Shattered Grace

A few minutes later, Quentin could still feel the effect of Grace slamming the door as he held on to either side of the door frame. It too was humming with frustration. Pressing his forehead against the steel door, he banged his head against it repeatedly. He couldn’t do anything right when it came to Grace. Every which way he went was a wrong turn.

He had come to the gym to keep his distance from her. Hell, they both needed it. Instead of putting on a shirt when he felt her getting closer, he pushed himself harder to work up a sweat, knowing what it would do. Yeah, he was all kinds of a jerk. What he wasn’t prepared for, what he didn’t expect, was feeling her reaction to seeing him like that. Desire collided with desire, spinning out of control and exploding like a star. And he couldn’t stop himself. Didn’t want to.

“Damn it!” he yelled out loud, slamming the palm of his hand against the door.

He was the one who was supposed to protect her from harm, not hurt her in irreparable ways. Scars of the heart last an eternity. No matter what he might want, his focus should only be about being her Guardian…even if it broke his own heart.

An intrusive, ear-piercing shriek ripped Grace from the black nothingness of sleep. She lifted a heavy arm from under the comforter, trying to feel her way to the snooze button. Finally, the small machine surrendered to her fierce pounding against it. Done with the day in and day out soap opera drama, she thought of attempting to smother herself as she covered her face with a pillow. The only thing that accomplished was confirming her teeth needed a serious minty toothpaste scrubbing. Yuck!

She sat up on the edge of her bed, and couldn’t deny the one positive from the prior night. No, it wasn’t the kiss, even though that technically could be considered a very good thing. If he weren’t such a freaking jerk, she corrected herself mentally. For once, something had gone the way she wanted…her dreamless night.

The thought of the only positive in her life being a dreamless night left an even worse taste in her mouth than the morning funk already taking up residence there.

And there it was again, her crappy mood was back.

She stomped to the bathroom, went pee, and brushed her teeth, then brushed again for good measure. But the second brushing did little to alleviate the rancid taste of reality.

She put on a pair of capri jeans and a light blue tank, grabbed a pair of white flats and her backpack, and stormed like a mini tornado to the kitchen. The buoyant Laney beat her there.

“Good morning,” her mom’s voice sang, a smile brimming from behind her coffee cup.

“Mm-hmm,” Grace murmured, not interested in niceties this morning.

“Are you alright?” Laney asked as she placed her coffee cup down on the counter.

Tired of pretending and sick of biting her tongue, Grace didn’t care about saying what her mom, or anyone else, wanted to hear. “No, I’m not alright and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had a horrible couple of weeks and I just want to get through the rest of this one. Okay?”

“Okay,” Laney said, turning back to her coffee.

“But you wouldn’t know about any of it,” Grace continued. “Because you’ve been too busy with your new friend.”

Laney slowly put her coffee cup back on the counter and leaned against it, staying silent for a couple of heartbeats. Grace wasn’t sure if she should brace herself or run, so she defiantly stiffened. “What?” she asked her mom, ready to get this over with.

“Are you ready to talk now?”

Who was this woman? The Laney that Grace had known over the years didn’t have time for heart-to-hearts. Now she wanted to have them left and right. Grace definitely needed to ask Quentin if there were aliens, too. An alien abduction would explain her mom’s strange and out-of-character behavior. Forget it! That would mean she’d have to speak to Quentin, and she didn’t plan on doing that anytime soon. If ever.

Thinking about the way he had kissed her the night before made her face heat up again. Then she remembered it was a pity kiss, and her face still burned, but for a different reason.

Her head lolled forward a little in shame of the card she was about to play. “No, I don’t want to talk. I’m sorry for being crabby. I think I’m about to start my period.”

“Oh,” her mom said. “That explains it.” Well, it might explain it, but it didn’t explain what was wrong with Grace. “Have you taken any Midol? I have some in my purse if you need it.”

And just like that, she went from feeling brave enough to say what was on her mind, to hiding behind Midol and tampons. It just kept getting better. What would make it truly memorable would be if Quentin could join in on the Mother Nature talk.

As if on cue, Quentin walked into the kitchen. Perfect!

“…make sure to take enough extra with you to get you through school,” her mother continued, oblivious to the member of the opposite sex entering the kitchen. “Nothing worse than cramps and bloating.”

Oh, she was so wrong. There was nothing worse than getting the time-of-the-month pep talk while in the presence of a guy. Grace would take a healthy dose of private cramps and bloating any day of the week. She couldn’t respond. She stood wide-eyed and slack-mouthed, too dumbfounded to know what to say.

“What?” her mom asked, eyes going wide at Grace’s sudden change.

Quentin cleared his throat. “Mornin’,” he mumbled with a sly grin. Grace’s eyes closed to slits, glaring her morning “hello.” After he was done rummaging for food, he left the kitchen. Laney leaned toward Grace, lowering her voice to barely above a whisper. “Did he hear all of that?”

“He heard enough.” Grace sighed.

As Grace walked out of the house and toward her car, she had to remind her feet to keep moving forward. If her morning so far was any indication of how the rest of her day was going to go, she was better off going back inside to finish smothering herself with the pillow. The responsible side of her brain urged her to ignore the inevitable and head to school anyway.

A few steps before reaching her car, Quentin stepped in front of her. “Can we talk about last night?” His hand nervously twitched at his side.

“I’m going to be late.” Grace sidestepped him for the door.

“Well,” he said behind her. “We need to talk about it.”

Determined to ensure he knew she meant business, she whirled around. “No, we need to forget about it.” Without looking back, she got into her car and drove to school.

By the end of sixth period, Grace was relieved her day had been more of the same—no surprises, and nothing like her morning. It was pretty boring. Turn in homework, get assigned more homework, discuss midterms.

Amanda still refused to talk to her; she wouldn’t even look at her. Leah predictably nattered about Brian and the party. Emily barely acknowledged Grace at lunch, only through intermittent mouthfuls of food and Tommy. Grace wondered if she should be mourning her best friend right along with her grandfather.

Zeke, however, surprised her. He still waited for her after every class, carrying her books, periodically asking if she was alright, and if she and Amanda had worked things out yet. He even walked her to her car. For today, Grace was glad for his persistence.

By the time Friday morning came around, her anger toward Quentin had dissipated, but not entirely. She somehow managed to talk to him without spewing venom, which was a step in the right direction.

“We should start training this weekend,” he said, while grabbing a bowl for his usual Cocoa Pebbles.

“I know.” Okay, so she was able to talk without throwing word daggers at him, but that didn’t mean she was ready to carry on long-winded conversations.

“What day works best?”

“Tomorrow. I have the party tonight,” Grace said, as Quentin sat down next to her.

Pulling the now empty spoon from his mouth, he turned to her, his mouth full of cereal. “Party?”

“Yeah,” Grace said, already getting frustrated. She focused on her breathing. “You know … friends, music, dancing.”

“Ha ha.” Quentin sounded just as frustrated as Grace felt. “I know what a party is. When and where?”

His giving her the third degree was a constant invasion of her privacy, and she was beginning to hate it. She wondered how her grandfather had dealt with it. “Eight o’clock.” She blew out a breath. “Just outside of town at Brian’s house.”

He took a couple more bites, and talked again with his mouth full. “You know I’ll—”

“Have to go with. Yeah, I figured.” Grace rolled her eyes. After her eyes rolled back to front and center, she noticed Quentin seemed hurt by her lack of enthusiasm in him going. For a second, she felt bad and almost apologized, and then she remembered the other night. Without any more thought, she scooted her chair back and got up. She put her dishes in the dishwasher, and tossed over her shoulder, “I’m leaving for school.” She didn’t hear the scrape of Quentin’s chair, but knew he’d be right behind her.

Amanda walked into first period just as the bell rang, like she had the last couple of days—straight to her desk, no quick glances, nothing. Grace watched as Amanda swiveled in her seat to sit angled outward—away from her—facing more toward Miss Township’s desk in the corner. If it weren’t test day, Grace would have thrown an airplane note, or snuck in a whisper. Something. But instead, she sucked it up and kept quiet. Grace finished her test a little before the end of the period. She looked up just as Amanda walked to Miss Township’s desk, handed in her test, and left the classroom. Unless Amanda was at her locker, or just happened to show up at lunch, Grace wouldn’t get a chance to talk to her. Maybe she’ll be at the party? Probably not, she thought. Jackass Charming probably has a business trip. She so needed to get over it. Amanda was going to do what Amanda wanted to do, no matter what. The thought of letting Amanda do something so stupid without trying to get her to think it over made Grace’s stomach hurt. Nope, no getting over it, she needed to talk to her.

Grace didn’t see Amanda the rest of the day. Her mood teetered between relief and disappointment. She didn’t want to have another public catfight, but she didn’t want to continue to be on the outs with Amanda either. Amanda was Amanda, but she loved her regardless.

“So, I’ll see you tonight?” Zeke asked from outside the Shelby as he put her backpack in the backseat.

