Grace's Redemption, page 14
“I didn’t say you were.”
There was an awkward pause.
Her eyes darted to the hallway where Olivia slept, then back to me. “How about if I Facetime you after I take the test? That way it’s like we’re waiting together, but if I need to have a meltdown, I can hang up and do it in private.”
“Okay. But why would you have a meltdown?”
Would that be for pregnancy, or against? And why wouldn’t she want me there to help her pick up the pieces?
She gave a little shrug. “I don’t know. But I want the freedom to do so if need be.”
“Okay,” I said. “You win.” Her eyes behind her glasses got big as I approached. “But only if I get meltdown privileges too.” I hooked her waist with both hands and moved in to dip my nose to her throat. “Deal, Mrs. B.?”
She sighed when my lips met her flesh. “Deal.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grace
I knew every centimeter of that test stick, having studied it and the instructions for an hour. It was such an unimpressive little piece of plastic, with its cute little framed out window. Nothing about it screamed, “I’m about to change your fucking life.”
I called Hope.
“Get the email?” she answered without greeting.
I blinked. “Email? Oh!” I put the stick down and flexed my fingers. “Yeah, I saw that last night when I got home.”
“Got home—last night?” I heard the wheels turning. “Were you over at the hub’s house all day?”
I closed my eyes. “There were—complications.”
“Uh-huh,” she said. “Vegas kind of complications?”
“Excuse me,” I huffed. “His daughter was there.”
“And?”
“She’s my student.”
“And?” she repeated.
I sighed and covered my eyes. “Okay, yes.”
There was her own sigh on the other end. “Grace, you wear me out.”
“Well, you aren’t alone in that.” Dropping my free hand with a huff and staring down at the stick, I picked it back up. “In other news, I’m about to pee on a stick.”
“And you needed moral support for that?”
“Yes!” I breathed. “It said to do it with your first pee of the morning, and I’ve had to go for an hour. I’m dying. But God, part of me doesn’t want to know. Have you ever done this?”
There was a pause. “Once or twice, and shockingly without an audience.”
“Well, I’m a fucking basket case,” I said. “So close your ears for a second.”
Dutifully, I did as the instructions said, cleaned myself up, and set the stick on a pile of toilet paper I’d set out just for the cause—far, far on the other side of the bathroom so I couldn’t see it and wouldn’t stalk it.
“What’s the wait time these days?” Hope asked after a beat.
“Five minutes.”
“Okay,” she said. “What should we talk about for five minutes?”
“Adam Bishop getting out of prison soon?”
I knew that would tongue-tie her for at least a couple of seconds.
“Is he?” she finally responded.
“You’re the lawyer,” I quipped.
“And you think there’s some magical Facebook page, full of every legal case in the world just for lawyers?” I heard a scoff. “I deal with messy family drama, not drug dealers. I have no idea if he’s getting out. Why?”
“Because Faith is writing to him again,” I said. “Still getting her letters returned too, but I’m wondering what the new influx is about.”
“Damn.”
“She’s also still talking to Tobias on the regular, so maybe I’ll go ask him.”
There was the real pause. Hope McMasters actually being rendered speechless. She was fierce and fearless, and sometimes my superhero, but Tobias Bishop was her Kryptonite.
And that was the realest, darkest reason she stayed away.
Weakness.
I knew that. Our twisted-as-fuck father, who all of Redemption revered, taught us to despise weakness. No one took that to heart more than Hope. And I knew she feared her carefully constructed walls wouldn’t bear up to seeing Tobias again.
“Do what you have to do.” Her voice had an edge then. “Has it been five minutes yet?”
My phone dinged with a text notification on my screen. From Mateo.
Anything?
“Shit,” I muttered.
“What?”
I blew out a breath. “I forgot I told Mateo I’d Facetime him with the big reveal.”
“Wow, y’all are . . .”
“Cute?”
She snorted. “I was gonna say incredibly weird, but yeah, we’ll go with cute. So, I get the peeing, and he gets the unveiling. I see how it is.”
“I’ll send you a picture.”
“I’m sure you will.” There was laughter in her voice, but I knew she was stressed for me, too. “And, Grace, print out that email and get the ball rolling. If you aren’t knocked up, you can both be free of this pretty painlessly.”
Painlessly.
I wasn’t totally sold on that anymore.
We hung up and I clicked the Facetime button and dialed Mateo. I panicked for about two seconds, whirling to face the mirror. I was still in my pajamas and my hair was piled on top of my head. Poor guy was going to really see what he married. Then again, he’d seen me the morning after. It might not get worse than that.
When he answered, I jerked back to the screen, straightening my glasses.
Sweet Jesus.
He was still in bed. Shirtless. Hair tousled. Looking so warm and fuckable, I felt the zing straight down to the balls of my bare feet.
“Morning.”
The sleepy, slow hint of a tug at his lips made me have to lick mine and swallow hard. “Good morning,” I said.
“Well?” he prompted.
“I’m—” I pointed to the counter he clearly couldn’t see. “It’s over there. I’m waiting on it to—process.”
