Finally, she lets go of the bag strap and adjusts it on her shoulder. “I have to get back to my son.”
I step away from the door when she starts heading in my direction.
“Want to come back in?” This time, kindness fills her features.
Do I, really? I mean, it’s the obvious thing to do, but I’m not sure I can survive the lethal look on Levi’s face again. So I shake my head.
Her lips part in what looks like a polite smile, but her eyes tell a different story. “I’m sorry about the way things turned out. He loves you. But he’s also a mess with everything else that happened with Jessica. So the whole thing is just . . .” She squints as if she’s trying to look for the right word. “It’s a lot right now.”
Then she opens the door and walks into the room, leaving me standing there with my arms around my midriff, blinking at the floor.
This time, the tears I’ve been holding back rush past the barriers. I dig around in my purse for some tissues, but then a hand appears in front of me, a pack of tissues grasped between long, strong fingers.
“Thank you,” I mutter, taking Gage’s offering, then proceed to wipe any evidence of my tears.
His arm wraps around my shoulder, and he pulls me closer. I scoot farther into him because I need this. I need to feel like someone’s on my side, and being hugged by Gage feels amazing. “Better?”
“Yeah. You give good hugs.” I flash him a smile. I promised myself I wouldn’t mope around. It’s not healthy, and seriously, who wants to see my puffy eyes all the time?
“It’s my superpower.” He grins. “Think we can go see lover boy?”
“Sol? He’s in the ICU. Not sure they’ll allow us to go in. Family and all that.”
“So you haven’t been to see him?”
“I did. His uncle took me earlier.” I bite my cheek to stop myself from telling him what Father Foster said. Telling me to stay away from Sol shook something loose in me. I don’t know what it is yet. All I know is that I need to get my shit together first. I need to find out who I really am without Sol or Levi. I need to shed the baggage dragging me down and put the pieces back together to be whole.
I smile at Gage. “Want to get coffee and waffles? I know just the place. Unless you’d rather do something else or drive back to Ranger—”
“Are you kidding me? I fucking love waffles.”
Gage drives us in his truck through streets covered in sheets of snow and parks in the parking lot at the diner. Ten minutes later, he and I are lounging in a booth in the corner, away from the diner’s hubbub, with two coffees and a large plate of waffles on the table in front of us. Soft classical music plays in the background.
Gage picks up the bottle of maple syrup and pours it generously on his mountain of waffles. “You ready to go back to school next week?”
I shrug, poking my waffles with a fork. “I’m staying home one more week, just until my head feels better.”
He sets the bottle on the table and grabs a fork and knife. “Ugh. I’m not ready to go back. But my dads would kill me if I told them that.”
“You mentioned before you had two dads. I didn’t want to be too nosy.”
He shoves a large piece of waffle into his mouth, chews it, and then swallows. He’s about to shove in another bite but pauses with his fork suspended in midair. “You didn’t know?”
I shake my head. Then I put my fork down, suddenly eager for a distraction. “But I feel like this is something I should know because we’re friends, right? Like, you don’t hate me, and we’re hanging out here, bingeing on waffles and—”
“You’re rambling.”
I snap my mouth shut and look at him expectantly.
He points at my plate. “Eat.” I pick up my fork, jab one of the pieces, and slide it in my mouth. “Michael and Castle adopted me when I was fourteen. We moved to New Hampshire after my adoption went through. I never thought I’d ever go back to Ranger’s Cove, though. Michael’s dad is a carpenter, and he’s retiring. My dad wants to move back and take over the shop, so . . . yeah.” He inhales deeply and ends it with a sigh. “That’s the thing about demons, right? You can try to outrun them, but eventually, they catch up with you and force you to face them.”
Don’t I know it.
I swallow the food in my mouth along with the tears burning my throat, all the while thinking I admire this boy. How can he be so full of hearts and smiles when his story seems like a really hard one?
He gulps down his coffee before looking up at me. He groans, setting his mug down. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Gage—”
“Don’t pity me.”
“I don’t pity you.” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. “I’m in awe of you.” He shifts in his seat and looks out the window, his jaw clenching. “I swear it. I’m sorry if it seemed like pity.”
I reach across the table for his hand, the one gripping the fork as though it’s a weapon, and give it a gentle squeeze. He faces me again and attempts a smile. “I don’t talk about my life with just anyone. But I have a feeling you’d get me.”
“More than you know.” His brows shoot up as if he’s asking me oh, really? And suddenly, I’m sweating, and my heart is beating fast because I’m about to add him to my tribe. The circle of people who really know my story. I take my hand back and wipe both palms on my pants. “I don’t know who my father is.” He’s staring at me with those gentle brown eyes, and everything comes spilling out in a whispered, “My mom got raped when she was leaving a party. She was eighteen.”
Gage sucks in a sharp breath, and now he’s the one reaching across the table and clasping my hand between his. “I’m so fucking sorry, Grace.”
I’m not sure what I should be feeling right now, but this big sigh of relief isn’t what I was expecting.
“Own your truth, right?” When he nods, I say, “Your turn,” before he can ask a question that will have me sweating all over again.
“Back in Ranger’s Cove, I made out with my foster brother, which got me kicked out of that foster home and back into the system.” Before I can open my mouth, he continues, “I received a letter from him two weeks later. No return address. I never heard from him again after that. It’s like he never existed in the first place. Jacob . . . that boy was my someone, someday.”
I’m about to say, wow. I’m so sorry. But then I remember he doesn’t like to be pitied. Instead, I say, “Such assholes. They don’t know what they gave up when they gave you up.”
He blinks, clearly startled by my response. Then he straightens, shoulders back with a smile gracing his features. “Right? I mean, look at me. Anyone would be stupid not to want this.” He waves his hand down his body dramatically. “Am I right, or am I right?”
I laugh and stand. “You’re so ridiculous. Want a refill?”
He hands me his mug and nods. “Sure. And more waffles while you’re at it.”
“Aye aye, good sir.”
“Hey, Grace.” He grasps my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. He almost never calls me Grace. “He’s your someone, someday.”