“Uh, yeah,” she said slowly. She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment and couldn’t help being blunt. “You know we’re just friends, right?” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks for asking, but she liked Zeke and didn’t want to hurt his feelings by allowing him to think they were something they weren’t.

“Yeah, I know.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his cargo shorts. “I’ll see you later.” She watched as he walked back through the parking lot and to his car.

Feeling a little guilty, she sighed before turning back around. She didn’t have to see Quentin’s car to know he was in his usual spot. She’d felt his eyes boring into her ever since she and Zeke got to her car. Too weak to stick to her own personal promise of not looking, she peeked at his parking spot. Sure enough, he was there—window rolled down, shades covering his eyes. The gaze of his stare was so intense, Grace could see the burn of liquid silver through the dark lenses. Abruptly, she turned her attention back to the road, driving the remainder of the way home trying not to glance in her side or rearview mirrors.

When she drove closer to the manor, Grace noticed cars parked on either side of the road, along with a few parked in the driveway. “What the hell?” she said out loud.

Pulling through the brick pillars on either side of the driveway, she noticed a sign that read “Darlene’s Estate Sales.” A sudden urge to strangle her mother took away any ability she had to stay calm. After slamming the gearshift into park, she swung the car door open and rushed up the steps like a crazy person. A very angry, out of control, crazy person.

“Grace!” Quentin called out from behind her.

Completely ignoring him, she body-slammed the door open. “Mom!” she yelled as loud as she could. Strangers were everywhere, touching her grandfather’s things, and all turned to see what the crazy little commotion was all about. “Where are you?” Grace continued to yell as she took the stairs two at a time toward her mother’s room.

“She’s not here,” a female voice called up from the bottom of the stairwell. “So keep your voice down. You’re going to scare all the buyers off.”

Grace stopped dead in her tracks, stunned. When people said they were so angry they saw red, she assumed it was a figure of speech. It wasn’t. A film of red covered her sight, making it nearly impossible for her to see past her anger long enough to focus on the woman standing like she belonged in the middle of her house. “What are you doing?” Grace seethed, loud enough for most of the strangers in the house to hear. “More importantly, how’d you even get in?”

Rose’s thin lips pulled into a smug line. “My dad used to live here too once upon a time. He had a key.”

Grace shook her head in disbelief, and pushed a breath through her pursed mouth. “Yeah, before I was born. You have five minutes to get yourself and all these people the hell out of my house before I call the cops.”

“Your house?” her cousin Rose said with a pfft. “You can’t be serious.” Rose stared at her accusingly, then gripped her hips with her bony hands.

“Oh, I’m dead serious. Get. Out. Now!” Grace yelled, loud enough this time for everyone to hear, balling her fists at her sides.

“What are you going to do with all this stuff?” Rose said, with hands waving around the room. “And this house, and all the money Christophe left you, you greedy little brat? You don’t need all of it.”

“And you do? I’m pretty sure you received enough money. And I’m positive part of your inheritance wasn’t worry. So don’t worry about what I’m going to do with any of it, or if I need it.” Grace dramatically pointed at the watch on her left wrist. “Four minutes.”

Rose was nearly fifty, over a decade older than Grace’s mother, but she stomped her foot like she was five. “It’s too late,” Rose tried to reason.

“I don’t care. If anybody walks out of this house or off the property with anything, they’re going to jail and so are you.” Grace swung her arm up, making sure the watch was in front of her eyes. “Three minutes.”

“Fine!” Rose hissed out through clenched teeth, her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t over.”

Ooh, Grace mimed with mouth and hands. Triumph moved her limbs down a couple of steps. She loved knowing she was getting under Rose’s skin.

“Two minutes,” Grace counted down.

Grace followed on Rose’s heels through the house, not sure where her cousin was headed. Rose pulled aside a younger woman dressed in an off-white suit, whom Grace assumed was Darlene, the estate sale lady, and had a terse, whispered conversation that included lots of arm-waving and gesturing. She overheard something about reimbursements and non-refundable deposits, and caught Rose’s eye to point at her watch once again. Grace didn’t care if Rose had to fork over any money. She just wanted her and everyone else out.

Another fifteen minutes and the house was cleared. Darlene guaranteed no one had left with any of Grace’s belongings and continued to apologize for the misunderstanding. Grace thanked her and finally shut the door behind her as she left. A small knock on the door just seconds after Darlene left had Grace grabbing the handle with exasperation.

“Yes?” she said snidely as she opened the door.

Rose stood on the front porch in her bully stance, her eyes menacing as she spat out, “I meant what I said earlier.”

“Whatever.” Unimpressed, Grace shut the door in her face.

“You’re messing with the wrong person, Grace,” Rose yelled through the closed door.

She turned the lock on the door handle and dead bolt, and stumbled mentally exhausted up the stairs and to her room. She hadn’t seen Quentin since she got out of her car earlier, but she was too tired to worry about it. Setting the alarm on her cell, she collapsed on her bed for a little nap before the party.

From the dark recesses of her mind, Grace could make out a faint, relentless buzzing sound. She wanted it to stop. She finally felt peaceful. Like an annoying fly, she swatted at it. Something clanked loudly to the floor, and she realized it was her phone. And it probably just shattered. Finally completely awake, however reluctantly, she hung over the side of her bed and picked it up. No cracks, it was fine. The screen was lit up with an incoming text from Emily, asking if Grace wanted to ride to the party with her and Tommy. After replying yes, she scrambled out of bed. Somehow she had managed to sleep through her alarm. In fact, she’d slept for a couple of hours. Emily and Tommy would be there to get her in forty minutes.

She hurried to her closet, grabbing a pair of white capris, sandals, and her yellow silk halter that tied around the neck, then ran into the bathroom. She freshened up a little, changed, and touched up her makeup. By the time she was finished, she had only ten minutes until her ride was supposed to show up. Not knowing if there would be food, she hurried to the kitchen and slapped together a sandwich, standing over the sink to wolf it down so she wouldn’t have to mess up a plate.

A slight noise behind her alerted her to Quentin’s presence. Of course, he wouldn’t show up and try to talk to her until her mouth was full. Quentin stopped just shy of the island and gave her a serious look. “I’ll just be outside if you need anything, including a ride if there’s any drinking.”

“You don’t have to stay outside and play G.A.,” she said with her mouth full.

“What the hell is a G.A.?”

Grace smiled, but kept her lips over her teeth in case she had any food stuck in them. “Guardian angel.”

“Ah, cute. I need to stay outside.”

Confused, she stopped eating. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, turning away from her. “You’re still upset and if I’m there, you won’t be able to have a good time. After the last couple of weeks and today, you’re due for some fun.”

Taken aback by the sudden lump of emotion stuck in her throat, she struggled to swallow. “Thank you, but I’ll get over it, Quentin … really.”

He smiled thinly when he met her eyes. “I know you will. I’ll be here when you do.” Before she could respond, he turned to leave the kitchen. “I’ll be right behind you when you leave.”

The comfort in knowing he was going to be watching over her returned and warmed her from the inside out. Quentin had been a beacon of comfort and dependability since the moment he’d first stepped into her life after her grandfather’s funeral. If only he wasn’t such a pain in the ass…

Cars were lined up side by side in the driveway and on the grassy lawn on the front and sides of Brian’s house. The house was alive and inviting. All the windows and doors were open. Smoke from the bonfire out back billowed like a welcome sign against the periwinkle twilight sky. The night’s weather was perfect, upper seventies with gentle warm breezes. Music surrounded Grace, pulling her and her friends closer as they stepped onto the walkway, the house bouncing with every beat.

Grace, Emily, and Tommy could hardly get through the front door without pushing their way in. A swarm of people danced in unison to the rhythm pulsing from the oversized speakers on either side of the fireplace. Tommy guided Emily and Grace through the crowd with a hand on the small of their backs. “Do you guys want something to drink?” Tommy yelled above the music, once they were far enough away from the makeshift dance floor.

“Sure,” Emily hollered back.

“What about you?” he asked Grace.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Grace tried to keep her hands palms down against her thighs, not wanting to touch anyone. She’d dealt with enough of her own drama for one day. She didn’t need to feel anyone else’s.

“There you guys are,” Leah said as she joined them, bouncing a little to the rhythm of the music.

“Where’s Brian?” Grace asked close to Leah’s ear.

Still bouncing, she said, “He’s getting me another drink.”

Craning her neck, Grace scanned from face to face, trying to find Amanda. It was highly unlikely she was here, but she searched all the same.

“If you’re looking for Zeke, he’s in the kitchen with Brian,” Leah offered.

Did everyone but Grace think she and Zeke were together? Grace didn’t say anything and continued to glance around. Amanda was nowhere in the living room. She would try outside later.

“Here you go,” Brian said from behind Leah, bringing a red Solo cup over her head and putting it in her hand. Tommy brought Emily’s drink and Zeke brought Grace’s. It seemed they were all in collusion, trying to force the hand of fate and whatnot. Sorry guys, not gonna happen, she mused.

