Page 73 of Graciously His

He gives a sniff and follows, though I notice how carefully he steps, as if he’s afraid to break something by treading too hard. I lead the way into the office. Nate’s laptop is gone, but mine is in its usual spot on the desk. We’ve taken to working across from one another—him on the app, me on my designs—and now he’s left me behind.

I wonder how long Nate has planned to leave me like this, abruptly enough to surprise me into compliance. It’s a tactic he’s used before, mostly in bed, knowing that I’m not particularly good at saying no when something is sprung on me. Well, Nate has a long drive to Auckland, which means he won’t be checking his spyware apps for a couple of hours.

I get to work. First, I check my social media accounts for the first time in ages. There are a few messages from my old circle of university friends. I spend a few minutes answering—mostly condolences of Nick’s passing, and questions about where I’ve disappeared to. I tell them we had a private family funeral in the North Island, and that I’m staying here for the time being. Then I check my privacy settings, confirming that Nate has blocked Mother on each of my accounts.

I hesitate.

Nate has protected me by bringing me here, and his protection has been ongoing; he’s kept Mother blocked on all my devices and socials, and I have no doubt that he has fielded any communications she tried through other channels. But he left. And I am certain that Mother has been reaching out, though Nate says she gave up weeks ago. He told me she has most likely moved on to tormenting someone else, getting her ‘supply’ from another victim.

What he and Eileen don’t understand is that Mother loves me. I know her love has been wrong, but neither of them has seen just how kind she could be, how much she cared when I was hurting, and how deeply she knew me. I still feel that knowledge sometimes, and I know it’s wrong to want her back in my life. But we never had a moment to reckon with one another, for her to apologise, for me to listen.

At least, that’s what I tell myself as I find her name on the block list of my messenger app, and toggle it. The circle by her name goes green. Words pop into a window a second later.

Graciously? Is that you, lovey?

My stomach clenches so hard I retch.

Shep whines and puts his big head on my lap.

“It’s okay, boy,” I whisper, patting him. “It’s—it’s going to be okay.”

I put my hands to the keyboard, ready to type, though I have no idea what I’ll say.

I miss you.

I’m sorry.

I hate you.

Nate is keeping me here.

Please come get me.

Shep whines again, then puts his paws on my lap so that his head blocks the screen. He looks deep into my eyes and I realise I’m crying. Sobbing. I hug the corso, who lets out a chuff and puts more of his weight on my lap.

“I’ll stop, okay?” I whisper. “I’ll block her again. Cause you’re right, sweet boy. This isn’t how I should spend my time alone here.”

Shep gives me a slobbery kiss then stations himself by my chair, tail wagging slowly.

“Yes, I think you deserve a reward, too.” I scratch under his chin. “I’ll just take care of re-blocking her, then we’ll go for another walk.”

I turn to the laptop, ready to take a quick look at what Mother has sent before I block her—and do a double take. The screen has gone blank. I touch the trackpad, then realise the thing has shut down. Sighing, I restart it, waiting for it to load. Once it’s on, the Wi-Fi refuses to connect.

“What?” I mutter, clicking the Wi-Fi on and off. Still nothing. The icon is greyed out, access impossible.

Spyware.

I knew Nate was watching my devices, but I didn’t realise he could shut down both my laptop and the house’s Wi-Fi from afar. The sense of unease I felt at seeing Mother’s writing inverts, turning on Nate. Beside me, the landline rings.

I pick up the receiver, my jaws clenched so tight my teeth grind together.

“Grace,” Nate says into my ear.

I say nothing. He left. He took my phone. And now he’s cut off the Internet. He wanted me contained and quiet. Well, that’s what I’ll be.

“Our devices are synced. I had to pull over to check what you were up to. Do I need to turn around, or are you done misbehaving for today?”

He pauses, and I hear what sounds like a car door slamming. I picture him on the side of the highway to Auckland, squinting angrily in the sun.