9. Grant

CHAPTER 9

Grant

W hipping into the parking lot of the bar and grill, I groan when I notice the police cruisers parked out front.

“The 5-0?” Nona snorts. “Really? What could she have possibly done? Sing Christmas carols too loudly?” I shrug as she and I make our way toward the entrance. I was at the market working on laying the temporary floor down for Santa’s area when Nona called me, screaming that this restaurant was holding Elsie hostage and we had to come get her. I still have no idea what she’s talking about but as we walk in and I see Elsie sitting on a bench in handcuffs while Dean talks to an officer—I about lose my fucking shit.

“Elsie.” I walk over to the girl who is in near tears.

“Sir, you can’t—” Nona interrupts the officer.

“Care to explain why my granddaughter is in handcuffs, Louis? And do so quickly before I call your mother.” With Nona handling the cops, I focus all my attention on Elsie. Kneeling down in front of her nervous form, I rest my hand on her thigh, giving it a soft squeeze to get her attention.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” I ask as softly as possible. Her lip quivers as her watery gaze meets mine.

“I’m sorry,” she croaks. “It’s not a good day and he touched my leg and asked about sex and—”

“Excuse me a second, baby.” I kiss her forehead as I stand and turn—storming over to Dean and another cop. I brush by the officer and grab Dean by his shirt collar, slamming him against the wall.

“Grant!” I hear Thomas, the cop, bark my name but I ignore him. I beat his ass in high school, and I’ll beat him again if he tries to intervene right now.

“Did you touch her, Dean?” I hiss out, causing the man to wince. “You trying to get your dick wet in my girl?”

“G-Grant, I’m sorry! I didn’t know she was…”

“Grant!” Elsie’s voice pierces through my rage and I turn to her. She gives me a pleading look and… come on Els, baby, don’t look at me like that. Unable to stand the look of fear on her pretty face—I let out an annoyed sigh before dropping the large man.

“You done being a bitch?” I ask the man who nods frantically. Turning to Thomas, I raise a brow. “Uncuff her,”

“Now, listen here—”

“Un… cuff… her,” I growl out while moving into his space. Thomas looks to Louis who mutters something before uncuffing Elsie.

“You all are banned from this establishment,” Thomas grunts and I roll my eyes.

“We’ll try to survive. Come on, Els.” I wrap an arm around her shoulders as Nona and I guide her out of the restaurant. We get to the truck and Elsie stops walking. I go to ask what’s wrong, but I know—the truck.

“Wait, wait,” I say calmly as Elsie starts shaking her head and backing away.

“I can’t do this,” she whispers as her fingers start tapping against her thumb. “I can’t do this, I can’t keep smiling.”

Nona grabs the girl’s face and pulls Els to meet her gaze. “You stop smiling. You stop with that mask, you hear me?” Elsie shakes her head and I feel the guilt in my chest. Looking around, my eyes land on the building across the street and a plan begins to form in my head. This will either be a great idea or a terrible one but, it’s better than her having a panic attack in this parking lot.

“Come on,” I tell the ladies while walking towards the building with the name: Breakthrough .

“ T his is a bad idea,” Elsie says timidly while slipping the coveralls over her clothes. Nona sits in the chair by the window that looks into the rage room.

“I think this will be good, for both of you,” she states firmly while crossing her arms. “Get in there and break some shit.”

Walking into a rage room feels like stepping into a controlled storm. The space is dimly lit—brightly industrial, depending on what you want to call the vibe . Its walls are reinforced and splattered with remnants of past sessions—cracks in the drywall or faint streaks of paint are everywhere. The air carries a faint metallic tang, a mix of adrenaline and the pieces of shattered objects.

We’re greeted by shelves and piles of breakable items: old TVs, glass bottles, plates, and printers. Our gloves, helmets, and face shields lay on a table for us, along with a selection of weapons: bats, crowbars, and sledgehammers. I grab a crowbar and hand it to Els while pulling her face shield down.

“Grant,” she whispers nervously. “I really… I don’t want to.”

“Why?” I ask while grabbing a glass bottle and looking at it. “Are you afraid you’ll get hurt? Because you won’t, I promise. You know I’d never do something to hurt you.”

“No.” She winces as I throw the bottle and it hits the wall, shattering. “You… You know I don’t want to be that way.” That way. She means like her abusive father. I soften my gaze as I pat her shoulder.

“You aren’t your dad, Els. You never could be. I will tell you, though, that keeping this shit inside—holding back and not owning that grief, it’s going to hurt you in the long run.” She gives me a sarcastic huff.

“You’re one to talk.”

“I am,” I state firmly. “Look at what I’ve allowed myself to become. Who I’ve become. All because I held on to that shit. You’re too good, Elsie, don’t let it eat you. Don’t allow this pain to close you off from everyone. Don’t become me.” She stares at me for a long moment before timidly walking over to the flat screen and tapping it lightly with the crowbar.

“I’m so angry,” she growls out as she taps the television a little harder. I lean back to rest against the wall opposite her, trying to allow her to have this moment. “I’m angry at the driver, I’m angry at you, I’m angry at myself,” she says to David and my heart breaks.