Tommy and Emily wandered over to the sound system to peruse through the music. Brian talked about making s’mores over the bonfire and grabbed Leah by the hand to ensure she tagged along. That left Grace and Zeke—alone. He finished his beer and asked if she wanted another before heading back to the kitchen for more. When he returned, he had a red cup in each hand, and a lawn chair under each arm.

“Let me help you.” Grace took the chairs from under his arms. Unfolding them, she sat down and took the cup he offered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Aren’t you tired of entertaining me?”

“Nah,” Zeke said, taking a drink. “I feel like a third wheel with all my other friends.”

Grace felt the same way. His calling her a friend didn’t go unnoticed. She settled back into her chair. Grace talked nonstop and Zeke hung on her every word. They joked and laughed until tears fell from Grace’s eyes. Finishing her second drink, she suddenly felt like she had just drank her fourth. She needed to slow down. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” Standing up to head in the direction Zeke might point out, Grace scanned the room again.

“If you go back through the kitchen, then down the hallway, it’s the first door on the right.” He stood and leaned down in order to talk in her ear. “Or,” he continued, “you can use the bathroom upstairs. That may be easier to get to.”

“Okay. I’ll be right back.” Handing Zeke her empty cup, she headed in the direction of the stairs.

“Good luck. I’ll be right here,” he said with an impish grin.

Good luck was an understatement. She made her way through the tightly packed room, fighting elbows and unintentional shoves as the partygoers danced about her, all while trying to keep her hands from steadying herself against the moving bodies. The constant motion and cumulative effect of the beer she’d downed suddenly made her wonder if the floor was moving. When she finally made it to the staircase, Grace paused. With a sigh, she peered up the stairs, then contemplated not even going there, especially if they were moving like the floor. Girls were scattered like Legos all up and down the stairs. She decided to go for it. “Excuse me … excuse me … pardon me.” She ended up throwing elbows back, putting her shoulder in it, and tried to hide her annoyance with forced politeness. She bounced from side-to-side like a pinball all the way up the stairs, then was surprised when she made it to the top. Pausing for a second, she tried to remember which door Zeke had said was the bathroom.

“If you’re looking for the bathroom, it’s the door at the end of the hall on the right,” someone volunteered, a guy who was standing against the banister talking to some girl. Grace didn’t know either of them and assumed they were friends with Brian’s brother.

“Thanks.” She focused on her feet as she tried walking a straight line to the last door on the right.

After locking the door, she rested her back against it. A few minutes later, she was able to push herself away. She went to the bathroom and washed her hands. The cool water felt good. She shook them off, touching her wet fingers to the front and back of her neck, hoping the coolness would sober her some. With cupped hands under the faucet, she took a couple of sips and headed back to the party.

The staircase would require walking slowly. Grace looked over the crowd of heads that rolled like waves of an ocean to the rhythm of the music. Impressive sight, she decided, taking one careful step at a time. So many individuals moving as one with like-minded rhythm—only a few with an apparent inability to follow. Her gaze still roamed over the rolling crowd when an unmoving body caught her attention. He was showing up everywhere, and despite her inner warnings of why she should steer clear, she found herself smiling from ear to ear. And promptly blamed it on the beer.

Darius held up a red cup, extending a couple of fingers in a wave. Grace gave him a slight wave back. He was standing next to a guy she didn’t know, probably another friend of Brian’s brother. She watched as Darius said something to him before moving through the swarm of bodies.

At the bottom of the stairs, she chastised herself for being buzzed as she watched him come toward her. But then again, she was kind of glad. She couldn’t relax around this guy. Maybe the two beers would help.

Once her eyes met his, she forgot what her issue was. She was caught in the Venus flytrap of his green, come-hither eyes. The closer he got, the more her chest constricted so tight she almost couldn’t breathe. As he approached, a knowing smile took over his face; she was hooked and he knew it. A sharp and spicy scent enveloped Grace when Darius reached her. He was all around her, overpowering all her senses. “Hi.”

“Um … hi,” she said nervously.

He chuckled at her uneasiness. Just like the magical laughter of her dreams, it bounced around her. “Are you having a good time?” Darius asked.

She tried pushing past the fog, and focused on her words. “Yeah, you?” That was good, she didn’t sound like an idiot. At least, she didn’t think she did.

His gaze was intense, almost hypnotic, and didn’t waver from hers. “I am now.”

Gazing into Darius’ eyes caused a tingle to crawl over her body, a warm, luscious zing she didn’t trust. Warnings of danger pulsed through her veins as that crazy self-preservation sense kicked in again, overwhelming Grace with a sudden flight instinct. “It was great talking to you.” Hastily, she shoved away from the stairs, and began walking back to her lawn chair, and Zeke. “I have to get back to my friend,” she tossed back over her shoulder.

Darius took a step in front of her, halting her retreat. “Are you talking about the guy you were sitting with?”

Surprised, she said, “Yeah, why?”

“Well …” He pointed a Solo-cup-holding finger in Zeke’s direction. “Looks like he found a new friend.”

Her gaze followed his finger as she tried seeing over the crowd from her tiptoes. Sure enough, Zeke was sitting with a dark-haired girl, laughing like they were old friends. “Looks like you’re right.”

“Come on.” Darius grabbed Grace’s hand and led her out of the living room and to the backyard. It was a good thing she wasn’t holding a cup full of beer, it would have sloshed over the sides as he pulled her through the crowd. It floored her she couldn’t feel his emotions when he touched her hand. It was just as much a relief as an irritant. She didn’t understand it, but decided to go with it, not fight it, and just try to enjoy it.

Grace accepted another red cup from Darius and followed him to a fallen tree next to the bonfire. The sun was completely set; a half moon shone bright in the night sky. Tiny sparks of orange embers danced upward with the twirling smoke. Before Grace sat, Darius grabbed a blanket for her to use as a cushion.

“Thanks.” Grace sat on the log. She watched mesmerized as Darius took a drink, focusing on his Adam’s apple bobbing. He sighed. “That’s good.” Since this was only the second time she had ever had beer, she wouldn’t say it was good. It was … so-so.

“Did you come with that guy?”

“No, he’s just a friend.”

“So you’re alone.” A bit of mischief moved behind his gaze as he made the observation.

Grace squirmed, bunching up the blanket underneath her. “I’m here with Em and Tommy.”

“Ah.”

Nervously, she tried to think of something cool and mature to say, tugging at her hair. Why did he make her so flustered? It was very annoying. “So,” she said, going for nonchalant. “Are you stalking me?”

He chuckled. “No, I’m just very lucky.”

“How so?” She flashed her best flirty smile, tightening every muscle to still her movement.

“I just happen to be at the right place at the right time when it comes to you. And look, I’m here with you again.” His eyes danced and his mouth tipped up in an all too sexy smile.

The butterflies took off again, causing a tingling pull in the pit of her stomach. She laughed at his comment, a little restless by the compliment. Grace tried not reading too much into what he said. Technically, he was with her now. That didn’t mean he hadn’t been with someone else earlier.

As Grace and Darius talked in their loud but private corner, the redheaded girl she’d seen with Darius before decided to saunter to his side, bringing with her an entourage of sexiness all tied up in an intimidating package. Where the hell did she come from, Grace whined internally. Her stomach fell as disappointment wrapped around her heart and squeezed. The beer got the upper hand, pumping courage at least to her eyes. She glared at the intruder, envisioning Red tripping on her pretty little heels. Grace definitely didn’t like her, even though Red had never done anything to her. Either way, Grace decided she wouldn’t be adding her to any friend list.

Before leaning in an all too familiar and comfortable fashion against the side of Darius’ body, she gave Grace a glance that barely registered as acknowledgment. Grace rolled her eyes. The feeling’s mutual. “Who’s this,” she said, flicking her chin at Grace. “Lucky flavor of the week?”

“Lux,” Darius warned. Lux? Was that really her name? How odd.

“What? I’m ready to go.” Lux pathetically pushed out her bottom lip.

“Have Ari drive you,” Darius said, as he grabbed the wrist she draped across his chest and carefully pushed her away. Inside, Grace smirked at how easily he shot her down, while disappointment released her heart one finger at a time. He wasn’t there with her. That much was obvious.

Standing to her full height and clearly not happy, Lux tried a different tactic. “He’s not ready to go yet. He’s too busy taking the frat boys’ money.”

“So, go convince him to want to leave. I’m busy.” When he said “busy” he trained his eyes on Grace. She turned her face, trying to hide her satisfaction.

Lux stayed next to Darius as if she could somehow will him to leave with her. She glared down at Grace, pivoted on her stilettos, and stalked back the way she came.

“Sorry,” Darius offered. “Lux is …” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. Grace thought she already knew. And against all better judgment, was ecstatic that Red wasn’t his girlfriend.

“Yeah,” she quietly replied.

