You Shouldn't Have Come Here

“I can’t just leave, Calvin, and you know that. My car doesn’t work.” She tilted her head in a challenging way.

“I know. I know.” I held my hands up. “I’ll get someone to come down here and work on it—someone from the auto shop so you don’t have to deal with my asshole brother.”

She wiped the back of her hand across her brow.

“Fine,” she said. “I’m going to shower. If there were eggs and bacon made when I got out, I suppose I’d eat them.” Her face was still stern but her tone had a small amount of lightness to it.

I nodded as she closed the bedroom door behind her. I hurried to the kitchen to fix her breakfast. She should have left then, but I was happy she was considering staying, or at least a part of me was—the selfish, greedy side of me.

An hour later Grace emerged from the bathroom dressed in jean shorts and a crop top that showed off more than a sliver of her midriff. Her hair was tousled to the side, still partially damp. Her cheeks were rosy, her lashes dark and long, and her lips glossy. She was still making an effort to look nice for me. That was a good sign. Always a sight to be seen Grace was. I quickly put a cheesy omelet and a few slices of bacon on a plate and set it on the table beside a fresh cup of coffee. Grace took a seat and began picking at her plate while I served myself. I sat across from her and drank a big gulp of coffee.

“How was your shower?” I asked, not knowing what to say. It was a weird question, and I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth.

She chewed on a piece of bacon. “Fine.”

“How’s the food?” I asked, still not knowing what to say. It was better than the shower question.

“Fine,” she said.

I nodded and shoveled a forkful of cheesy eggs into my mouth, chewing carefully on the words she had said and not said. She hadn’t mentioned leaving, and I was scared to ask, scared to find out if she was. Grace took a sip of her coffee and then another. She placed the mug down and twirled her fork around her plate.

“I can cancel that barbecue today if you’d like,” I offered.

She shook her head. “No, you don’t have to do that.” Grace swallowed hard and her face softened as her eyes met mine. “Happy birthday, Calvin.”

It was almost like she didn’t want to say it, but thank God it was my birthday. You can’t be mean to someone on their birthday, and you can’t leave them either.

“Thank you.” I smiled.

She picked up a piece of bacon and bit into it. For a few minutes, we ate in silence. I knew she was upset with me because I hadn’t told her more, but it wasn’t the right time. Plus, I didn’t know what to say or even how to say it. Some stories were just hard to tell for one reason or another. When I was finished with my plate, I brought it to the sink. My eyes went back to Grace. She picked at her food and sipped her coffee. I scrubbed up my dishes, put them in the drying rack, and then proceeded to clean up the kitchen. I made a mess in my rush to have breakfast ready for Grace. There was dried egg on the burners and bacon grease on the counter and stovetop. When I turned around, I nearly knocked Grace over. She was standing right behind me, holding her plate and fork. I didn’t hear her get up from the table or walk over to me. She was quiet like the early mornings in Wyoming before the sun rose and the birds woke up.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Grace said, looking up at me.

“I can take care of these.” I collected the dishes from her.

We stood there for a moment only six inches apart, frozen like we were in a standoff. She dropped her chin and glanced back up at me.

“Calvin.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll stay for now.”

My mouth spread into a large grin.

“Really?”

Grace nodded. “Yeah. But promise me one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No more secrets.”

I swallowed hard and then nodded a little too vigorously. I didn’t know if it came off as sincere or forced, and I also didn’t know how I intended it. Well, actually, I did.

“Good,” she said, placing her hand on my chest as if she were trying to feel the beat of my heart. I’m not sure she felt it because I wasn’t sure it was even there.

“Want to come to the store with me?” I asked.

Grace glanced around the empty house and then back at me, twisting up her lips as if she were pondering her answer. “Sure,” she said. It wasn’t enthusiastic, but I’d take it anyway. I didn’t need her enthusiasm. I just needed her here . . . with me.





25.

Grace


We rounded the corner of an aisle in Dubois Super Foods. The shopping cart was overfilling with food and drinks for the barbecue, and Calvin was being extra attentive, almost too attentive. I knew he was worried that I’d leave early—that Joe, the pit of carcasses, the slaughtered chickens, Gretchen bucking me off, the isolation of the ranch, and the sheriff showing up asking about a missing woman would scare me off. Fortunately for him, I didn’t scare easily. I really didn’t want to leave, at least not yet. I wasn’t ready to go back to my life. Despite the issues here, there was a lot I was fond of in Dubois, including Calvin. I enjoyed the way he looked at me like I was the only person that existed in the world. It was also odd though because I had only been a part of his world for six days.

“You like Oreos?” Calvin asked, holding up a package of the double-stuffed kind.

“Does a horse eat hay?”

“Perfect.” He smiled and tossed them in the cart.

“Do you think Joe will show up today?”

Calvin shrugged. “Not sure. I haven’t heard from him, but I have his truck—so he’ll turn up.”

He must have noticed the worried look on my face because he walked to me and pushed a piece of my hair behind my ear, gazing into my eyes.

“Don’t worry about Joe. He probably doesn’t even remember what he did last night, which is no excuse for his behavior. But I’ll keep a close eye on him if he does show up,” he said it all in one breath as if it wasn’t the first time he had to say it.

“Okay,” I said.

Calvin nodded and glanced around the store, then back at the cart. “I think we got everything. Is there anything else you wanted?”

I shook my head and proceeded to push the cart toward the front. Calvin picked up a bouquet of roses and set them in the cart.

“Who are those for?”

“Oh, just some Airbnb guest of mine.”

“I should be the one buying you a present. It’s your birthday.”

“You’re my present, Grace.” Calvin smiled wide.

I knew he intended it to be sweet, but I found it kind of sad. I smiled back anyway.

There was only one checkout lane open, and Charlotte was working it. Her hair was pulled back, her skin was dull, and her eyes were bloodshot. She was clearly nursing a hangover as a half-drunk Gatorade and a bottle of ibuprofen sat beside her register. I felt fine as I never really got hangovers. I was one of the lucky ones. Genetics, as they say. I placed items from the cart onto the belt while keeping an eye on Charlotte.

“Hey, Calv, happy birthday!” Char said. Her voice went up an octave.

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