A Graceful Mess (18 page)

There is never a good in goodbye and I hate saying it in a letter, but I don’t think I have the courage to do it face to face. Your beauty leaves me breathless, and because of that feeling in my gut, I know I am falling for you, hard. You are all I think about and dream about, but right now my main focus has to be on my work. When this part of my life wraps up, we can rekindle whatever it is we have. I know how selfish I must seem and I hope that you can trust and know that this is not easy for me. Leaving you asleep on my couch, I had to fight myself to walk away from your side this morning. Please know that nothing sexual happened last night. I would never take advantage of you.

I know if we continue and embark on this journey that my feelings are leading me on, we will be in a giant mess. One that will for sure have consequences, some you are too sweet to realize. To avoid that, I have to do this. Grace, it will be impossible to forget you, and those stunning blue eyes, but I pray you will forget me until things are different and we can be together.

Always,

Park

A single tear slides down my cheek and falls onto my chest. I don’t understand.

Why would he want to stay away from me? What consequences are there for him liking me?

My throat burns as the bile from earlier rises and causes me to heave. Leaning my head over to the side I start to cough violently and then surrender as the contents of my drunken night show their ugly head. The sound of a car coming up behind me, and knowing who is driving it isn’t enough to hold back the steady stream of tears that are now clouding my vision. Wiping my mouth with my hand, my knees give out as my body bends to rest on the side of the road. Here I am with tears running down my cheek, vomit on my dress, and a broken heart. What do I care if someone sees me now? I am an empty, shattered mess. Parker healed me and then broke me, leaving me to pick up the pieces alone. This isn’t the first time I gave my heart to someone, only for it to be torn in two, but this will be the last.

Closing my eyes I try to think of a happy place. I’m twirling around and around. Dorissa is shouting and clapping in the background as my feet glide across the floor. Bending, I take a bow. Roses fly onto the stage at my feet. A hand grabs my shoulder bringing me back to reality. Looking up, my eyes meet Carson’s. He is fully clothed now and wearing sunglasses. Extending his hand to me, I grab it as he pulls upward and helps me stand. Wrapping his hand around my waist he walks me over to the passenger side door of his car, opens the door, and helps me inside. The cool leather feels good against my hot skin.

“Thank you,” is all I can muster as I lean back against the headrest. He drives in silence all the way back to my apartment. Pulling up to the doors, he puts the car in park. Neither of us says anything. I am too embarrassed, and, well, Carson normally isn’t quiet so I don’t know what to make of his timid behavior. It’s like he is either suddenly scared of his own voice – scared to divulge something I’m clearly missing. I move my hand to touch the metal handle.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I was honestly just kidding. I know you and Parker have something going on, and Shelly, well, I don’t think she was kidding, but I would’ve never let her get out of hand.”

“Thank you again for the ride, Carson. Your friendship is something I’ve grown to appreciate. Please don’t make it weird for me again.” My hand pulls the lever as I move sideways and slide out of the car. “Is he a player or something? Does he just fuck women, get his fill and then toss them out like trash?” My mind doesn’t have time to filter my thoughts and I blurt them out.

Carson looks flabbergasted.

“He, umm, well…you guys fucked? I mean…” he stutters. “I know I caught you naked in his living room, but you actually did it?”

All he cares about is whether I slept with him? Seriously? Shutting the door behind me without another glance, I make my way to the glass doors. I can’t wait to get upstairs and shower.

Maci is sitting on the couch watching TV with Ramsey’s head resting on her lap as I enter the door. Her mouth opens as they both look in my direction. I can see the worry on her face and I am sure my appearance is alarming, but I don’t want to talk. Not right now at least, since even I don’t know what to think of things. Holding my hand up in the air and shaking my head, her mouth closes as her forehead creases with concern.

Walking down the hallway, I make it to my bedroom. I shut the door and lock it behind me, before I strip off my dirty clothes and walk to my bathroom. Hitting the switch I am finally able to see myself for the first time today. I felt like I looked like a mess, but the reflection of the woman staring back at me is worse than I thought. My hair is frizzy and clumped together in some places, black mascara is highlighting the skin around my eyes causing me to look like a raccoon, and my face is the oiliest I have ever seen it in my life. Turning the faucet on, I hold my hand under the scalding water before climbing in and shutting the shower curtain. My skin burns from the temperature as I wash away the dirt. The water erases the visible effects of my night, but does nothing to erase the pain my heart feels from reading Parker’s letter. Confusion and hurt invade my mind as thoughts of something I thought we had seem like a distant memory.

I feel like a fool. I’ve allowed myself to let down my guard, and finally feel anything, really. Since Brody I have been…numb. Existing in a hollow shell. But Parker, he freed me. He made me feel like a woman should, the way he cherished my body and filled a void I didn’t even realize I had in my heart. Now that’s all gone. I just don’t understand him, and I feel like I’m getting whiplash trying to figure it out. One minute he seems to be into me, we have sex, we hang out and do things boyfriends and girlfriends do, but the next minute he is saying goodbye. My body succumbs to my thoughts as I lay down in the shower in the fetal position. The hurt of his words and the realization of a future without Parker feels worse than the pounding in my head. At least the pounding is real. It is here and doesn’t feel like it is fading. Parker isn’t here, and in time his memory – our memories – will fade too.