As they continued talking, electrically charged molecules cavorted between them, pulling their bodies closer together. Grace was hyperaware of the slight movement he made, and where his body touched hers with every word. Peeking at him from under her lashes, she licked her bottom lip and watched his hands as they moved absentmindedly on his knees, wondering what they’d feel like against her face, tangled in her hair. How would it feel to be wrapped in his arms, or to snuggle into the crook of his neck? How would his lips feel pressed against hers, or… Her head snapped down to peer in her cup. She wondered if something had been slipped into her drink. It looked empty, so she shook it for good measure. Yep, it was almost gone. Three down.

The phone in her pocket buzzed against both their legs. Her hands grabbed for it while she sent Darius an apologetic look. She felt like tossing the phone in the fire, but peeked at the backlit screen anyway.

Quentin: DON’T YOU THINK YOU’VE HAD ENOUGH?


With her iPhone cupped in both hands, she stared across the flames at the others sitting around, noticing Brian and Leah. No, she decided, shaking her head. She certainly didn’t think so.

Grace: Not at all!

Irritated he was playing Guardian/father again, she continued.

Grace: I have a DD if I can’t drive. A GA if im in dnger & a ST sittin b-side me.


She giggled a little at the last part. Darius sat silently next to her, minding his own business. Her phone buzzed again seconds later.

Quentin: What’s an ST?

Grace: A sure thing.

Quentin: NOT FUNNY.

Grace: Who said im kidding?

Quentin: I’ll be there in a minute.

Grace: Y?


He better not come, she thought.

Quentin: Because you’re in DANGER of losing something you can’t get back & I’m your GA.

There was nothing she could say. He was on his way. Somehow, she could feel it.

On the other side of the bonfire, embers sparked like fireflies around Quentin. The flames glinted an angry orange against the silver rage of his eyes. He was pissed. He had to know she was joking.

It didn’t appear so.

His gaze slowly swung from Grace to Darius, whom she’d just said was her ST. The muscle in his jaw twitched as his eyelids lowered into an even angrier glower. Darius tensed next to her, chest puffing like he was expecting to cock-a-doodle-do his way out of a possible confrontation.

“Do you know him?” he asked, not taking his eyes from Quentin.

“Uh-huh,” she said from the corner of her mouth. “He’s my ride.”

The tension between the two of them was tangible, crackling hotter than the raging bonfire separating them. Grace didn’t want problems and she definitely didn’t want or need another fight.

Reluctantly, she stood up, shoulders heaving as she took a breath. “I guess it’s time to go.”

Darius stood next to her. “I thought you rode with Tommy and Emily.”

“I did, he’s—” Grace pointed a thumb in Quentin’s direction, “—my DD.” Quentin was by her side, pulling her by her elbow before she even knew he was there.

“Let’s go.”

“Stop it, Quentin,” she hissed, digging her heels into the ground. “What are you doing?”

He dropped her arm, and faced her. “I’m not—”

“Is everything okay?” Darius asked, having stepped up close enough to Grace’s back that she could feel the warmth from his body.

Anger rolled from Quentin in a menacing wave, causing Grace to back away from him and into Darius. “It’s not going to be okay if you don’t back off right now,” Quentin said through gritted teeth.

The testosterone the two of them were throwing off irritated Grace to no end. “Everything’s okay, Darius,” she said over her shoulder, not tearing her gaze from Quentin. “I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Are you sure?”

Grace knew he wasn’t talking about seeing her. “Yeah, I’m sure.” When she felt his hands on her shoulders, she jumped. She was too focused on keeping an eye on the other, more dangerous, man standing in front of her.

“Well, alright,” Darius said with a slight squeeze of his hands. “Tonight was fun. I’ll see you around.”

She didn’t dare turn. The Quentin standing in front of her was someone she hadn’t met yet and she didn’t know what to expect from him. “Okay, see ya.” Grace walked past Quentin, knowing he’d follow. When they were far enough away from the bonfire and partygoers, she whipped around, hands on hips. “What the hell was that?” she half yelled.

“I’m not going to let you lose your virginity to some moronic boy thinking with the wrong head at a party.”

“Oh, come on, Quentin, I was joking. Lighten up. Besides, why wouldn’t you? It’s none of your business who I lose it to.”

“Because you want your first time to be better than this.”

“Then what?” she said, hands out in display. “I’m not stupid, I know the first time is gonna suck. It’s not going to be like it is in the movies.”

At this, she watched him soften a little, sucking in a breath before speaking again. “Maybe not, but you deserve it to be with a man who tries his damnedest to make it as close as possible for you.”

Uh … she was speechless. He was right. But she would never give it up at a party, and especially not to someone who was practically a stranger. What kind of girl did he take her for? Obviously, she shouldn’t joke around like that if he was going to take her so seriously.

“And you won’t find him here,” Quentin continued. “Come on, I’m taking you home…even if I have to carry you over my shoulder.” He smiled at her, daring her to push him. Instead, she chose not to argue, and followed him to his car parked a little ways down the road.

Despite his going all medieval back at Brian’s and completely humiliating her in front of Darius, she found she rather liked how protective he was of her. The beer was getting all kinds of blame tonight. Tomorrow, she’d swear off beer forever.

“Can I drive?” she asked, nudging him a little with her shoulder as they walked in the middle of the street.

“No.”

“But you still owe me. The agreement was whenever I wanted, and I want to now.” Deciding to try out Lux’s tactic, Grace pushed out her lip.

He shook his head. “You’re drunk, no way!”

“I’m not drunk, I’ve only had three beers.” Grace held up three fingers in case he didn’t understand the quantity.

“That’s three too many.” From the passenger side door, he nodded to the car. “Get in, Mario, you can drive tomorrow.”

On the way home, Quentin stopped at Robintino’s for the pizza he owed her. She stayed in the car and leaned her forehead against the passenger window, watching the R on the pizza sign flash on and off. She wondered when she’d see Darius again. It wasn’t a matter of if anymore. They seemed to be running into each other a lot. A smile spread across her face, knowing tonight might be the first of many. If Quentin didn’t ruin it for me, she thought.

In the short time it took him to grab the pizza and slide back into the car, she was mad he thought so little of her. With the warm pizza in her lap, she watched him from the corner of her eye.

“What?” he asked.

“Do you really think I’m like that?”

“Like what?”

Like what? Oh, that’s right, the other Quentin was in the backyard back there. This Quentin was sweet, fun, and easy to get along with. Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde were giving her a headache. “Seriously, Quentin? You practically had me jumping Darius’ bones at the party.”

“Oh, that’s his name? I’ll try to remember that.” Quentin quickly glanced at her and then back at the road. “Of course I don’t think you’re like that.”

“Then what was that back there?” she asked. “Whatever that was, wasn’t you. Not the you I know, anyway.” Her mind had a mind of its own and went to his kiss. She hated how that thought accelerated her heart rate, and brushed her pinky across her bottom lip, trying to rub out the memory. It wouldn’t go away, stubbornly remaining rooted right at the very forefront of her brain.

“I’m … it’s … I—” He stuttered over his words so Grace focused on his nervousness, trying to rid her thoughts of the kiss they’d shared. “I could feel you were feeling the alcohol,” he said slowly, “and I guess—”

Impatient and flustered, she snapped at him. “Spit it out already!”

“I would have gone crazy if some guy put his hands on you while you weren’t in your right mind to know if you really wanted him to or not.”

Quentin means like him. Clearly, she remembered wanting him to touch her, but look where that got her. She almost said as much, but was stopped short by a car she didn’t recognize in the driveway. Adrenaline shot through her body, erasing the remaining effects of the alcohol and whetting her instincts to a razor-sharp clarity. “That better not be Rose,” she spat, shoving the pizza box at Quentin’s chest as she shot out of the car.

Grace crossed in front of the car and raced through the front door. No one was in the foyer or dining room, but she could faintly hear voices coming from the family room.

“Grace, wait,” Quentin said, trying to grab her arm. She managed to slip through his hold.

“Mom, whose car is—” She slid to an abrupt halt, her words stuck in her throat. Quentin ran into her back.

Laney stood quiet and wide-eyed, a tall man at her side whose handsome features looked so much like her grandfather. Quentin placed his hands on her elbows and tried ushering her back out with low-toned whispers, but she couldn’t hear any of it. She couldn’t see anything but him. The giddiness she felt was quickly eclipsed by fierce anger and betrayal.

Her mom was the first to break the silence. “Grace, let us—”

“What are you doing here?” Grace faced the man she knew to be her father directly, ignoring her mother’s plea. When he didn’t answer, Grace counted to ten, and then asked him more forcefully. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Grace—”

Still disregarding Laney, she cut her off. “Get out of my house!”

“Let us explain.” Laney looked from Richard to Grace.

“What’s to explain? He left us. Or did you forget that minor detail?”

Laney’s face crumbled. “He didn’t leave.”

Her mother had said and done some stupid things, but this was over the top. “Then I’m curious, Mom. What do you call walking out on your wife and daughter and never looking back for fifteen years, other than abandonment?” The man she knew as Richard Morgan stayed silent, seeming to think about what best to say. Or not say.

