Grace (The Family Simon #5)- Juliana Stone Page 0,58

way to the back of the house, only to find the room empty as well. She took a moment to say hello to Rosie and her pups and then a quick check of upstairs showed her the same—empty. No one home.

Maybe he’d gone to Dory’s? Taken the sled?

She checked her phone to see if he’d left a message, but the stupid thing was dead so Grace headed downstairs. Undecided, she took a trip to the back of the house again and peered outside, her stomach lurching when she spied lights on inside the barn.

“There you are,” she murmured. Rosie barked and Grace stepped back from the window. She glanced at the dog. “Okay. I’m going.”

She followed Matt’s footprints through the snow and paused at the door. Her stomach churned, her face was hot, and she felt more than a little sick. She couldn’t let her nerves get the best of her. Too much was at stake.

She opened the door, walked inside, and immediately found Matt. He was in the far corner, past the cars, where his workout equipment was. And was he ever working out.

Wearing only a pair of shorts and looking like a professional boxer, he punched a bag over and over. Methodically. Hard. Each slam of his fist against the bag was a loud, dull, thud, and Grace winced as he continued to hit it.

She made her way toward him and stopped a few feet away. Sweat gleamed across his shoulders and back as he grunted with each punch, and as seconds turned into minutes, the punches became harder. More violent. And the guttural noises he made with each swing scared her.

“Matt,” she said softly, taking a step toward him.

But he didn’t respond. He kept hitting the bag and that’s when she spied flecks of blood on the floor.

“Jesus, Matt. What the hell are you doing to yourself?” Grace took another step and spied his earbuds. Shoot. He couldn’t hear her. He pounded the bag again—so hard that she winced—and the sounds he made were awful.

Tears sprang to her eyes. Grace couldn’t stand the sound of his pain. She took the last few steps just as he let go another flurry of hits, but waited to tap his shoulder until he was done.

“Matt,” she whispered.

He whipped around so fast she had no time to react and his right fist clipped Grace’s shoulder, sending her to the ground. Her head slammed against the concrete floor and for a moment she saw nothing but stars—heard nothing but white noise.

And then the pain. Holy. The pain. Blinking rapidly, she tried to get up, but it was impossible on account of Matt who, swearing a blue streak, fell to his knees beside her.

“Goddammit, Grace. What the hell? Are you okay?” His hands were everywhere, touching her face, her shoulder, and then gently feeling the back of her head. “Shit,” he muttered. “I don’t know what happened…I didn’t mean…” His hands dropped to her arm and he looked so lost…so very lost that Grace’s heart turned over.

She struggled to sit and winced because the pain along her skull was sharp. “Matt.” She blew out a long, shaky, breath. “It’s okay. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that.”

He sat back on his haunches, his chest heaving, and she glanced down at the hand that still held her prisoner. His knuckles were raw and swollen, with fresh blood oozing from the punishment they’d been given. She reached for him, running her fingers across his damaged hand.

“What have you done?” she whispered, glancing up into his eyes. The pain she saw was incredible. It was big and raw and so intense that she dropped his hand and cupped his face. “Matt. What…why are you like this? What happened?”

His gaze swept away and the muscles on his shoulders stretched, the sinewy skin rippling—she knew he was strung as tight as an elastic.

“You were gone,” he said simply. His voice was rough, and she knew it was hard for him to speak. “I came back and you were gone.”

Grace felt bad. She did. But he had to know the reasons. He had to know why she’d left.

She got to her knees and pulled him closer. So close that she could count the thick lashes that framed his beautiful eyes.

“Look at me, Matt.”

He took a second or two, but he looked her in the eye and made no effort to hide his pain.

“I was hurt. You shut me out this morning. You shut me