Page 134 of Grace

“Stop.” I press a hand to his chest. “Promise me you won’t hurt them anymore. You mustn’t.”

“I promise I won’t hurt them.”

I get undressed and turn on the shower. We wait until the water warms. A thin layer of mist blooms on the shower walls. There isn’t much room, but it doesn’t seem to bother Chase. He works shampoo into my hair, then conditioner. I have no idea why he loves my hair this much.

I turn to him suddenly and lift my index finger in warning.

“No one has power over Lucas.”

He takes me into his lap and enters me. The sweetness of pleasure sweeps us away in fevered waves.

I feel horrible being in the house with Chase—the house where I lived with Cyrus for two years. But Chase didn’t want us to stay in the bunker his grandfather built. And I didn’t want to, either. So I chose the lesser of two evils. I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing only panties and a T-shirt. Chase pauses in the doorway. His hair is wet, and he’s in fresh clothes, leaning against the doorframe. He looks breathtaking. I flip through my old diary, full of his handwriting, skimming an entry here and there.

“How did you get your hands on it?”

“It got to me after you did.”

“How did you know I had a diary?”

“Nikky told me. She blabbed out quite a few things when she drank.”

“We should burn it.”

“You wrote that you’d want to read it when you’re old.”

I run my fingers over the worn, patched cover.

“Maybe this isn’t what I’d want to read about. Like the sound Poppy’s spine made when it broke. Or how many times you hit me. Or what it felt like when you tore out my teeth.” I grimace.

“This is our past. It’s part of us.”

“I like this metaphor, though.”

“Which one?” He comes in and sits down next to me.

“The one with the butterfly. You even illustrated it with a drawing. It’s nice, even though it was born from sick, dark thoughts.”

“I only ever wanted you, Grace. I never would’ve hurt you if Lucas hadn’t told me to.”

I close the booklet and slide it onto the nightstand.

“I don’t want to think about what would’ve happened if… I’ve had enough. I want to bury the past and everything bad that happened. All of it. I want to focus on the future. To find my dreams again, dust them off, and make them real. Maybe this change is happening too fast. Maybe I’m being dumb and irrational. But I’ve spent enough time in that dark pit of loss. I want to live, Chase. I want to be the Grace you wrote about. I want to watch the tiny insects in the meadow. I want to weave white wildflowers into my hair. I want the old Grace, who…” I sigh deeply, “who dreamed about happiness, and having a family. About a huge house with a balcony and a big garden. About kids.” I stroke the diary.

“I think I would’ve been a good mom.”

“You will be a good mom.” He tucks my hair behind my ear.

“And what do you dream about? What kind of future do you have in mind?”

“A future with you.”

A shy smile tugs at my lips. “I’m being serious, Chase.” I let my hands fall into my lap and stare ahead for a long moment.

“I want to open a little flower shop. Not long after you went to jail, I worked in one. I liked it. Mostly because of the flowers. I love their scent.”

Chase cups my face in his hands and captures my lips in a searing kiss.

“We’re gonna make all your dreams come true.”