“He left to keep you safe,” Laney cried out.

Grace threw her hands in the air and gripped her hips. “Oh, that’s classic, a new low even for you. Blame me for what someone else did. You know what? Don’t leave, I will.” She was so used to feeling this from Laney. It barely registered as something that should hurt her feelings.

“Grace, wait.”

She grabbed her keys from her purse and flew out the front door.

“I’ll drive,” came from behind her, Quentin’s voice urgent and insistent.

Twirling, she pointed a finger at him. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?” he said, cowering away from the dangers of her finger.

“Knew what?” she mimicked sarcastically. “You knew she was seeing him, didn’t you?”

Defeated and looking more than a little guilty, he ran a hand through the disarray of his black hair, pushing it from his eyes. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“How about the truth for once, Quentin?” The key in her hand bit into the flesh of her palm as she clenched it into a fist at her side.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

“No?” she asked, stabbing him with her icy stare. “I know your job is to protect me and all, but I thought you were also my friend. A friend would have told me.” Grace continued toward her car. When she reached for the door handle, she dipped her chin and kept her back to him. “Don’t come with me. Don’t follow me. Stay here with them … where your true loyalties lie.”

“Grace.”

The pain in his voice as he said her name cut a fresh wound across her heart. It begged her to see reason, to know he cared—to stay. She couldn’t. She slid into her car and drove away, and watched as Quentin got smaller in her rearview mirror before turning onto Belmont.

Grace turned off Belmont and onto Montgomery, heading back to Brian’s. Hopefully her friends were still at the party—the only people in the world who didn’t lie to her. She parked a little ways from the party. Grabbing the handle, she paused for a second to pull herself together, but instead slumped over the steering column, forehead pressed against the wheel.

The betrayal she felt cut mercilessly like a dull, rusty knife, mutilating all she knew as it dragged across her heart. Her patchwork quilt of a heart was definitely beginning to fray. They were cold, all three of them. She was just a pawn in their sick game.

Check. Mate.

When the first tear fell, she was mad at herself for allowing it to fall at all. After the second and third, Grace silently promised herself they were for her and her alone.

A soft rap against the driver’s window had her gasping for breath as she wiped embarrassingly at her eyes. “Who’s there?” she called out, fogging the window a little from her breath.

“It’s Darius, Grace. What’s wrong?”

Once her tears were dried, she saw that it was him. If the window hadn’t been up, he would have had an up close and personal look at the waterworks. She took another swipe at her eyes, and wished she could take a quick peek in a mirror, but went ahead and rolled down the window. “Hi,” she said in a shaky voice. “What are you doing?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

What was she doing? Coming for Emily. But she was at the party with Tommy, and Grace didn’t want to ruin her night too. “I was going to go back inside, but I guess I changed my mind.”

Darius squatted to the ground, elbows resting on the open window’s ledge, wearing his boyish smile. “I was getting ready to take off. It got kind of boring without you.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’re leaving, because your night would have gone from boring to unbearable.”

“I doubt that.” He paused and Grace focused on her hands, but she could feel his eyes on her face as he spoke again. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Rough night?” he pressed.

“Yeah,” she snickered. “Something like that.”

“Hang on,” Darius said, smacking the top of the door as he got up. “I’ll be right back. Stay here!” he yelled as he jogged into the darkness toward Brian’s.

As soon as he was far enough away, Grace flipped the roof dome light on and checked her makeup in the mirror. Her mascara wasn’t too smeared. In the distance, she could make out the outline of someone running toward her, something in hand. Darius didn’t return to her open window, choosing instead to hop into the passenger seat. One arm was wrapped around a blanket, the other hand looped in the handle of a plastic bag. She eyed the bag curiously, quietly questioning him with her eyes.

Darius held it up. “Beer.”

Duh, she should have figured. “And?” she asked.

“And, we’re going to take these beers and go somewhere.”

“Where?” Her foot tapped against the gas pedal.

“You’ll see.” The side of his mouth hooked up. “It’s about ten miles down the road.”

“What about your car?”

“It’s a bike and I told Ari to ride it. Lux can drive his truck.”

Well, okay then. She pulled out and drove past Brian’s. The house looked the same as it had earlier—open, music loud, tons of cars, and people all around. How Darius thought all that was boring, she couldn’t figure. Either way, she was glad he was there, in her car. Oh my gosh, he’s in my car, she shrieked inside. Dangerously, she tried to peek at him out of the corner of her eye, while responsibly watching the road ahead.

His slight chuckle startled her. “Keep your eyes on the road.”

Both eyes safely back on the road, she smiled. “I am.”

“Uh-huh. Should I be driving?”

Grace grabbed the steering wheel at ten and two. “Nope, I got it.”

A few minutes later, Darius told her to turn right at the next road. She took all the turns he instructed, and finally parked in front of what looked like a huge sheet of black glass—reflections from the half moon and stars skating across the top. As she got out of the car, she was excited to see a lake. She didn’t even know it existed.

Blanket and bag in hand, Darius walked alongside her. He shook the blanket out, laid it on the ground in front of the still water, and sat down. Captivated with the scenery, Grace didn’t tear her eyes away until she heard the crinkling of plastic, and something cold and wet pressed against the back of her hand.

“Here.”

Taking the beer from Darius, she sat down too. “Thank you.” Grace contemplated whether she should drink the beer as she played with the tab on top of the can. “I probably shouldn’t drink this.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. It might help though.”

Tonight. The beer would only numb tonight, but that was enough. She’d take what she could get. Her fingers pulled on the tab, and she waited for the hiss to die down before taking a sip. As the metallic taste of alcohol slid down her throat, she prayed it would make the events of the night fuzzy until all she could think of was the lake before her, and Darius beside her.

Darius’ voice broke the beautiful silence. “I come here when I need to get away and think.”

The focus of her eyes stayed on the surface of the lake, as she stared at the twinkling reflections. “I can see why.” A part of the heaviness from earlier lifted from her shoulders, making it seem like they weren’t so weighed down. The only other time she had been drunk, she was a happy drunk. So she’d heard. She didn’t feel so happy the next morning when she swore over the toilet she’d never do it again. The glimmer from the moon caught in the condensation trickling down the can while she held the beer up.

“It’s crazy,” she said, without turning toward Darius.

“What is?”

“This place. It reminds me of somewhere I’ve been in my dreams. Somewhere I love.”

The sound of grainy sand scratching against the underbelly of the blanket rang out from beneath Darius’ shifting body. “That doesn’t sound so crazy.”

Done with soaking up the scenery, she turned her head toward Darius, only to be caught up again. But this time, it was from the moon’s reflection in his eyes. She was lost, sucked into the glimmer of his compelling stare. He drew her in like a stupid moth to an alluring, beautiful flame.

Sounds around her sharpened like background music to a movie, building tension for the scene. Grace’s pulse quickened as everything else in her life fell away, leaving only the world of Darius underneath a dark sky that shone bright against the moon’s vibrant white light. Her breath caught when he leaned toward her, releasing the tension her grip had on the blanket.

Uncertainty shone in his eyes as he slowly lifted his hand and cupped the side of her face. A shudder ran through her body from his touch, dulling the song of crickets, the whispering breeze across the sand, and rustling of grass until it was all muted. There was nothing else but the two of them, just Darius and her. The warmth of his breath pressed against her lips, and she drew it in like she needed it to breathe. His mouth came closer to hers and she stilled, captivated with anticipation.

Slowly, his breath brushed upward across her face, until the heat of his lips seared her forehead. And then he kept them there. The growing excitement crashed down all around her. She wasn’t sure how she knew, but she wasn’t going to be kissed by Darius. Not on the mouth, anyway.

Disappointed, she let out a heavy breath, allowing her tensed muscles to relax. Darius brought his face down, resting his forehead against hers, his eyes tightly shut. Swiftly, he kissed her forehead again and sat back up.

“So, I know you said earlier you didn’t want to talk about it. But I can’t help but ask. Was it the guy from the party?”

“Yes and no,” she said, still trying to shake her disappointment. “It’s a long story, really.”

“I don’t have anywhere I need to be until the morning.” His smile was a mixture of encouragement and mischief—confusing.

A thought suddenly occurred to her. “Hey!” she said. “What time is it?”

Darius’ gaze went to his watch. “Eleven ten, why?”

If she dragged this out a little longer, she’d be spending her coming-into-adulthood moment with Darius. “Oh, no reason. It’s just my birthday in fifty minutes is all.” Happy freaking birthday to me, she moped. I can’t even get a kiss.

“Can I give you something?”

“Sure,” she said with a shrug.

Before Grace knew what was happening, he pulled her by the nape of the neck, placing yet another kiss on her forehead. But then he kissed her temple, moved further down, and pressed his lips against her cheek. Her heart completely stopped from the shock, but then stuttered into a fast-paced tempo. Her breathing accelerated.

