Page 17

Chapter

Seventeen

Grace

Grace hadn’t even stepped out of her car and already regretted her outfit.

The silk blouse felt like overkill. The tailored slacks, too tight? Her boots had a heel, for heaven’s sake. She was going to scare Elodie off or at the very least, make her clam up.

But there was a reason she hadn’t worn jeans and a T-shirt, wasn’t there? Because every time André saw her like this, his eyes communicated exactly what he was thinking. She flushed thinking about him standing nude in the locker room.

She didn’t think he noticed her looking. She’d fought against a magnetic pull so strong, it yanked her insides through her feet, but had definitely slipped a few glances. If she thought André leaning over her counter was seared in her memory . . .

Grace popped down the sun visor and flicked open the mirror, straightening her hair. She’d been tempted to wear it in a ponytail, but thought that would have been far too obvious. The feel of him tugging her head back—his teeth scraping her lip?—

She threw the door open and closed the mirror. Her breath clouded in the frosty morning air as she stepped out of her car into the parking lot, hitting the lock button and pushing the door closed behind her.

And there he was. Leaning against his truck like he’d been sculpted into it, arms crossed over his chest, wearing a black hoodie that should’ve looked plain but on him was anything but.

His jeans were faded and had that worn ripple in the crotch that made her fingertips tingle. His hair was still damp from a shower, curling slightly at the ends. That felt purposeful, considering. He hadn’t shaved, and her stomach absolutely did not flip at the sight of his stubble.

“Morning,” he called, that crooked grin already on full display.

“If you’re checking for wardrobe malfunctions, I counted all my buttons before I left the house.”

He pushed off the truck with a lazy shrug. “Damn shame. I’ve gotten used to being flashed before coffee.”

Grace lifted her chin. “So entitled.”

He chuckled, slow and rich. “You're feisty this morning. Not quite as riled up as?—”

“Okay, thank you.” She fought the blush rising to her cheeks, hoping it looked like it was from the wind chill. “That isn’t going to happen again, by the way.” She said it as much to reassure herself as to set a boundary.

André sauntered forward, one hand in his pocket. He paused beside her and leaned in. “Seventy-thirty.”

“What?”

“My odds of sleeping with you. They’ve increased.”

Grace made a sound in her throat. “Your statistics are skewed.”

André continued on toward the restaurant with a near hop in his step. “Where’s my coat, Grace?”

She spun and jogged to catch up. “Okay, that’s not fair. I keep forgetting?—”

“You’re not a forgetful person.”

“You could’ve grabbed it when you left the other night! It was hanging by the door.”

He reached for the cafe door and flashed a smug smile. “I noticed.”

Grace rolled her eyes and stood in front of the hostess stand. The space was warm, bright with hanging plants, vintage mugs, and playlists that made you feel like you were in an indie movie. The clink of cutlery and soft morning chatter buzzed beneath the hum of the espresso machine. “I think I’m too old for this place.”

André laughed. “I’d believe that if every man didn’t just turn his head when you walked in.” Grace gave him a look, but he only shrugged. “Don’t make me take another poll.” He stepped up beside her. “Elodie’s a few minutes away. I told her we’d get a table.”

We. The word sent a shiver down Grace’s spine. Just as she was berating herself for being flattered by André even for a split second, the hostess appeared. She gathered three menus, then led them from the entryway to a booth next to the window, per Andre’s request.

Grace’s spine curled like a flower opening to the sun as André’s hand landed on her lower back. “When you show up with your outfit all shiny and pressed, all I can think about is messing it up.”

She stumbled a step. André moved past her and slid into the booth, making small talk with the hostess like he hadn’t just sent her heart into a cartwheel. He was dangerous. A straight shot of adrenaline into her veins.

She sat, forcing herself to look at anything but his mouth. Or his jeans. Or his hands— Ugh. Grace buried her face in her menu.

“Forget your glasses?”

“Is that an old lady joke?”

He laughed. André knew precisely what he was doing to her, and if she couldn’t figure out how to stop giving him the exact reaction he wanted, he wasn’t going to stop. Did she want him to stop?

Grace blew out a breath, then ran her fingers over the smooth, laminated menu and inhaled the scent of maple syrup, toasted bread, and espresso.

André whistled, and her head shot up. She followed his gaze to see a woman with dark curls and round spectacles standing just inside the door. Her coat was buttoned to her chin.

“Did you just whistle at your sister like she’s a dog?”

