Give Me Grace(177)

She leaned in while Travis stood talking to some other guy that was just as huge as he was. “He doesn’t share much with anyone at all, it’s just that Casey and I have some things in common.”

My eyes whipped to hers, looking a little more closely, and that’s when I saw it. That slight lift of defiance in her chin and the wariness in her eyes.

“Oh.” She was like a tiny, little fairy. The thought of some big dude beating on her made me want to puke. I swallowed down the urge by downing my next beer and grabbing another. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise. I just … can I tell you something?”

I popped the lid off my bottle and tossed it towards the bin in the corner. “Sure thing, babe,” I replied with a casualness I didn’t feel. Chicks and talking was never a good thing. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know you, but I know a lot about what you’ve been through, so I can understand your anger. But don’t let it eat you up until there’s nothing left. Being angry at the world, and at Casey, is letting your father win. You know why? Because it’s hate breeding hate. You’re keeping your father’s rage alive inside you and you’re feeding from it and using it against your own brother. I don’t want that for Casey. He doesn’t deserve that. Your brother loves you. Don’t hate him for that.”

“Are you finished?” I bit out, my tone harsh because her words made my eyes sting. Damned if I was going to break down like some bitch in the middle of some classy as fuck party where I didn’t belong.

“Hey!” Travis abandoned his conversation to grab my bicep. His fingers dug in hard. “Watch your fucking tone around my wife.”

Fuck.

I needed to go find Fox and get the hell outta here.

I shrugged off Travis’s hand. The last thing I needed to do after everything Quinn just said was to punch her husband in the face. With the way I was feeling right now, it was a possibility.

“I’m sorry,” I said stiffly to Quinn and shoved my way out of the kitchen, knocking some guy in the process and not caring. Needing to take a piss, I made my way towards the bathroom.

I felt everyone’s eyes on me as I weaved my way through Casey’s friends. Was it the shock of seeing how much I looked like him, or that they sensed I didn’t fit in here? I wiped everything from my face—frustration, anger, and the regret Quinn’s words induced—and I slipped on a mask of indifference. I even managed to wink at a sexy girl. She flushed, her eyes flaring with interest, and the weight of confidence settled in my chest. This was something I knew. Sex was easy. Women came easy. Getting rid of them maybe not so much, but it was hard to care when you were in the moment. There was nothing like forgetting your troubles in a pair of hot tits and an even hotter pussy.

I opened the bathroom door, slipped inside, and shut it behind me. Then I turned and in that instant, everything flew from my head because Grace was on the floor and she wasn’t moving. Her dark fiery hair was spread out in a fan across the tiles and her face so pale that her full lips looked red in comparison.

“Babe. Jesus.” Moving quickly, I rushed to her side and dropped to my knees. With shaky fingers I checked her pulse. It was thready and weak. “Grace, babe. Wake up.”

She swatted at me like I was a pesky fly and I almost groaned with relief. “Mmmf.”

I frowned. “What?”

She let out a long, shaky breath, clearly exhausted. “I’m fine. Just … sick. Needed to lie down ’cause the room was spinning.”

“On the bathroom floor?”

“’s near the toilet,” she mumbled.

“What can I do?” I asked, thinking that maybe I should go get Casey.

“Hold me up?” she whispered weakly. “Gonna be sick again.”

I got on my knees behind her, propping her back against my chest. Her bony arms flopped uselessly and my goddamn heart bled out all over the floor at the sight. How did Casey deal with this? I felt fuckin’ useless.

Grace curled over and heaved in the toilet bowl. I held her hair and kept her upright. That’s about as useful as it got. She kept apologising over and over until I told her to shut the fuck up. Who apologised for cancer? Fuckin’ shit-ass disease. I wanted to smash my fist through a wall.

“’m ‘kay,” she mumbled again. “I’m over the worst.”

It had been worse than this? I wrapped my arms around her waist and held on, thinking that right then I needed the comfort more than she did.

“No more chemo anymore?”

She fell back against me, her head sagging into my neck. “No more for now.”