Gracie & Gray

Chapter 38

G R A Y

As I led Gracie down the hallway, every step felt like some kind of purgatory, and every beat of my heart grew heavier and heavier as my mind lingered on our interactions from moments ago.

I didn't know how we were going to recover after I laid the ugly truths on the table. I had owned up to everything about Lydia. I almost regretted doing so. I wondered if I should've fibbed a little, to smooth out the jagged edges, so that Gracie wouldn't feel the hurt so deeply?

I winced in shame.

God—

Seeing those tears falling down Gracie's cheeks—

Witnessing the sheer pain in her eyes—

It had torn me up as though my insides were being dragged through a gauntlet of knives and glass shards.

G R A C I E

As I followed Gray down the hallway, I felt as though I had just been raked, raw and ragged, through the utmost extremes. The proverbial dust from my emotional storm was starting to settle, and my mind regained the ability to think clearly once more, to finally process what Gray had confessed to me earlier. Earlier—my state of mind had been too far gone to actually comprehend the implications of his confession.

I think I kissed her because she was your twin.

I was pretending she was... you.

As I replayed Gray's words in my head, their underlying meaning slowly wound itself, coiling, clenching, around my heart. In a twisted way—I was almost relieved because this implied that Gray had been fantasizing about me the whole time with Lydia, that Lydia meant nothing to him, but I was also... offended. Deeply so. My sister and I may have shared the same face when she was still alive, but Lydia and I had been nothing alike when it came to the shit that actually mattered.

A deep-seated sense of indignation rose in me.

How could Gray even think that Lydia and I were interchangeable?

How dare he go to Lydia when I was still here?

G R A Y

Right then, I knew I'd never let myself off the hook for being the fucker who made Gracie cry. I never wanted to give Gracie another reason to shed a tear over me.

But how?

An eerie sense of calm settled over me as I considered this question, and, despite my fucked up mood, my mind actually became quite lucid. I knew something had to give. I couldn't continue with business as usual. At that very moment, I made a silent vow: I needed to level up, starting right fucking now. It was time to grab my demons by the throat and wrestle them to the ground until they could no longer hurt me or anyone else I cared about.

Afghanistan still haunted me.

My dad still haunted me.

I felt as though I had been running from ghosts for too long. I couldn't run anymore. Gracie had become a casualty of my shitty choices in life. I refused to maim her further. It was time to stay and fight—to become a better man. My girls were all I had now, and I intended to give them a life of happiness that they both deserved.

From now on, I only wanted to put smiles on Gracie's face, Stevie's, too, and if anything in life ever made them cry, then I wanted to be the one they ran to for comfort, for safety.

Could I become their sanctuary? Their refuge?

I hoped so.

But, first, I needed to save myself, to make sure that I was standing on stable ground.