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“Let me tell you something: if that happened to my sister, and she wanted to keep the kid, you know what would happen? I’d pitch in, and my mom would pitch in, and we’d make sure my sister had all the help she needed to get back on her feet. So maybe the problem isn’t ‘rebelling against your parents leads to destruction’. It’s just that you’re being raised by people who won’t allow you to think for yourself and won’t forgive you when you do.”
I close my eyes. His words feel dangerous—maybe because they make sense. And that’s the problem with the devil. He can make the wrong way, the immoral way, seem reasonable.
“It doesn’t really solve my problem though, even if that’s true,” I reply. “Because I am being raised by people who won’t forgive my mistakes.”
Ford wraps an arm around my shoulder and presses his lips to my head. “Sometimes you’ve got to make your own family, Grace. A better one.”
They’re the most dangerous words he’s said to date.
We leave shortly thereafter, and he holds my hand all the way back to Ty’s bike. The walk is too brief, and bittersweet. I want to stay. I want to have conversations like the one we just had. I also want to ask him what we are, but I’m worried what his answer will be. I’m not his girlfriend. I couldn’t even allow him to call me that. But it isn’t only lust anymore. At least, not for me.
I hold onto him, tighter than necessary, my cheek resting against his broad back. He drops me off at a secluded spot near the school.
“Is this okay?” he asks. “I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
I pull off the helmet and nod, handing it to him as I climb off the bike. “Thanks for the ride.”
He takes the helmet, looking at it for a moment, rather than me. “I’m glad you came.”
I push my hands in my skirt pockets, painfully awkward again. My normal state. I don’t want to go, but I have no reason to stay. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
His nod is so minute I barely notice it. And then his free hand reaches out and settles against the curve of my waist. He pulls me closer and I go, more than willing.
My eyes fall closed and my body melts into his, as if made for it. I think these moments, the ones where my head is resting against his chest, are the only ones I’ve ever had that feel safe.
23
“I. Want. To. Go.”
Faith is jumping on the bed, her ponytail flying in the air, timing each word with a landing.
I’m mostly ignoring her as I dry my hair. It’s not the dance she’s interested in—it’s the hour I’ll spend with my friends getting ready at Kappy’s beforehand. I’m pretty sure I’m only allowed to go because it’s easier on my mom than watching Hope sulk at the sight of me in my dress.
“I wanna go,” Faith repeats, more demanding this time.
She reminds me a bit of my father in moments like this—the way her voice rises when she’s not getting her way.
“Faith, you can’t go. We’re going to be getting ready, and you’ll be in the way.”
“No, I won’t.” She’s making a disaster of my covers. I’d point it out except she’d probably intentionally make them worse.
“And there’s no one to drive you home when we’re done.”
“Mommy can come get me,” she says. “I’ll go ask.”
“Faith, you weren’t invited,” I add, the tiniest bit of exasperation leaching into my voice because given how my mother behaves with Faith, she’ll probably agree.
“Everyone likes me,” she insists with her widest smile.
I worry that Faith’s tenacity is going to get her into trouble at my age. I never had any tenacity to speak of and look at me now—desperately waiting for her to leave so I can read Ford’s last message.
“You look lovely,” my mother says, entering the room and smiling at our reflections in the mirror.
I look more like her than ever right now—I’m not sure what’s changed since we arrived, but something has.
She hands me a small clutch of hers to stash my belongings in, and then she drives me over to Kappy’s house. Faith comes with us, absolutely howling when I get out of the car. “She lives in a mansion? I want to see it!”
My mom stops me with a hand on my arm. “Keep the contract, and God, foremost in your thoughts tonight.”
