P.S. Goodbye, page 9
The room was like a time capsule. Everything as his father had left it. An oil painting of their family when Grant had been five hung over the dark wood mantle and fireplace with half-burned logs. A sitting area with a couch and two wingback chairs sat in the middle of the room and at the other end of the room, an antique mahogany desk with engraved pens still lined up along the top. Even after ten years, it smelled like his father—a mix of mahogany and leather. Maybe it had been that his father had smelled like this room.
Grant dropped Caroline’s hand and took the opportunity to get a few feet of space from her. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Caroline’s fingers pressed in at her temples. “I’m so sorry for attacking you like that.”
“I’m not complaining.” Grant scratched the back of his head before shoving his hand into his pocket. “Although that might have broken rule number one. Definitely broke rule number two.”
Caroline’s cheeks reddened again as her gaze flicked everywhere but in his direction. “Emily’s sister—”
“Melanie?”
“That’s it—Melanie.” She gave him the briefest glance before she focused on her hands. “Well, she was saying that you were still in love with Emily and how you’d never date me for real.”
Caroline took a few steps toward him. “I know you don’t want them to think you still love Emily but that you and I are really here on a date.”
She reached the couch, pivoted, and started the other direction. “It was the only thing I could think of.”
She twisted her fingers into knots in front of her as she changed the direction of her pacing once more. “I should have set you up with a friend. I mean, that’s what you asked for.”
Enough with the pacing. It was making him dizzy.
She turned again. “I didn’t think about how it’d look—”
“I’m glad you didn’t set me up with one of your friends. I’m glad . . .” Grant closed the distance, slid his arm around her middle, and pulled her to a stop with her back against his chest.
He’d meant the action as a playful gesture to stop her movement, but with the warmth of her pressed up against him, all playful thoughts flew from his mind. “I’m glad I’m here with you.”
The final words came out low and thick. He drew a slow breath, willing his heart rate to return to a normal rhythm, but that only served to fill his senses with her citrusy-clean scent and take him back to the kiss.
She stepped out of his hold and walked a few feet away, keeping her back to him.
Grant shook his head and tried to clear his mind. He had to keep his emotions and hormones in check. This wasn’t a real date. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want him.
“But everyone out there only sees the braces-faced thirteen-year-old who was obsessed with you and left you love notes in your shoes every time you visited Nate that summer.”
He dropped onto the couch and let his laughter fill the room. “No one is going to confuse you for thirteen, Caroline.”
She shot him a frustrated look. “You know what I mean.”
Grant leaned forward on his elbows. “You were—”
“Obnoxious. Pathetic—”
“Honest.” Grant locked eyes with her.
Caroline gripped the back of the wingback chair that she’d positioned herself behind like a shield.
Grant hated talking about that point in his life, but maybe it was time to open that door. At least a crack. “That was the summer I lost my dad. My dad, who I didn’t even know was sick until it was too late to say goodbye.”
“They didn’t tell you?”
“It was an aggressive brain tumor. My parents thought they were helping by not telling me as I wrapped up my finals my junior year. Then I left almost immediately for football camp. My mom said they were going to tell me when I got back. He slipped into a coma the day before I returned and never woke up.”
“Oh, Grant. I’m sorry.”
“He died before June was over. Even later, my mom was never good at talking about it. Not even my grandparents. They kept it all locked away. But you . . . That summer you shared all your feelings in every note.”
Caroline sat in the chair she’d been hiding behind and covered her face with her hands. “Don’t remind me.”
Grant scooted forward until his knees almost bumped hers and reached for her wrists. He pulled her hands from her face. Gentle enough for her to pull free if she wanted. “I loved it.”
“What?” Caroline sat up straighter, leaving her wrists in his hands.
Grant shifted their hands to a comfortable position and trailed his thumbs across the soft skin at her wrists. “Not in a creepy way. I mean, you were thirteen and I was almost eighteen and that would’ve been—”
“Gross?” A slight giggle escaped with her word.
“Yes. But I loved your honesty. I actually kept the notes as a reminder that I wanted to be more like that—open, honest. Willing to lay it all out there.”
She lifted an eyebrow at him. “You? Just lay it all out there?”
“I didn’t say I was good at it. After all, I was raised in this house, and habits run deep. But it is who I want to be.” Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up the past. But he’d already cracked the door this far so might as well step fully in. After all, they had so much history between them, but it was time to lay a few pieces out there. “And I kept all your letters from the other summer too. I’m sorry I never wrote back.”
Her arms stiffened in his hands.
“Why didn’t you?” Her soft words barely reached him.
“You were still young. I know you were eighteen, but that is young and innocent. You had so much life yet to discover. And by the time I got your first letter, Emily and I were back together.”
“But you didn’t write once.”
He’d started one at least a dozen times, only to have each one land in the trash. “I knew if I wrote one, it would turn into two and then three. And I knew after our conversation by the fire that night that there was no way I could write back and forth to you and not think about you as more than a friend should. It wouldn’t have been fair to Emily.”
