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Chapter Thirty -one
Ryan
After leaving Sojourn, we decide to skip lunch in favor of picking Molly up early and heading to Gino’s to grab a couple pizzas.
We go back to Patrick and Cari’s place and eat. Molly and I play board games while Grace frowns over course catalogs and program brochures.
After a few hours of whipping my ass at Candyland and Memory and being declared the worst game player ever, Grace finally pushes her mountain of papers aside and we sack out on the couch, Molly wedged between us, and watch a movie. Not more than a half an hour later, she starts to snore, her face buried in my armpit.
When the movie’s over, Grace starts the extrication process, shifting Molly’s dead weight across the couch to lift her and carry her down the hall.
The painkiller I took wore off hours ago which sucks because the pain is always worse when it comes back. Like it’s angry for being sent away, the white-hot center of it burrows into my foot to roars and flames up the length of my calve before pooling in my knee to lap and lick up my thigh every time I move.
It doesn’t help that I’ve been on my feet for the majority of the day without the help of my cane.
Ignoring the small inner voice, urging me to just take another pill, I grit my teeth and push myself up from the couch to grab my duffle follow Grace down the hall. It’s a slow and arduous process and by the time I make it to Molly’s bedroom, I’m slick with sweat and I have to lean against the doorframe for support while I watch Grace scrape and swipe at the dry cereal mess Molly made this morning into a pile. Looking up at me, she gives me an apologetic smile. “And this is what having a four-year-old looks like.” she tells me with a laugh.
“She’s not completely to blame,” I tell her, dropping my duffle off my shoulder. “Here, let me help—”
“No—” She waves me off with a shake of her head. “Go on, take a shower or whatever you’re going to do. I’ll finish up here and get her moved in here so we can go to bed.”
I think about lying next to her in the dark. Touching her. Fucking her. Feeling her slick hot pussy close around me like a fist when she comes. Hearing her same my name while she does.
This afternoon, it happened so fast that I didn’t have time to think about it. Where it all led. What happened after. What the next step is supposed to look like.
And it scares the shit out of me.
“I’m gonna take the couch, Grace.”
When I say it, her back goes stiff and she stops scraping for a few seconds before resuming her task. “Oh…” Mess scraped into a pile, she straightens herself to look at me. “I thought—”
“I know what you thought,” I bark it at her, my tone harder than I intended and she goes still at the sound of it, like a wild animal sensing a predator. “Shit…” I lift a shaky hand to scrub it across my mouth to smother the curse. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Not with Molly around. I don’t want to confuse her or for her to—”
She goes white second it tumbles out of my mouth but it takes my fucked up brain a few seconds to catch up. To realize what I said. What I just did.
I shamed her. Questioned her judgment as a parent. Told her she was a bad mother.
“You’re right.” She nods, dusting crumbs off her hands on the seat of her jeans. “Yeah…” Still nodding, she leaves the mess where it is to skirt the edge of the bed, heading straight for me. “Of course—I don’t know what I was
Because I don’t know what else to do, I throw an arm up, bracing my hand on the opposite side of the frame to stop her from leaning. “Stop.” I bark it again but this time she doesn’t look scared. She looks angry. Mortified. Taking a deep breath, I let it slowly because I’m angry too. At her for making me feel bad. At myself for the same reason. Because this is all unraveling faster than I can catch it and if I wasn’t so fucked up I could stop it. I’d know how to fix it, but I don’t. Suddenly, I’m standing in a fucking minefield and I don’t know where to step. Which way to move. “I didn’t mean—”
Boom.
“Yes you did.” She doesn’t look at me when she says it. “And you’re right. It isn’t a good idea for Molly—for any of us—to get the wrong idea about what’s happening here.”
“Grace—”
Boom.
“Good night, Ryan.” Her tone is so flat, so final I know there’s nothing left to say. Not tonight, so I drop my arm and let her pass.
“Good night, Grace.”
I stand in the doorway of Molly’s room and watch her walk down the hall. Turning, Grace looks right at me, her gaze careful and guarded as she shuts the door between us with a quiet click.
Boom.
THE END