Page 60 of Hard Rock Desires

“He’s your best friend,” Grace said.

“And my best friend can be a jackass sometimes.”

“He also said something about how you didn’t need any distractions.”

“Fuck, I get a little bit moody and he starts thinking he has to butt into my personal life.” I put my hands on Grace’s shoulders and turned her around to face me. I tipped her chin up until she was looking at me.

“Just ignore him,” I told her. “He doesn’t know what he's talking about.”

“Are you sure about that?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said firmly. “He was just playing the overprotective older brother. He’s never been able to do that before since I’ve never kept a girl around long enough to—”

Grace raised a single eyebrow. I didn’t finish the sentence.

“Anyway,” I cleared my throat. “It was probably like a game to him. That’s all.”

Grace didn’t look convinced, but she nodded.

I thought the conversation was over, but when I went to pick up my cup of coffee, she put her hand on mine to stop me.

“Wait,” Grace said. “There was one other thing.”

She sounded reluctant to continue. I waited patiently.

“I think he was already drunk,” she said in one breath.

“Well yeah, we were at a party with free-flowing alcohol,” I said. “Finn would never say no to that, even if it was just Champagne.”

“He climbed one of the big sculptures and almost fell six feet to the floor.”

“Yeah, sounds like something he’d do,” I shrugged.

“We hadn’t even been there an hour and he was already drunk enough to be staggering,” she insisted. “He barely made it down from that sculpture safely.”

“I guess he did seem a bit unsteady on his feet,” I replied. “But I’m sure he was just a little tipsy.”

Grace did sigh this time and moved away until she was almost in the living room, taking her coffee cup with her.

“This is what I’m worried about,” she said. “Your friend got drunk and did something dangerous. And you’re handwaving it away.”

“I just don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” I said. “We all had something to drink last night.”

“I didn’t.” She stared down into her coffee. “I’m tired. And it’s early. I think I might go back to bed.” She put her mug down on the counter before she’d had a single sip.

“Grace—”

She picked up my discarded tie from the floor and handed it to me.

“I think it's best if you go,” she said.

I took the tie from her. I tried not to let on how shaken I was.

“You’ll give me a call tomorrow?” I hated that it sounded more like a question and less of a statement.

“Sure.” She took her mug and emptied the coffee down the drain. “I’ll call.”

But she still wouldn’t look me in the eyes.