“I should’ve never had you come get me,” she croaks out as her shoulders slump forward. I perk up at her words. “It’s all my fault!” she screams as her crowbar connects with the screen—knocking it off its stand as she slams into it again and again.

“You’re gone because of me! Grant is alone because of me! Beth is alone, I’m alone! It’s all my fucking fault!” She continues to wail on the screen before tossing the crowbar down and grabbing dishes. “You left me here alone, where I have to fake a smile despite knowing I’m the one everyone blames for your death. Everyone uses your memory to get money from me. I’m broke and alone and I hate you for it!” She throws glass bottles—one after the other against the wall as she continues to scream through her sobs.

“Ellie help me with this, Ellie help me with that. Ellie doesn’t mind! Ellie is always happy to please, happy to assist! Smiles and light—even on the darkest of days!” I have to resist every urge I have to go to her and hold her to me. I know she needs this, I know she needs to let this all out but, knowing that she’s been harboring the same guilt I have—it’s killing me. She shouldn’t be feeling this way, it’s my fault—not hers.

She places her hands on her knees while trying to catch her breath. “I’m sorry, David,” she cries and falls to her knees. “I’m so sorry.” I can’t take it anymore. I walk over to her and sit on the ground—pulling her into my arms as I remove our shields and eyewear.

“It’s not your fault,” I choke out, gripping her sobbing body to me as tight as I can—terrified she’ll disappear if I let go. “Sweetheart, it wasn’t your fault.”

“He was picking me up!” she wails into my coveralls. “Had I not called—”

“He died trying to save me,” I grit out while forcing her to look at me. “This is my fault Elsie. I am the one you should be blaming.” Her brows furrow as she shakes her head.

“Grant, no. I will never blame you,” she whispers and I roll my eyes.

“Well, that’s ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is you thinking you are the cause of this.”

“He stopped because of me!” I snap while the guilt and shame begins to fill me. “Had he not seen me—”

“He didn’t see you!” she snaps back and I look at her in confusion. “Grant, I saw you, not David. I am the one that told him we needed to stop and check. He didn’t see your motorcycle, we almost drove by.” I’ve forgotten how to breathe as I stare at her and I no longer know what I’m feeling. It’s almost as if it’s anger or betrayal, and it’s toward her.

“You told him to stop,” I repeat slowly and she nods.

“Yes, and I already see it written on your face so let me answer that question. Yes, even knowing the outcome—I would tell him to stop again.”

“You would tell him to stop—knowing it would kill him. Knowing the pain it would cause you, Nona, the whole fucking town. You would do that all over again—why?” It makes no sense, why would she do that?

“Because it was you,” she says simply. “You would’ve died.”

“So?” I huff while shaking my head. “So the fuck what? He would still be alive!” I try to move her away from me so I can stand but she slaps my hands and forces herself on my lap.

“Elsie,” I bark, trying to push her back. “Get off!”

“No!” she snaps while grabbing my face—forcing me to look into her red-rimmed eyes. “Your life is valuable, Grant. I need you to understand that I’m not mad over him trying to save you.”

“You should be,” I growl, looking away. “I’m the reason your brother is dead. It should've been me.”

“And I would’ve still been broken-hearted!” she yells, forcing my gaze back to hers.

“You would’ve gotten over it,” I huff while resting my head against the wall.

“If you think for one second I wouldn’t mourn you as much as David, then you are a fool, Grant Anders.”

“Why would you? I’m not your brother.” I search her eyes as she glares at me.

“No, Grant, you’re not my brother. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, that I don’t love you. Do not hurt me by acting as though you don’t know how I feel about you.” My heart rate quickens at her words and I try to shake my head—to tell her she’s foolish. But she doesn’t let me.

“And don’t insult me by saying I’m wrong. I’m an adult, Grant, I know what I’ve felt for you for a long time. You don’t have to feel the same about me.” She sounds almost defeated. “But you don’t get to tell me how I should feel about you.”

“Goddammit, Elsie,” I choke out as she presses her cheek against mine. I wrap my arms around her as tightly as I can while I bury my head into the crook of her neck, inhaling her floral and honey-like scent. I’m not good enough for her. I’m not good enough because she never saw a need to forgive me for David, but all I can think when I see myself is I’m here and he’s not. He doesn’t get to hold the love of his life in his arms, so why should I?

Six Years Ago

“ A re you going to ask Els out?” David pats my thigh as I hop off the tail of the truck.

“I don’t know, man,” I groan while rubbing the back of my neck. “Are you sure this isn’t going to be weird?” David shrugs lazily as we head toward the cab.

“Only if I walk in on you two or you break her heart.” I punch my friend in the shoulder before starting the truck.

“I was thinking about asking her to go ice skating tomorrow,” I mutter while avoiding his gaze as my cheeks heat up.

“Oh, perfect!” David chuckles. “Put my clumsy sister on ice skates! Seriously, I think you two will have fun. This will be good for you two. You need to admit that you’re crazy about each other. She’s out at some party tonight so you’ll probably need to bring her a hangover cure in the morning.”

“Maybe you and Beth could go, too?” I say nervously while trying not to talk myself out of asking Els, again.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll ask her tonight. I’ll be over at her place unless I’ve got to pick Elsie’s lightweight-ass up tonight.”