“Oh.” She pulled her hands free and stood.
“I’m sorry.” He rubbed his hands together to keep from reaching for her again.
“I’m not mad.” She picked at a seam of the chair. “It’s just . . . I guess I’ve always assumed—believed—that I’d read too much into the conversation. Imagined . . . well, everything.”
“You didn’t.” He stood, stepped closer, and waited until she looked at him again. “It was just bad timing. But now—”
He cleared his throat and broke eye contact. He had to remember that no matter how she looked at him now, Caroline had made it clear over the past week that he wasn’t the guy for her. Then again, that kiss had said something entirely different. But how did he get that Caroline to come back?
Caroline picked up an old photo from the shelf next to her. “Is this you and your dad?”
“That’s us.”
“He looks really proud. You must have been close.”
Grant pulled the photo from her hands. His reflection these days looked a lot more like his dad in the photo than the younger version of himself. Too bad he didn’t feel like his dad. His dad always had a plan—a direction. He knew what he wanted and went after it.
Grant didn’t have any direction right now.
He focused on Caroline’s reflection in the glass. Or maybe he did, and maybe it was time to go after her.
He reached for her hand. “So, about that kiss.”
She stilled but didn’t look up.
“Let’s go with it.”
“What?” Her voice hit an unusually high pitch.
He shrugged and intertwined their fingers. “It’ll keep everyone off my back. They won’t question me staying in Heritage if they think we’re together.”
Then he leaned closer to her ear. “Besides, it doesn’t feel so dishonest all of a sudden.”
Chapter 9
Now what? Caroline pulled the cover up to her chin, stared at the guest room’s ceiling, and wished teleportation was real. But it wasn’t, and she couldn’t avoid Grant much longer. It wasn’t that she was angry with him.
Last night had been . . . well, amazing. They hadn’t shared any more kisses like the one. But there had been so many little touches. On her hand. On the small of her back. Or her shoulder. Brushing her hair from her face.
And when he’d danced with her to “Sweet Caroline” while singing along in an off-key voice, she found herself laughing and relaxing in a way she hadn’t in years. There’d been a reason she’d lost her heart to him at thirteen and then again at eighteen. In so many ways they just . . . fit.
Caroline pressed her cool hands against her warming cheeks. She’d never wanted last night to end. But it had. And now she had to figure out today.
Why did life have to be so complicated?
For so many years she’d forced herself to believe that her memory at eighteen had been wrong. That she’d foolishly read into his words—his behavior. But he as much admitted last night that he’d liked her too. Part of her wanted to soak in that knowledge like a giddy schoolgirl.
But the other part . . . the part that kept her glued to this bed was the realization that whatever he’d felt all those years ago—it hadn’t been enough. He’d chosen someone else—something else.
Funny, he’d kept her letters as a reminder of who he wanted to be, and Caroline had kept the memory of those letters as a reminder of who not to be.
Don’t tell a man you love him first.
Don’t go after a guy who made it clear he wasn’t interested.
Don’t open up your heart for extreme disappointment.
He may think he wanted her now, in the moment. But moments changed. And one day Grant would wake up and realize again that she wasn’t what he wanted and he should have planned better.
Only by then she’d have grown addicted to the warmth he offered, and when he ended things, it would destroy her. Just like how her dad’s leaving had destroyed her mom.
Grant didn’t even want to get married. He’d said as much. Which was a guy’s way of saying I like you, but don’t get attached because I’m not serious about us. Many guys said they weren’t interested in marriage until they found the girl they wanted to marry. She was only a distraction for him in his out of control life. It was time to be her own life coach and tell herself not to trust these feelings for Grant.
She just had to play it cool until they got back to Heritage, and Grant would assume that everything last night from her side had been part of their act. He’d believe she wasn’t really interested, and he’d forget all about her. Like last time.
Caroline sat up and pushed off the bed. She scooped up her clothes and yanked the door to her private bathroom open.
“Morning. Sleep well?” Grant stood by the sink looking in the mirror, face half-covered in shaving cream, and a razor in hand. He glanced at her in his reflection before he returned to shaving. He had a towel around his neck and a pair of well-worn jeans hanging on his hips but no shirt.
Not a private bathroom? She lifted her bundle of clothes in front of her, unable to pull her gaze from his bare shoulders. “You’re in my bathroom.”
That was brilliant.
“Sorry, it’s a Brady Bunch bathroom.” Grant pointed to the door that led to his room.
She’d seen that door the night before but assumed it was just a closet for extra towels. Good thing she hadn’t opened it.
He pulled the towel from his neck and wiped away any remains of shaving cream before hanging it on a bar. “I’m almost done.”
And there was his bare chest. With muscles. Defined muscles.
The Army was such a worthy cause.
Her pulse picked up speed at the memory of him holding her against that chest as they danced. At the way he’d tucked her head against his shoulder as he leaned in to whisper funny comments throughout the night. At how the breath from his words had tickled the edges of her neck, sending a current down her spine.
