why it mattered so much.
Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t.” The helpless tone to her voice was so wildly removed from her usual sauciness that it further saddened him.
“Maybe I can help.”
That drew a bitter-sounding laugh from her that was so different from the laughter he’d experienced in the mud puddle that he would’ve thought it came from someone else if he hadn’t been watching her closely both times.
“No one can help.”
“Stephanie—”
“Fine!” The word seemed to have been torn from her very soul as she spun around, her eyes wild with rage and fear and pain unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life. “If you want to know so bad—here it is. Charles Grandchamp is my stepfather—the one person in my whole, entire, miserable life who was ever good to me, who ever loved me or gave a shit about me. And guess where he is?” Before Grant could begin to form a coherent statement, she answered her own question. “In prison, serving a life sentence with no chance of parole for kidnapping and assault of a minor.” Her chest heaved, and tears fell freely down her face.
Riveted by her outburst, Grant couldn’t seem to move as he absorbed what she’d said. “Who did he kidnap and assault?”
“Me,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her over the howling and creaking.
Chapter 6
Grant dropped into the chair he’d recently abandoned. He had no idea what to say.
“Except it wasn’t a kidnapping,” she continued, “and he never laid a hand on me with anything other than love or affection. He saved my life by getting me away from my abusive, drug-addicted mother and has paid for that with fourteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“If he didn’t kidnap or assault you, how’d he end up in jail?”
“Well, technically, he did kidnap me, but no one wanted to hear that a fourteen-year-old went willingly with him rather than spend another second waiting for her mother to get high and either beat the shit out of her or forget about her altogether. She’s the one who actually beat me. He paid for the bruises she left on me.”
“They didn’t let you testify?”
“They did, but the prosecution twisted every word I said to make him look bad, and the jury believed them. I’ve devoted my life to trying to get him a new trial. Every dime I have goes to lawyers.” She glanced at the stack of paper on the table. “I’ve probably learned enough to sail through law school.”
“Does this have something to do with your Fridays off?” She went to the mainland every Friday without fail, even though that was one of the busiest days at the marina in the summer. The first week they’d worked together, she’d told Grant she was off on Fridays and made it clear that was nonnegotiable.
She nodded. “Visiting day at the prison.”
“I’m so sorry, Stephanie. I had no idea. I was a jerk—”
“That’s all right. I’m getting used to it.”
Startled, he glanced at her and found a smile tugging at her full lips. Suddenly, he needed to touch her. All thoughts of Abby and his big plans to get her back fled from his mind in the midst of Stephanie’s overwhelming sadness. “Come here.”
She recoiled from his outstretched hand. “What?”
“Come here.”
“Why?”
Grant swallowed his exasperation. “Just do it.”
Rolling her eyes, she took a step toward him.
“Closer.”
Another small step.
Grant reached out, grabbed her hand and tugged, causing her to lose her balance—just as he’d intended. He caught her and settled her on his lap with his arms around her.
“What’re you doing?” Seeming horrified, she squirmed around on his lap, giving him a whole other problem.
“This,” he said, tightening his arms around her.
“Grant—”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“Really. You don’t have to—”
He brushed his lips against her short hair, breathing in the musky, feminine scent of her. “Hush.”
It took a minute, but
Shaking her head, she said, “I can’t.” The helpless tone to her voice was so wildly removed from her usual sauciness that it further saddened him.
“Maybe I can help.”
That drew a bitter-sounding laugh from her that was so different from the laughter he’d experienced in the mud puddle that he would’ve thought it came from someone else if he hadn’t been watching her closely both times.
“No one can help.”
“Stephanie—”
“Fine!” The word seemed to have been torn from her very soul as she spun around, her eyes wild with rage and fear and pain unlike anything he’d ever seen in his life. “If you want to know so bad—here it is. Charles Grandchamp is my stepfather—the one person in my whole, entire, miserable life who was ever good to me, who ever loved me or gave a shit about me. And guess where he is?” Before Grant could begin to form a coherent statement, she answered her own question. “In prison, serving a life sentence with no chance of parole for kidnapping and assault of a minor.” Her chest heaved, and tears fell freely down her face.
Riveted by her outburst, Grant couldn’t seem to move as he absorbed what she’d said. “Who did he kidnap and assault?”
“Me,” she said so softly he almost didn’t hear her over the howling and creaking.
Chapter 6
Grant dropped into the chair he’d recently abandoned. He had no idea what to say.
“Except it wasn’t a kidnapping,” she continued, “and he never laid a hand on me with anything other than love or affection. He saved my life by getting me away from my abusive, drug-addicted mother and has paid for that with fourteen years in prison for a crime he didn’t commit.”
“If he didn’t kidnap or assault you, how’d he end up in jail?”
“Well, technically, he did kidnap me, but no one wanted to hear that a fourteen-year-old went willingly with him rather than spend another second waiting for her mother to get high and either beat the shit out of her or forget about her altogether. She’s the one who actually beat me. He paid for the bruises she left on me.”
“They didn’t let you testify?”
“They did, but the prosecution twisted every word I said to make him look bad, and the jury believed them. I’ve devoted my life to trying to get him a new trial. Every dime I have goes to lawyers.” She glanced at the stack of paper on the table. “I’ve probably learned enough to sail through law school.”
“Does this have something to do with your Fridays off?” She went to the mainland every Friday without fail, even though that was one of the busiest days at the marina in the summer. The first week they’d worked together, she’d told Grant she was off on Fridays and made it clear that was nonnegotiable.
She nodded. “Visiting day at the prison.”
“I’m so sorry, Stephanie. I had no idea. I was a jerk—”
“That’s all right. I’m getting used to it.”
Startled, he glanced at her and found a smile tugging at her full lips. Suddenly, he needed to touch her. All thoughts of Abby and his big plans to get her back fled from his mind in the midst of Stephanie’s overwhelming sadness. “Come here.”
She recoiled from his outstretched hand. “What?”
“Come here.”
“Why?”
Grant swallowed his exasperation. “Just do it.”
Rolling her eyes, she took a step toward him.
“Closer.”
Another small step.
Grant reached out, grabbed her hand and tugged, causing her to lose her balance—just as he’d intended. He caught her and settled her on his lap with his arms around her.
“What’re you doing?” Seeming horrified, she squirmed around on his lap, giving him a whole other problem.
“This,” he said, tightening his arms around her.
“Grant—”
“Do you ever stop talking?”
“Really. You don’t have to—”
He brushed his lips against her short hair, breathing in the musky, feminine scent of her. “Hush.”
It took a minute, but
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