Page 106 of Falling for Grace

“We still have a long way to go,” I say and he nods. I want to manage expectations. This is going to be a journey for both of us. “But I forgive you. I’m still angry at you,” I say as I turn my nose up at him and frown. “And deep down I think you're still angry at me, but I’m so tired of trying to fight what I feel for you.”

“Oh, thank Christ,” he says, grabbing my face roughly and crashing his lips onto mine. “I’ve loved you ever since I was 14, Grace.” He kisses me again roughly. “I loved you when you roller skated past my window. I loved you when we went to the May Ball together and we just lay on the school field looking at the stars instead of being social.”

“I just wanted you, only you,” I interrupt, remembering the night so vividly even now.

“I loved you when you used to come to my doorstep in tears after an argument with your dad. I loved you when you opened up to me using music. And I still love you. I will always love you, and I want you in my life. I miss you so, so much Grace, and I am so, so sorry.” His fingertips are gripping my face so tightly that it almost hurts, but I know it’s because he is desperate for me to understand. And I do, and I want nothing more than to be in his life.

Now it’s my turn to crash my lips against his. “I love you,” I say in between kisses, and he loses any control he had. His kiss turns lethal, and I’m rendered speechless, thoughtless and anything less as he dominates me with his mouth, pouring everything he can into a kiss. My pulse is beating wildly, my stomach is in knots, and I want to devour this man.

I can feel him hardening and I shameless rub myself against his growing length and moan into his mouth. His hands are everywhere, and I am losing control as each touch leaves flames in its wake.

He pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling as we pant to get air into our lungs.

“I love you so much, but we can’t have sex in the car.”

My vagina is legitimately groaning at him in frustration. “I think having sex in the car sounds like a brilliant idea,” I say. Look at me being brazen. I bite my lip and he grins. But he’s right. We can’t have sex in the car. I don’t think my hips could take it. I place another kiss on his lips and he kisses my forehead before I maneuver myself back into the driver's side.

“I want to take you somewhere.” Reaching over I grab the seatbelt and strap myself in. I glance over at Brandon, who is adjusting his trousers. Nice to see he’s just as frustrated as me. “It’s not far from here.” I turn on the ignition and start turning the car round in the small road.

“Can I ask you something?”

I glance over, nodding.

“In L.A. when I…”

“Was a complete and utter bellend?” I finish the sentence.

“Yeah. Then. You had a panic attack?”

I stop the car and look over at him.

“I did.”

“And at my parents’ a few nights before the funeral, you almost had one then?”

“Yes.” I turn the engine off and give him my full attention, the car now facing the right way. “After the birth. I struggled, obviously. But anxiety, panic attacks. They were something…they are something…I still deal with. I know how to control them. But L.A.…” His gaze is so penetrating that I look down and pick a piece of lint of my trousers just to get away from the scrutiny. “I just couldn’t stop it. I’m not going to sugar coat it, Brandon, it was by far the worst one I’ve had in years, and it scared the shit out of me. If it hadn't been for that man who helped me…”

He runs his hand down his face. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’ve forgiven you. So stop torturing yourself. I can’t take back the fact I didn’t tell you, and you can’t take back LA. We have to move on. Together.”

I lean in and kiss him, because how else can I make him believe that I’m really, genuinely trying to move on with this? And I really need him to move forward with me because I’m about to tell him something that will make or break us.

I start the car and head off.

“I should have taken you here when I first told you,” I admit, speaking over the GooGoo Dolls’ “Iris” which is playing as the scenery around us moves away from the rolling hills and trees to more built-up suburbia.

“Danny had been looking after the grave for me, I had no idea.” Brandon is silent as the realisation of where I am taking him hits. He takes a shuddering breath.

“Fuck.” I squeeze his hand in reassurance. His Ray Bans are hiding his eyes.

We drive in silence and then pull into the graveyard in Leatherhead, not too far from where the service for Danny was held. I pull through the cast-iron gates into the gravel car park, turning the engine off.

The sun is still shining. I reach into the back and grab my jacket, pulling it on.

Brandon remains still.

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, taking his glasses off. Unfallen tears are pooled behind his eyes.

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