André grinned. “We’ve done it since we were kids.” He stood and waved her over, but just like at the hockey game, Grace picked up on his false bravado. He was all smiles, but his fingers fidgeted, first with the hem of his sweatshirt, then with the pocket of his jeans.

Elodie wove through the tables, her mouth pinched. “André.”

“El,” André crooned in a “fancy-seeing-you-here” kind of way, as if they were running into each other by coincidence. He pulled her into an embrace and kissed both her cheeks.

Elodie gave him a tight smile, then glanced at Grace. “What did you do to get him to show up on time?”

André raised an eyebrow, and Grace looked away. Do not say “accidentally showed him my bra the other day and got his hopes up.” He grinned. “Promised a man bacon.”

Elodie’s mouth twitched in a small smile. “You’re not Kosher anymore?”

Grace’s eyes widened, and André laughed out loud. “She’s kidding. El, this is Grace Fairbanks. I think you’ve already spoken on the phone.”

Elodie nodded as they shook hands. She sat beside André and unbuttoned her coat. “How do you two know each other?”

“Hockey,” Grace replied just as André said, “We’re dating.”

Grace’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head. “We are not dating.”

“I mean, we’re?—”

“Not dating,” she repeated.

Now Elodie was grinning. “I see you haven’t changed much.”

“She’s a hard sell.”

Elodie pulled off her coat, and as she turned her head, Grace noticed the resemblance between them. It was in their jawline, posture, and the cadence of their voices.

“Get whatever you want,” André said to both women. “My treat. And before you argue—” he pointed a finger at Grace then Elodie, “it’s necessary.”

“So you can make good on your prior statement?” Elodie scanned the daily specials.

André grinned. “If I’m paying, it’s a date.”

Grace scoffed. “With your sister.”

“I don’t think she’s opposed to threesomes.”

Elodie smacked André’s chest, and Grace couldn’t help but like her instantly. Elodie hadn’t been short or unkind with her on the phone. She just hadn’t given her what she wanted. She couldn’t hold that against her.

Their server approached, and Elodie promised she’d decide fast if he started with Grace. She ordered something simple—eggs, sausage, sourdough toast, and coffee with almond milk. Elodie went for a chia pot with berries and peppermint tea. André, predictably, ordered the greasiest breakfast on the menu and added a cinnamon bun on impulse.

Grace and Elodie shared a look that said How can men get away with crap like this and look like that? Although, if she was working out on the ice four times a week, maybe she could do bacon, sausage, and corned beef smothered in green chili, too.

That only made her think of the locker room. Which wasn’t helpful.

Grace crossed her legs. “I want to be clear, I’m not here to pressure you or your patient, or question your ethics. I’m only trying to figure out what made Amey change her mind. I’m convinced the adoption followed all required procedures, even though the ten-day window wasn’t officially noted, which is problematic. The social worker’s notes are thorough, and there’s no documented coercion or miscommunication.”

Elodie exhaled. “Listen, I get it. I do. But there’s not much I can do to help. You’ll have to see if Amey will talk.”

Grace nodded. “I’ve tried. Through her lawyer. Through follow-ups. I’ve been stonewalled at every turn. And I’m telling you, it doesn’t add up. If something new triggered her decision, I want to understand it. Not to undermine her—just to be sure this is necessary.” She leaned back against the padded booth. “I don’t know, something feels off. Maybe I’m making it up, but I don’t think I am.”

Something about Elodie sitting across from her made her open up more than she’d planned. Maybe it was the thought that a therapist could see through any attempts to talk around the issues? To pretend she was seeking something she wasn’t?

André’s leg bounced as he leaned over the table. “I’ve known Country for years and Jenna since she moved back to town. They’re incredible people. They’ve given that baby more love in the past couple of months than most people get in a lifetime.” Elodie glanced up. They shared a look before she dropped her eyes back to her plate. “Amey’s a single mom?—”

“That doesn’t mean she’s going to be a bad one,” Elodie interjected.

André nodded. “No, I know. You’re right. I should probably shut the hell up. You two are the professionals here.”

Grace stilled as he leaned back and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. Troy would never have done that. Turned a conversation over to anyone when he had a talking point. He was convinced he was the expert even when he knew nothing about the topic.

André threw an arm up over the top of the booth. Like it was the easiest thing in the world to admit he didn’t know anything. His jaw was tense, though. His hand clenched.

“You didn’t seem to think I was the professional the other day.” Elodie’s words had a bite to them.

André wet his lips, pausing before he responded. “I don’t think that conversation was about Country and Jenna. And I’m sorry I waited this long to have it.”

