An Ounce of Hope (A Pound of Flesh #2)(21)
“Don’t patronize me, Kai,” she fumed.
Kai’s face dropped minutely, her words clearly surprising him. “That’s not my intention, Grace.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I just— I worry about you. I want to make sure you’re safe and I can’t do that with you so far away. After what he did to you . . .”
The anger boiling in Grace’s blood cooled considerably as she watched her baby brother’s shoulders slump in dejection. “I’m all right,” she murmured, placing her hand on his forearm and squeezing. “I know you think differently, and I love you dearly for it, but it’s not your place to protect me, Kai. Besides, he’s a long way away and I’m fine. Really. Sure, I still get nervous, jumpy, but I deal with it. Everyone has been so nice to me.”
“Especially Deputy Colin, I’m sure,” Kai remarked icily.
Grace snorted and shook her head. “It’s Deputy Caleb and he’s harmless.”
“He looks at you in a way that suggests otherwise, Grace.”
Despite the shiver of unease that slipped across her chest, Grace shrugged. “I can handle him. He knows I’m not interested in anything but being friends.”
Kai watched her carefully. “Now that you’re here doing all of this, do you think you’d ever do that, like . . . be with anyone again?”
Grace swallowed and took a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
The thought of being with a man in an intimate capacity made goose bumps erupt all over her body in alarm, but she couldn’t deny the loneliness that tugged at her heart whenever she saw couples in love, happy. Could she ever go there again? Maybe. If she could trust. Would it terrify her? Absolutely. But she’d always been a romantic at heart. It was ingrained in her in spite of what she’d been through at the hands of a man who’d sworn to honor and protect her.
Kai wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, knowing where her mind had gone. “Come on,” he said, kissing her forehead. “You can show me your awesome bar skills and buy me a beer while Deputy Calvin pretends not to drool all over you.”
Grace couldn’t help but laugh.
Sweating like a bitch in heat, Max lumbered into the kitchen of Carter’s beach house and headed straight for the fridge. He pulled out a large bottle of water, which he proceeded to gulp. His run down the beach had been exactly what he’d needed after he’d awoken that morning with a hunger for a gram that almost crippled him. The night terrors had come back with a vengeance the previous night, too; a continual loop of images, which had Max fighting with his pillows and sobbing at two in the morning. It was the first time he’d suffered such cravings and nightmares in the three weeks he’d been home and it had done more than shake him.
Tate had been a lifesaver at the end of the phone, offering to drive out, listening and telling him everything he needed to hear. The run had been his idea and Max had thrown himself into it. His body ached deliciously, subduing the craving from a crashing wave to a firm ripple, though the tiredness from his brain’s incapability to shut down and stay quiet weakened him to his very bones.
Pulling the bottle of water from his mouth, Max screeched to a halt in the doorway of the sitting room at the same time Carter leaped up from the coach, adjusting his clothing and leaving a very embarrassed Kat in a flustered heap against the cushions. Max remained stock still having no clue what to say or do.
Jesus, wasn’t that just the last thing he needed to witness.
“Hey,” Carter said quickly, rubbing his hands over his short hair.
“Hey,” Max replied, looking between the two guilty faces in front of him.
“Good run?”
Inexplicable yet steady annoyance slinked up Max’s throat at Carter’s smile and obliviousness. As much as they tried not to shove it in Max’s face, happiness exuded from both him and Kat on a sickening scale. And why the f*ck shouldn’t they be happy? They were getting married; they were in love and content while Max was continuously fighting a horrendous battle against the current of his habit.
He took a deep breath. “Sure.”
Without another word, he headed toward the stairs. Dammit, he needed a shower and a stern word with himself. Being pissed because Carter was getting close with his fiancée in his own house was absurd, but shit, there it was. His foundations had been seriously wobbled by his need for a line, and his lack of sleep, making his temper short. He’d made it to his room door when Carter caught up with him.
“I’m sorry, man,” he said, making Max turn.
Max rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled, hopelessly trying to rein in his irritation. “No problem,” he replied flippantly. “It’s your house, right?”
Carter’s brow furrowed. “Sure, but it’s not fair to— Are you okay?”
Max shrugged petulantly. “As good as every other day when you’d f*cking kill for something you can’t have.” His tone was biting, his words referring to so much more than the coke he yearned for, but, to his credit, Carter didn’t react.
“You’ve spoken with Tate?”
Max bit his tongue, holding back the spiteful retort that bubbled up from the black envy swirling in his belly, and nodded.
“Can I do anything?”
“No.” The word was swift and, although Max despised himself for it, laced with bitterness.