Page 55 of The Beauty in Grace

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I can only stare at her. Her words connect easily. I know what she’s saying, but do I want to accept them? I don’t know. Because what if it isn’t just me she wants in the end? Would I be willing to share her? I don’t know, and I doubt I would unless that possibility came to be.

I lean to her and press my lips against her forehead, lingering for a moment. I can probably get her to stay the rest of the night if I ask. She can’t drive anyway, and I’m not about to make that trip again, not tonight. This means tonight is my last night for a while, just a few months, but it’s going to feel like an eternity.

“Just promise me one thing,” I finally say when I find my voice again.

Her eyes lift to mine in question, and I gently cup her chin, brushing my lips over hers.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” I tell her in a near whisper. “Whatever it is, tell me. We can talk, figure things out. Just don’t leave me hanging, not again.”

Gracie nods and pulls out of my grip, not that I try hard to keep hold of her. She curls into me, our naked bodies entangling. My arm slithers around her waist as she moves to lay her head on my chest now.

“I promise I won’t,” she tells me, her voice slightly muffled, but I can hear her.

I kiss the top of her head but don’t say anything now. There is nothing left to say. Now we have to figure out this new path and life entirely. I have almost everything I want. I have my dream career, and one day, I will own my dream house. I’m sure of that. But my dream girl will leave me in the morning, and I don’t know if I will ever have her back in my arms again.

Chapter34

Owen

Drake pulls the car up to the house, where the ambulance is already parked. A stretcher is being hurried into the back of the vehicle, and as we climb out, shouts enter my ears. Frantic, panic coating their words. The bump upon the stretcher isn’t clad in a black bag, which tells me that whoever it is isn’t dead. Not yet. People are milling about the sidewalk, onlookers trying to see what’s going on. Drake and I push through. The crowd disperses at our presence, a perk of the blue uniforms and badge we’re adorned by.

There had been so many codes shouted that I lost track of some of them. What I am sure of, though, is that there was a drug bust gone wrong, and firearms were pulled. I hate the drug ones. They always remind me of Gracie. I am glad she’s working to stay sober. At least now I don’t have to attend a drug bust with fear in my heart that one of the overdose victims would end up being Gracie.

“In here, officers!” a female voice calls out to us.

I nod to the woman as we make out way into the house, and I have to hold back a groan at the sight. Over the last half-decade, I’ve gotten used to the grit of this job. But still, blood splatter rubs my nerves. I know well enough that it’s okay to be turned off by the sight of blood, but I can’t faint, or I won’t be able to do my job at all.

My eyes fall to the few bodies that lay sprawled on the ground a few feet away from the ones that were obviously in the path of the gunshots. Their faces are pale, lips blue, and foam still slicks one of their chins. A classic sign of overdose. I can’t help but roll my eyes at them. It’s always a pity to see anyone overdose and not return from it, but honestly, if they choose that life, they run that risk. I still feel bad, though.

My eyes rove over the bodies and stop on one. Her dark black hair is covering her face, but the rubber band around her arm tells me how she died as well. My gaze drifts down her body, taking in her curves and stopping on her exposed back. She’s lying on her stomach, and her shirt is slightly hitched up. The tattoo is what looks like a charcoal-shaded treehouse. It hits, slaps me in the face, and I can’t breathe.

The treehouse in the backyard of Gracie’s childhood home is where we had met. Through mutual friends meeting up after school and I’d just tagged along. I’d been there the day she got it when we were sixteen. She’d forged her parents' signature to get away with it, and I had chosen the design for her, the one thing that only she and I would ever understand. I don’t think she ever even explained it to Devon, and they were engaged.

“Gracie,” I say, my voice cracking on her name.

She doesn’t stir, but why did I even bother expecting her to do so? She’s lying there, lifeless because of a needle poke. My worst fears have finally come to life. She was sober, though, wasn’t she? Yes. So, she relapsed. She relapsed, and it was the final straw. Now she doesn’t have a chance to try and start over again. How am I going to tell her parents about this? How am I going to tell Devon about this? How am I going to—

“Owen,” Drake nudges me and nods around the room. “Come on, man. Let’s get to work.”

I can’t move. I don’t think I want to move. The lifeless body of Gracie is all that I can see. I step forward until I’m right next to her and get down on my knees, reaching out to brush her hair away from her face. Her eyes are staring straight forward, a murky brown compared to the chocolate color they were normally. Lifeless, glassy, gone.

“Gracie?” I blink, a torrent of emotions hitting me tenfold.

I can’t breathe. Everything’s caving in on me. I don’t want to be here anymore; I can’t be here anymore. I get up quickly and stagger back, bumping into somebody. Wheeling around, I let out a yelp of surprise. Drake lunges at me, wild-eyed, as his fingers curl around my neck. As my body slams against the wall, Drake morphs, his features twisting before Devon is the one holding my neck.

“You did this to her!” he bellows, tears in his eyes. “You killed her because you were selfish and hateful. You chose to be angry and spiteful towards her instead of telling her the truth. You drove her back to this!”

“No,” I sputter, twisting and turning in his grip. “No, it wasn’t me.”

“Yes, it was!” he shouts and yanks me forward before throwing me to the ground. I land on something mushy and turn, the scream lodging itself in my throat as I stare at Gracie’s lifeless face all over again. “You didn’t protect her like you should’ve. You let her slip away. You’ve never deserved to have Gracie, ever!”

His fists slams into my face before I can stop it. Not that I even try, though. Devon loves Gracie just as much as I do. Sometimes, I wonder if he loves her more than me but other times, I wonder if I love her more than he possibly can. He likes guys and girls, and while there’s nothing wrong with that, it just means his heart has room for more, not just the one like mine.

As I’m shoved back to the ground, I come into eye contact with Gracie. With trembling fingers, I pull my hand up and reach out, grazing over her cold cheeks.

“Gracie,” I try again and then shake her. “Gracie, wake up. Wake up!”

A soft click jerks my head up, and I find myself in view with the muzzle of a gun. As I raise my eyes toward it, I take in Devon, standing above me.


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