“Have you blocked him?”
“Over and over,” I say with a sardonic laugh. “He creates a new email every time I do.”
“Have you considered changing your email address?”
“I thought about that,” I admit. “But what if he sends me some sign? Some forewarning. I’m too scared to miss anything.” The emails have been increasingly erratic. The more I don’t respond, which I haven’t at all, the more irate he gets with me.
“Is it possible for him to guess your whereabouts?”
“No,” I say. “Juliet always disliked him. He knew it and didn’t let me hang out with her. But I liked her a lot. We’ve been secret friends, of sorts. I work with Luke quite a bit. I think she suspected what others didn’t.”
“That tracks,” he says, reaching for my hand across the center console. “She’s always been good at reading people.”
“She was the only one I could think to call for help and trust that they wouldn’t tell Pierre. I don’t know where I’d be if she hadn’t answered,” I tell him. She took control of everything, asking to speak with the nurse so she understood my situation. Knowing that I’d sugarcoat it. She’s the one who lined up the car for me, the cell phone, and gave me explicit directions on how to get to Stowaway and let myself into her house in Portland where I picked up keys and the garage door clicker for Irma’s house. All she left for me to do was follow her lead.
“She’s good people.” His thumb rubs small circles on the top of my hand. I stare at the motion and revel in how easy it is to be touched by him. It’s natural and comforting. I crave it but not in the same way I did with Pierre. I’m not seeking validation from Grady’s touch. My mind isn’t racing a thousand miles a minute, trying to search for the right things to say to please him. I get to be myself, not his made-up version of me. “You’re good people, too.”
Am I? I’m still not convinced. But I don’t feel as bad about myself as I once did.
“Someday, I hope to believe that.”
“Someday, you will,” he says, pulling into my driveway. Or Irma’s driveway that already feels like home. It’s been more of a home than any I’ve had before. We both get out of the truck and Grady walks me to the front door. “Come over tomorrow at two. I’ll teach you how to throw a punch.”
“I’m not sure it will be strong enough to do any damage.”
“There’re a few tricks I’ll show you,” he says, both palms coming to stretch on either side of my neck. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“I had a great time,” I say honestly, staring up at his serious eyes. “The sex was a nice surprise, too.”
“You weren’t expecting it?” he asks, pressing his thumbs up under my jaw.
“No. Were you? Is that why you had the condoms?”
“I wasn’t expecting it at all,” he says. “I like to be prepared, though.”
“I’m glad you were.” I barely breathe the words over his lips.
“Next time, I want more time. And a bed. I’m too old for that back seat shit.”
“I happen to think you managed fine, old man,” I say with a grin. “But deal.”
“Deal.” He kisses me, then. Slow, like we’ve got all the time in the world. Like he’s in no hurry to leave my side. Like he likes being with me.
A warm tendril comes alive within me. I like my deals with Grady Steele. It’s a partnership, promises and compromises that work both ways. A give and take, a balancing of the scales without either side ending in a hierarchy.
It’s refreshing.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Sleep well,” he says, pressing a final kiss on my lips, then watching while I get inside safely.
A memory of my father flashes in my mind. He used to say that to me on the rare night my mother wasn’t around when I went to bed.
Our family never said things like I love you or drive safely. Or, at least, they never said those things to me. Perhaps my brother got that from them when he was young. I often wondered if they used up all their parental love on him so there was none left by the time I came around.
Whenever my dad told me to sleep well, it felt special. A secret I could treasure, and sure enough, those nights I would sleep better. As if those two words acted like a safety blanket for me. Sometimes, I think I’d like to be closer to my father. Then, I remember that he’s never stood up for me when it has counted, and I’m left with only sadness.
Micah calls the following day. My phone rings so seldom, it startles me when it does.