Slowly, he pulled away while looking her in the eye, entangling her in his web again. Then he deliberately leaned back into her but didn’t close his eyes, and neither did she. Tenderly, he pressed a feather-light kiss on her lips. No matter how brief, or soft, he took her breath away. In that instant, her world was set aright as she took in how perfectly her lips molded to his. He kissed her one more time on the head and turned his gaze to the lake.

They both stared across the water, quietly taking the moment in. “Darius?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He ran a finger down the back of her hand before slipping his fingers in hers. “I can’t think of any other way I’d rather have spent my night.”

Grace had finished another beer before lying back on the blanket. The blurry stars gazed back down at her from above. They shot like streaming confetti tracers across the sky. Oh, they’re not shooting, she thought dreamily. My eyes are moving. She rested the back of her hand against her forehead, shut her eyes, and wished everything would stand still.

“Come here.” Darius pulled on their entwined fingers. “Lay your head on my chest. The ground’s too uncomfortable.”

Pathetically, she crawled on hands and knees, lying diagonally on the spot where he patted. The stars continued to swirl and streak across the sky, causing her stomach to twist with the sickening movement. Her eyes closed, but in the back of her mind she reminded herself to stay awake.

“Grace?”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, not daring to open her eyes.

“Happy birthday.”

Despite the beer, she felt the pangs she had earlier, which meant the coming day was going to be rough. “Yeah,” she whispered.

In her delirium, she was still aware enough to realize she’d drank another beer, laughed, cried, and spilled her life’s story in less than fifty minutes. Poor Darius, she thought, before passing out cold.

She barely came to when he picked her up and carried her to the car, and then again later when he carried her to the front door. She opened her eyes briefly to see Quentin was waiting in the doorway. Surprise, surprise!

Something was said between them. Grace was too out of it to understand and, thank her lucky stars, too out of it to care. Apparently, they didn’t trust her ability to walk, because Darius passed her mumbling self to Quentin like she was some baby needing coddling. She didn’t care about that either.

“Night, Darius!” she slurred, dragging her fingers through his as she lay her head against Quentin’s shoulder.

“Night,” a gruff voice said.

“He’s a really nice guy, such a good friend.” Unfortunately for Quentin, the beer didn’t wash away her sarcasm. He didn’t say a word. “Are you going to undress me again under the sheets? I’m sure I’ll be passed out again in a couple of minutes if you can hold on.” Still, nothing. “Ooh, do I get a good night kiss? I was pretty upset earlier … perfect reason to give me one. No, wait, I already got one.” Quentin’s jaw tightened, but he still didn’t say a word. She giggled, knowing she was pissing him off. True to her word, she was out seconds later.

Struggling with anger and relief, Quentin chose to lay Grace down on her bed instead of throwing her in a cold shower like she deserved. He watched her sleep, pacing at the foot of her bed.

At some point in the evening, he had no longer sensed her. It drove him to an irrational craziness. He was preparing to leave to look for her when the seneschal band began to tingle and Grace pulled up minutes later in the driveway. Passed out. Quentin was so angry about numb-nuts bringing her home hammered that he could barely see past the red haze of his sight. The guy was lucky he didn’t touch her, or he would be leaving an appendage or two short.

Quentin crouched down, pulled off her shoes and socks, then put her legs under the blanket. He stood over her, listening as she breathed in and out, guilt washing over him for the part he had played in how the night went down. Grace was right. He was supposed to protect her and be her friend. Somewhere between the blurring lines of Guardian and Chosen, he knew he’d storm the gates of hell, no questions asked, to protect her from anything… including himself. Damn it!

He walked into her bathroom, grabbed two Tylenol and a glass of water, and left them on the nightstand. He leaned over Grace and brushed a light kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry.” He tried whispering quietly enough so she wouldn’t wake.

A tiny smile lightened her features as she whispered dreamily, “I know.”

The two little words filled him with more rage and determination to get rid of all threats, including the douche bag waiting outside. Quentin glanced at Grace once more, caressed her cheek with the back of his hand, then left the room.

Wasting no time with stairs, he jumped over the banister, landing on his feet with a thud on the foyer’s wood flooring below. He had to pull himself together before reaching for the front door, otherwise he would have ripped it clean off its hinges.

Quentin found Darius waiting outside, leaning casually against Grace’s car. With a few strides, Quentin stood about a foot away from him.

“I stayed, now what do you want?” Darius asked.

Quentin crossed his arms over his chest, hoping it would help him keep his hands to himself. “You need to stay the hell away from Grace.”

“What the hell for?” he spat back.

“We both know that you’ve got one thing on your mind, and I won’t let you hurt her.”

The guy’s amused chuckle reverberated off the house. “That’s rich, coming from you. You’re the only one between the two of us hurting her.”

Quentin’s eye twitched and the muscle in his jaw jumped. Before he knew what he was doing, he leaped the distance separating them, slamming Darius against the car by the throat. “I’m only going to tell you this once more. Stay away from her!”

Darius shoved back at Quentin’s chest, pushing him far enough away his fingers slipped from his throat. “And I’m only going to tell you this once. Don’t ever touch me again, or next time I won’t play so nice.” Getting up from the car, he started walking down the driveway. “Besides,” he said, turning back to Quentin. “Grace is a big girl and I don’t think she’d appreciate you making more decisions for her without her knowing.”

Quentin held himself in place as the guy disappeared at the end of the drive. His body trembled with anger and adrenaline. He knew if he moved, he was going to hurt the guy…bad—especially, because the douche bag had a point.

Quentin spat on the ground. Damn it!

When Grace woke the next morning, she wasn’t angry. She was too woozy to channel anger. She rolled to her side, willing the bed to still. When the bed finally stopped rolling, the room moved instead. The alarm clock said it was a little after eight. In front of the clock were two Tylenol and a glass of water. Quentin must have left them there, because her mother wouldn’t know to leave them.

She hitched up on her elbow, grabbed the two white pills, and swallowed them with the water. The thought of getting out of bed was pure anguish, but she had to pee in order to continue sleeping through the spin phase of her morning. She heaved herself to the floor and practically bear-crawled to the bathroom.

The Tylenol stayed down for all of five seconds. She barely made it to the toilet. When there was nothing left in her stomach to come up, the full-on vomiting was replaced with body-wracking dry heaves. She swore she’d never drink again. Too tired to hold herself up any longer, she laid her face against the cool tile of the bathroom floor and fell back to sleep.

“Grace?” she heard, as something cool and wet touched her face.

Worried if she moved she’d get sick again, she chose to barely open an eye instead. “Yeah?” Her voice croaked. The wet washcloth felt good.

“I brought you some soda water and crackers. It’ll help.”

Grace didn’t move.

“Come on,” her mother said, coaxing her to get up. “You’ll feel better if you get up and put something in your stomach.”

Reluctantly, Grace followed instructions and let her mother lead her back to her bed. The blankets were pulled back and a TV tray sat on the nightstand. As Grace got in bed and Laney covered her, she wanted to be mad at her. She even tried to pull from what she was feeling last night. But it was no use. She was completely exhausted and only part of it was her hangover.

Laney placed the TV tray over Grace’s lap and sat on a fold-up chair she must have brought in with her. “I promise if you eat some crackers you’ll feel better.” Laney gave her a barely-there smile as unease pulled her face tight.

“Okay.” Grace took a bite of a dry saltine.

Grace was unmoved as tears filled Laney’s eyes and slowly trickled down her cheeks before she spoke. “It wasn’t like that, you know.”

“Oh, Mom.” A small fissure slowly cracked along Grace’s heart as she watched her mother cry. She really didn’t want to see her mother hurt again. “Please don’t buy the BS he’s trying to sell to you.”

Her mother smiled at her. Actually smiled. Not a smile hiding pity for Grace, but one of true and utter… peace. “I know it’s hard to believe. Who am I kidding?” she kind of mumbled to herself and then brought her gaze back up to Grace. “It was hard for me to believe. It really is true, Grace. Your father only left to keep you safe.”

The synapses in Grace’s brain weren’t firing correctly yet, making her feel a little slow despite trying to understand. “I don’t get it. How does leaving keep me safe? Aren’t fathers supposed to stick around so they can protect their families?”

“When you were born, your father and grandfather didn’t know if you were the one or not. Christophe had a feeling, but there was no mark. When you reached your first birthday and the mark still wasn’t there, they didn’t think any more of it.” Laney’s eyes moved to the sheet she was playing with between her fingers, but she kept talking. “By the time you were three, you still barely had hair. I worried you’d never get any and everyone would think you were a boy forever.” Laney laughed to herself from the memory. “I was giving you a bath one night, and I noticed a funny swirl on the back of your head, close to the nape of your neck. When I showed Richard, he called Christophe. That’s when they told me.”

Grace saw the memory skip along her mother’s face and the hurt in her eyes as tears filled them again. “I don’t understand,” she said.

