Chapter 8

GRACE

Will frowned over at me. “Grace? Is something wrong?”

I jerked in surprise. Nothing was wrong—except that I hadn’t been listening to him talk about his new job at all.

When Will had invited me out to dinner, I’d been reluctant to go. This annoyed me because he was my boyfriend , so why should I not want to go out to dinner with him?

“Wrong? No, no.” I pasted a fake smile on my face. “I’m sorry, I just have a lot of things on my mind. But I do want to hear about your new job.”

Will had recently gotten a position at a promising start-up that was making some kind of medical-related app. He proceeded to tell me about how he was struggling to code something or other, while I struggled to stay focused on what he was saying.

And it wasn’t because coding didn’t interest me. It was because I couldn’t stop thinking about Brady. The look on his face when Julia had scolded him like a little kid. Or that he’d refused to say why he’d punched Riley.

I knew he’d done it to defend me. I’d nearly bitten my tongue in half not to say anything, but I could tell that Brady would’ve been pissed if I’d spilled the beans.

Why? I didn’t know. Men were idiots.

“So what is his deal? Your foster brother?” asked Will.

I blinked. I stared at Will, confused. “My brother?” I’d never talked about Ben with Will before.

“The hockey player,” Will clarified, his eyes narrowing. “The jerk at your parents’ place.”

“Oh. Brady. He’s not my brother.” I let out an awkward laugh. “I mean, he’s part of the family, kind of. But he’s not my brother.”

Apparently, “the lady doth protest too much” because Will didn’t look convinced. He cleared his throat and stared at his glass of wine.

Will had chosen a nice little Italian place that I’d always wanted to go to. I’d been impressed that Will had remembered because I’d mentioned this place only once, offhandedly.

It also made me feel guilty. Will clearly paid more attention to me than I paid to him.

“Okay, well, Brady. Whoever he is.” Will waved a hand. “What was his deal? Is he always such a jerk?”

“He’s not a jerk,” I snapped. “He’s got a lot going on, that’s all.”

“Okaaaay. But you have to admit, he acted like a Neanderthal. I know he’s a jock ... they’re not known for being that intelligent—”

“Brady is smart. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Will closed his mouth. A blush climbed up my cheeks. Why was I so defensive about Brady?

He had been an asshole at dinner. He’d acted like he had some right to order me around or that I was out of bounds for bringing my boyfriend to dinner with my parents.

“He has a lot of pressure as a hockey player,” I explained, floundering now. “If the team does badly, they all feel it. They could lose sponsorships, and ticket sales could tank. It’s a lot of money on the line. And then because he’s famous, people always want something from him. He doesn’t trust people. Would you, if everybody thought they could gain something if they got close to you?”

Will looked uncomfortable. “I wasn’t born yesterday, babe. I know that a lot of people are shitty.”

I was glad when the server came with our appetizers right then. I busied myself with eating the bread while Will gazed morosely down at the antipasto platter.

After that, Will avoided the subject of Brady and hockey. Which meant he didn’t ask me about my internship. Instead, he asked me generic questions: my dream vacation, my favorite restaurant lately, my favorite authors, and whatnot.

I felt a bit like I was being interviewed. I nearly teased Will about it, but I stopped myself. For whatever reason, I didn’t feel like I’d earned that right.

After our entrées, I mentioned that I could go for some tiramisu. But when the server asked whether we wanted to see a dessert menu, Will told him no.

I was about to call the server back when Will put a hand over mine.

“I have dessert for us at home,” he said. His gaze was earnest now.

His hand felt overly warm on top of mine. “Oh. Really?”

“I made tiramisu.” He cleared his throat. “And, um, no pressure, but I wanted to see if you’d like to stay. The night, that is. Not just come over for tiramisu. No pressure, though. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Will knew I was a virgin. I’d been up front about that early on because I knew that it’d freak out some guys. Will had told me that he wasn’t in any hurry.

So why the suggestion now? He said no pressure, but at that moment, I felt a little pressured. Then again, we were at the point in our relationship when a lot of people would’ve slept together already.

“You made tiramisu?” I replied awkwardly. “Like, homemade and everything?”

“I even made the lady fingers.” Will sounded inordinately proud.

I’d attempted tiramisu only once as a teenager, and it’d been a failure. The mascarpone cheese had curdled (I still didn’t know how I’d managed that), the lady fingers had been mushy, and even my dad, who ate everything, couldn’t finish a piece.

So I knew how much effort that must’ve taken. Now I felt really guilty for being so distracted tonight.

