“You’ll see. You are meant for so much more than what this world has offered you so far.”
I blink, eyebrows furrowing together. He’s speaking riddles now. My eyes flash down to his hand, and I reach up with my free one, peeling his fingers off me. Once free, I jerk my arm back and stand. He follows swiftly. I regret leaving my bagel untouched, but I have to get home.
“Why don’t I walk you home? There are… unkind people in this neighborhood. Wouldn’t want a pretty face like you getting hurt.”
I hesitate. Being walked home by a stranger who makes me nervous might not be the best idea. Deciding I’m going to take my own advice for once, I shake my head and step back, pulling the towel off my body to hand it to him.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll get home. I’m a big girl.”
His face twists, and he opens his mouth to retort, but the clearing of a throat turns both of us. Ralph stands just inches away, a cloth in his hand, and I can only guess he’s been cleaning the tables. The diner has emptied since my arrival. I didn’t realize I’d been there long enough for that to happen.
“It’s all right, Gracie. My grandson is a good boy,” he shoots a warning look at him again, and I can’t help but feel off about that statement. “He’s safe to be with, and you know how I feel about you walking home alone.”
I hesitate again and look back to the younger man, whose eyes are a younger replication of Ralph’s. I don’t feel anything wrong in my gut. Ralph has always been nothing more than an uncle type, maybe even a grandpa type. Six months is a decent amount of time to feel safe around someone. And I did feel safe around Ralph. I also did take his advice.
“Okay,” I agree, hoping I wouldn’t regret this. “As long as Ralph vouches for you, you can walk me home.”
The guy's face lights up, and he smiles broadly, showing his teeth. It isn’t menacing, though. Not one bit.
Chapter7
Gracie
My mouth is dry, parched. The little coffee I drank didn’t help. Curling my tongue over my lips, I step from the elevator as the door hisses open when jolting to a stop on my floor. Drawing in a breath, I almost hack at a stale scent of tobacco lingering in the air. Wrinkling my nose, I tense at the brush of fingers against my arm and glance to my side. He’s standing next to me, but his eyes are forward and avoiding mine. Or he’s just looking forward, and I’m looking too deeply into this. His lips are pursed, corners curved downward in distaste. As if he just doesn’t care much for the complex. I feel a bout of grumpiness tighten in my chest. I’m slightly annoyed by that. I love the complex I live in.
What right does he have to judge my place of living?
“You live here?” he questions. “I didn’t take you for an apartment girl.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What kind of place did you expect me to live in?”
He draws in a breath, rolling his head on his shoulders, but doesn’t look at me. “You just seem to like your space more, that’s all.”
I balk. Words don’t come. Something seems off about him, like he’s holding back words to say. But also, how does he even know that? It’s just a guess. It has to be a guess. It’s the only thing I can come to terms with. Deciding that lingering in the hall isn’t the best idea, I move forward, knowing he’d follow me.
The golden numbers on the door stare back at me as we step up to my door, shimmering with a small reflection of my face. Turning to the man whose name, I realize I still don’t know, I look up at him, taking in his height for the first time. He’s tall like Devon but lean like Owen. His jaw is tight, eyes cold as he stares ahead, nostrils flaring. Still very obviously disgruntled by my home life.
“This is where I live,” I state, drawing him out of the trance he is within.
Blinking, he drops his gaze to me, burrowing his eyebrows together as he takes my words into account and nods. “All right, well, I’d like to see you go in. Just to make sure you’re safe. Then I’ll leave.”
I turned and reached out, gripping the knob. Biting my lip, I jiggle it and turn, shoulders tensed before popping it open. With a sigh of relief that it was left unlocked, I step over the threshold. Two pairs of eyes turn to face me, and Devon sits up almost instantly.
“Gracie!” he exclaims in relief, but his face falls as I feel the shoulder bump into mine. “Who’s that with you?”
Kate turns and props up on the back of the couch, her arms folded across it before pressing her chin on them. “Is he your boyfriend?” she asks, slight excitement flickering through her words.
Of course, she’d be excited by that idea. Me getting a new boyfriend would mean I’d possibly leave Owen and Devon alone. And Devon was hers. So, it would be a win for Kate.
“No, he isn’t my boyfriend. I just met him tonight. What is your name again?” I ask, turning to him, eyebrows shooting up, half expecting him to tell me.
His lips twitch as he glances at me. “I didn’t say,” he shrugs, and then his eyes fall on Devon. “You.”
“Me?” Devon asks and stands up, facing us. “What about me?” His eyes flicker to me. “Did he hurt you? Did he touch you somehow?” His eyes widen as he moves towards the end of the couch, his gaze never leaving me. He advances and reaches out, moving too quickly for me to make a break for it, fingers gripping my chin as he thrusts my head back. “You aren’t high, are you?”
“No,” I hiss between my teeth, my jaw throbbing from his clenched fingers. “I’m not high, Dev.”
His fingers tighten as his face turns towards the man, accusations still simmering. “If you’re some sort of drug dealer or pimp—”