Page 71 of His Saving Grace

“I know you heard me.” The words were soft.

“You’re engaged?” Even quieter than before.

“If you’re going to ask me the same thing over and over again, this is going to take a really long time.” She tried for bravado, but failed royally. It came out as nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m trying to wrap my head around this, Grace, but it’s not easy.” Mason ran his hand through his hair, anger, hurt, and frustration oozing from him.

“Sit down and I’ll explain.” She sank onto the sofa behind her. It was a relief to sit. Her knees threatened to give out at any second. Bella jumped up beside her and laid down so her head rested on Grace’s lap.

He looked at her and then the empty sofa cushion next to her and then back at her. He stalked to the armchair on the opposite side of the room.

She drew a sharp breath in through her nose at the dismissal. Such a little thing, but it packed the same wallop as a keg of dynamite.

Guts spilled all over the floor.

She shouldn’t be surprised. She’d lied to him, betrayed him. It didn’t stop it from hurting, though, no matter how much her head told her it was justified.

“My name isn’t Grace Smith,” she said. “It’s Grace Sullivan.”

Mason gave her a no-shit-Sherlock look, and any other time, she would have laughed, or at least smiled. Not so much today.

“I didn’t lie to you before. I’m from Portland and I have no siblings. My mom was a single mom, so it was just the two of us for most of my life. When I started grad school, I met David Parker, who was also a student at Pacific University. We’d just started seeing each other when my mom was killed by a drunk driver.”

She pulled in a deep breath, trying to keep the tears at bay. Even after all this time, it still hurt to talk about her mom. She missed her so much.

“I was numb and didn’t know what to do.” She tried hard not to cry, but a tear slipped down her cheek. The battle lost, she let them flow freely.

Mason’s fingers tightened on the arms of the chair, but he remained seated, watching her. Part of her wanted to go to him, wrap her arms around him, ask him to hold her. But she knew he wouldn’t welcome her, so she stayed. Alone. Always alone.

“And then David was there, and he was so sweet. He helped me with the funeral arrangements. I was lost, and he was there. I stupidly thought it was love, that he wouldn’t say and do all of that if he didn’t love me.”

And she had. She’d foolishly let him take control of her life. At first, it had just been funeral and estate stuff. Then it had been other little things, like where she should eat and what she should wear. He would bring it up casually, like he read a review somewhere, or he liked when she wore a particular color.

“It got worse once we got engaged. He got possessive. Started screening my phone calls. Telling me that plans I’d made had been canceled and then my friends would think I stood them up. Eventually, they stopped asking me to go anywhere. He’d get angry if I wanted to go out and do things, even if I invited him along. He wanted me to stay in, always saying he wanted me all to himself. That we never got a chance to spend time alone together.”

Her gaze drifted to the floor, too embarrassed to maintain eye contact. She’d been so stupid. “But when we were alone, he’d berate me. Tell me how worthless I was, how nothing I ever did was good enough. How without him, I’d be alone because no one could love me. I know it was stupid to listen, but I was young and scared and so afraid of being alone. I played right into his hands.”

Mason stood with a rumble from deep in his chest and began to pace the length of the living room. Bella jumped down and went over to him. He ran his hand through his hair again, stepping around the dog. After a minute or so of back and forth, he stopped and turned to face her, but didn’t say anything. Whether it was because he didn’t trust himself to speak, she didn’t know, but she took it as a sign he wanted her to continue.

She took a deep breath and wiped her cheeks. “And then I found the pictures.”

It had been Christmas, and she’d crawled into the crawlspace in their townhouse to get the ornaments. Her shirt had gotten caught on an errant nail and when she’d given it a yank, one of the boards pulled loose. Inside the hole, there’d been a box. She’d pulled it out and found all manner of photographs.

“They weren’t just recent ones, either. He had photos of me from grad school, before I met him. Pictures of me out with my friends or on my lunch break at work. There were even ones of me sleeping. It scared me.” Ice crackled through her veins. “I asked him about them, and he brushed it off, making it seem like I was being paranoid. He told me he loved me so much, he wanted to make sure I was safe when he wasn’t with me, that he took the photos because he cared.”

And she’d talked herself into believing his bullshit. She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “I was so stupid.”

He stared at her, his expression unreadable, which was good, because she didn’t think she could take it if she saw pity.

“Did it ever turn physical?” The hard edge to Mason’s voice sent a trickle of unease through her. He was furious.

“If you mean, did he ever hit me, then yes. Only once.” She had suggested they attend her boss’s Halloween party and David had flown into a jealous rage, accusing her of sleeping with the man. He’d backhanded her across the face, splitting her lip and bruising her jaw. She knew then she had to get out.

Mason’s eyes narrowed, and he came around to sit on the coffee table, facing her. “What do you mean by, ‘if you mean, did he ever hit me?’ Was it physical in other ways?”

She clamped her lower lip between her teeth and dropped her gaze to stare at the carpet between them. He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Did he rape you?”

The sudden lump in her throat made it ache. “Not exactly.”