“Please, Gracie.” I’m not above begging, too far gone to cling to my pride. “I was so numb. To everything that was happening. I should have pulled away, I know that. I should have—Fuck.” I look away, trying to organize my thoughts. “I felt sick to my stomach, knowing I’d crossed a line I couldn’t come back from. I convinced myself it didn’t mean anything, even knowing it would mean everything to you.” Her eyes are brimming with tears, gray clouding over any sign of blue. “I’m so sorry, Gracie. So sorry.”
There’s a long pause, but she’s not pulling away anymore, her breath soft and warm against my cheek as she watches me. “You told her about the house. Aboutme.”
“That night, I was drunk,” I mumble, shame heating my cheeks. “And stupid. I was so fucking stupid, Gracie. I was missing you, knowing I had to tell you the truth and not knowing how. I was being a coward, letting you hide from me. I knew something was wrong, but I just hoped…”
“You hoped that I would never find out.” Her words are broken as she drops her head, pressing her forehead to my shoulder, and I don’t resist the urge to drag her fully into my arms, holding her tight. Gracie doesn’t move for the longest moment, but then her arms wrap loosely around my waist. “You’re a walking cliche,” she mumbles, and I can’t help the dry chuckle that escapes. “I feel like you’re giving me theit’s not you, it’s mespeech.”
I squeeze her until she squeaks in protest. “I am,” I tell her easily. “It was never you or anything you did.”
She makes a noncommittal sound. “I know I have issues,” she admits grudgingly. “I’m working on them.”
I hide my smile in her hair. “I know, baby. Maybe we can work on our issues together.”
Gracie hums quietly, her fingers twisting into the fabric of my shirt, still tense in my arms. “I’m scared,” she confesses. “What if it happens again? I don’t know if I can do this a second time.”
I can’t blame her for that fear. It is the first real challenge we have faced as a couple, and I fumbled so badly that her trust is completely shattered. My eyes burn at the pain I’ve put this girl through, pushing her into choices she never would have made otherwise. I chased her from her home, her family, making her think that she wasn’t my first and only choice.
I clench my hands, my knuckles grazing against the cold brick. I made Gracie doubt my feelings for her and her own worth, and I can never take those months back.
“I can’t promise that there won’t be hard times,” I say gruffly, blinking hard to clear my watery vision. “But I can make a different kind of promise.”
Gracie pulls back, looking up at me with her own eyes bright with tears. They’re full of devastation, but there’s a kindling of hope there, too—almost impossible to see, and hiding just behind her hurt. “What?” she whispers, voice choked, pleading for me to make this right for us.
To fix what I broke.
I stroke her cheek, marveling over the softness of her skin and the fact that she’s still here in my arms. “I’ll never stop fighting for you, Rumpel. No matter how many arguments we have, no matter what else might happen, I’m yours. Always.”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes flit between mine, her mouthparted on a silent breath as she searches my gaze. “What if it happens again? What if you seek someone else out the next time it all goes wrong?What if?—”
“I’m going to make you believe it,” I tell her vehemently—there was no other option. “We’re going to rebuild the trust between us. But this time, it’ll be stronger. There will be no cracks for anything else to slip in.”
The outsideof the house needs to be painted. I stare up at the fading blue of the weatherboards, the color almost appearing gray. There are hints where the original color—or at least, the potential of it—peeks through, but I’ve got no idea whether Gracie will want to keep that color or repaint with something different.
Feels like something I should know.
The roof is in pretty good shape, the previous owners having renailed and painted it before selling. But the front walk is uneven, and there’s a suspicious sloping to the front steps, the wood probably rotting.
I’ve got a list in my head, hating that it’s not actually my right to do it, but knowing I’ll try anyway. It’s a fifty-fifty guess over whether Gracie will welcome my help, but I know she doesn’t have the first idea where to start with any kind of DIY.
I won’t force my help on her, but if she outright refuses, I’ll pay for the supplies and just give them to my dad. He told me about the odd jobs he did while Gracie was out of town—oiling the hinges on the front door, plastering a hole he found in the closet of the guest bedroom, and fixing a loose latch on a window. Nothing too much. He didn’t want to step on Gracie’s toes when it was her house.
Herhome.
It’s a thought that burns, knowing this house was supposed to be ours. The place where our future got started in the best way.
I don’t know if that ache will ever go away. Not when I remember the way Majorie called me more than once, and I ignored each call. And not when I think about Nolan claiming space inside the house—a mark that will be etched into the wood long after he’s gone.
As if summoned with my thoughts, the front door opens, and he comes out, a black duffel slung over one shoulder. He draws up short at the sight of me, his eyebrows lifting.
“Didn’t know we were having a farewell party,” he remarks as he continues down the path. “You here to carry my bags? Or just making sure I actually leave?”
I chuckle dryly. “I’m sure you’ve got no problem carrying your own bags. A little manual labor never hurt anyone.”
Nolan shakes his head, his eyes flashing with wry humor. “You might think you know me,” he murmurs as he walks past me, “but I promise that you don’t.” He stops at the rental car parked on the road—a black luxury thing that seems completely impractical. He drops the bag into the trunk, closing it with a thud.
“I thought you’d be flying back,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s what? A fifteen-hour drive?”
Nolan shrugs. “Something like that. I’m stopping to see an old friend on my way.” He turns to look at me, his blond hair shaggy and flopping over his forehead. “She gonna be alright with you?” His eyes shift to the house behind me.
