The Presence of Grace (Love and Loss #2)(33)

“Sleep now,” he whispered.

So I did.





Chapter Twelve

Devon



I woke up before the sun streamed into the window and I selfishly took the opportunity to watch Grace sleep. She was beautiful, but she was troubled. Every few minutes the soft skin between her eyebrows would bunch up and I knew she was dreaming. I could only hope she wouldn’t remember the dreams when she woke up.

Eventually I slid out from under her, successfully trying not to wake her, and slipped into the bathroom.

When I walked back into the bedroom, I was shocked by her beauty. I shouldn’t have been; I knew how beautiful she was. But I’d never seen her so beautiful or vulnerable before. She was still asleep, on her stomach, her arms wrapped around the pillow beneath her head. Her hair was everywhere and her face was relaxed, the worry lines gone.

The image of her the night before, her body pressed up against a brick wall, fear in her wide eyes, flashed in my mind. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what had happened, and all I’d wanted to do when I saw him on the ground was beat the shit out of him. The only thing that stopped me was the look on Grace’s face—a look that said she’d had enough, that said she needed someone to support her in that moment, not avenge her. My need to comfort her took over, but I knew if I ever saw him again, he’d need an ambulance to take him away when I was through.

She was still in her clothes from work, and I was still in my jeans and T-shirt, but we’d slept all night that way. I pulled my phone from my pocket, checking to make sure there weren’t any messages, then I placed it on the bedside table and climbed gently back in the bed, trying again not to disturb her. I curled my body around hers, softly draping my arms over her waist, pulling her into me.

I didn’t know if she wanted me to sleep with her to make her feel safe, or just to keep her mind off what had happened, but there was no denying I felt a f*ck of a lot better having her in my arms.

I knew there hadn’t been a chance of me leaving her alone the night before. I was fully prepared to sleep on her couch; sharing her bed had never even crossed my mind. But when she asked me to go to bed with her, I didn’t stand a chance. Not that I wanted to.

I faded away again, listening to her slow breaths.



“Devon.”

The soft whispers pulled me from sleep. Halfway between sleep and consciousness I felt the featherlight touches on my skin. Before I opened my eyes, I knew Grace was running her fingertip over my face.

“Devon, wake up,” she whispered again, and I could feel her breath on my chin. Then the minty smell hit me.

“I’m awake,” I mumbled.

“Where are the kids?” she asked urgently.

“With my mom,” I grumbled, then I shot my arms out, wrapped them around her, and pulled her into me, burrowing my face in her wild hair. “Go back to sleep.”

“I’m not tired anymore.” Her voice held an edge of laughter, and damn, I wanted to hear that. Especially after what happened the night before. If she was ready to laugh, I was prepared to be the one to make it happen. I flipped her over so her back was to me again, and pulled her to me, leaving absolutely no space between us. I rested my hand on her waist, giving her a tiny squeeze, and everything inside me lit up when I heard her laughter. “No tickling!” She was shrieking and laughing, trying to wiggle her way out of my arms.

Finally, when she was out of breath and smiling, I stopped, but still held her close. Her breathing slowed, and every few moments a rogue giggle slipped out of her, but she didn’t try to pull away or make me let her go. She relaxed into me, running her fingers softly up and down my arm.

“Devon?” she finally asked.

“Yeah?”

“Why were you at the bar last night?”

I let out a sigh. I’d known this part of the conversation was coming, I had just originally thought we would have had it the night before. Grace rolled so she was facing me, but put a little distance between us. I wanted to reach out and obliterate it, but I let her have her space.

“You blew me off, and I wasn’t prepared to let you go. So I went to find you.” I said the words as though they were evident. Self-explanatory. And to me, they were. She’d pushed me away without a reason, and I wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer. “Somewhere along the line, something got between us, and I’m not sure what it was. But I was sure that if I could talk to you last night, I could make it go away.”

I reached out and tucked away a piece of her hair, gently looping it behind her ear, never breaking eye contact. Her hair was impossibly soft and I wanted to thread my fingers through it, feel it slip between them.

“I knew you’d be at work, and I remembered the name of the bar, so I asked my mom to watch the kids overnight and I went looking for you.”

I watched her eyes change, watched her retreat back into her mind, insecurity painting her face.

“Hey,” I said, bringing my hand to her cheek, trying to get her to look back at me. “Don’t run away from me. I’m right here. What happened between those two text messages that changed your mind about us?” Her eyes met mine again, but her teeth were worrying her lip and her eyes still looked unsure. I trailed my thumb down her cheekbone, trying to coax the words from her. Finally, she spoke.

“I moved to Fairbanks with my husband right after we graduated. We agreed we’d go wherever the first job offer came from. Jeff got an offer first, and I was a substitute teacher for a few years before I got my job. During the first summer we were there I took a job as a receptionist at a salon. Shelby, my best friend since middle school, had just graduated from the beautician academy and I got her a job where I worked. She made a good name for herself and started doing makeup jobs outside of the salon.”