Elodie’s posture tightened. She nodded once, then leaned back as their server brought water for the table and their drinks.

Prepare for awkward family conversation, and don’t listen to a thing Elodie says about me. Grace couldn’t help it. She was more than intrigued.

She didn’t know anything about André besides the fact that he played Elite League hockey, was a smoker, and welded for a living.

That wasn’t true. She knew he cared about his friends. That he apologized when he was wrong. That he lit up a room when he walked into it. That he kissed hard. And that he had excellent taste in tacos . . .

Something swooped low in her belly, leaving her fingers tingling. She reached for her coffee and the thimbles of cream.

Elodie cleared her throat. “You know I never would’ve?—”

“I know.” André dropped his arm. “I was angry. At Luc, at Dad. Since I couldn’t take anything out on them, I took it out on you.”

Grace took a sip of her coffee, and Elodie looked up. “Sorry, this is rude. I suggested André and I get together on our own, but he insisted?—”

“This is the first time you’re getting together?” Grace turned to André, her eyes flying wide.

“I told you we hadn’t talked in a long time.”

Grace set her cup on the saucer. “Right, but I thought you meant that was true before you talked. Since you absolutely would’ve done that before all three of us got together. If I would’ve known?—”

“I wanted you to come.”

Grace motioned to Elodie. “Well, I don’t think she did.”

Elodie waved her off. “No, it’s fine. I just think I need to explain so we’re not talking over your head. I’m assuming you know about Luc?”

Grace had another moment like the one with Jenna. Was she supposed to know about Luc?

“She doesn’t know.” André took a drink of water, his brow furrowed.

Elodie raised an eyebrow. “I assumed since she was working on the charity game you’d told her the whole thing—” Elodie stopped herself and turned. “Sorry, I’m talking about you like you aren’t sitting across from me.” She blew out a breath. “So. Luc and André were both playing Juniors—” Grace pretended to know what that was— “and Luc took a hit. His helmet flew off, his skull hit the ice.” Grace winced. “He suffered a traumatic brain injury, and he’s never been the same. That’s why André runs these games.”

Grace gave him a questioning look. She’d been under the impression that this was a one-night-only kind of thing.

André read her thoughts. “This is the first time we’ve done something at this scale. In the past it was basically shinny with a couple of beer leagues.”

Elodie looked skeptical. “You’ve raised over a quarter of a million dollars in the past three years.”

André shrugged. “It’s not enough.” He didn’t say it like he was looking for validation. He was simply stating a fact.

Grace pursed her lips. “Where does Luc live now?”

“Out East.” Her eyes flicked to André’s. “He’s in an assisted living facility.”

Grace’s breath left in a whoosh. It was bad, then. He couldn’t live on his own. Her heart panged at the thought of watching a family member—a sibling—suffer like that.

André shifted on the bench. “He’s happy as all get out. A little volatile at times. I just wish we could bring him closer.”

“You know Dad would never let that happen.”

“Oh.” Grace lit up. “Your parents are still there?”

André’s expression darkened. “Unfortunately.”

Elodie was about to say something when their server arrived carrying three plates. He passed out their food then left the table. Grace stared at her eggs. She didn’t have a clue what she was supposed to say.

“I’m so sorry,” was the best she could come up with.

Elodie gave a small smile. “I was going to say, André’s dead-set on supporting research.”

André lowered his voice. “Don’t say that like it’s a pipe dream.” Grace had the urge to reach out and hold his hand. She might’ve done it if he hadn’t reached for his fork.

Elodie shook her head. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. There’s a chance with some of these new innovations that his brain could heal. I attended a CE event last fall that reviewed promising stem cell research.”

André took a bite of his hash, chewed and swallowed. “My parents think we should accept that Luc’s not getting better.”

Elodie set her spoon down. “Well, after what happened?—”

“I know. I get it.” The furrow in André ’s brow deepened. “We tried Neurofeedback. It made his migraines so bad, he couldn’t function for months.”

Grace nodded. “When was this?”

“Two years ago.”

Ah. The pieces snapped into place. Two years since he and Elodie had spoken. Two years since the therapy went wrong.

“The whole family hated me.” André took another bite.

“Hey, that’s not fair, at least not where I’m concerned.” Elodie scooped up chia pudding and dropped a few berries on top. “I was never mad at you for pushing for Neurofeedback.”

“Then why were you mad?” André looked up from his plate.

