Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(64)

“I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone,” I all but shout as I stand with her. She shrinks back.

“No. You like having a sex partner and a person to watch TV with.”

When I confront her next, my voice shakes with anger. “This is bullshit. You know it. You’re scared and you’re nervous and you’re looking for a way to sabotage what we have.”

“It’s doomed anyway!”

I lock my jaw and lean in. “You don’t believe that.”

She’s silent.

“You dared me to date you, Grace. You. You decided to stay with me past the agreed-upon package. And when your dad showed up out of the blue with news he wasn’t going to be around much longer, who did you run to? Me.”

“I shouldn’t have put that on you.”

I grip her shoulders. “Yes. You should have. That’s the goddamn point! It’s okay to lean on the person you love. It’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to take my house key. It’s okay to fight and have uncomfortable conversations about our future.”

I lower my face to hers.

“Gracie,” I say softly. She’s still in there. The woman I’ve fallen for—I can see her beyond the fear. “Don’t do this. We’re okay. We’re better than okay now that this is out in the open.”

Just when I think I’m reaching her, she shakes her head solemnly.

“Ending it now is better than ending it later. I don’t want to be a bitter divorcée whose only bright spot in life is eating lunch with a bunch of other bitter divorcées.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about. She steps away from me, her eyes damp, but no tears fall.

“Your solution is to never try again. Is that it?” I ask.

“You and I, Davis…We’re not Rox and Mark.”

“What the hell does this have to do with Rox and Mark?” I practically shout.

“He’s perfect for her. A harmless guy with a bland past and a normal family. Our dynamics…We’ll never survive.”

Fury roars within me, though I suspect beneath it is pain—a truckload of it. The deep, dark hurt I once buried and swore never to unearth.

“I can’t help who I am, Gracie. I can’t change my mother leaving or my father dying. I can’t change your parents either.”

She juts her chin stubbornly.

“You’re right, though. If you kill what we have before it starts, we won’t survive.”

“I couldn’t lie to you any longer.”

“Lying to me should be the least of your concerns.” I snatch my coat off the couch and march for the door. “Lying to yourself, on the other hand—that shit leaves a scar.”

I open the door, a cold breeze slapping me in the face and slicing through my thin shirt. I should walk out without looking back. I should, but I don’t. I turn and look over my shoulder, half in, half out.

“Last chance, Grace. Do you love me or not?” I brace myself for her answer, remind myself of my new motto: I’d rather know than not know.

“I…can’t.” Tears spill down her cheeks. She covers her mouth like she’s trying to keep from taking it back.

“All right, then.” I feel the wall going up—the stones stacking from my gut to my neck and enclosing my heart along the way. “I guess we’re done.”

I shut the door firmly, the silence feeling final.

I feel fucking horrible.

But. I was eviscerated once before and lived to tell the tale.

I can do it again.

I don’t bother pulling on my coat. I climb into my car and start driving aimlessly until, two hours later, I arrive in Mysticburg, Ohio, knocking on my grandmother’s bedroom door.

She takes one look at me and her eyes brim with concern. “What happened?”

“Grace” is all my shaky voice manages.

“I told her not to fuck it up.” My grandmother grabs my arm and I allow her to drag me inside.

“It’s not her fault. Hell, maybe it’s no one’s fault. Maybe we were doomed from the start because of our checkered pasts.”

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s unflattering.”

I sink into an armchair and cover my eyes with my hand. “I loved her.”

“I know.” My grandmother pulls my hand away from my eyes and quirks one white eyebrow. “Want a shot of whiskey?”

I laugh but choke on it a moment later as the severity of what I’ve lost sinks in. “I lost her.”

“Davis, no.”

It’s no use. My eyes blur and my gut hollows out. “I lost her, Rose. For good.”





Chapter 23


Davis


TEN DAYS LATER.

I tilt my head and wince as a sickening crunch comes from the top of my spinal cord.

That can’t be good.

I rub my eyes and that’s worse. My vision is grainy from staring at a computer screen for—I check the clock on my phone—twelve hours plus. My throat is dry, the empty water bottle at my left elbow one I never bothered refilling. My heart…

You know what? Let’s not talk about that.

Since Grace dumped me on my ass and I drove to cry on my grandmother’s shoulder, I’m doing better. I’m handling it. I navigated out of the shit pile that was my life six years ago—this is no different.