Page 63 of Grace's Redemption

I grinned and walked into the kitchen. I opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine and reached up the cabinet and grabbed a glass.

“I wish I could join you.”

“Don’t worry.” I popped to cork. “I’ll drink enough for the both of us.” I stretched and took the bottle and glass into the living room. The news was on and muted.

“It’s late.” I pointed toward the stairs. “Go back to bed.”

Dana flopped down next to me. The worry on her face made the first sip taste sour.

“Dana, it’s going to be okay.” I said. “They’ll head out of town tonight and that’s it.”

“What about Cason?”

“The Guardians put someone on the house, he’s safe.”

She nodded.

Her eyes darted between me and the television.

She wanted to say something.

“What?”

“What was it like? Seeing him again.” She picked at the couch cushion.

“It was fine.” I lied.

“Ow.” She nodded.

“What?” I down the rest of the glass and poured another. “What do you want to hear Dana? He looked good. He always had that sexy broodingI’m bigger, stronger, better than you attitude, but I’m not a dick about it if I like youthing going on.”

“Is he big?” Dana’s eyes wiggled.

“Bigger than most.” I giggled and hiccupped. “We were only together one time.”

“But, it was the best you ever had and you were a virgin.”

“He was sweet and then kind of dirty.” The warmth spread from between my thighs into the rest of my body. “He made sure I enjoyed it.”

“You still love him.”

I lifted the glass to my lips, but put it down, thinking about how to answer.

I loved him in a way you love someone who you’ve known all your life.

I hated him for not being what I need when I needed it. Selfish I know, but didn’t mean it was the best for him, too.

“I love/hate him.” I turned to Dana. “He’s like the standard on both ends of the spectrum. I don’t think I’ll ever love someone the way I love him and I hope I don’t every hate anyone the way I hate him ever again. It’s exhausting. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.” Dana scooted over on the couch and put her head on my shoulders.

“I don’t want to hate him anymore.” I said.

“I don’t think you do.”

“Papa Scott, now him, I hate.” I nodded.

“He looked after you for seven years. “ She whispered.