I cringed, and he chuckled. “How long has it been?”
“Probably long enough.”
I sucked in air and tried letting it out slowly, but my pounding heart wouldn’t let me. Shit, I couldn’t have a panic attack now. Live and in person. I bent over and pressed my thumb into the flesh above my kneecap as hard as I could.
Count your breaths, Grace.
Slow it down.
“What are you doing?” he asked, and I realized he could only see my hair and the ceiling.
I stood upright and then slid down with my back against the cabinets until I was sitting on the floor, my knees up against me. “Having that meltdown we talked about,” I said, attempting a chuckle but really only managing a choking sound. “Like a preshow before the Super Bowl.”
My knee started to bounce, and I dug my thumb in deeper.
“Hey.” His voice boomed, and my eyes fluttered open. I didn’t know they were closed. “Look at me.” I nodded. “Focus on me.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
“Breathe in.”
I did as he said, tears pricking my eyes at his word choices. So similar to how my mother would handle my anxiety.
“Count out on the exhale. Slow. Do it till you can make it to eight.”
Three or four breaths later, I got there and swiped the tears off my cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“Don’t be.” He moved to a sitting position and raked a hand through his messy hair. Then I saw his room moving in the background as he carried the phone with him. “This is big. Or it might be. It’s worthy of a little panic.”
“Yeah.” My word trailed as I cast my eyes toward where the offending little plastic shitshow sat on the toilet paper.
He took a deep breath and let it go. “Is it time to check it?”
I returned my gaze to his. “Yeah. You ready?”
His surroundings lightened and I recognized his backyard. Where we’d played with Olivia all afternoon yesterday after having the best sex of my life. I couldn’t help but smile.
Nice move, hubby.
He sat on the large picnic table that adorned one side of his patio. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
I stood up and walked that direction, stopping just short of where I could see it. A weird realization washed over me, and as I glanced back at Mateo’s face, I could swear I saw the same foggy uncertainty.
I didn’t know what I wanted the result to be. One line or two.
Not anymore.
I averted my eyes and crossed the space to pick up the little stick with its stupid little framed window, took a deep breath, and stared straight at it.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice a little strained. “Grace, show me.”
“What the hell?” I mumbled.
I shook it, like that would help it along, then frowned at it. Looked at the back. Turned it back around.
“Grace!”
I held the stick up, facing him. “What is this?”
His brows furrowed.
Straight up the middle of the screen was a blue dot.
Not one line. Or two lines. Or even the hint of lines. One little dot.
Some people might take that as a ‘not pregnant,’ but I took that as a ‘you aren’t telling me squat.’
“Look in the instructions,” he said. “See if it says anything about inconclusive results.”
“It does,” I said, tossing the stick on the counter and pushing my glasses up so hard it hurt. “It says take another test if that happens.”
“Is there one?”
“No!” I said, wide-eyed. “I bought the stupid single one, thinking why on earth would I need to do this again—shit! I have to do this again.” Yanking my hair down to tumble around my shoulders, I paced the room. “I have to go buy another one.”
“Order online.”
I stopped and looked at his face filling my screen as if he were crazy. “I don’t want to wait that long.”
“I mean for the future.”
Okay.
It couldn’t just be my raging anxiety and possible hormone imbalance hearing for the future as a damn significant statement.
“Or—maybe I should just order a bulk supply of condoms,” he added when my mouth failed to utter a response.
“Plan to do a bulk amount of fucking, do you?”
If I weren’t on Facetime, I would have slammed my head into a wall.
A bulk amount of fucking? Really, Grace?
“I certainly hope so,” he said, not missing a beat. “Except maybe at your house from now on.”
Nervous laughter bubbled up my throat. There was no mistaking his meaning now. He wanted to keep this going, whatever this was. What I didn’t know, was if that was as my husband, my ex, as a new father, or not. Was he interested, no matter what? Or just while he had to be tied to me?
Was I?
“Well, you’ll have to let me know how your shopping spree goes,” I said.
“You’ll be the first to know.”
Wow. Wasn’t he just focused and razor sharp with the comebacks today?
I cleared my throat, needing to jump off the train of impending emotion or intimacy that felt like it might barrel into me at any moment.
“So, how are you today?” I asked, wishing we weren’t on Facetime anymore. “I mean about your case?”
His eyes clouded a little at the subject change. “Supposed to get some answers soon, but past experience tells me they’ll just lead to more questions.”
“Any ideas yet on who the body was?”
He shook his head, gazing off into the expanse of his yard. “There’s a short list of possibilities, but I’m not putting anything out there till we know for sure. Hell, it could be anyone if they’re not local.” He blew out a breath. “What’s your Sunday looking like?”
Changing the subject again. Got it, Chief.
“Gonna get dressed in a minute and head to the hospital to see my dad.” I raked my fingers through my hair. “Visiting hours start at eight.”
“You okay with that?” he asked, looking my way again.
I shrugged. “It isn’t about me. I just have to show up.”
“The last time you showed up . . .”
“I know,” I said, not wanting a replay. God, was that just yesterday? “So, you still didn’t answer me.”
