“I sold your ring.”
I shake my head. “Rings can be bought.”
“I love you, but not just you,” she says softly. “I love Owen too. I love both of you, and I really like Colton. It’s really confusing, and I don’t know what the hell to do about it. I don’t want to choose, Devon. Which means I probably can’t have just one of you. Not that it matters, you and Owen have moved on, and that’s what you need to focus on. Not me.”
I pull myself to my feet. “Gracie, we can figure things out—”
“I’m moving out,” she says quickly, shutting me down. “I can’t really move here. I can stay for a little bit, but I’m going to get a place for myself. I can’t stay with you guys anymore.”
With that, she leaves the bedroom, me standing in the middle of it, completely confused. I feel a little empty inside, and I don’t know if it is the booze or something else this time. She isn’t serious, is she? The chatter of people drifts up the stairs and into the slightly open bedroom door, reminding me of everybody mingling in the backyard. I wonder if Kate has even noticed my absence. She probably has and will expect a reason, but that’s the least of my concerns at the moment.
If Gracie moves out, the chances of anything with her, including friendship, will be thrown right out the window. And I’m not willing to let her go, not again.
Chapter23
Gracie
I’m ready to go home before I do something I’ll end up regretting. Or maybe even something I know is crossing the line and can’t go back from. Because I have to admit it, I so badly wanted Devon to rip my clothes off and take me right there in the same bed I had given him my virginity. But I know that’s a line which, if stepped over, neither one of us will ever be able to retreat from. I’ve done a lot of shitty things in my life, but Devon is a good guy. He doesn’t deserve to be dragged into something that will eat him alive from the inside out. I know him too well. Cheating on Kate will rip him apart until he can no longer bear it. I don’t want that for him, and I won’t let him get to that point.
Deciding that Owen probably isn’t the best option to tell I want to go home and knowing full well that if I go around Devon alone again, I’m going to lose all self-discipline, I decide to change tactics and locate my purse. I can’t remember where I put it, but I know I was carrying it when we’d arrived, so it’s around somewhere. Sure I left it in the kitchen when first approaching my parents, I find its absence unnerving. I know I left it here. At least it’s the last place I remember having it.
Searching high and low in case one of my parents put it up so little kid's grubby hands couldn’t get into it, I find it nowhere. Maybe I didn’t bring it into the kitchen. I only vaguely recall carrying it into the room. Maybe it's outside. Did I sit it down out there before coming in? It’s possible, and with that in mind, I go back out. The crowd of my family has thinned just a smidge by this point. Most of everyone is still here, but when I look around, I find my brother, his wife, and their four kids absent. They must’ve left. That makes me sad. I didn’t even really have a chance to talk to them and catch up. I was always close with my brother growing up. His was the house I’d go and spend the night at if our parents went out of town or had a date night or anything, one of the many perks of having adult siblings. My parents never really had to rely on finding a babysitter when they had three kids, plus each of their spouses to rely on in a time crunch.
“Gracie,” an angry voice spouts my name, and I turn, finding my oldest sister clutching my purse in her hand.
One of her twin boys is standing next to her, the barely legal-to-drive teen looking away from me in shame. I notice how it’s gone eerily quiet now, all attention on us. I swallow, knowing that this can’t be good. Mostly because my sister is glaring at me. She’s seething with anger. She and I have never really gotten along, always butting heads. Mom and dad have always claimed it's because we’re just so much alike. I could practically be her daughter because of our age difference, but also because I’m a younger version of her. Then again, she’s a younger version of mom.
Ryleigh holds out my purse. “Why don’t you tell me what my son found in your purse.”
I blink, thoroughly confused as to what she’s even talking about. “Tampons?” I guess, thinking of the few extra I have on hand just to be on the safe side.
She can’t seriously be mad at me carrying tampons around, can she? She’s the one who taught me that trick. To always be prepared for an emergency, especially after the one time I had leaked through both underwear and pants in public.
Ryleigh isn’t amused or happy. She doesn’t smile and let it go. She simply just keeps glowering at me, nostrils flaring. After a moment, she turns my purse and dumps the contents onto the grass. I watch as my extra tampons, a few panty liners, cell phone, and keychain tumble out, clattering to the ground. On top of those items are a couple of pens, some gum, and little bottles. The bottles I don’t recognize as my own, but I instantly. recognize what they are. They’re glass and swish with brown liquid. There are only two of them, but it’s enough. I shake my head, my lips parting to start in on my defense, but I don’t get a chance to say something.
“Are you fucking serious?” Trish exclaims as she steps into the little clearing in which Ryleigh and I are standing. “We literally just talked about this, Gracie.”
I shake my head vigorously. “No, those aren’t mine.”
Ryleigh cocks an eyebrow and tosses my purse to the ground to join the little smile, putting her hands on her hips. “They were inyourpurse, Gracie.”
I shake my head again. “No. They aren’t. I swear, they aren’t mine. Somebody had to put them in there.”
“Just like somebody had to put the nude magazines in Charlie’s room.” Ryleigh snorts with a roll of her eyes.
“Mom,” her son blurts, his face turning beet red in embarrassment. “Please.”
She ignores him, too focused on me. I look at Trish for help, but she’s looking at me in hurt. “I swear, they aren’t mine,” I tell her, desperate for her to believe me.
But Trish doesn’t look convinced. She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Gracie. You haven’t been sober for an entire year. The first year is easy to slip away from. Look”— she steps forward—“it happens, okay? The first year is always hard. You’ve been working hard, but sometimes it happens. You just have to admit it. Because as long as you do want to stay sober, we can get you more help—”
“I am sober! Those aren’t mine!” I shout, desperate for someone to believe me, but when I look around at my entire family, I feel everyone against me.
When my eyes drop to my parents, neither one meet my eyes. My mom, especially, looks like she’s about to cry. Daddy won’t even look at me, but I can tell by the way his eyebrows are pushed together that he’s angry. He doesn’t talk when he’s angry. He doesn’t like yelling, but I think his silence is far worse.
“Daddy?” I start, but my voice cracks when he glances at me.
There’s nothing but disappointment in his eyes.