“She was supposed to be an alien!” Caia shouts, then, a little quieter and calmer, “I told you an hour. We still have two minutes—”
Caia’s squeal is loud, part holler and part laughter, and Grace’s face splits into a grin as she watches Crew lift his sister up by her biceps and physically move her out of the doorway. He walks in once she’s steady on her feet and muttering something about him being a total brute, and his determined steps bring him right toward Grace, but as soon as his eyes land on her, he stops in his tracks. “Oh,” he blurts, his lips parting.
“Yeah,oh.And no green food coloring in sight,” Caia says, throwing her hands up. “Now apologize.”
Crew doesn’t look away from Grace, but he clamps his lips together and lets out a long, shuddering breath through his nostrils. He takes a step closer, leans his face down until it’s only an inch from hers, but then stops himself. “I’m sorry,” he says, still looking her straight in the eye. “Leave now.”
Something that sounds a lot like the wordslovesick puppycomes from Caia and Cooper’s general direction, but Grace stops paying attention to whatever is happening around them. Under the intensity of Crew’s gaze, she can’t think about anything else. Soon, they’re alone, June having joined the vacating siblings, and the door has barely clicked shut when Crew is backing Grace up against the nearest wall and slotting his mouth over hers. Delicious, intoxicating heat unfurls deep in her belly as his tongue starts to caress her own. His urgency, his need—it’s obvious in the way he’s holding her, keeping her in place as he attacks her mouth, the little groans echoing from his throat with every swipe of his tongue against hers. He breaks away eventually when they’re both desperate for air, and he’s gasping as his forehead rests against hers. When his breathing has slowed to a seminormal pace, he blinks up at her. “I’m sorry—you just—you look so beautiful.”
Grace chuckles. “It’s just jeans and a tank top. And a little bit of makeup.”
He shakes his head, a small, closed-lip but adorable smile on his lips. “No, it’s more than that. You look—alive. Healthy.” He kisses the apple of her cheek, letting his lips linger there. In a voice no louder than a whisper, he says, “Glowing.”
Grace kisses him softly in thanks. “Your sister will be happyto hear your stellar review. I wasn’t—” She feels momentarily self-conscious, her eyes falling downward as she finishes her thought. “I didn’t quite understand why they were doing all of this. It seemed…odd. To put so much effort into how I look, after everything that’s happened. I’m still not entirely sure.”
“They love you,” Crew replies. He brushes his hand over her face, letting it sweep into her hair. She’s noticed that he does it often, even when there isn’t hair to push out of her face. Something about the motion seems to relax him, and Grace leans into his palm, pushing into it like a needy house cat.
A little distracted by his touch, Grace murmurs, “That seems unlikely. June,maybe, but she’d never admit to it.” Crew’s blunt nails scratch her scalp and Grace’s eyes close. Everything he does—every way he touches her—sets her skin aflame. At this point, he could shake her hand and she’d be revved up and ready for him within seconds. “But Caia…she’s only met me twice.”
Crew kisses her, and Grace moans into his mouth. It’s short-lived, and she gives a slight pout when he pulls away, smirking. “Caia lovesme,” he says, “and I love you. So, yeah. Maybe she doesn’tknow youknow you, but she knows enough. And she enjoys taking care of the people she loves.”
“Runs in the family, I guess,” Grace says, reaching up to hold his face with her good hand. His unshaven cheek scratches against her palm, and upon closer inspection, she notices little specks of gray sprinkled throughout the dark brown. The sight of itdoessomething to her. Images of him with more gray than brown flash through her mind, a silver head of hair to match. The smile lines at his eyes and cheeks—the ones she so adores right now—growing deeper and more beautiful with every passing year. She’s suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to beat Crew’s side for all of it—to witness the progression of him going from raven black to gray, to see his eyes darkening with age, the golden-hued amber of his irises shifting into something even more depthless, more mesmerizing, somehow.
He must see something in her face, because he lets out a sharp exhale and takes a step away from her. “We need to get out of here,” he proclaims, looking at her with the same intensity she must be giving to him. “I can’t keep ravishing you in this hospital room.” Hastily, he gathers her bags and slings them over his shoulder, reaching out his free hand to grab hers. He ignores his sister’s under-breath comment abouttakinghis sweet timeand walks past them, leading Grace to the elevator, where they’ll go up two floors to get to Renata’s room.
If Grace thought her room was luxurious, it’s nothing compared to thesuiteRenata’s in. It looks more like a penthouse apartment than a hospital room. Bouquets of roses, sunflowers, hydrangeas, tulips, and lilies cover every flat surface, and there aremanyflat surfaces in the palatial space. The antiseptic, default hospital smell is completely covered by the sea of flowers; a stranger could take two steps into this room and know immediately that Renata is beloved. The sight of it all makes Grace’s heart ache—not just for the loveliness, but for the guilt she feels for nearly robbing the world of such an extraordinary person.
