wait and see what her next move is before I make mine. Fuck. I hate not being able to do anything to fix what happened between us until she’s ready.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Grace
The conversation with Dad leaves me fuming. He never trusted me. I hate that most of his arguments were valid. For a man who can build a computer within hours, hack into government servers, and run an entire operation to stop a trafficking cell, his fears can get the best of him.
My family looks typical from the outside. On the inside, we’re all a little damaged. I was five when Mom almost died. She was pregnant with Nathan. It happened too fast. One moment we were all happily preparing for the arrival of my little brother, and the next an ambulance came to take her to the hospital.
While they were wheeling her in the ambulance, my grandparents were taking us into their house where we stayed for a long time. It was less than a month, but still, it felt like years. Seth and I never left each other’s sights.
We love our grandfathers, but no matter what they said or did to keep us entertained, we were afraid to lose Mom. I still remember Grandpa Chris and Grandpa Gabe assuring us that they were fine. I also remember listening to the adult conversations where they said they had no idea if Mom would make it this time. I learned then that she was sick when I was born too.
My grandparents, uncles, aunts, and Beacon’s family tried their best to care for us. We never complained. But everything was so strange. We went from having a house, a mom, and a dad to going from one home to another without understanding what was happening. We only knew that my parents were gone. I behaved because what if they got tired of taking care of Seth and me?
I cried every night because I thought I had lost my parents just like Beacon did—or worse, what if they were dead?
Mom came back with a tiny baby who I adored. I had my parents back, but it was hard to go to sleep. I would stay up all night watching them, making sure they wouldn’t leave. They sent me to therapy to help with the trauma. I didn’t lose them, but it felt like a loss.
When Dad said, “I can’t just do nothing, Grace. I can’t lose you. Do you know how many times I’ve been close to losing my family? Several. I lost one kid. Almost lost you and Nathan. I can’t take any chances.”
My parents lost their first child, James, before he was born. He’d be thirty-five this year.
I was nine when I ended up in the ICU at the local children’s hospital due to diabetic ketoacidosis. You’d think that because Mom has type 1 diabetes too, they would’ve caught it in time. It wasn’t their fault. I have a tendency to keep any pain or struggles to myself. I never told them I wasn’t feeling well. It’s part of not upsetting my parents, who already had dealt with a lot.
Needless to say, they figured out something was wrong with me when they found me lying on the floor, pale and unresponsive. It’ll be unreasonable and maybe even selfish of me to invalidate his fears. It’s true, it’d kill him, losing one of us. That doesn’t make him right, either. He should’ve handled this situation differently.
“You’ll understand when you have your own children,” he said.
“Maybe you’ll never find out,” I answered and hung up the phone.
I stare at the food that Lang brought. I have to eat, but I’m not hungry. While I’m debating, my phone rings. It’s Mom.
Instead of greeting her, I say, “You knew?” with an accusatory voice.
She sighs.
“Of course, you did.” I groan. “I can’t believe you sided with him. Neither one of you trust me enough to let me be on my own.”
“It’s not like that, Grace,” she argues.
But it is like that.
“I feel like all the concessions were just a farce. Seth doesn’t have a bodyguard. Nathan doesn’t have one either. But I do because I’m the girl. A fragile one for that matter.”
“No, you’re our little miracle, Grace,” she says. “After James, we didn’t know if I’d be able to have children. You gave us hope. Your dad has tried his best to include you in everything. We hated the idea of letting you go to college so young.”
“Instead, he sent me with bodyguards. Dad used