Page 15 of Graciously His

“I’m here, little heart.” His voice is a rumble I can both feel and hear. “I’ve got you.”

I press my wet face against his neck, accidentally breathing in his unfamiliar scent. Clean clothes. Warm skin. And a hint of something earthy. Vetiver? I feel how he takes most of my weight, his body half-over mine, his arms supporting me effortlessly. I’m breathless, my mind filling with a warmer, softer version of the static. His warmth is infrared. Comforting, maybe even healing.

Nate’s voice comes again, a rougher version of Nick’s. “Time to get out of here, Grace.”

His hand moves to the nape of my neck, pulling me back to look into his eyes. I catch my breath. This close, the resemblance is gone. Nate’s eyes are flat where Nick’s used to shimmer, and they’re framed by lines—stress, anger, control, a piece of my mind whispers. And there is no mistaking this embrace for anything Nick ever gave me. I’m held tight, my thighs, belly, and chest pressed against Nate as his eyes dart over my face. He’s making a similar assessment, cataloguing how I’ve changed these last five years. I’m gaunt, that’s for sure, with hollows under my cheeks and worry lines at the corners of my eyes. Prematurely aging, and somehow I feel like I should apologise for it.

“We’ve got one stop to make,” he continues, “then we’ll fly to Auckland. Where’s your mother?”

My voice comes out hoarse. “Answering questions. I—I said something stupid, Nate.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He pulls me up, then he grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the table and dabs at my face. I stare, trying to ignore the wrongness of his appearance compared to Nick’s; somehow, his lack of resemblance up close feels like a loss. I dismiss the thought, trying to return to some form of sense, to my body’s response to my entire world coming apart. I find myself thinking of what Tim told me about leaving my house.

“She’s not going to let me go,” I say.

Strong hands come down on my shoulders. I look up into Nate’s eyes, shivering at the way they seem to demand something from me, even as he’s clearly trying to comfort me.

“Your mother is done with you, Grace, even if she doesn’t know it yet.”

I wipe a tear from my cheek. “She’ll never be done with me.”

He shakes me, just a little. I feel as if I’m about to fall from a cliff.

“No, I will never be done with you. But believe me when I say that Constance Reid is fucking done.”

Nate snatches my purse and leads me out. We pass Constable Tim, who looks between the two of us, his eyes alight with something similar to the concern he showed before.

“Where are we going?” I ask, scanning the crowded office for Mother, desperate to see her one last time before—

“Home, little heart,” comes the answer. “I’m taking you home.”

Chapter 9

Nate

Ihave Grace. She’s mine, and all I need to do is keep my appointment at the registry office to make it fucking official. I walk her through the station, ignoring how faint she looks. Recovery will come later. We’re in the carpeted corridor, almost home free, when I hear the Munchausen bitch’s voice.

“Graciously? GRACIOUSLY!”

Constance Reid marches after us, and I flash back two decades to that old park. I remember the look in Grace’s eyes when her mother closed in. I look at my girl now, seeing the younger version of her palimpsest over this one. This time, I get to wipe that terrified expression off her face; this time, she’s coming with me, no matter what.

I slide in front of Grace, widening my stance before I greet the Munchausen bitch with my sharpest smile. She’s escorted by a baby-faced cop who has obviously failed to contain her. He puts a hand on her arm, stopping her a few metres away.

“Let go of me!”

“Ms Reid,” I interrupt, drawing her eyes, “I suggest you avoid saying anything more until you’ve had a chat with your lawyer. I’ve just submitted preliminary documentation of your abuse of Grace over the years, so you’d best—”

“You bastard!” she snarls.

The junior officer steps between us and my hand tightens on Grace’s arm, keeping her behind me. The bitch turns her glare on the cop.

“You question me for hours without any kind of due process, then you let this creep take my poor daughter away? You should arrest him for—”

“Ms Reid,” a deep voice interrupts, and my grin widens when Tim steps into the corridor. His timing is impeccable. “I have to ask you to stay here with us.”

Grace’s hand is shaking in mine. “I can’t let this happen,” she whispers from behind me. “Nate, please.”