Her mother reached out and wrapped Grace’s fingers in hers. Grace tensed, not sure if Laney was trying to give strength, or draw it from her, as her mother continued. “They said Richard would have to leave, the others knew what he was. If he stayed, they’d eventually realize he had a child. I didn’t know about Fallen or Nephilim or Chosen. When they explained I’d never see Richard again until after Christophe died—” Laney tried to say, but lost her voice between swallowed sobs. “I accused Richard of wanting to leave us, said he was a coward for trying to use such a ridiculous story as an excuse to leave.”

“How does leaving protect me?” Grace asked again, beginning to struggle for air. She pulled her hand away from Laney’s and leaned back into her pillow. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I’m not Nephilim and neither are any of your cousins, and no one would sense what you truly are until you’re eighteen. But Richard is Nephilim, and your proximity to your dad put you at risk. If your dad was near you and any other Nephilim were in the vicinity, they would know you were Nephilim and possibly Chosen, simply because you were with your dad. The connection between the two of you would be obvious. It would be much worse if those Nephilim also happened to be Fallen. Don’t you see,” her mother begged. “The only way to keep you hidden and safe was to keep you close to Quentin, who was the only one of the three that could sense Fallen. Quentin insisted on guarding both you and your grandfather.”

Grace focused on Laney’s voice. A highpitched, ominous sound started to ring loudly in her ears, making it tough to hear. “But how come I never saw Quentin?”

“He stayed in the shadows, much like he does now. If you had seen him, and realized that he never aged, you’d have known he was different.” Grace looked down at her hands, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. “Others might have suspected you, but we went to great lengths to make sure no one connected you as Richard’s daughter. If Richard had stayed, they would have known you were his daughter, no question, and Quentin said all they would have to do is wait until you were close to eighteen. Many knew Christophe was Chosen, and if Christophe died around your birthday, then they’d know what you are—”

“Wait,” Grace interrupted, stumbling over her words. “Wha… what did you say?”

“Which part?” her mother asked with guarded eyes.

Laney didn’t have to repeat it; Grace had heard her clearly. Her breath left her in a painful squeeze. A loud whooshing magnified the ringing as it pulsed deafeningly in her ears. She was either going to throw up again, or pass out. Her vision turned a hazy purple as she felt herself falling sideways toward the floor. Laney caught her with a gasp and righted her in the bed. Quickly removing the tray, Laney sat on the bed next to her.

Panic seized her lungs and thoughts. The panic squeezed harder. This isn’t happening, she thought. Laney wrapped Grace in her arms, and rubbed her back as she cooed, “It’s going to be okay,” in her ear. It was never going to be okay. Ever.

Grace’s vision returned, her lungs quit trying to hyperventilate, and her mind cleared. The truth in her mother’s words still rang loudly in her ears. It was her fault, all of it. She’d killed her grandfather. She’d made her father leave. She was the reason for her mother’s fifteen years of heartache and bitterness. Through the tears she didn’t realize were falling, she said, “So, that’s why you hate me? I understand now. I’d hate me too.” And she did.

“Hate you?” Laney asked, wiping away Grace’s tears with the back of her hand. “Every time you missed calling when you were supposed to or didn’t come home on time, when a stranger stood behind us in the grocery store, or the school called saying you got hurt…I worried they’d found you and were trying to kill you.” Laney grabbed her hand and all at once, what her mom was feeling rushed through her. Laney loved her. It was a stop-at-nothing, sacrifice-anything-for-the-sake-of-my-daughter kind of love, and it awed her.

A tear slowly trickled as a rush of belonging swept over Grace, melting away the bitterness she’d clung to for so many years. All she’d ever wanted was her mother and the love, protection, and warmth pouring from her now. She wrapped her fingers tightly around Laney’s, desperate for more.

“The constant looking over my shoulder was making me lose my mind, Grace. I had to distance myself for your sake. You would have felt my fears for sure. We wanted you to have some kind of normalcy, because the moment you found out who you really are, your life would be anything but normal. Normal was all I had the strength to give you. And I failed miserably at that.”

Grace sat up a little more on the bed, pulling her mom in for an embrace like none they’d ever shared. “I’m sorry, Mom.”

“What are you sorry for?” Her mom pulled away and Grace scanned her face, seeing the results of the pain she’d caused her mother in the furrowed eyebrows and streaming tears.

“Everything … it’s all my fault.”

Laney grabbed her chin, pulling her face up. “Now you listen to me, none of this is your fault. None of it!”

“Yeah, but if I were never born—” The onslaught of tears stole her ability to speak.

“Then I would be incomplete,” Laney said as her voice hitched into a sob. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and worth every moment of the last fifteen years.”

The last few words spoken by Laney kicked Grace straight in the gut. Not only was she responsible for her grandfather’s death, she was also the serial killer of all those moments with her mother. The wasted years clawed murderously at Grace’s heart. Shame and guilt balled up in the pit of her stomach and crawled painfully up the back of her throat, sticking there.

Grace clung to her mother, sobbing uncontrollably into the crook of her neck. The irony overwhelmed her that the loving mother she’d always yearned for so desperately had been there with her all along. “I’m so sorry,” Grace cried over and over. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Laney’s arms wrapped tighter around Grace’s wracking body. “I love you too, Grace. I always have.” Her mom gently rocked her, running a hand down her hair and back as they continued reassuring each other of how they felt.

When the tears began to wane, Laney asked Grace if she’d be okay. “I will be.” As Laney got up, Grace grabbed her hand. “Do you know about my curse?”

“You mean your gift?”

“It doesn’t feel like one,” Grace said, as she dropped her mother’s hand. “Did my grandfather—”

“—tell me?” Laney finished her sentence. “No.”

“Then how?” Grace asked puzzled.

A secret smile spread across Laney’s face. “A mother always knows.”

When her mom left the room, she didn’t leave without saying, “Happy birthday.” Real happy. All her life, Grace had thought her parents were the reason for her messed-up life, only to find out she was the reason for theirs. Even worse, if she’d never been born, her grandfather would still be alive. Burrowing down into the blankets and smashing her face in her pillow, she couldn’t help but cry some more. If she had been the one that died instead of Christophe…

Everyone would have been better off.

Grace had no tears left to cry. She was empty, dry, cried out. She pushed herself to the bathroom, and tried not to look at her alarm clock. It was already 1:45. So much for not looking. After she finished showering and getting ready, Grace stumbled to the kitchen for some food, not caring about her blotchy face or swollen eyes. The hangover was gone, but the dehydration lingered. It wasn’t all the beer’s fault this time.

Quentin was sitting at the island, eating a sandwich while reading the paper, and doing a good job of ignoring the condition of her face.

“Hey,” she said, pulling the orange juice container from the refrigerator.

“Hey.” He didn’t lift his gaze from the paper.

Eventually, Grace parked herself in front of the television in the family room, her iPhone in hand. She had several texts wishing her a happy birthday. Her thumbs quickly replied to them all with a thank-you.

Before she laid her cell on the cushion next to her, Emily had already replied.

Emily: Howz ur bday so far?

Grace: Ok.

Emily: U still want 2 shop w/me?

Grace: When?

Emily: 1 hr.

Grace looked at the time on her phone and pressed gently around her eyes with her fingertips. The swelling would probably be down in an hour or so. She could probably do a good enough job covering it with makeup.

Grace: K. U getting me?

Emily: Yep :)

Grace: C u soon.

Emily: K.


She decided to sit for twenty minutes or so before climbing back up the stairs to get ready, and flipped through the channels. Grace turned off the TV and tossed the remote beside her, giving up on visual entertainment. Her phone vibrated next to her. On the screen was a contact photo of a boyish-smiling Darius holding a bouquet of blue wildflowers in front of a backdrop of night. Not sure how she got his number, or how it could be programmed into her phone with a picture no less, she answered with an unsure hello.

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you,” she answered, a little embarrassed. “About last night … uh, I’m sorry. I feel so stupid. I guess I can’t hold my beer.” She sank into the couch and put her face in her hand, mortified.

“No, it’s fine. I had fun.”

“Sure you did,” she countered, pulling her hand away.

“Well, you weren’t passed out the whole time,” he said through his laughter.

“Gee, that’s a relief.”

“I’m just giving you a hard time. No, really, I had a good time. The talking and the not talking was … nice.”

Nice? She hoped during the non-talking she wasn’t snoring, or—oh God—drooling. Silence fell between them for a few awkward seconds. Grace wondered what Darius was thinking.

“So, did you get my present?”

Absentmindedly, she played with a string coming loose in the seam of her sweats, and felt her cheeks warm. “Are you talking about the pic?”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.” She longed to be back at the lake. “The flowers are beautiful.

“I thought you might since they’re your favorite color.”

Puzzled, she stopped pulling at the string. She didn’t remember telling him that. “How do you know that?”

“You told me last night.” She did? What else did she say? She shuddered to think about it. “I saw your phone in the ashtray. I hope you don’t mind that I programmed my number in.”

“Not at all.” Grace pulled more violently on the loose string.

