Chapter 20

brADY

SEVEN YEARS AGO

“Can you pick me up?” Grace asked.

Grace had called me in the middle of trying to finish a paper for my English class. I’d been so surprised that she’d called me that I’d picked up after the first ring.

“Can’t Ben get you? I’m writing a paper,” I said.

“I can’t get ahold of him. And I can’t call my parents.”

“What about your friend? Didn’t she drive you?”

I knew Grace’s friend Meredith was sixteen and already had her license. Meredith often came to the house to pick up Grace; she’d also flirt with me even though I knew she had a boyfriend.

“Meredith had to go home because she got sick.” Grace paused. “And the other kids brought beer with them. I think they’re drunk. So I don’t want to ride with them.”

I sighed. Well, I already knew I’d be pulling an all-nighter on this stupid essay on The Scarlet Letter. “Okay, fine. I’ll come get you. And do not get in the car with any of those other people.”

I hated drunk drivers. Mom had driven drunk more times than I could remember and had gotten plenty of DUIs. Every time I heard about her getting arrested for drinking and driving, I almost wished she would’ve gotten somebody else hurt. Then maybe she’d get a wake-up call to fix her life.

Now that I was seventeen, though, I hadn’t had much contact with Mom. It wasn’t worth the drama. When I’d been younger, I’d hoped that she’d get her life together so I could go back home.

Every year, from ages six to ten, I’d wish on my birthday that Mom would stop drinking.

By age eleven, when she’d left her millionth rehab after only three days after I’d begged her to go, I’d realized that she was never going to change.

Then, when I’d gotten older and had started earning money at part-time jobs, she’d hit me up for cash. Sometimes she’d managed to guilt-trip me into giving her a twenty here and there. Usually, that was when she was homeless and starving.

I’d driven to the outskirts of the city to find her when I’d only had my learner’s permit. But I couldn’t tell Mr. and Mrs. Dallas what I was doing.

I found Mom outside an abandoned house with a bunch of other homeless people. A few were shooting up heroin right out in the open.

“Baby!” Mom’s eyes lit up when she saw me. “You made it. Let me introduce you to my friends.”

Even at fifteen, I knew these people were no friends. I avoided their gazes and took my mom aside.

“I only have forty bucks,” I said as I handed her the cash I’d saved up from my part-time job as a server.

Mom’s face fell. “Only forty? Baby, I have bills. You sure you can’t spare any more?”

I could feel one guy leering at me, and it creeped me the fuck out. “I don’t have any more,” I protested.

Mom’s expression shuttered. She took the cash and stuffed it into her pocket. “Whatever. I know that family you live with. They’re rich. You could ask them for money anytime.”

“I can’t ask them!”

“Then steal it. You think they’d notice when they’re rolling in it? I’m out here, homeless, and you’re acting like you’re too good to help me.”

I shook my head. I couldn’t believe this. Anger made me snarl, “Go fuck yourself. I’m done.”

After that incident, I’d pretty much stopped talking to my mom. When she’d call the Dallases, I’d tell them to tell her that I was busy. Mrs. Dallas had tried to ask me what’d changed, but I’d clammed up.

What was worse was that sometimes I’d consider what she’d said. The Dallases had plenty of money, while Mom was out on the streets. If I could steal enough to get her into a legit rehab center, maybe, just maybe ...

But then I’d shove the thoughts aside, disgusted with myself. The Dallases didn’t need to deal with my mom’s insanity. And I was done with dealing with it, too.

So, yeah, I didn’t have much patience for kids my age drinking and driving. Getting drunk? Sure, whatever. I’d done it, and I’d do it again.

But driving and potentially killing yourself or others? That was bullshit. It also meant you didn’t have control of yourself, just like how Mom had never been in control of herself.

Which meant that if Grace needed me to pick her up when I had a paper to write, I’d do it. If I could do anything to keep her safe, I’d do it, no questions asked.

Because she’s like a little sister to you? Or because you want her to be something more than that?

It took twenty minutes for me to get to the theater. When I arrived, though, I didn’t see Grace outside. I circled the parking lot twice before I finally parked to go find Grace myself.

Had she given up on me coming to get her? The thought of her getting in the car with a drunk driver made me want to punch something. I went inside the theater, but I didn’t see Grace anywhere.

I was about to call her when I saw two people near a dimly lit wall outside. The couple then moved a few inches, enough that they were now somewhat illuminated by a streetlamp.

That was when I realized it was Grace and some boy I’d seen around our high school. And, to my shock, they were kissing.