The entire elevator ride and down the long stretch of hallway through the hospital wing, Grace had wrestled with the idea of facing Renata, of seeing her laid up in a hospital bed because of an evil man’s machinations—and Grace’s abetment. This generous, warmhearted woman who had been nothing but kind and open to Grace since she walked into Murphy’s all those weeks ago—she didn’t deserve this. She didn’t deserve to becaught up in the chaos and corruption of Grace’s past. Braxton may be taped off and shut down, Bellamy may be spending the rest of his life in prison, and Grace may have been de facto acquitted of the horrid act she’d committed as a teenager, but there is no absolution to be had for this—for not speaking up, for being a coward when it mattered most. If there’s any sane, logical bone in Renata Caldwell’s body, she should scorn Grace and send her packing, should demand she get as far away from her son, her family, and her ranch as she possibly can.
But that’s not what happens.
Not even close.
Instead, the hospital bed comes into view—adorned in egg-white silk sheets, definitelynotthe standard-issue papery ones—and Crew and Grace find Renata and Clint bent over a folded newspaper with pens in hand. Renata looks comfortable in the bed, her back cushioned by two giant, plush pillows—also covered in silk—and Clint’s right next to her, one leg spread out and flush with hers, the other hanging off the bed to keep him steady. They’re having a sort of sword fight with the pens, arguing over the accuracy of an answer for what looks like a crossword puzzle. From where Grace stands, she can see there are lines drawn through some of the words already printed on the page, with the seeminglycorrectword written above.
“If you don’t stop shoving my hand away, I’m going to stab you with this pen. Paradigm has aGin it. It’s eight letters, not nine. And look!” Renata taps the puzzle adamantly with the tip of her pen. “The first letter is anA.It’s absolutely, one hundred percentarchetype.”
“You think because you read all those fancy books that you’re so much smarter than me, don’t you?” Clint says, bemusedlyshaking his head. “I’ll tell you what, though—I’ve got you beat when it comes to street smarts.”
“I’ll tellyouthe only thing you’ve got me beat with,” she counters, then taps the pen against his temple lightly. “Delusion.”
Clint’s mouth drops open dramatically. “Exc—”
He doesn’t get a chance to fully articulate his indignance, because Renata spots Grace and Crew, who have been silently observing the loving spat. Her face immediately lights up, and the smile that blooms on her lips is bright and wide and quick. She looks between the both of them quickly and says, “Thereyou are. Good God, I was starting to wonder if you’d just completely forgotten about me.”
“Not possible,” Crew says, and gives Grace’s hand a comforting squeeze. “How’re you feeling this morning?”
Renata shrugs. “Fine. The same. Ready to be out of here, but this numbnuts”—she tilts her head in Clint’s direction—“and my doctor have decided to team up and overrule me at any chance they get.” She throws her hands up with a quick roll of her eyes, only slightly exasperated. “So, here we are.”
“Tuesday will be here before you know it,” Crew says evenly, knowing he can’t show too much vehemence or support for his father, or his mother will accuse him ofalsosiding with the enemy. “You look good. Even better than yesterday.”
Grace has no frame of reference, but Renatadoeslook good—she may possibly be the most glamorous person who has ever been in a hospital, with her hair tucked back with a long gold pin, a pink terry cloth robe, and light makeup that doesn’t entirely cover up the bruising on her face but does mute it substantially, drawing the focus to her eyes, which are as vibrantly blue and expressive as ever. Upon closer inspection, Grace sees thecast on her left leg, spanning from her upper thigh to just above her foot. Her left arm is also in a sling that’s partially covered by the robe, and by the way she shifts in the bed, with less swiftness and ease than usual, Grace figures there are probably many other healing injuries that she can’t see. The thought of them all, this never-ending list of hurt, makes her feel sick to her stomach.
“You’re a terrible liar, son,” Renata says, waving a dismissive hand in his direction. Her gaze drifts to Grace, and her smile softens. “You, on the other hand, my darling.” She looks her up and down, the smile growing into something knowing, slightly mischievous. “I understand my daughter bullied you into this, but I’ve got to say, Grace—you look lovely.”
Maybe it’s the words, so genuine and warm and honest, or the way Renata’s looking at her like she’sproudand happy to see her, or maybe it’s the whirlwind of trauma and emotion that has coursed through Grace’s body over the past week, but when Renata smiles at her with all the love in the world and tells her she looks lovely, Grace bursts into tears.
Crew immediately turns to face her, grabbing her by the shoulders to turn her to him, but Renata’s voice cuts in, stopping him.