Ping . . . back to him.
His gaze came back to mine. “What?”
“How are you?”
Those eyes of his did that thing I was learning to love, where the hazel turned gold and softened into some kind of magical molten burn. “I’m good.” His voice was deep and low. “Enjoyed the hell out of you being here yesterday.”
“So did I,” I said softly. “But I have to be careful. Or . . .”
His brows pulled together. “Or?”
“I’m Olivia’s teacher,” I said hesitantly. “She’s gonna tell her friends I was there. Plus, Kat saw me there yesterday. I can spin that, but repeat instances could flag me with the principal.”
Realization crossed his features. “Right. Damn, I—didn’t think about fraternization rules.” He rubbed at his jaw. “However—”
I tilted my head at his however. “Legally, there’s a loophole.”
“Since we’re married.”
I nodded. “Exactly.”
“But no one knows that.”
“Two for two,” I said, winking. “So—until we know what we’re doing . . .”
I didn’t finish that thought, and neither did he. I wasn’t sure either of us knew what came next.
I got to Dad’s floor at 8:05, figuring Faith would already be in there and he’d be in a happy place. I wasn’t prepared for the boom of his bellowing voice from all the way down the hall greeting me the moment I stepped off the elevator.
“Get that shit away from me. You’re tainted!” he roared, his words clearer today, but still slurred. “I can smell her on you!”
Cold sweat slicked my skin as the old familiar fight or flight response triggered.
“Daddy, I don’t know wh—”
“Hit your knees, girl!”
My steps sped up in spite of me, the other familiar response taking over. Protectiveness. I’d always done all I could to protect both my sisters from his wrath, and Hope and I together had shielded Faith. Perhaps too much. Because now she wasn’t ready. She didn’t have the skin to handle him turning on her.
When I rounded into the room, the look of hatred on Dad’s snarled, twisted face delivered its normal punch, but Faith’s expression nearly broke me.
Pain, anger, hurt, betrayal, confusion. All the things I’d known my whole life were slamming down around her in one fell swoop, and she didn’t understand. What she’d always deemed his being ‘strict’ with us was presenting a whole new face now. The only thing missing in her eyes was fear, and I felt a guilty wave of gratefulness for his incapacitation. He couldn’t physically hurt her from that bed.
“Faith, go outside,” I said, my voice even.
Her big blue eyes swam with frustrated tears. A small container of applesauce shook in her hand as she poised a spoon in the other. “I’m fine. He’s just not himself.”
“Go outside.” I leveled a look at her. “I need a moment with him.”
I held out my hands and she handed over the applesauce, her jaw tightening. She didn’t like feeling helpless or like the little sister we made her out to be, I knew that. I knew she prided herself on her strength and that she was the only one to understand the shiny golden essence of our dad when no one else did.
Those days were gone, I was afraid.
Baby sister was getting a new baptism in the truth that was Reverend Noel McMasters, and there was nothing shiny about it.
“He has to eat and pull it together a little,” she said tightly, not meeting my eyes. “Some of the parishioners are coming to pray with him.”
“Super.”
She flashed me a disdainful look and shook her head as she turned. When Faith’s steps left the room, I pushed the door closed.
He glared at me like I was a cockroach to be crushed. “I’m not taking—”
“You’ll do whatever you’re told, you son of a bitch.” My words were slow and measured, shocking even me. His eyes grew round and angry. The one that drooped was watery. “You’re screwing up now,” I said, gesturing toward the door as I stepped closer. “She’s the one that loves you. That buys your bullshit. Takes care of you.”
“Fuck you,” he hissed. “You’ll bu—burn in hellllllll.”
“I grew up there,” I said. “Moved out a long time ago.” I spooned some of the applesauce and shoved it into his open mouth, not caring when he sputtered it out, spraying it across the sheet. I leaned closer to his ear. “I know you’ll be sugar and sweetness to the rest of your flock, but you might want to be nicer to the daughter you love, you evil bastard. Because they won’t be in charge of burying you.” A gasping, watery noise gurgled from his throat and I backed up a bit to look him square in the eye. Was that fear?
Wow. I didn’t know that was even possible.
“That’s right,” I said softly. “Be respectful to Faith. Because if it’s up to me, I’ll throw your rotting carcass in the swamp for the rats to eat.”
Nonsensical screeching came from his throat as he screamed what I knew were curses in his head. I’d heard it all before. The fact that they were no longer recognizable words didn’t change anything.
Faith ran back in, grabbing his hand. At my glare, he softened to her touch, looking up at her lovingly.
Good choice.
“What did you say to him?” she asked under her breath.
“We just talked about family and—snacks.”
By the time I made it into the hallway, my knees were numb, and four more steps down the hallway had little dots swimming before my eyes. I blinked to see a familiar face as the elevator doors swished open, and a rush of warmth washed over me. That’s what I wanted. To get to that. To get to him.
I didn’t feel the fall.
Only the catch.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Mateo
I hadn’t meant to go see her this morning.
I had work to do, even on a Sunday. I was just thankful that Louise had kindly offered to watch Olivia today so I could do it.
