drifted shut and I released a long, exhausted breath.
“The marks are already fading,” Ethan whispered as he traced what I imagined were fingerprints on my face. All hints of anger had vanished from his voice.
“Are you sure?”
“It won’t bruise,” Ethan promised, wiping the last of my tears off my cheek.
When he pulled his hand away, my body trembled. I wanted nothing more than for him to touch me again. What was going on with me lately? Why did I feel as if I were going completely crazy every time someone touched me?
“Don’t worry,” Ethan said, misunderstanding the look on my face. “No one will ever know what happened.”
Except that was a lie. “You will.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
I couldn’t stand the pity in his voice. “But you’ll still know.”
“Grace.”
“Why did you have to come here?” I cried. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because you need me. You know you do. Please just accept my help.”
I’d never been so confused. Ethan always helped me. Always. He had ever since I’d known him. But we’d never in all these years become friends. Sometimes he looked at me with so much bitterness that I was sure he hated me. So why was he so desperate to have my approval right now? And why when he’d touched me a minute ago was it so painfully tender?
I gave up. “Fine, Ethan,” I said. “You win. Do whatever you want. Move in if it makes you feel better. I’ll be in the living room. I’ve got a ton of homework to do.”
Ethan looked almost disgusted at my concession, but his voice sounded full of relief as he asked, “Do you need any help with it?”
Seriously? “No thanks. Studying is the only thing I’ve ever been able to get right.”
Ethan gave me a few minutes before he joined me, and then he didn’t say much as he did his homework. I wondered if he ever planned on going home, but I didn’t want to ask and make him mad. Besides, knowing my dad, Ethan probably had instructions to stay with me until he got home. I’d probably never be allowed to be alone ever again.
. . . . .
Ethan stayed for dinner. Awkward is not nearly a strong enough word to describe the atmosphere when he offered to cook because I shouldn’t be on my foot so much. Then, when I tried to help clear the table after, he carried me to the couch and handed me the remote. “I’ll give you your crutches back when I’m finished with the dishes.”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
The corners of Ethan’s mouth twitched before he disappeared back into the kitchen. He was still in there when Cynthia showed up for Supernatural night. “It’s not my fault!” she said first thing when she let herself in.
Before I could ask what she meant, Caleb barged in the room right behind her. “How ya doin’, Gracie?” he asked with a smile that only the Layton brothers could pull off—one that makes you unsure if you should be excited or run and hide.
I was surprised when I hoped Preston would walk in the door next and disappointed when he didn’t.
“Why the big frown?” Caleb asked.
I wasn’t about to admit I wanted to see Preston, so I turned to Cynthia and asked, “You brought your brother?”
Cynthia looked at Caleb with a huge scowl. “I told you she wouldn’t want you here. Thursday nights are sacred Gracie/Cynthia time.” She quickly turned to me and said, “Sorry. He was insistent, but all you have to do is tell him to leave and he has to go home. Our dad said so.”
“You don’t want to do that, do you Gracie?” Caleb sat down next to me on the couch, draped his arm over my shoulder, and grinned widely at his sister. “We totally connected today.”
My anxiety spiked enough that goose bumps rose on my arms. Caleb, like all of his siblings, had piercing green eyes so intense they looked wild. Those eyes were staring at me now, daring me to reject them.
“Um…” I gulped nervously and looked to Cynthia for help.
She looked really pissed off,
“The marks are already fading,” Ethan whispered as he traced what I imagined were fingerprints on my face. All hints of anger had vanished from his voice.
“Are you sure?”
“It won’t bruise,” Ethan promised, wiping the last of my tears off my cheek.
When he pulled his hand away, my body trembled. I wanted nothing more than for him to touch me again. What was going on with me lately? Why did I feel as if I were going completely crazy every time someone touched me?
“Don’t worry,” Ethan said, misunderstanding the look on my face. “No one will ever know what happened.”
Except that was a lie. “You will.”
“I won’t tell anyone.”
I couldn’t stand the pity in his voice. “But you’ll still know.”
“Grace.”
“Why did you have to come here?” I cried. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Because you need me. You know you do. Please just accept my help.”
I’d never been so confused. Ethan always helped me. Always. He had ever since I’d known him. But we’d never in all these years become friends. Sometimes he looked at me with so much bitterness that I was sure he hated me. So why was he so desperate to have my approval right now? And why when he’d touched me a minute ago was it so painfully tender?
I gave up. “Fine, Ethan,” I said. “You win. Do whatever you want. Move in if it makes you feel better. I’ll be in the living room. I’ve got a ton of homework to do.”
Ethan looked almost disgusted at my concession, but his voice sounded full of relief as he asked, “Do you need any help with it?”
Seriously? “No thanks. Studying is the only thing I’ve ever been able to get right.”
Ethan gave me a few minutes before he joined me, and then he didn’t say much as he did his homework. I wondered if he ever planned on going home, but I didn’t want to ask and make him mad. Besides, knowing my dad, Ethan probably had instructions to stay with me until he got home. I’d probably never be allowed to be alone ever again.
. . . . .
Ethan stayed for dinner. Awkward is not nearly a strong enough word to describe the atmosphere when he offered to cook because I shouldn’t be on my foot so much. Then, when I tried to help clear the table after, he carried me to the couch and handed me the remote. “I’ll give you your crutches back when I’m finished with the dishes.”
“What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
The corners of Ethan’s mouth twitched before he disappeared back into the kitchen. He was still in there when Cynthia showed up for Supernatural night. “It’s not my fault!” she said first thing when she let herself in.
Before I could ask what she meant, Caleb barged in the room right behind her. “How ya doin’, Gracie?” he asked with a smile that only the Layton brothers could pull off—one that makes you unsure if you should be excited or run and hide.
I was surprised when I hoped Preston would walk in the door next and disappointed when he didn’t.
“Why the big frown?” Caleb asked.
I wasn’t about to admit I wanted to see Preston, so I turned to Cynthia and asked, “You brought your brother?”
Cynthia looked at Caleb with a huge scowl. “I told you she wouldn’t want you here. Thursday nights are sacred Gracie/Cynthia time.” She quickly turned to me and said, “Sorry. He was insistent, but all you have to do is tell him to leave and he has to go home. Our dad said so.”
“You don’t want to do that, do you Gracie?” Caleb sat down next to me on the couch, draped his arm over my shoulder, and grinned widely at his sister. “We totally connected today.”
My anxiety spiked enough that goose bumps rose on my arms. Caleb, like all of his siblings, had piercing green eyes so intense they looked wild. Those eyes were staring at me now, daring me to reject them.
“Um…” I gulped nervously and looked to Cynthia for help.
She looked really pissed off,
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