I was glued to the spot. Every emotion under the sun ran through me—surprise, envy, annoyance. What the hell was she thinking, making out with some kid right outside the movie theater?

The two clearly didn’t give a shit if they had an audience. I crossed my arms, watching the free show, irritated with myself when I grew hard.

Grace was running her fingers through the kid’s hair. I could tell she was into kissing this nerd, whoever the fuck he was.

I wondered what it would be like if Grace kissed me like that. If she ran her fingers through my hair, arched against me, her body rubbing against mine—

I swore under my breath. I stalked back to my car and called Grace’s phone. I could still see her from where I’d parked. I could also tell that she was ignoring my phone call.

Finally, I saw her pick up. “Yeah?” she answered, sounding breathless.

“I’m here, near the entrance. I’m parked next to a big red truck.”

I snorted when I saw her looking around for me. Was she worried that I’d seen her making out with that boy?

Thinking about Grace like this was strange. She’d always seemed like too much of a Goody Two-shoes to pull a stunt like this. Then again, I’d noticed she’d been hanging around a shitty crowd lately.

It hadn’t helped that Grace’s friend Meredith seemed to be the instigator. Meredith had started dating Tom Garrison, who was notorious for smoking weed out in the parking lot, skipping class, and getting suspended for vandalism. And as far as I knew, Meredith had started joining her fuckboy boyfriend in his bullshit.

Grace finally found my car and climbed inside. Her cheeks were red, and I had to bite back a sarcastic remark when I saw how messed up her hair was.

“Sorry, were you waiting long?” she asked. She yanked on the seat belt too hard, making it catch. She did that a few more times before she finally managed to put it on.

“You good?” I drawled.

“Fine.” Grace was running her fingers through her hair now. “Do you have a comb, by chance?”

“No.” Then I turned on the radio for the rest of the ride home.

Grace seemed like her thoughts were far away, which was fine with me. I wasn’t about to ask her about that boy she was kissing. It was none of my fucking business, anyway.

It didn’t matter that she’d grown into a beautiful young woman lately, or that I had dreams about her that I could never, ever tell anyone about. Or that whenever I passed by her in school, I had to act like we were strangers.

Because I knew being just her friend would never work. I had to be cold. I had to act like she was just an annoyance, a younger sister who got on my nerves.

You need to get yourself the fuck together, I thought. You can’t keep thinking about Grace like this.

I also knew that her parents and Ben would never, ever let us be together. Her dad would strangle me, and then Ben would join him.

Once Ben had caught me staring at Grace when she came downstairs wearing a tiny sundress. He’d taken me aside later and said if he saw me eye-fucking his sister again, he’d break my spine.

I hadn’t even been pissed at Ben’s threat. I was nothing. I was the foster kid with fucked-up parents who were too addicted to drugs and alcohol to live decent lives.

I wasn’t the type of guy Grace deserved.

“Are you okay?” Grace asked me after we got off the interstate. “You seem mad.”

I turned down the radio. “I’m not mad.”

“You sure? I’m sorry I made you come get me.”

“I mean, I’m annoyed because I have to finish a paper, and you should’ve made sure you had a ride home.”

Grace winced. “Meredith was supposed to take me home.”

“Didn’t Meredith flake on you not long ago? Left you downtown to go meet up with her boyfriend?”

“She asked me if that was okay, you know.”

I snorted. “Sure, okay.”

“Why don’t you like Meredith?”

“I don’t give a shit about Meredith.”

I knew I was being an asshole, but I’d rather Grace think that I was a dick than realize I was annoyed that I’d seen her kissing another guy.

Grace huffed. “Now I know that you’re mad.”

“Think whatever you want.”

We said nothing when we arrived home. Grace immediately went upstairs to her room, stomping the entire way. When I heard her slam her bedroom door, I shook my head.

Hate me all you want. It’s better this way.

Grace had had a crush on me for ages. It was good that she was moving on. If she dated other guys, she’d forget about me.

I returned to my room and tried to focus on writing my paper, but my mind wouldn’t stop thinking about what I’d seen at the theater.

When had Grace started dating? Was this her first boyfriend? I’d never heard about her dating somebody else.

And how had she learned to kiss like that? Had that guy taught her?

I was gripping my pen so hard I almost snapped it in two. I groaned, rubbing my face.

My dick was hard again, thinking about Grace kissing that guy. Christ, what the fuck was wrong with me? And would I ever get rid of this attraction to a girl I could never have?