“Is that a real question?” André waited for her response. Elodie tried to mask her surprise. “Ah, well, I was pissed that you wouldn’t get any help. You were drowning, and you treated all of my suggestions like I was hocking crystals and voodoo.”

“I mean?—”

“Don’t.” She held up a hand, and André ’s mouth quirked. “You carried everything and then acted surprised when it crushed you.”

André scooped more eggs onto his fork. “Or maybe I wanted it to.”

The table fell silent a moment, the only sound the scrape of their cutlery against ceramic. Finally, André cleared his throat. “Hey, El?” Elodie looked up. “I’m sorry. For snapping. For everything with Luc. I didn’t know how to handle it, and I definitely didn’t handle it well.”

Grace froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.

Elodie blinked, visibly surprised. Then she exhaled slowly and gave him a small, tight nod. “Thank you. And I’m sorry I tried to get you to howl at the moon.”

André almost spit out his food.

Grace tried not to stare. André had just offered a real apology. Calm. Sincere. No smirk. No dodge. This entire conversation was messing with her head more than she wanted to admit. It took her a moment to remember why she’d come to brunch in the first place because it was weirdly starting to feel like she was . . . on a date with André .

She set down her fork with a clatter and straightened. “Thank you for sharing all of that. I just noticed the time, and I only have a few minutes left before I need to run. So. I want to be honest about this whole petition thing. I know there are limitations. I respect the boundaries of your client relationship. I’m not asking for you to break confidentiality, but if there’s a way to request a release—a way to help Amey understand that you and I talking isn’t a plot to keep her from her daughter?”

Elodie blew out a slow breath. “I’ll talk with her. No promises. But I’ll ask.”

Grace nodded, relief rushing through her. Talking and asking were the best-case scenario for this morning. André’s eyes met hers, and Grace looked back to her plate. She couldn’t handle holding eye contact right now because André smiled like they had a secret.

She finished her breakfast, then stood to excuse herself. Elodie stood and they hovered in the dance between handshake and hug before Elodie made the decision and pulled her in, kissing the air in front of both her cheeks.

Grace stepped back to find André beside the booth, his thumb looped in his pocket. Damn it. Was she going to have to?—

André reeled her in, crushing her to his chest. He leaned down and kissed both her cheeks, slower than he had with Elodie. Not just catching air.

“Um, okay.” Grace stumbled back. “Thanks for breakfast. This was a wonderful . . . networking event.”

“Date.” André raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Well—” Grace closed her mouth, glancing between the two of them. “I’ll see you both soon.” She turned on her heel and walked toward the entrance.

Outside, she dragged in a lungful of cold air, revelling at the relief against her flushed skin. She walked to her car and pulled out her phone when it dinged in her purse. It was Jenna. And Country. A group chat?

She swiped up as she hit the button on the door handle and pulled it open.

Hey friends! We know this is last minute, but we’d love for you all to join us for an important meeting tonight at Curtis’s place. Bonfire, free beer and mocktails (you’re welcome). Don’t kill yourselves to be there, but it would mean a lot to us. XO J and C

Grace frowned, rereading the first line when a text from Jenna came in privately with the address of Curtis’s house.

“Hey, Grace?” She whirled. André jogged toward her from the restaurant. He held up his phone. “Did you see this?”

Grace nodded. “Do you know what it is?”

He shook his head. “First I’ve heard of it.” He slowed at the curb in front of her. “I didn’t know if you had Curtis’s address?—”

“Oh, Jenna sent it.”

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Right. Okay. I was going to offer to pick you up. If you want.”

Heat flashed down the inside of Jenna’s thighs. She wasn’t one for premonitions, and maybe it was all the talk of woo-woo therapies, but an image of her and André in the backseat of his truck hit her like a freight train.

Was she going to keep doing this? After what happened in the locker room, she obviously couldn’t be trusted when her emotions were high, and that was nearly a hundred percent of the time at the moment.

She couldn’t make the excuse that André was exactly like Troy, not after what she’d seen over the past few days. But that almost made her want to sprint faster. Whatever André was doing, whoever he was . . . all of it was foreign. It made no sense. It felt inconsistent and volatile. Everything she didn’t need in her life right now.

Her throat tightened. “I have a meeting tonight,” she lied. “I’ll have to drive over after.”

“Oh. Got it.” He nodded, scuffing his shoe against the concrete. The motion was so boyish, her ribcage nearly caved. “Well, I’ll see you there.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Good luck with your meeting.”

“Yep.” Grace dropped into the driver’s seat, pretending to be busy with something so she didn’t have to look up and see the expression on his face through the windshield.