His eyebrows have been bunched together for a good half hour, and he won’t fucking sit down. I roll my eyes and lift my beer, taking another long drink. After Gracie’s texts had started coming, Devon called demanding to talk to her. I’m still not sure how he got my number, I think from Gracie at some point. I came here right away. He’d also called the cop. Which makes me nervous, on edge, but I’ve kept my mouth shut since.
I rub my forehead, staring at the opposite wall to avoid watching Devon pace back and forth. If I keep watching him, I’m going to be sick.
“It sounds exactly like her when she’s high and drunk,” the cop says, sounding irritated.
I look right at him. I’m not a big fan of cops, but the sadness in his eyes tugs at my heart. He’s really against believing that Gracie wouldn’t do this. I don’t know what she did to him, but it had to be bad to see him so adamant on not believing this. Still, the fact that he’s here shows just how much he still cares about her.
We all do.
“She wouldn’t do this,” Devon repeats, desperation in his voice. “She wouldn’t. Gracie’s been doing so good. She wouldn’t do this.”
I look around the living room again. The couch is black, and it matches the two armchairs on either side of it. I saw the apartment’s design only briefly, but I know that this is so much different compared to it. Devon said this is his childhood home, which makes me want to see the room he grew up in. I don’t say anything, though. I don’t think this is an appropriate time to do so.
A rapping on the door draws our attention right before it opens, and Gracie steps over the threshold. A man sweeps in behind her, his hair falling over his shoulders. I know him from somewhere, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Look, I can explain what happened—” the man starts.
“You should fucking leave,” the cop, whose name I really don’t remember, cuts in. “Seriously. Thanks for bringing her home, but this doesn’t concern you.”
“Owen,” Gracie starts.
“Don’t.” He stops her, turning to snarl at her. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I actually thought you were getting better.”
“Owen—” Gracie tries again.
“Seriously,” Owen cuts her off again. “Fucking don’t. I’ve been trying so fucking hard to forgive you for all the shit you pulled, and then you go and do this shit.” He waves his phone at her. “You know what the worst part is? I fucking love you still. I’m not supposed to love you. I’m supposed to hate you, and I want to.” Those words widen Gracie’s eyes. “I want to hate you so much, and the fact that I fucking can’t makes it even worse. It isn’t fair.”
With that, Owen turns to face Devon and, by default, me as well.
“Don’t contact me again regarding Gracie. I don’t fucking care what happens.”
He leaves, crashing into the man who had yet to leave, and slamming the door shut behind him.
“Thanks for bringing her home.” Devon clears his throat. “Well, to my father’s anyway. I’ll take her home later.”
The man stares at the door, lips pursed, before finally turning back to us. “I should go as well.”
“Thanks for bringing me, Jasper. I appreciate it,” Gracie tells him.
His eyes flash to us and then back to Gracie. As we watch, he cups her cheek and leans in, kissing her hard. I bite my tongue to stop myself from doing or saying something stupid.
Jasper.“You’re a tattoo artist,” I blurt.
He pulls back and whips his head around, blinking in surprise. “I am.”
Gracie’s cheeks turn bright pink, and she pulls back from Jasper, disappearing down the hall I have yet to explore.
“I’ve seen your picture before,” I tell him.
“Can you just go?” Devon snaps. “Look, I appreciate you bringing Gracie, but please just go.”
Jasper looks at the disheveled Devon. “She didn’t send those texts, man. I would’ve brought her sooner, but she sat in the car crying for about twenty minutes because of what happened. Freaking out over what you three will think of her because of it. My bitch girlfriend did it, or I’m pretty sure it was her. Maybe it was Luke’s sister. I don’t fucking know. But either way, it wasn’t her. Luke and I had her occupied all night and she didn’t once touched her phone until it was time to leave.”
“Fine, thanks for letting us know. Can you leave now?” Devon points at the door.
“Don’t give her a hard time. She’s a great girl,” Jasper comments and leaves, pulling the door closed with a snap behind him.
I look at Devon, who’s staring at the hallway Gracie went down. I don’t know where it leads, but she obviously seems to know where to go within the house.