“I have to go,” she said again, pulling away from Ronnie and straightening her spine. “I can’t stay here, I have to go home. If you’re not ready to leave, I’ll go by myself and you can find a way back later. Or I’ll call a cab and you can use my car to get home. I don’t care, I just have to go. I have to go. I have to go. I have to go.”
On some level, she realized she was out of control and on the verge of a breakdown, but all she could think was that she couldn’t stay here-in this city, in this building where Zack had cheated on her, betrayed her, ripped her heart from her chest and stomped all over it.
“Okay, okay, give me a minute,” Ronnie replied, still sliding her hands up and down Grace’s arms.
Letting go, Ronnie turned, and Grace was vaguely aware of her speaking with Dylan in hushed tones. Later, Grace knew she would feel horribly guilty about her behavior and about ruining her best friend’s surprise rendezvous with her boyfriend, but right now the only message her brain was processing was the urgent need to run.
A moment later, Ronnie returned to the hall with her purse under her arm. She kissed Dylan’s cheek, shot him a crooked, apologetic glance, and took Grace’s elbow to steer her down the hall.
She took Grace’s purse and dug out her key ring, keeping it in hand. Though her brain still wasn’t processing details as well as she’d like, Grace was frankly relieved to turn the task of driving over to someone else, since she knew she was in no shape to get them back to Cleveland in one piece.
“It’s all right, sweetie,” Ronnie murmured softly as they headed for the elevators and pressed the button that would get them to the lobby level. “Everything’s going to be all right.”
But everything wasn’t all right, and Grace knew deep down in her soul that it never would be again.
Purl 8
When Jenna heard the low growl of an engine, she was in the barn, filling feed troughs and bowls with grain. At the moment, her aunt’s alpacas were still out in the pasture grazing, but before nightfall, she’d be bringing them in, and they needed to have fresh food, water, and hay in each of their stalls.
Aunt Charlotte would never forgive her if she dropped the ball in taking care of her little sweethearts, no matter how distracted Jenna might be with other things.
Which was why she didn’t think twice about a vehicle passing by the house. The dirt road running past Charlotte ’s farm didn’t get a lot of traffic, but the occasional car or truck did rattle by on its way here or there.
And right now, she had much more important things on her mind. Baby names and colors for the nursery.
Oh, she knew it was premature to be thinking about that sort of thing already. She’d only finished having sex twelve hours ago; there was no way she could know for sure whether she was pregnant or not.
But she was hopeful. So very, very hopeful.
The fight with Gage that morning had definitely shaken her, but it hadn’t exactly been unexpected. She’d known how he would react once he became cognizant enough to realize what she’d done-and why.
It hadn’t been noble of her in the least, that she could fully admit. In some ways, though, it had been necessary-at least to her.
She was lucky, too, that she knew Gage so well. He was furious with her, yes, and he would likely take out his anger and frustration at the gym, pumping iron and pounding a punching bag until his already impressive guns grew even bigger and harder. And he would probably drink a little-a few beers at home in front of the TV and then a few more later, once Zack and Dylan got back into town and could help him commiserate about the deceptive nature of women in general and his ex-wife in particular.
Jenna wasn’t proud of the fact that she’d caused Gage that kind of stress and displeasure, but she was still grateful that he was who he was. Because any other man might have chosen to react with physical violence or by taking legal action.
Despite all of that, however, soon after Gage had stormed out, she’d caught herself humming and then realized that she was also smiling… and she hadn’t stopped since.
She was humming every lullaby she knew, one after another. Her hands continually drifted to her abdomen as she wondered if she really might be pregnant at this very moment, and she kept trying to decide if she should do the baby’s room in Sesame Street or adorable jungle animals.
There were so many things to consider. Did she want to know the baby’s gender before he or she was born, or did she prefer to be surprised? Did she want to do a nursery in standard boy (blue) or girl (pink) colors, or should she go with something more general, like green or yellow?
It was frightening, but it was also exhilarating, and she couldn’t wait. She just couldn’t wait to find out if she was or wasn’t… and she prayed to God she was.
Finishing up in the barn, she wiped her hands on the seat of her pants and turned for the open barn door. The car-or truck or whatever-was still out there, she noticed. Rather than passing by, it seemed to have stopped, idling near the house.
Jenna frowned. She wasn’t expecting anyone, and people didn’t usually drop by her aunt’s for no reason. And if it was someone she did know-like Charlotte or Grace and Ronnie-that would mean their plans had been ruined and they’d been forced to return sooner than anticipated.
Leaving the barn, she headed for the house, but couldn’t see the driveway until she’d rounded a small tool shed between the two larger buildings. When she did, when the driveway and the big chrome-and-black Harley-Davidson Low Rider sitting there came into view, she froze.
Her arms fell to her sides and her feet refused to budge. Deep in her chest, her heart began a staccato thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump, sending blood pounding through every part of her body except her brain. That remained surprisingly inactive and empty of coherent thought.
Gage, who continued to balance the bike while it throbbed beneath him, pinned her with a cold glare, then cut the engine, kicked out the stand, and swung off. He set his helmet on the black leather seat before collecting a large army-green duffel bag that had been fastened behind him, and started toward the house.
The entire time, he barely took his gaze off of her. Halfway across the yard, he stopped, cocked his head, and said, “You coming in?”
Jenna blinked, waiting for the world to right itself and once again begin to make sense.
What was he doing here? Where was he going? Why did he have a duffel with him? Why was he headed for the house?
Why couldn’t she seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs or reduce the beat of her heart to something slower than a hummingbird’s?
Without waiting for a response, he continued onto the porch and through the front door. And finally, almost as though a firecracker had gone off behind her, Jenna jerked, regained control of her limbs, and took off after him.
Screen door banging shut behind her, she raced into the house, only to find the dining room and kitchen empty. She checked the living room. No one there.
There was only one place left where he could be.
Upstairs.
Taking the steps two at a time, she rounded the newel post and started glancing into open doorways.
She found him at the end of the hall, in her room. The same room where they’d spent last night.
His duffel was on the unmade bed and he was systematically pulling items out, placing them on the nightstand or in the single dresser alongside her own clothes.
“What are you doing?” she asked, slightly out of breath not from running up the stairs after him, but from the mild panic that was beginning to funnel like a tornado low in her belly and spiral outward to every other organ.