Page 9 of Never Fear (Whiskey Ridge)
Like last night and the night before, I didn’t notice headlights behind me as I drove home from work, which meant Austin likely wasn’t watching myeverymove once I left the diner. The thought both comforted me and sent achill up my spine, because while I hated him being this protective, concerned asshole, it also meant that once I left my job, I was alone.
But then I’d remind myself that I didn’t need a man to watch over me, and kick that anxiety to the curb.
I turned down my street and parked in the driveway. I jumped out, jogged to the door, and slipped inside, changing into an oversized gray sweatshirt and black leggings. I kept my hair up in its typical high ponytail, my pink scrunchie having held it firm all day. Then I left, locking my front door behind me before getting back in the car. The heat had already begun dissipating, but as soon as I turned the engine back on, it warmed right back up.
Twenty minutes later, I was pulling up to Grace’s house. It was a quaint little brown home nestled in a cluster of trees off a long, paved road. As soon as I stepped out of the warm cab with my phone in hand, the frozen, pine-scented air invaded my senses, easing a fraction of the stress on my shoulders—even though I was standing in the middle of a dark forest, with only her porch light illuminating part of the yard.
I beeped the locks behind me and headed up the stone path to the front door. As soon as I hit the step to the porch, Grace appeared in the doorway. Even in the poor lighting, I could see her puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I immediately closed the few steps between us, pulling her in for a hug.
My chin rested on her sweater-clad shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
With a sniffle, she said, “Come inside first. It’s freezingout here.”
I pulled away from her, following her inside where she shut the door behind me. She must’ve had a candle going, because the distinct scent of vanilla and pumpkin hit me. In the living room, fairy lights twinkled around the TV stand in place of the overhead light, giving the space a moody feel and illuminating the various plants she had hanging around.
“Are you in mourning or something?” I asked, noting her black sweater over top of black leggings, matching her black, long hair pulled up in a messy bun. The hairdo showed off the tattoos climbing her neck.
Grace’s small laugh sounded thoroughly congested, like she’d been crying for a while. “If breaking up with your boyfriend counts as mourning? Sure.”
My lips pulled into a sympathetic frown as I grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the couch. She plopped down on the dark green cushion, tucking a leg under her. I mimicked her position, facing her without letting go of her hand. “Tell me what that asshole did to make you cry.”
She used the fabric of her sleeve to wipe under her eye, the skin pulling a bit. “He was just…a dick, you know?” I nodded as she continued. “He was always pressuring me for sex, wanting more. And listen, we both know I’m open with all of that.” She let out another nasally laugh. “I fucking love sex, okay?” I nodded again, cracking a smile, because she’d always been very open about that to me. “But he made itsounenjoyable. Like it became a game of pleasuring him, and never me.”
“What a fucking pussy. He should have been worshipping you, Grace. I mean, look at you.”
She tried to hide her growing smile. “I know. So,” shesniffled before releasing a deep sigh, “I cut it off because I know I deserve better.”
“Hell yeah, you do.” Grace wasn’t one to cry over much, so I got the feeling whatever her ex did to cause them to split was far worse than him seldom dipping between her thighs for a taste—but I wouldn’t press. She’d open up on her own time.
“Sorry I texted you.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve before laying her hand on her lap. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”
“You can always call me. I’m your cousin, but I’m also your friend.” I shifted on the cushion, crossing both legs under me now. “I know we went a while without seeing each other because,” my hands made a weird gesturing motion, “life, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less, okay?”
She gave another nod, her lips pressed in a firm line like she was trying to hold it together.
“How about we watch a movie?” I was already reaching for the remote, not giving her the option. She could talk about her breakup when she was ready, but it seemed more like she just needed a distraction right now.
“The Parent Trap?” Grace questioned.
“Duh. What other movie would I dare put on in a time of distress?”
As I got the movie ready, she pulled the black blanket over us from the back of the couch. I scooted in next to her before hitting play, thankful I could forget about my own problems for a couple hours and focus on someone else’s.
We’d barely made it an hour into the movie before Grace was dead asleep. Her head was resting on the pillow shoved up against the armrest, the blanket pulled up around her shoulders. I’d shifted away from her thirty minutes ago, my arm having gone numb from the way it was bent to curl up beside her.
With no plans to spend the night here, I carefully slid off the sofa that felt more like a cloud than anything else, quietly getting to my feet. I turned the movie off and left one string of fairy lights on so that if she woke, she wasn’t entirely in the dark.
Grabbing my phone off the glass coffee table, I sent her a text explaining I’d left, but if she needed me for anything, I could stop by tomorrow. Then, I grabbed my keys and locked her door behind me on my way out. I had a spare for her house, same as she had one for mine, just in case.
Ignoring the creepy feeling of being in the woods at night, I crossed the front yard to my car and got inside, immediately blasting the heater to ward off the chill. Though I didn’t think the goosebumps on my arms had anything to do with the cold at this point.
The entire time I lay on the couch, my mind kept wandering to that note. What did they mean by “they took from us”? Was it referring to when Booker killed the boss of the gambling corporation Brynne’s ex was involved in? Or was there something else someone took, and now they were looking for a way to make it even? A way that included me? It was hard to believe someone would want me dead, and I couldn’t help but think the note could lead to some sort of ransom situation—but what did I know?
My hands squeezed the steering wheel as I stared at theway my headlights lit up Grace’s garage door. Brynne wasn’t directly showing her emotions because she didn’t want to be overbearing, but she was worried. Hell, they all were. Booker, Henley, and, unfortunately, Austin. I shouldn’t be pushing him away for looking out for me. I should be thanking him. But for some reason, every time he was around, all I could remember was him holding me back when I wanted to pummel Henley into the ground for being the reason Brynne was in danger.
Austin should’ve been equally as pissed. Booker should have killed Henley for putting his woman in those men’s sights, but some fucking brotherly promise they had to each other stopped him.
They should’ve let me at him that night. I didn’t have any promises with anyone.
