He’d never looked handsomer than he did at that moment. He was wearing an impeccable tuxedo, its crisp lines contrasting with his muscular, tattooed frame. He carried an old fashioned lamp in one hand, and with the other he held the ladder. His hair was combed, a rare sight for Grant, but it still refused to be tamed. His curls fell down around his face like ivy.
I was about to hand him the envelope when something about his urgency stopped me. What was so important about it?
“Not so fast,” I said.
“Lacey, come on. It’s private.”
I looked at him. “Can I take a peek?” I said, mischievously.
He sighed. Then he shrugged.
“Fine,” he said, “but pass me the flask first.”
I reached back up to the beam and this time found the metal bottle he’d intended me to find the first time. I unscrewed the lid and took a swig of the aged whiskey before passing it to him.
The envelope contained photographs and a letter. I tipped it and the small bundle of old photographs slid into my hand.
“What are these?” I said.
“We’re adults now,” he said. “I suppose you can see for yourself.”
I looked at them and gasped. They were pictures of me. Not naughty, I wasn’t naked or anything, just portraits that had been hanging in the hall of the mansion until we took them down for a remodel years ago. There was one of me at my high school graduation. I remembered the day clearly. Me in my hat and gown holding my diploma. Grant had taken the picture. That was before the other brothers had come to live with us. Another was of me on Mustang, the wild horse Grant had broken and given to me for my nineteenth birthday. My hair was long and wavy, flowing down over my shoulders in billowing curls. It was one of my favorite shots. Another was of me in my prom dress, taken on our wraparound staircase before my date arrived. I remembered thinking it was the most beautiful I’d ever looked in my life up to that point.
“How long have you had these?” I said.
He took a swig of the whiskey before answering. “A long time.”
“What were you doing with them?”
He was embarrassed. He didn’t answer.
“Grant,” I said insistently.
He came toward me and handed me the hip flask. Then he took the envelope and photos from my hand and put them back up on the beam. I hadn’t even read the letter but now I wasn’t sure I wanted to. What would it say?
“I didn’t mean for you to see those,” he said. “I hope they didn’t upset you.”
“Why do you have them?”
“That’s not important,” he said, sitting on a bale of hay.
“Of course it’s important.”
“Why?” he said. “Why is it important?”
“It’s important because I want to know. We’ve lived together since I was seventeen. What are you doing with photos of me?”
“What does it matter?”
“Grant,” I said, exasperated. “It matters.”
He nodded. “I know,” he said.
“Then tell me.”
He looked at me as if apologizing for a crime. “All right. If you’re going to force it out of me. There was a time when I had a crush on you, Lacey.”
I felt my cheeks redden. “That doesn’t explain having my picture.”
“It wasn’t just a little crush. It was an all encompassing, all mighty obsession. It burned inside me like a fire. I tried to get over it, I tried not to think of you in that way, but I couldn’t.”
“So you brought pictures of me out to the barn for what reason?”
I looked at him questioningly.
“Are you really going to make me spell it out?” he said.
My head was spinning. How did I feel about this? I mean, I’d had my fantasies about him, but this was different. Or was it? Was it exactly the same?
“Tell me.”
“I fantasized about you, Lacey. I didn’t want to disrespect your father by doing it under his roof, so I came out here to look at your photos.”
I could hardly believe what I was hearing. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“You were pretty, Lacey. In fact, you were hot, smoking hot.”
“I was never hot.”
“You’ve always been a beauty. You know that.”
“No I don’t,” I said, my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
“You knew it back then. That’s why you gave me such a hard time. It was torture living with you and never being able to make a move. You knew I wanted you.”
I was dumbfounded. “You wanted to make a move on me?”
“Of course I did. Why do you think I teased you about so many things?”
My eyes filled with tears. I didn’t even know why. “What did you do with the photos?” I blurted without thinking.
“What do you think? I jerked off, thinking about you.”
“Is this a joke?” I gasped.
“I forgot the pictures were up there. You shouldn’t have seen them. I’m sorry.”
I looked at him. I didn’t know how to feel. Was I offended? I didn’t think I was. I mean, I felt I should have been offended in some way, but I wasn’t. He’d had a crush on me all this time? That wasn’t a crime. If it was, I was just as guilty as him.