Page 42 of Falling for Grace

I look out the window, but let my hand remain in Ted’s.

“It took me a long time to get him to open up, but eventually I got some semblance of truth out of him. You two and your bloody walls,” he says sadly to himself. “I don’t blame you, Grace. For pushing him away. I understand. So did he. Anyway, I think that maybe it’s time to talk to Brandon. This is something you have carried for a long time. He has the right to know. I mean, girl, he had the right to know three years ago.”

I shift uncomfortably in the seat. The car feels smaller.

“No one is judging you, love. But he has a right to know. And Grace, he knows something happened between you and Danny, but still doesn’t understand what. You need to tell him that, give him the answers he’s desperately been searching for…for three years, anyway,” he says, sighing. “This isn’t why I brought it up. I just wanted you to know that while you’re back, if you want to talk, you can come to me.”

Wow. Ted just did a deep and meaningful.

I don’t want Ted and Sue to think any less of me, I want to explain. But they aren't the ones I need to tell things to. I sense he doesn’t agree with my decisions, but him saying that to me—it means a lot.

Deep in our own thoughts, we don’t talk again on the way home.

I take in the roads that are still so familiar as we drive back towards Danny and Brandon’s childhood house. The house I spent so much time in growing up.

Rather than thinking about Danny’s death, my thoughts go to how Danny must have felt after I pushed him away. I never thought about how it must have been for him. Well, I did, but not until after. Not until the last year or so, when my head had finally processed everything, and I could make space for other feelings.

Turns out, the space was for guilt. A lot of guilt.

I found myself feeling guilty for a hell of a lot of things. I felt guilty for pushing Danny away, when actually I probably needed him the most because he was the only person who knew what I went through.

I then questioned my decision of not telling Brandon. He had a right to know, but I made the decision for him.

So I felt guilty for that, and I questioned it.

Daily.

Regretted it daily. But I still didn’t tell him.

I then felt guilty for putting Danny in a position where he was stuck between me and Brandon. So much guilt, and yeah, so many fucking regrets, as well as those bastard life lessons.

I can’t put things right with Danny, but Ted is right. Brandon has a right to know. I took the coward’s route. I need to do this, I need to cleanse my soul of this cancerous secret, although this is the worst possible time to do it. When I step on the plane back to Texas, I probably won’t be flying first class again, that’s for sure. But I will have done the right thing and told Brandon the truth.

“I think I need a minute,” I say to Ted as he pulls the car into his driveway.

“Of course. I’ll grab your bags and sort you out with a towel so you can freshen up.”

He closes the car door and heads inside.

I look up at the small three-bedroom detached house. It looks the same as the last time I was here. For Ted’s birthday all those years ago.

Same yellow paint outside, the same garden where we used to play Dr. Who, the same road where we played bulldog and all other games that we had invented. Memories flood through me like a slideshow, and I am overwhelmed with all things Danny. I look to the front door, expecting him to be there standing with his arms folded, tutting at me for taking so long to get my ass into gear.

I take a calming breath and step out of the car. The sun, which is out in all its glory, fights with the cool breeze.

I step up to the concrete doorstep and I open the door to the house. The hallway looks the same, the carpet the same. There is some new furniture, fresh paint, but it’s the same.

The smell is the same. It’s my second home, and it's just the same.

There is no fighting the emotion now. Memories and pictures of Danny are on display everywhere.

My childhood fights its way to the surface and regret pours from every cell in my body. My knees feel weak and I am barely able to stand. I can see a silhouette in the hallway.

I know it’s Sue. I don’t need to see her fully to recognise her petite frame. I know her reddish brown hair will be piled on her head, and I know the blue eyes that look just like Danny’s will be staring at me.

“Gracie.”

I nod because I can’t speak. I take three steps into the hallway as she walks to me and we throw ourselves at each other and we cry. A mother grieves for her son, a friend cries for her best friend, cries for not ever being able to put something right. Grief consumes us both and we grip onto each other for dear life.

---