Page 16 of Butter My Biscuit

My coat and hair are soaked, and I’m so cold as the winter wind stirs.

When I round the corner, I spot a bus stop that’s covered. I sit on the wet bench and sob until my throat is raw. The only thing that pulls me away is my phone.

I answer.

“Gracie, are you okay? I’m on my way to you right now. Where are you?” He’s panicked.

“Please be careful. It’s raining really bad.”

“Now, who’s being the parent?” he asks. “Where are you, princess?”

“I don’t know. At some random bus stop. And my phone is about to?—”

The call ends, and I look up at the sky, the rain pelting hard against my skin.

“Why?!” I scream out.

I place my face in my hands, hoping to God that Harrison arrives quickly. He’ll find me. He always does.

Knowing I’m on a different block, I return to the main road, where he’ll have a better chance of running into me. I walk for blocks in stripper shoes and not one Mercedes stops to ask if I’m okay. I feel like Julia Roberts inPretty Womanwhen they wouldn’t sell her clothes.

I hate Houston. This would never happen in Valentine. I feel stupid for even considering moving here for thatbastard.

“Gracie!” I hear from behind me.

I turn to see Harrison walking toward me with an umbrella outstretched. He left the truck running in the middle of the road with the lights on and the windshield wipers sloshing the water away.

When I see him, relief floods me, but I notice the way his jaw is clenched tight and see the anger in his eyes.

He moves the umbrella over me, placing his opposite hand on the small of my back as he stands in the rain. “Did he hurt you?”

I shake my head, unable to form a complete sentence.

“I need to hear you say it.” He swallows hard, getting soaked.

“No, we didn’t …”Have sex.I can’t finish my sentence. I don’t need to.

“Okay, okay.” His voice lowers as he leads me to the truck. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

He opens the door, escorting me inside. It’s warm, and it smells like his cologne. I see the cup of coffee in his cupholder.

Harrison closes the umbrella and slides inside. He reaches behind the seat and gives me one of his old T-shirts. “It’s not much, but it might help some. I wish I had a towel.”

I slide off the soaking wet coat and toss it in the back and sit miserably in the expensive lingerie. Instead of using it to dry off, I put it on. At least I feel less naked.

Harrison kicks the truck in drive, and he grabs the coffee and hands it to me. “It’ll help you warm up.”

I take a sip. “What is this?”

“White chocolate Christmas something. I couldn’t make up my mind so I let the barista choose.”

I place both hands on the outside of the cup, tears streaming.

He glances at me. “You want to talk about it?”

I take another drink and shake my head.

Harrison finds a side street and pulls over. “Come here.”

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