I want what she says to be true. Wouldn’t that make this all so much easier if the things that I’d believed my whole life weren’t true?
The way she watches me with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth and her face hopeful makes my entire body ache. I want to pull her to me, to cover her mouth with my own, to pour every emotion that I’ve experienced today into our kiss. I’m desperate for the connection to the one person that has ever truly understood me.
But before I can do just that, I shake my head.
What the fuck am I thinking?
I’ve spent years hating that man. There will never be a reason to make me want to believe a single word he has to say.
“No,” I tell her firmly. “Your dad’s lying to you. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be. Don’t waste your time on him. Your grandmother was fucking crazy, but she was right about one thing. You and your mother were better off without Mickey fucking Chumley.”
Her lip quivers, but she doesn’t cry. She stands up straighter and squares her shoulders. Clearing her throat, she tries one more time. “Please. Just come home with me.”
I shake my head. I want nothing more than to go with her. To go back to the way that things were before this. I want to take her pain away, to be able to support her as she deals with the fact that she’s been lied to her entire life. That’s what I should be doing right now, holding her and reassuring her that everything will be okay.
But I can’t.
It’s not Grace’s fault, but knowing that doesn’t change a thing.
I shake my head, unwilling to open my mouth and say anything more. I’ve already said too much. Turning on my heel, I burst out of the stairwell.
The sun is gone, covered by storm clouds, and fat raindrops begin to fall on my head.
The irony of it doesn’t escape me, and I laugh bitterly.
The weather perfectly mirrors the storm that’s brewing inside me.