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She opened the door and took three steps into the hallway and nearly walked straight into a man she’d never met before. He was talking to Aunt Rayleen.
The woman turned with an automatic scowl that quickly pulled into a sneer when her eyes traveled down Grace’s body. Then she looked pointedly at the door Grace had just closed behind her.
“Well, well, well.”
Grace rolled her eyes and moved to walk around her aunt and the man.
“Couldn’t keep it in your pants, huh?” Rayleen snarled. “That’s because you’re doing it wrong. The pants are supposed to be on your ass, girl, not dragging along behind it.”
Grace just barely managed to bite back a suggestion about exactly what Rayleen could do with her opinions.
The man tried to step out of her path at the same time Grace tried to get around him, and they ended up stepping back and forth several times.
Rayleen snorted. “Old Cole is pretty popular, you know. You’d better watch it, or you’ll end up with the clap.”
Grace sighed heavily and stopped to glower at her aunt. “The clap? Really? What decade is this?”
The man snorted, and Grace threw him a glare. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lewis.”
“He’s your upstairs neighbor,” Rayleen clarified. “You telling me there’s a bed you haven’t tried to crawl into? Not that you’d have much success with this one. Still, I knew letting a woman in here would be nothing but trouble. You’re using up all the good ones.”
Grace could only assume that meant Lewis wasn’t a good one, though that obviously had nothing to do with appearances. He was wide-shoulder
ed and dark-haired with a smile that set the bar for wickedness.
“Anyway,” Grace finally said, “nice to meet you.”
He stuck out a hand, cutting off another attempt at escape. Grace switched her jeans to her left hand and managed the briefest of handshakes.
“Okay, you stay right there, and I’m going to…” She kept him in place with one hand while edging around him and closer to her door. “I’m going to take my pantsless ass behind closed doors now. Bye.”
“Hussy,” Aunt Rayleen said, not quite under her breath.
“Witch,” Grace responded.
“Ha! Which one of us is slinking through a shame walk? You do keep your chin up, though. I like that.”
“Years of practice,” Grace muttered.
Rayleen’s laughter followed her through the door. Grace threw her jeans on the floor and stalked straight to the bathroom to start the shower. She tried not to look in the mirror, not out of worry for what she looked like, but out of worry for what she’d see in her eyes.
She used people. It was an ugly thing to see in oneself. That sometimes people were no more than shelter for her. No more meaningful than a roof and walls and a warm bed to wake up in. Not always, but often enough.
And it wasn’t just other people. She used herself, too. After what had happened with Scott, she couldn’t ignore it anymore.
Oh, she’d pretended it had been a real relationship. Maybe it even had been, at the start. But three months after she’d moved into his place, she’d suspected he was cheating. A month after, she’d known for sure. And as tough and proud and self-respecting as she’d always imagined she’d been, Grace had said nothing.
She’d put her head down and pretended not to know. Not because she loved him. Not because it hurt too much, but because she hadn’t had anywhere to go.
The worst part, the part that ate her up on nights when she couldn’t sleep, was that Scott had known. He’d looked at her as if she was dirt. Less than dirt, actually, because when you walked all over dirt, it wasn’t the dirt’s fault. But Grace—she’d let it happen. So he’d walked a little harder. And then when he’d tired of even that horrid little game, he’d kicked her out.
He’d known. And she’d looked straight into his disgusted eyes and begged him not to break up with her. But he hadn’t needed her anymore. She’d ruined any chance that she could help advance his career, and his career was all he cared about.
Grace got into the shower and scrubbed as hard as she could.
She’d never let that happen again. Ever. She’d never be dependent upon anyone for anything. And she wouldn’t be so proud that she’d yell her way out of a job again either. What the hell did she have to be so proud of? She was nearly thirty, she had nothing, and she could barely support herself.