“Wow,” I said because that was all I could think to say.

“So how about it?” Will gave me a small smile. “I also got a few of your favorite things. You told me that you loved lavender. I got a candle, and I even got you a robe since you said you love to wear one around the house.”

He was being so sweet that I nearly said yes to his proposal. But I hesitated. Because deep down inside, I knew that Will wasn’t the man whom I really, truly wanted.

“That’s really nice of you,” I said, “but I’d rather not. Not tonight.”

Will’s face fell. To his credit, he just replied, “That’s okay. Maybe next time.”

I needed to bite the bullet. “I mean, there won’t be a next time. I don’t think I’m the right person for you. This isn’t working for me.”

Will was crestfallen. “Did I push too hard? You can just come over and have dessert. I won’t do anything else. I don’t want you to feel pressured. I swear—”

“It’s not that.” I put my hands up. “I’m sorry. You’re a really nice guy. You deserve somebody who wants to be with you wholeheartedly.”

Will didn’t say much after that. He paid the bill, and then we were in his car, saying nothing. I wished I’d driven myself. But I hadn’t planned on breaking things off with Will tonight.

“Is there somebody else?” Will asked quietly.

I stared out the window. I didn’t look at him as I lied, “No.”

He didn’t say anything. He probably knew I was lying. But why be honest and hurt him further?

And why be honest at all, when I knew that Brady would never want me like I wanted him?

I felt like crying. I felt like an idiot for pining after a man who’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in me.

Was I a masochist? Or just an idiot?

When Will stopped in front of my parents’ place, he put a hand on my arm.

“If you ever change your mind,” he began.

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.” I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You’re a good guy. I hope you find somebody worthy of you.”

After Will drove away, I stood outside, staring at the front door. I didn’t want to go inside because Mom would likely ask me about my date.

The last thing I wanted to do was to try to explain myself. Instead, I got into my car and went straight to a local dive bar to forget this night entirely.

“Baby, come on, don’t play me like that,” a man in a red baseball cap said. He slid onto the barstool next to me, smooth as butter. “Give a guy a chance.”

This guy had already bought me two drinks. I’d taken him up on both offers, not caring if he expected something in return.

Now, my bloodstream was pure alcohol, and all my inhibitions had disappeared.

Well, maybe not all . I didn’t want to sleep with this guy, or any of the other guys who seemed ready to pounce if I so much as winked at them. But I didn’t care much that they were circling me like vultures.

“I’m not playing you,” I said, laughing a little. “You bought me a drink. I am drinking that drink. The end.”

“Nothing in life is free, darlin’,” he replied.

“Sure it is, if you really want it to be. And I’m not your darling.”

He seemed unaffected by that answer. “Baby—”

“I’m also not your baby.” I got up, but for some weird reason, the floor was way closer than I expected. I giggled, grabbing hold of the barstool as another guy grabbed my arm to help me up.

“I’m fine,” I slurred, brushing the other guy away. “I’m fine. Why does everyone think something is wrong with me? It’s annoying.”

I staggered to a nearby booth. I then fell sideways onto the leather, laughing like a lunatic. The world kept spinning.

God, I was drunk. I never drank like this. But it felt nice. I was happy. I didn’t care that I’d broken up with my boyfriend or that I wanted a hockey star who didn’t give two shits about me.

Brady. What was he doing right now? He was probably fucking some girl. He did that a lot. It was annoying.

I pulled out my phone and texted him, telling him he should stop fucking all the girls. He’d probably get chlamydia. I giggled as I tried to spell chlamydia . My phone struggled to figure out how to autocorrect my spelling attempts.

wear a condam, I texted. condem condom? what?

Then I sent him a whole bunch of eggplant emoji because those were hilarious.

I kept texting Brady until he replied. Well, he called me. I picked up and said happily, “Brady!”

“Where are you?” he demanded. He sounded mad.

I pouted. “You sound mean,” I accused.

He sighed. “How drunk are you? No, don’t tell me. Just tell me where you are.”

I told him even though I didn’t understand why he wanted to know. Unless he was going to come buy me some more drinks.

“I really, really like vodka cranberries,” I told him. “You should get one.”

“Don’t fucking move. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Then he hung up. I frowned. I didn’t know what was up with Brady. He was acting so weird lately.

I must’ve dozed off because suddenly, I felt hands on me. I tried to jump up, but the table was in the way. I let out a little screech before I realized Brady was the one touching me.

“It’s you!” I threw my arms around him. “You’re here!”

