28. TannerGrace

TWENTY-EIGHT

TANNER

I bring the ax over my head, swinging it down and splitting the log in front of me. Grace has used approximately zero of the firewood I cut for her over the weekend, but here I am again, trying to look busy so I can be near her. We have the day off today, and it's pretty early, so I'm expecting her to be out the door to go to work any second. I'm not proud of the time I've spent stalking my own security camera, but it's given me a great idea of her daily schedule. She obviously knows I've been here this week, but we have yet to speak again. I'm just dying for any crumbs she'll give me.

My phone buzzes in my pocket with a motion detection notification from my security app, and I look up just in time to see Grace step outside with a coffee cup in her hand. I'm expecting her to be dressed for work, but she isn't. Instead, she's wearing a cropped t-shirt that hangs off one shoulder and a pair of denim shorts so short that if she opened her legs, I'd be able to see the heaven I've been dreaming of for the last five years. She pulls her sunglasses down over her eyes before stomping over to me.

Oh, shit .

"Here," she says, shoving a wad of cash into my chest. Her hip is popped out to one side, and I can tell she's pissed.

"What's that for?" I ask, looking down to where her hand is pressed to me, but not wrapping my fingers around the clump of money. The longer she holds it there, the more I can feel sparks of heat firing off under my skin. My breathing quickens and I know I need to get myself under control before she reads me like a fucking book.

"Rent money for letting me stay here," she says, and I want to put her over my knee and turn her ass red for the tone she's using with me right now. I shake the mental image from my head, looking back up at her.

"I'm not taking your money," I tell her, raising a brow, daring her to defy me. "I told you that you could stay here as long as you wanted." I prop the ax against the log before taking a step into her. I don't miss the quiet gasp that comes out of her as she moves back just a little bit.

She raises her chin, clearly ready to act like a brat. "Yeah? Well, you also told me you'd leave me alone if I wanted you to, so I guess we're both breaking the rules, aren't we?"

I know I should honor that. She hates me right now, and I did tell her that I wouldn't come here if she stayed. I just wanted her to be safe. But now that we're here, this close to each other, and she has fire in her eyes? I don't know if I can stick to my word.

My brain tells me to back off, but my feet carry me forward another step. Our chests are nearly touching as I tower over her. She tries to steel her expression, but her tits are heaving as her breaths get heavier. The beast inside me that's been sleeping for so long cracks one eye open, assessing the situation. And when he sees who's standing in front of us, it's game on. I know better than to push. I hurt her, and I deserve whatever reactions I get. So I'm not sure what possesses me to reach out, wrapping my hand around her throat, the corner of my mouth curling into a devious smirk. Her eyes widen, which spurs me on, even though I should be on my knees, begging for her forgiveness.

"I own this lighthouse, Grace. And you're my guest. If I want to come here and make sure you have everything you need so you don't have to lift a finger, I will. Do you understand?"

She clenches the bills tightly in her fist as she swallows, nodding her head slowly in response.

"Good girl," I say, dropping my hand and backing away from her before picking up the ax. She stands there, dumbfounded for a moment, before huffing in frustration and stomping back into the house. As soon as the door shuts behind her, I exhale, reaching up to massage the ache in my chest.

Fuck, that felt good.

GRACE

"Who does this motherfucker think he is?" I mumble angrily as I pace the living room. After I practically ran back inside, it took me several minutes to get my breathing regulated, and now I'm fuming.

How dare he step into my personal space like that and tell me what's going to happen? And putting his hand on my throat? What even was that ? I'm glad it's my day off today, because I'm going to need several cold showers to recover from it.

I can't even deny the reaction my body had when I looked up at him as he towered over me. The dominance in his eyes had me shrinking into myself and submitting so fast, it almost made my head spin. I'm so fucking turned on right now, I can't even think straight.

"No," I say to myself. "He hurt you. You're a bad bitch, Grace Valentine. You don't need to fall at his feet just because he's tall and hot…and squeezes your throat in the most delicious way, making you all fuzzy in the head."

I'm going crazy. There's no other explanation for the raging emotions I'm feeling right now. I despise him for leaving me here for so long and never coming back. And even more for returning after five years and making it impossible not to be in his orbit. For months, everywhere I've looked, I've either seen some type of reminder of him, or he's been there himself. It's all making the resolve I've spent years building up feel like a house of cards, ready to be blown over at any moment. I'm fighting hard to stay strong and remember everything that happened with us. So, why are the butterflies in my stomach fluttering around like lovesick assholes now that he's so close again?

Every day, this shit gets more confusing. At the beginning, I was perfectly happy staying pissed at Tanner forever. But now I don't know anymore. I'm going through a lot at the moment, and the only person who knows how bad it is, besides Monroe, is him. He's not using my vulnerability against me. Everything he's done has been to help, even though I've been pushing back every chance I get. It's not like he's holding the fact that I'm staying here over my head. He sneaks in in the mornings before I'm awake, makes sure I don't need anything, and replaces the flowers on the counter when they start to wilt. Even though I don't need it, he chops wood and cleans up, making it so that when I'm here, I can truly relax and enjoy the peace and quiet.

He's trying to mend what's broken between us, and it's making me feel too many things all at once.

I know I should stand my ground. What he did back then changed who I am as a person. He took a piece of me that I can never get back, and that's almost impossible to forgive. I was a shell of a person for so long, that I gave up on my dreams and had to reroute my entire path. I'm happy with my job, but it wasn't what I wanted when I was eighteen. I still want more, and had Tanner not broken me, I'd have had a better chance at the life I'd imagined when I was a kid.

I know that's ridiculous. I let a man hurt me so badly, that I gave up, but I was young. He was my first love, and I never could've prepared myself for the damage that was done by him walking away and not giving me any semblance of closure. For so long, I thought it was my fault. That I should've never told him that I wanted to be with him for real. I should've just sucked it up and gone to California after the summer was over, ending our arrangement like we had planned. At least that way, I wouldn't have lost him completely. Yeah, I'd have had to watch him move on and fall in love with someone else. I'd have had to witness his children growing up, wondering what my life would be like if he loved me the way I loved him, and I was the one he chose. But, I'd have had him in my life in some way.

I walk over to the window, looking out to where he's carrying more firewood to the stack that's now almost as tall as I am. I haven't used the firepit once since I've been here, so I don't know why he keeps chopping it. As he walks, I notice the tattoo on his calf. I can't make out what it is from here, but it makes me realize how much we've changed since the last time I saw him. There are parts of his body that I knew like the back of my hand before, but now they're different. He's bigger. Stronger. And his demeanor isn't the same. He used to be loud and obnoxious; always looking for a good time. But now, he seems so reserved. So controlled .

My thighs clench as he bends over, the globes of his firm ass straining against the fabric of his basketball shorts as he picks up pieces of fallen bark from the bricks underneath his feet and tosses them into the pit .

God, I miss his body. The way he used to own me and make me feel the way nobody else ever could? I wish I could just give in and take it back, but I know I can't. The risk of having to start over again with another broken heart isn't worth the reward of having him one more time. Because it could never be just sex with him. It never was. We've been there before, and it ended in disaster.

So why am I finding it harder and harder to keep pushing him away?