Page 129 of Grace

I can picture both of us in those places, but not together.

I stay at that point in time. What comes to mind is this: if I hadn’t gone on that date with Billy, I would’ve been trying to get Chase’s attention. I’d have wanted him to see me. To see “little Grace,” moving through the world like a shadow. To pick me out of the crowd. To show me that even a decent, ordinary girl could be worth something. In my mind, I step out of the school and see Chase standing by that tree, watching me, waiting. Waiting for me to walk into the park. To climb into his van and touch his soul. To kiss—while he does nothing indecent.

Oh my God.

I was such an idiot. If I hadn’t been chasing a future I didn’t really want deep down, things wouldn’t have happened this way. But I wanted to resist the spell Chase had put me under—even though I’d been caught in that whirlpool from the moment I first saw him. I can see that now. Back then, I made the right decision when I followed my parents’ advice. They wanted to protect me. They only wanted what was best for me. That’s why I’d do the same thing if I could go back. I would give that white van a wide berth.

It wasn’t my fault. It’s not my fault!

My eyes fly open. Chase is watching me, impatient.

“Where did you see us?”

“Everywhere… and nowhere. We wouldn’t have gone on a single date.”

He gives a measured nod.

“I was good, Chase. And you corrupted me on purpose. You broke me. But you only did it to change the way I see the world—to make me able to accept you.”

“You did accept me, Grace. You just kept fighting me, the way you’re fighting me now. You wanted to follow in your parents’ footsteps. I saw the writing on the bench.”

“Every normal kid with parents as good as mine would want to follow in their footsteps.”

He strokes my face.

“I know you blame me—and yourself—for everything. We made this huge, chaotic mess… but what if we’re the ones who can clean it up? Have you thought about it, Grace? I can’t be a good person. I can’t change the past. And when I think about the times we made love, I wouldn’t change a thing for myself—I’d only change things for your sake. To make the sadness in your eyes disappear. Maybe I can’t erase it completely, but I might be able to ease the pain. Your parents didn’t die because of you. The investigation found the car’s brakes were faulty. They were racing toward you when it happened, but the accident would’ve happened eventually anyway. I’m sorry that cop didn’t tell you. He wanted a piece of you—like the other ones who took one. But I never wanted just a piece of you, Grace. I wanted all of you. Is it really too much to ask for you to accept me like this?”

“You are not a good person.”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I can’t be good for you.”

I shove him away and collapse into the corner, my back sliding down the wall. The corner that used to be my spot. This is too much.

I go there without thinking, on ingrained instinct. It’s automatic—just like I never shut the door in my mind on him. It was always open, so he could reach me anytime I needed him.

Sand crunches under Chase’s boots. He crouches in front of me and pulls me to his chest. He doesn’t flinch when my tears and spit smear across his gray T-shirt. He strokes my back and kisses my hair.

It’s not the truth that makes me cry—the truth is liberating. I cry because I’ve always been drawn to someone like Chase. I’ve always felt more than hate, and I was ashamed of it—ashamed of my feelings, ashamed of what an idiot I was for falling in love with my captor. But I know I’d fallen for Chase’s bad-boy edge even before he kissed me. Back when Nikky made me meet him. When our eyes locked for a long moment and my stomach knotted. When I saw those dark, mysterious eyes beneath the hair falling into his forehead.

I don’t want to be an idiot. I don’t want to be ashamed of loving him despite everything he’s done. And I’m tired of running from myself.

“You should’ve asked me out on a date,” I moan, then get a grip on myself, wiping my eyes and face. “That investigation doesn’t change the fact that they were looking for me when they died. And Jamie and Nikky had to die so young because they got mixed up with your brother.”

“No one forced them to. It was their choice.”

We stand up.

He tucks my hair back and pins me into the corner. The wall is cold against my back. Goosebumps rise over my skin and my nipples harden. My breasts grow heavy, and an aching desire curls low in my belly. His hand slides beneath my T-shirt. He looks deep into my eyes and doesn’t say a word. Because he doesn’t have to.

And I accept my fate.

I am his.

A soft shudder runs through my body. His fingers trace a line beneath the tender skin below my belly button. I tip my hips forward. His chiseled jaw is hard, his lips are full—and this time they don’t twist into a derisive, lopsided smile. There’s no victory in his eyes as they darken with the desire burning in him—just the same obsession they held nine years ago. Chase never looked at me like I was a piece of meat—he never treated me without respect. The way he moved, the way he touched me, the way he looked at me… everything he did spoke of obsessive love. To him, I was never just an ordinary girl. He watched me and touched me with a reverence that bordered on worship, as if I were a goddess in mortal skin.

He’s a dark artist with an empty soul and a resourceful mind—and I’m his muse, the woman he adores, the woman he sets on a pedestal above everyone else. And I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it. I’ve seen how most men treat women. I’ve heard the way Bo and his crew talk about girls. Chase was never rude—just strange. And he doesn’t have Lucas’s smug arrogance.

He touches me delicately beneath my belly button. I bite my lower lip and get lost in his bright eyes. He must have been waiting so long for me to absolve him of his sins—to hear the words that would soothe his restless heart and warm the cold caverns of his soul.