“Jesus, Grace, what the fuck?” He sighed and then picked me up in his arms. “I’m taking you home. Wait, no, if your parents see you like this—”

“My parents aren’t home.” I’d totally forgotten that they were out of town for their anniversary. I could’ve been drinking at home. I started laughing like an idiot. “They’re not home!”

Brady just shook his head. “I’m taking you home,” he said firmly.

I didn’t want to leave my car behind, but Brady assured me he’d take care of it. And it wasn’t like I could drive it. I was drunk . Smashed. Hammered. All the adjectives.

Brady parked in the driveway. I opened my door to get out, only to find myself on the concrete, my knee suddenly hurting.

“Ow! What the—”

“Grace, are you okay?” Brady crouched next to me. “I was going to help you out, you idiot.”

“Rude. You’re rude.” I poked him in the chest.

“Sorry. You’re not an idiot. You’re just drunk.” He helped me to stand, but I was still wobbly. He proceeded to lift me into his arms again and carry me inside.

It was nice, being in his arms. He was so warm—and strong. He carried me like I weighed nothing. He also smelled nice.

“Stop sniffing me,” he growled as he carried me upstairs.

“But you smell nice. I like it.”

He groaned. I didn’t know why he sounded so frustrated. I was just complimenting him.

He put me on my bed and then disappeared. I realized that I was still wearing my dress, along with some annoying shapewear and a bra. I hated wearing a bra.

I was able to toss my dress over my head, but I struggled to unhook my bra. I was all tangled up when Brady returned.

I froze. His eyes were narrowed, and his nostrils were flared.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Trying to get my bra off.”

He rubbed his forehead. Then after he took a deep breath, he gently turned me around and unhooked my bra. I pulled it off and tossed it in the corner, sighing happily.

I tried to turn, but Brady stopped me. “Let me get you a robe,” he said.

He handed me my favorite one, which I put on after a few tries. When Brady wouldn’t look at me, though, I realized that the V was open to the point that he could see a decent amount of my chest.

I laughed. “Sorry. But they’re just boobs. You’re acting like a baby.”

He scowled. “I’m trying not to embarrass you.”

I collapsed onto my bed. “Whatever.”

I was staring up at my canopy when I felt Brady’s hand on my calf. I sat up straight, my entire body heating.

Brady was gazing up at me with something I couldn’t define in his expression. “Your knee,” he explained.

I’d forgotten about it. It still stung, but the alcohol had numbed much of the pain.

I nodded, my throat tight. I watched as Brady opened the first-aid kit—how had he known where it was?—and pulled out a packet of alcohol wipes.

“This’ll hurt,” he said, and then he began cleaning the wound.

I sucked in a breath. It did hurt. But I’d gotten my knee pretty dirty, so I understood why he thought he should clean it.

The room was silent as he worked. After he cleaned the wound, he leaned down and blew on it, his gaze still on my face.

I shivered. I’d never had a man so close to me like this. And seeing Brady on his knees while I wore only a robe—

Well, a robe and shapewear. I hoped he hadn’t noticed those because that would be more embarrassing than just seeing me completely naked.

Brady caressed my calf, my thoughts scattering. “You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. He then put a bandage over the wound and stood.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked.

I didn’t know how to answer that. My mouth felt dry. I glanced at the water bottle that sat on my nightstand.

“I’ll fill that up,” he said, grabbing the bottle before I could say a word. Bottle filled, he then watched as I drank the entire thing, telling me it was the best way to get the alcohol out of my system.

“Keep drinking as much water as you can. It’ll help. Although you’ll probably still have a hangover in the morning. Do you ever drink like this?” he asked.

I shook my head, yawning. “No. But I was sad tonight. I broke up with Will.”

Brady stilled. “You did? Why?”

“Because he wanted to be my first, and I didn’t want that. I want you to be my first.”

Brady didn’t say anything. I saw his chest rise and fall, rise and fall, and it seemed like he was breathing hard. His pupils were wide.

But he didn’t touch me. He just shook his head. “You should sleep,” he said.

I yawned again. “I’m not sleepy. I don’t want to be alone. Will you stay with me?”

His jaw clenched. “That’s not a good idea.”

I snorted. “I know you don’t want me like that. I just don’t want to be alone.” I grabbed at his shirt, gazing up at him.

“Go to sleep,” he said gently. He unhooked my fingers and made me lie down. He then tucked me in and brushed his fingers across my forehead.

“I’ll watch over you,” he said quietly.

I closed my eyes. And then, with Brady’s touch dancing across my face, I fell asleep.