She pulled her eyes away from his chest to find his intense gaze watching her in the mirror.
She was not pulling off the unaffected plan.
“Found your tattoo.” The pitch of her voice caused his eyebrows to stretch to his hairline. She really shouldn’t be allowed to speak before coffee. Or with a shirtless man.
A smile creased his face as he lifted his arm, exposing his left side. “I didn’t know you’d been searching for it.”
No flirting.
Not that she could say that after they’d spent all last evening breaking rules one and two over and over.
He glanced in the mirror at the tattoo with an unreadable expression. “Ironic that the guy who can’t seem to find his way has a compass rose tattoo, huh?”
Caroline blinked at him and studied the dark lines that spanned the width of his rib cage. Her mouth went dry as she tried to think of a response. She’d always seen tattoos as stupid, a waste of money. But this was amazing. She stepped closer, gripping the clothes in her hands tighter to keep from reaching for the tattoo and tracing it with her fingers.
When Grant spoke again, his voice had grown thicker. “My dad had a similar one. I got it on the one-year anniversary of his death as a reminder of the path my dad followed. The Army. His faith. I joined the Army shortly after. I guess I was just a kid trying to be like his dad.”
“It’s a gift to have a person in your life who points you in the right direction. It sounds like your dad was a good guy.”
“He was.” He put his arm down as his eyes found hers again. “So about last night—”
“Let me know when you’re done.” Caroline turned in a swift motion and headed for her door.
They did need to talk about everything that happened last night, but not in here. Not while they stood there sharing secrets. And not while he was half naked. She had to stay strong. Another second in here and that wasn’t going to happen.
“Wait.”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
He sighed, and his tone altered as if he’d changed his mind about what he was going to say. “I’d like to stop by my ranch on the way home. If that’s okay.”
“Ranch?” She turned her head, enough to catch him in her peripheral vision, but not enough to see him fully.
He shrugged. “That’s what we call it. It’s just thirty acres where we kept our horses once upon a time. Now it’s an old deserted barn.”
“You had horses?”
“They were my dad’s and my thing when I was a kid. First, I got too busy with football, and then when my dad passed, they were all sold. But he left the property and barn in my name. I haven’t been there in a long time. Thought it might be time. Are you up for that?”
“I’d like to see it.” She couldn’t help but want to know as much about Grant as she could, even if it made it harder to walk away in the end.
“But if you want to make it back for church, we need to leave in about thirty minutes.”
“Okay. I can do that. But you need to get dressed. I mean we need to get dressed. Separately. Get clothes. On.” She really had to stop talking.
He laughed as he reached for his door, and her face flamed with warmth again.
Going to the ranch was probably a mistake. But there was something about him that made her long for more. More conversations. More insight into who he really was. And more time together.
She was in so much trouble. Because all this more was sure to have the same result as last time.
More heartache.
Every time Grant thought he had Caroline figured out, she threw him a curveball. He glanced at her as he turned down the long dirt road that led to his property. Her eyes were fixed out the side window as she sat mute. Much the way she’d been from the minute they’d pulled out of his mother’s driveway.
Memories of Caroline from the previous night filled his mind. The way they’d danced, laughed, even added a few more quick kisses for show. Each kiss had been nothing more than a peck, but by the end of the night he’d begun to crave the taste of her.
She’d relaxed, softened, and he’d thought they might actually be getting somewhere. He’d even planned to kiss her goodnight away from prying eyes. A real kiss. A kiss that would finish the one that she surprised him with at the party. But the moment they’d walked toward their rooms, she dropped his hand and raised a wall. What had he done wrong?
It probably was that blasted list. He’d thought he’d get a few items checked off in his column. Like opening up. He’d shared a lot last night with Caroline. More than he’d ever shared with anyone. But that one check didn’t seem to have gotten him very far.
After all, Mason had a neat little check in every column. The guy was like a Christian Superman. Was it possible for him to hate someone he’d never met?
Admittedly, some of the items were downright ridiculous. But others couldn’t be dismissed so easily. What about traveling? He loved to travel. He’d never love it more than a family, if he ever had one—but give it up totally?
Then there was the whole follow-God-wherever clause. Well, Grant had thought he’d been following God when he went into the military, and that hadn’t worked out as planned.
But this was all crazy. Couldn’t they simply go out and have a good time without planning what would come next? The girl wanted to have the details of the marriage and the happily-ever-after ending planned from the first date. Life didn’t work that way.
Grant stopped the car in front of the old barn. The wood was a little more weathered and the weeds taller, but other than that, time had stood still. The hanging tire where he’d been working on his throwing arm still twisted in the breeze. The old dirt bike he used to ride around the property lay abandoned to the side of the barn. The half-mended fence he’d been fixing with his dad the last time they’d been here waited incomplete.
His chest tightened, and pressure built at the back of his eyes. He turned his face away from Caroline. Maybe coming here with her was a mistake.