A few more silent seconds hung in the air.

“Is everything alright there,” he asked with reluctance in his voice.

Grace smiled to herself. “Everything … is going to be fine. It’s good.”

“Good,” Darius said. “I’m glad to hear it. Do you have family plans for your birthday then?”

Was he going to ask her out on a date? Grace felt a smile twist at her lips. “None whatsoever. Why do you ask?”

“I was going to see if I could take you out tonight.” Yes! Grace screamed anxiously in her head.

“Or, if you don’t want to—”

She’d screamed it in her head, but failed to say yes out loud. Wonderful. “That would be fun.”

“You sure your family won’t mind?”

“I’m positive.” Even though she wasn’t entirely sure her mom didn’t have anything going on, Grace was hoping she’d be busy with her fath … Richard. The whole Richard thing was going to take time. Possibly a lot of time.

“Okay, cool. What about the guy?”

“Quentin?” she asked. “He’s protective like a brother, but he has no say in it.”

Grace could hear the smile in Darius’ voice. “How about I pick you up at seven o’clock?”

How does that sound, Grace wanted to say. Like too much time between now and then. “Seven’s great!” was what she said instead. “See ya then.”

“Grace?”

“Yeah?”

“I’ll be picking you up on my bike, just in case you were going to wear a skirt or something.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Too caught up in her excitement, Grace realized she’d almost forgotten about shopping with Emily. She only had thirty minutes before she’d be here. Not knowing how long they’d be gone meant Grace had thirty minutes to get ready to go shopping and for her date with Darius.

“Eek!” she squealed as she jumped up from the couch, almost taking Quentin out before hitting the stairs. “Sorry!”

Quentin chuckled. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

Grace stopped in the middle of the staircase, slowly turning on the foot that remained under her. She forgot she would have to tell him about shopping. And what the hell was she thinking agreeing to a date? Suddenly, her nonexistent love life flashed before her eyes. She was never going to be able to have a boyfriend. The heck with that! Quentin was just going to have to deal with it, and learn to give her some privacy.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you. Emily asked me to go shopping and she’ll be here in thirty minutes.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, Grace mumbled down to Quentin, “And I’m going on a date at seven o’clock.” When she reached the top, she thought she was home free.

“What was that?” Quentin asked from the bottom of the steps. Nope, not home free. She wasn’t going for loud and clear. She was hoping he wouldn’t care enough about it and just let it go. That way, when he said later she didn’t tell him, she could say she had without having to deal with it now. He was going to freak, and probably worse than he had last night.

“Uh…” She looked down at him. “I said I have a date?” Grace hated how she made it sound like a question, like she was asking for his permission, because she wasn’t.

“Cool.”

Cool? That’s it? Trying to sneak away toward her bedroom, she was stopped yet again.

“Who are you going with?”

Sighing, she turned around. Here we go. “Darius, from the party.” Grace saw Quentin’s jaw muscle clench and something move in his eyes. A second later it was gone.

“Cool,” he said again. Seriously? What’s wrong with him, she wondered. “What time? I’m assuming he’s picking you up?”

“Yeah … yeah, he is at seven o’clock.”

“Okay, I’ll be ready for that too.”

Grace stayed where she was as Quentin walked away, worrying if he could keep his distance unlike the night before.

Well, this is going to be fun … NOT! she thought, as she moped the rest of the way to her bedroom.

Pressure. That’s all Grace saw staring back at her from the closet. She sat on the floor Indian-style and stared at her colorful wardrobe display in contemplation. She could go for comfortable, but she might seem disinterested. But comfortable could save Grace and Darius from an overly protective Quentin if Mr. Hyde decided to come out to play tonight. Or she could totally go for sexy, and not care what Quentin thought at all. No, that might make Darius think she was easy, and she wasn’t. Settling on something in between, she went for captivating.

When she grabbed a body-hugging tank from the rod, a chaotic shower of colored light danced about her white walls as she held it next to her body. Rainbow reflections shone from the sequins on her tank top, reflecting the sunlight pouring through the sheer-covered window. The tank was one of her favorites—gold on the top, blue on the bottom. She chose a pair of skinny jeans, and grabbed her blue suede pumps from their box and changed as quickly as she could. Heels clicking on the tile, she hurried into the bathroom, pulled her hair up into a messy pony, touched up her makeup, and put on coordinating jewelry.

It took her all of twenty minutes, she noticed, glancing at her alarm clock as she left her room. Impressed with herself, Grace figured she’d better let Quentin know she was ready to go since Emily would be there any minute. “I’m ready to go, Quentin, Emily will be here soon.” Carefully, she took one step after the other, and slowly descended the stairs. It was easy to picture herself tripping and tumbling to the bottom, and end up having to spend the rest of the night in bed.

When her feet were clacking safely on the wood flooring, she felt sure enough to lift her eyes. Startled, she skidded to a halt, and said, “Oh … I didn’t know you were already down here.” His eyes were wide, his stance frozen as he gaped at her for a split second before clearing his face and closing his mouth.

Quentin put both hands low on his hips, turned his head, and cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah … I’ve been down here for a little while.” Grace chuckled to herself and then noticed how dressed up he was as well. He was wearing a white pinstriped button-down shirt, sleeves casually rolled to his elbows, and a pair of black slacks. Quentin smirked when he caught her assessing gaze. He turned and headed toward the garage.

And of course, thinking like that had her mind rushing warp speed through a wormhole to the time when she was against the gym door, and he was against her lips. A twinge clenched in her stomach, and her heart skittered as it picked up in pace. The quick jerk of Quentin’s head in her direction was all Grace needed to know he was reading her loud and clear. As if that wasn’t bad enough, her cheeks warmed to some pathetic shade of red. Ugh!

Quentin smirked. “What’s the matter, Grace?”

She grimaced. He wasn’t a Guardian. He was the freaking devil. Too frustrated for words, she narrowed her eyes at him, blew an exasperated breath through pursed lips, and hurried out the front door. If she was going to turn all shades of red and sweat in the air-conditioning, she might as well wait outside. It just made a heck of a lot more sense to sweat out there.

For once, Emily was right on time. Grace settled in the passenger seat next to her, uncomfortably eyeing her cast, but thankful to be out of the heat.

Emily gave her a once-over. “Wow, you look great! You didn’t get all dressed up for me, did you?”

“I couldn’t think of any other way to get you to notice me again.” Grace tried to push out a pout from her bottom lip.

Emily flipped her visor down, applying more lip gloss that suspiciously smelled like cinnamon. “You know you’ll always be my gal.”

“I know.” Grace flashed her a smile, and then looked from her lips to her cast once more. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, now I’m feeling totally underdressed. It was bad enough I couldn’t find anything to wear to go with this freaking cast.” Emily’s gaze grazed over Grace’s attire again. “I know it’s not for me, so who is all the hotness for?”

Grace looked down at herself. “You really think so?”

Emily’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh, yeah. Whoever all that’s for…” she said with a quick sweep of her eyes, “…doesn’t even have a chance.”

Satisfied, Grace played with the pendant hanging from her neck. “Good. I have a date later.”

Emily gave Grace a sideways look. “I’m not that stupid. I knew that getup wasn’t for shopping.”

Grace knew as soon as she told Emily who the date was with, she’d hear a big fat “I told you so.” “Darius.”

“I knew it!” Since one of Emily’s arms was broken, Grace wouldn’t get the finger…which was the only positive to the cast.

Grace continued to play with her necklace. “Knew what?”

“I knew you were into him. Plus, I heard you two were pretty cozy at the party last night.” Emily waggled her eyebrows.

Grace bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hide a smile. “We were not. We were just like…talking.” With all the people drunk around the fire, how could any of them see past their own nose, let alone see how cozy they were?

“Whatever, denial’s a river in Egypt.”

Grace tried to keep from laughing out loud. “Thanks for the geography lesson.” Breaking out in a full-out, belly-rumbling laugh, Grace found it almost impossible to speak as the tears trickled from her eyes. “Don’t you mean, ‘Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt’?”

“Isn’t that what I said?” Emily shot back with a self-deprecating giggle. She sobered, then gave Grace a measuring glance. “So,” she said slyly. “Are you going to give it up for your birthday?”

Grace’s eyes bugged out of her head as she gaped at Emily. Who definitely needed a lobotomy. “What kind of question is that? Of course I’m not giving anything up tonight. Geesh!” Between Emily and Quentin, she’d be turning tricks by Sunday night.

Emily gave her a mischievous wink. “It’s not bad, you should try it sometime.”

Grace’s jaw dropped. “You and Tommy?”

Emily nodded, her smile big and proud.

“No.” Grace shook her head, trying to wrap her mind around the fact her best friend was no longer a virgin.

“Yesss.”

“You two did it. When?” Grace rolled on her hip and turned to Emily.

“Last weekend. My parents left for the night.”

“Please tell me you were careful.”

For a split second, Emily tore her gaze from the road, giving Grace a dubious glance. “Of course.”