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“Liar,” he said.
“You have to go.” She heard the desperation in her own voice. She heard the fear and she hated it.
“Are you running away, Grace?”
Yes. Yes, she was running like hell.
He nodded as if he’d heard her. “Go on, then. If that’s what you want. But know that you’re leaving me behind.”
She set her jaw and said nothing.
“I’m not afraid to say that now. If you go, you’re leaving me, because I want you to stay. With me.”
She nodded and managed to meet his gaze without flinching. “Goodbye, Cole.”
His smile faded. “Yeah? You’re going to run?”
“Yes,” she said.
“All right.”
All right. He’d go. Despite the wave of relief that swelled through her, the hurt stayed. “Goodbye,” she said again.
“All right,” he repeated, as if he were trying to resign himself to the truth. “There’s a motel one block down. I’ll be there. Call me if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.”
Cole reached one hand up for a moment, as if he wanted to touch her, but then he let it fall. “Bye, Grace. You’re not old light, you know. Not at all. You shine so bright it hurts my eyes.” He reached for the door. “Oh, and Jenny says to tell you she misses you.”
He left then, cool air gusting over her as the door hovered open behind him. When it finally shut, she took a deep breath. Then another.
She couldn’t tell truth from lies anymore. She couldn’t trust her own judgment. Did he know about the arrest? Was he lying about Madeline Beckingham? He had to be. Men lied about that kind of thing all the time. But if he’d just been playing Grace for a fool, he’d be relieved she was leaving, wouldn’t he?
It didn’t matter. None of it did. She couldn’t go back. Maybe there would’ve been a chance of fitting in before, if she’d stopped throwing her hands out and claiming not to fit. But now, she may as well have been arrested in front of the whole town. Everyone would know. Cole would find out. And whether he’d lived in L.A. for a few months or not, he was still a nice cowboy surrounded by wholesome people. No one wanted a criminal in their midst. No one wanted a loser.
Jenny says to tell you she misses you.
More likely, she just felt sorry for Grace. But not as sorry as Grace felt for herself.
She dragged the duffel bag back up to the seats, then laid her head on it and waited for 1:00 a.m. to arrive.
* * *
WHEN IT STARTED raining, Cole found himself standing in the doorway of his motel room, staring into the wet night and worrying about Grace. He checked his phone a dozen times. She was only one block away, but if she called, he’d drive over to get her. He didn’t want her walking through the cold rain. She might be tougher than him in a hundred other ways, but she wasn’t used to the cold, and the temperature had dropped about twenty degrees in the past hour.
But the rain kept falling and his phone stayed dark and silent. At midnight, Cole closed the door and sat down wearily on the bed. And at one, he watched the bus drive by, taking her away.
He looked hard at the long line of windows as it passed, but they were pitch-black in the night. He couldn’t see her in there no matter how hard he looked. All he saw were streetlights reflecting off the glass.
“Damn.” He sighed as he sank into the bed. She was gone. He wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t seen much in her eyes except panic and anger. She’d wanted to go and he couldn’t stop her. It was that simple.
There was no question it hurt, but the pain was simple loss. Grief for what he’d wanted with her, not anger or humiliation. She’d been running so long she didn’t know how to stop.
Just a few days ago, he would’ve been too bruised and beaten to feel anything but rage. But he actually had Madeline Beckingham to thank for something. Hell, he might even owe her an apology. Because she was right. He hadn’t really loved her. That love was a lie he’d lived with for thirteen years, painting himself as a heartbroken victim of a cold woman. But he hadn’t truly known her. She’d been a shiny toy for a boy too young to know the difference between lust and love. And she’d been an easy name to give to the guilt he’d felt. The unyielding sorrow of knowing his last words to his father had been shouted with scorn and disrespect. Of knowing he could’ve reached out and hadn’t. Granted, his dad had been wrong, too. But that didn’t absolve Cole. Young as he’d been, he’d been a grown man, and he’d never forget that lesson.
Which was why he’d decided to lay his pride down and tell Grace how he truly felt. The fact that she’d gotten on that bus didn’t change that. She was scared. And dark. And damaged. How could he hate that about her? She wouldn’t have been strong and brave and passionate without that same past.
But fuck, it hurt.
