at the house, it seemed like the smart thing to do was leave with you.”
“Uh-uh, that’s bull. I know you, and you would have fought him tooth and nail. Especially since he’s a stranger.” Laney’s eyes searched out Quentin’s. Quentin’s locked on Laney’s. “Oh, come on. You two never met before tonight, right?”
“Grace, listen …” Laney said, as she reached for Grace’s hand.
Grace pulled away from the table, pulling her hands away and holding them in the air. “Right, Mom?” Her mother didn’t say a word. “I can’t believe this. You’ve known?” Grace shook her head slightly as the realization sunk in. “Why would you not tell me? Is there anyone, anyone at all, who hasn’t lied to me my whole life?”
“Please, Grace, you don’t understand,” Laney pleaded.
“I understand you’re a liar!” Grace shifted her eyes accusingly to Laney’s. “I understand Christophe was a liar. I understand my father was a liar, and now I understand Quentin’s a liar. I completely understand that I have been and still remain surrounded by liars!”
She tried sipping her coffee despite the emotion rattling her teeth against the cup’s edge. Things just kept getting better. The more she knew, the more she wanted off the crazy train that had suddenly become her life.
“Grace,” Quentin said softly. She couldn’t look at him. Instead, she kept her eyes and hands on her cup. He sighed loudly, but continued. “We couldn’t tell you. In fact, we weren’t even supposed to tell Laney, but your grandfather insisted.”
Grace’s eyes stayed fixed on her coffee. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”
“It’s the rules.”
“So you guys broke the rules to tell her, but not me? Obviously, the rules can be broken.” With the tips of her fingers, Grace twirled her cup on the table.
“I didn’t—” Quentin began, but Grace slamming her hand on the table stopped him from finishing his sentence.
“Grace,” her mother snapped. “This may be your house, but I am still your mother and you will stop being rude. We’re only trying to help you, trying to keep you safe.”
Grace stood from her seat, both hands flat on the table. “Mom, you’re right, this is my house…” ‘So get the hell out’ teetered on the edge of her tongue, threatening to fall from her lips, but she managed to bite it back. “But I shouldn’t be rude.” She looked Quentin in the eye. “Quentin, I’m sorry. I’m really tired and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Avoidance had been working for her so far, and she decided that it would be the best choice for her tonight. “I’m going to bed.” She poured out what was left of her coffee in the sink, and put the cup in the dishwasher. A thick silence hung in the air as she left the kitchen.
Grace slid her finger along the wooden banister as she slowly took each step one at a time. She paused in front of her grandfather’s door, wrapping her hand slowly around the knob, willing herself to turn the handle. Not finding the inner strength, she relented, and rested her head against the coolness of the wood. She closed her eyes and lifted her hand to press her palm against the door, wishing the memories of her grandfather could calm her. “I miss you,” she whispered, and tapped her fingers four times gently against the door before she pushed away and continued down the hall to her room.
Seconds later, she collapsed on her bed, blinking hard against the burning that threatened behind her eyes. It was a hard thing to swallow learning that every adult she’d trusted, from the time she was a little girl, had lied to her in one way or another. She’d thought the day of her grandfather’s funeral was the loneliest she’d ever felt in her life. Boy, was she wrong. Curling into a fetal position on top of the bedcovers, she let go of both her brave front and her tears.
Quentin didn’t need to see her tears to know they were there. He felt each one of them fall. Every teardrop felt like a magnetic pull on his body. The pull so strong, he fought to stay put in the kitchen chair. She needed time and he needed to make sure their relationship stayed strictly Guardian and Chosen. Comforting her in the way he wanted would confuse his heart and mind even further. He rose from the table, walked behind his chair, and gripped its back so hard his knuckles whitened.