Page 8 of Graciously His

She tried to shrink back, her eyes going wide with shock. Christ, that look made me want to snatch her up and carry her off, regardless of what anyone said. I could keep her for myself, hide her away where no one could find her. I tucked the thought away as I tugged her up and out of the car, my hand finding her waist. I felt her ribs and I had to close my eyes to contain my anger at her condition.

Grace glanced at Nick then back at me, blinking fast.

“You’d take me with you,” she whispered, “when you don’t even know me?”

“Does Nick know you?” I lowered my voice, ensuring only she could hear me. “Does he know about your mother? Does he try to stop her—or does he encourage her to hurt you?”

“She doesn’t hurt me. She’s the best—she’s…”

Her voice faded as she looked away, refusing to meet my eyes. She shook her head, pulling out of my grip. I felt a heaviness settle in my stomach as I realised she was too far gone to accept what I offered.

I thought briefly of forcing her. Carrying her off and making her mine.

Impossible…

There was nowhere to take her. Nowhere to hide her. Not yet.

“Do you think marrying Nick will help you?” I asked, not bothering to hide my contempt for the notion.

“What are you talking about?” Her lashes fluttered with confusion. “I don’t understand—”

“I’m talking about you marrying my fucking useless brother.” I leaned in until I was offensively close. I wanted to press the truth into her before she made the mistake of both our lifetimes. “Do you think Nick is ever going to help you, Grace?”

“Help me with what?”

Nick called my name and I knew it was a matter of seconds before he’d come over here. I decided to risk it all.

“You’ve got this one chance, Grace. Leave with me right now, and I’ll do what I couldn’t do all those years ago. I’ll take you away. I’ll fix what’s wrong. I’ll protect you from your mother—and my brother—even if it costs me everything.”

“Nate,” she said, pressing herself against the car, clearly trying to get some space. “I can’t leave my own wedding. I barely managed to get here. I’m sick and Nick—he’s the only future I have.”

Disappointment flooded me. The worst of it was, Grace might have been right. I was insane to believe I could rescue her from a situation she herself was choosing. I didn’t know her, not really, and I had only vague notions of what she truly needed. I faltered, finally looking away, knowing everything I offered was too little, too early… and too late.

“Graciously!” Nick called.

He was finally ready to claim his bride. There was nothing I could do but watch as Grace’s eyes went to him, to the better twin who would be the worse husband.

So I watched her walk away and marry my brother, the star jasmine trembling in her hands. I watched the Munchausen bitch smile, knowing that she’d just put Grace exactly where she’d be most vulnerable. But even as the ceremony began, I vowed to make a haven for my girl. Someday, she might recognise the mistake she’d made—and when she did, I would have everything ready.

And, a dark part of me whispered, someday, I might just steal her after all.

Chapter 6

Grace

Present Day

It’s an orange day from the start. Nick got up early even though it’s Saturday and he promised me a cuddle this morning—a cuddle I hoped to turn into something more. It’s been a year since we’ve been intimate, and I’m craving his touch the way I always do. But he left while I was still sleeping, probably for a run along the coast and—a small part of me whispers—probably avoiding exactly what I’m hoping for. It’s been our pattern for years; I want what Nick doesn’t, and he runs from it.

I grab my journal from the bedside table, colouring an orange square into the morning chart before taking a look at the previous week’s colours. There are a few purples and indigos, both representing days when I woke up feeling all right, but just one instance of my favourite colour, a turquoise that represents minimal pain. I look at the second column, where I record my pain levels at the end of every day. These range from yellow to green, and then to orange, which is the worst measure. And my least favourite colour, of course. Only a few days are orange both morning and night, but I suspect this might be one of them. We had dinner at Mother’s house last night, and I’m feeling the last of the effects deep within my belly, joints, and mind. Nick insisted we accept everything she offered us, including a few beers before dinner. So today might be all orange.

I take a long drink of water, happy that at least I don’t have to worry about Mother barging in this morning. Saturdays are for yoga and meetings and shopping, so she’ll be busy until at least noon. My own plans include using some of this alone time to continue a new design on my laptop, especially if Nick takes a while with that run. He won’t want to see me working, and he’ll probably tell Mother. I’ve told both of them that my designs are just a hobby; in reality, I’ve been working on a portfolio under my old professor’s supervision. Soon, I’ll have enough credits to finish off my degree—ten years late.

I continue journaling, making note of everything I ate yesterday and colouring in some more squares for sleep quality, hair loss, and mood. The latter I fill in purple because, despite my disappointment in Nick’s absence, I’m excited to get to work.

The bullet journal goes back into its secret spot in my drawer, then I get up and double-check the house to make sure Mother hasn’t come in while I was having my miniature lie-in. She’s still absent, so I take a shower and get dressed for the day.

My phone buzzes as I’m towel-drying my hair: an email from Nate. I’m even more grateful to be alone. My joints ache as I hurry to the entryway to slide the chain lock into place. It’s overkill, but I don’t want anyone walking in while I’m answering Nate’s message. Nick doesn’t like me talking to his brother. I’ve avoided telling him that we communicate at all. He and Nate have kept to their respective roles and islands, for the most part, so I keep it quiet. And quietly guilt myself every time.