“Yeah, you always do.”
“You know what’s worse, though? When they have the nerve to say it straight to my face. Just earlier today, a woman said to me, ‘You know, honey, maybe God would bless you with a child if you went back to your husband and stopped sleeping with bad seeds.’ Can you believe that? Right to my face, even after I made it clear that Finn got Autumn pregnant! But all she heard was that I was sleeping with you, and she ran with that.”
“I hate people,” I blurted out, feeling anger building inside me for her.
How could someone say that to her?
How could people be so cruel?
Then I thought of all the nasty things I’d said to her when she first came into town. I was no better than the rest of them.
“It’s fine, really. I’ll get over it. I mean, it could be worse—I could be them, after all.” She smiled, and it was beautiful. “They call you the fixer, you know.”
“The what?”
“The fixer, and it’s not just because you fix cars.”
I cocked an eyebrow. That particular nickname hadn’t made its way back to me. “Please, tell me more.”
“The rumor is that after women sleep with you, they fix the issues in their lives, be it relationships, or job issues, or self-esteem. It’s like your sexual prowess has the ability to fix any and every problem known to mankind.”
“Not all superheroes wear capes.” I smirked. “I’m just out here trying to make Chester the best town it can be, one vagina at a time.”
“Well, I’ll tell you this, if we keep up the wango tango, my life should be fixed in a few weeks at the latest.” She grinned, biting her bottom lip.
God, she was breathtaking, and she didn’t even know it.
“I’ll wango your tango for the next week straight to help you out.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she warned.
“Trust me, princess,” I whispered, leaning in close, “I always keep my promises.”
I loved the way her body reacted when I moved in closer. Then I remembered where we were, and I knew that touching her, even if ever so lightly, was a no-go.
She bit her bottom lip and looked up toward a few people staring our way. It was as if we were everyone’s favorite reality show. “I bet you they’re having a field day with us just talking right now.”
“I can go,” I said quickly, not wanting to add to her torture.
“No, no. I mean, we’re already sleeping together, right? Plus, I’m tired of always changing my life to try to fit into others’ expectations.”
“Another Grace discovery?” I asked.
“Turns out it’s kind of fun learning who you are. If they want to gossip, they can, but I’m not going to stop talking to you or be ashamed when I know we’re just two grown-ups doing grown-up things. Might as well give the people more of a story to make up.”
“Careful,” I warned, “once you start hanging out with the black sheep of the town, your wool starts shifting to a darker shade.”
“My wool has already been changing. I’ll take my chances talking to you. Is this what it’s been like for you, though? Do you always get their harsh looks?”
“Yeah, but you get used to it. It only truly bothers me a few times.”
“When’s that?”
“When they talk about my father, or even worse, my mother.”
She gave me those gentle eyes, and I had to fight to keep from losing myself in them.
“I think I owe you an apology,” she said, looking right at me. “Before we even met, I had these ideas of the person you were. I was afraid of you because of the rumors people around town spread. I heard these horror stories about you and your father, and I just feel awful that I believed them.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I told her. “No apologies needed. I’m sure some of the stuff you’ve heard is true. Plus, I’m sure you remember our first few meetings—I can be an asshole.”
“Yes, but a nice asshole,” she remarked.
“That’s not a thing.”
“It’s definitely a thing.”
“I judged you, too. I had this awful idea of who you were before I knew you.”
“Why did you hate me so much?” she asked.
That was easy enough to answer. “Because I was taught to do exactly that.”
“Well, do you still hate me?”
“No,” I said. “Are you still afraid of me?”
“No,” she replied.
“Well, that’s unfortunate. I was really hoping to keep up my monster persona around these parts.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, gesturing to the left where a group of girls were whispering. “I’m sure there are plenty who still think you’re the spawn of Satan.”
“Good. I can’t lose my street cred,” I remarked, and she laughed.
I liked it most when she laughed.
“Well, if you want to maintain your street cred, you should stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Smiling.”
I turned my lips down into a dramatic frown. Before I could say anything else, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a grown man recording my interaction with Grace on his cell phone, and I listened to him call her a “church girl whore”.
She heard it, too, and must’ve seen me tense up. “Let it go, Jackson,” she whispered.
Apparently she’d forgotten our roles in this town.
She was the town’s good girl.
Me?
I was the monster.
Without second thought, I walked over to him, snatched the phone out of his hands, and snapped it in half. Then I dropped the pieces into his cart and stared him dead in the eyes. “Do something,” I threatened, crossing my arms. “I dare you.”
His eyes widened with fear, and he swiftly pushed his cart away.
I walked back over to Grace, and she stood there stunned. “I didn’t know phones could snap in half.”
“Yeah, me either,” I replied honestly.
“I know I should scold you for what you just did, but truthfully, that made me feel really good inside.”
It made me feel good inside, too.
“It’s a strange thing, though,” she told me.
“What is?”
“When my Prince Charming is the rest of the world’s Beast.”
23
Grace
Each day that passed felt like a dream intermixed with nightmares. I saw both Autumn and Finn almost every time I left the house, and when I didn’t see them, they still crossed my mind. My thoughts were trying their best to destroy me, but novels and Jackson both served as great distractions.
Even when the world was dark, words in books existed. Therefore, I knew there would always be light around me even on the darkest of days. I often wondered if that was why Jackson read, too—for a few moments of light.
When I arrived at The Silent Bookshop, Jackson was sitting in his corner, and when he looked up, he smiled right away, revealing that left dimple. I hoped that was a new regular thing—him smiling my way.
I smiled back and walked to my corner. When I got there, I saw a book sitting on my table with a Post-it note on it. The novel was The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas, and the note read:
I think you might like this, Princess.
-Oscar
My fingers ran over the cover, and I sat down and read for what felt like hours. The way the words pulled me in and didn’t want to let me go made my heart beat faster and faster. You knew a book was amazing when you missed the transition from the sun shining to the sky fading to black. I sat back there until the store was about to close, and then I walked to the front counter where Josie’s mom, Betty, was working.
She looked just like her daughter with those same loving eyes, and she signed my way as she said, “You’ve been here for quite a while—I’m guessing it’s a good read.”
“Better than good,” I told her, holding the book to my heart as my eyes watered over. “It’s one of those stories that just makes you want to yell and scream all at once.” It was the kind of book that made your chest ache, and even though you want to put it down to take a breath, you’d rather flip the page to know more than worry about such a small thing like breathing.
Jackson was right; I did love the story.
“I saw Jackson leave it back there on the table for you,” she mentioned as she rang me up. “Are you two friends?”