Page 47 of Grace

“He wanted to surprise you.”

“Then why didn’t he give them to me personally?” She pointed at me with her scissors accusingly.

“Maybe he knew how you’d react. I think you were way nicer to me—you’d have given him a hard time.”

“I’m old, Grace.” She took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, which were circled by wrinkles. “I’ve already buried a husband. I don’t want to bury another.”

I nodded sadly and touched her shoulder gently. Someone who sells flowers meets not only the joyful moments of life, but grief as well. The pain, the tears, the feeling of being lost. The pain of so many people rests on their shoulders.

Abigail patted my hand. “It’s been a while since I heard about Cyrus.”

“The last time I saw him was in court.” I picked up the bouquet and put it into a vase. “He kissed me,” I blurted out.

“And?” She looked at me, shock and curiosity on her face.

“Then he apologized. I think he thought he’d been awfully inconsiderate.”

“And what did you think?”

The words caught in my throat because the thing was…

“I thought the same. I’m not ready for a relationship.” My answer was curt and direct. On the one hand, this was the truth. On the other hand, the truth was cold and dark, repulsive and disgusting—still wonderful in its horrible realness.

During the day, I chased false dreams. And at night, I sat in a dark room, dreaming about someone who was in jail. Because as difficult as it was to admit, I needed him, even though I hated him. I needed him to be there with me in the darkness. While I masturbated to our shared memories, I wasn’t alone, I wasn’t lonely.

Because Chase had become part of me.

A memory from 2004

Four years after kidnapping—I was 19

“What are you doing, Grace?”

“Eating ice cream,” I replied, and sank my spoon into the tub.

Chase took off his T-shirt and tossed it on the ground. His nice abs, the sides of which formed a V-shape, drew my gaze.

“You stopped selling drugs?” I took my eyes off him and put the spoon into my mouth.

Chase trusted me now—he hadn’t closed the door of my room for a month.

“No. Why?” he asked, then sat down on the cold tiles beside me. He dipped his index finger into the sticky chocolate ice cream and licked it off with an exaggerated movement.

“Your clothes smell like freshly felled trees. Like sawdust.”

“I work at a logging company on the side.”

I nodded and continued eating.

“May I?” he asked, pointing at the spoon I’d just lifted to my mouth. My gaze flickered between him and the spoon.

“Yes,” I replied quietly. I didn’t dare say no.

Chase leaned closer and looked deep into my eyes while he licked the ice cream off the spoon, then touched his cool lips against mine. His cold tongue found its way into my mouth, and the sweet taste of chocolate exploded on my palate. I moaned in desire.

Chase set the small ice cream tub aside, took me on his lap, and undressed me. We caressed and kissed each other frantically, burning with insane passion—we were like a couple of teenagers in love.

When he took off his pants, I lowered myself onto his dick. And my goodness… I went absolutely crazy. I let my body and its raging hormones take control.