Walking away from Grace was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in a long time. Well, I thought it was, but that was nothing compared to watching her day in and day out. She looks different, her posture is different and her hair is different. I haven’t seen her smile in weeks, and her body is thinner, an indication she isn’t eating much. More frequently than I’d like to admit, I get the inside scoop from Ramsey who is now an official item with Maci. Not in my wildest dreams did I ever think a woman could tie down that dirt bag, but Maci did and they seem really happy. At least some of us are, because I certainly am not, and from what they’ve told me about Grace, she isn’t either. I hate that she is hurt because of me, but her heartache compared to the torture of watching her for the past few weeks since I left her with my note is nothing. My hand hurt just writing the words.

Between following her and the mysterious stalker that’s been lurking behind every corner, I’ve been pretty busy. Good thing my day job has taught me a lot about trailing. Not to sound like a total creep, but it gives me an advantage and puts me a few steps ahead of this guy. One day about a week ago, I followed him, following Grace, into the pub over on the corner of Main Street. I was sitting in the corner, trying to blend in with the lunch crowd, when Grace got up and left. The dude waved down the waitress and paid with his credit card. If he knew anything about keeping a low profile, that would be his first mistake. Signing the white slip, he left it lying face up on his table. The waitress was behind the bar helping make a few drinks, so I quickly walked by to get a glimpse of the merchant copy. Looking down, his signature read “Brody Hendricks.”

That night I did some research and learned that he has been in jail for the last five years. We’re the same age. The thought of us having even one similarity pisses me off, but the thought of Grace being another common thing infuriates me. Good ol’ Brody has quite a rap sheet. After bouncing around from middle school to middle school and orphanage to orphanage, he finally planted roots with a family here in town. The odd part is he and Grace attended the same high school. The even odder part is that he has a MySpace account that is still open and says they are in a relationship. Taking on this case, I never would have imagined falling for my client’s daughter, let alone learning she has a crazy ex-boyfriend following her too. My connections with the local police department back home came in handy on many occasions, but being new in town the chief was very vague with the information he divulged about Brody. It left me to wonder what Brody did to land himself in jail for so long. A few sleepless nights made me dig deeper. Brody Hendricks was not only behind bars for assault, battery, and rape, but also for the first degree murder of an infant. He should have received life in prison, but got out on parole – actually on the day I saw him at The Red Saloon. The thought sickens me and leaves me wondering what he wants with Grace and how deep their connection is.

The sound of horns honking as cars drive by me breaks me from my trance. I watch Grace as she enters a nail salon. This may be my only break, so I open my door and step out to stretch my back. The seats in my truck aren’t that comfortable, but I refuse to drive one of the companies’ vehicles. What guy wants to drive a pussy, little car when he could drive a man’s truck? I know it sort of defeats the purpose of staying incognito, but hey, a man’s truck defines him. Whether I’m on duty or not, it’ll be in my truck.

The summer heat is horrible this year. Looking behind me I see a small snow cone shop set up in the middle of the sidewalk. A banana shaved ice will do the trick. Walking backwards away from my truck, the sight of a male wearing jeans and a black hoodie catches my eye. It’s nearly ninety-eight degrees out, so his wardrobe throws me off. But I know who he is. He’s been following her, creeping around like a sick monster, but I don’t know why. He’s standing beside the brick wall and peering into the nail salon. Brody is a fucking tool, but so far has been harmless other than actively stalking Grace. He hasn’t done anything that has put her in any danger. I don’t want to risk blowing my cover by calling him out. For now I guess I’ll wait and watch him, like a fucking hulk. Shaking off his appearance, I make my way to the stand and get a frozen ice. Taking the first bite, delicious banana flavoring fills my mouth. Making my way back to my truck, I see Grace exit the building. I roll my windows up and stay glued on her every move. My eyes travel down her slender legs and then back up to her ass that is covered with white shorts. The times I have thought about her sweet, little body within the past few weeks would give a person whiplash. She crosses the street and looks in my direction.

Shit.

Noticing my truck, she jerks her head around so fast she runs right into Brody. He grabs her arms on both sides and holds her body in place. Squinting my eyes, I can tell by her shocked expression that she’s frightened. She twists and turns in his arms, but his grip doesn’t let up. He is standing with his hood over his head staring at her.

I open my door and jump out of it. My tennis shoes hit the pavement as my snow cone falls from my hand. The loud sound of my door slamming grabs the dude’s attention. He turns his head slightly in my direction and then snaps his neck back towards Grace’s scared face.

“Let me go!” she screams loudly enough for other bystanders to notice and turn around to see what all of the commotion is about.

“Help! Someone help me!” Her pleas for help tear at my heart as my feet carry me forward towards them. Without thinking, I run full force into the dude, knocking him to the ground. Noticing his face, he seems oblivious to the situation, like the blunt force of my dead weight falling on top of him hasn’t affected him. His eyes don’t move but stay fixated on the blonde beauty standing a few feet behind me. Pushing off of his body with my hands, he stays lying on the ground. Grace is crying and hysterical. She is visibly shaking as black mascara runs down her soft cheeks.

The sounds of a woman screaming draw my attention. Instantly I turn around, using my body to shield Grace. One of my hands is bent backwards holding onto her arm. My eyes widen in shock at the sight in front of me. Brody is holding a small pistol and is pointing it in my direction. My first reaction is to keep Grace safe. If it makes me a pussy to say I care about her life more than my own well-being, then people can think whatever they want. I love her. I can’t deny it to myself anymore. No matter how screwed up this situation between us in, my body aches for her touch. Mark Jacobs, my father, and, hell, even Carson will all have to learn to live with it. Because seeing her sulk around town is nearly killing me.

That is if the bullet that just shot out of the gun doesn’t do it first.