The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

“Where did you learn to dance like this?” I ask him. I can’t keep the awe off my face which amuses him.

“Dance helps with skating so I took dance classes when I was younger.” I snort at the visual. “What? You don’t believe me?”

I shake my head. “No, I’m just trying to picture you in a leotard.”

He pinches my side. “I didn’t wear a leotard.”

“Bummer.” I laugh and he spins me around.

I hold onto his shoulders as my giggles fill the air. A few older people give us dirty looks but I can’t bring myself to care.

I hear a camera click and I look over to see the guy from our local paper photographing us. He takes a few more photos before moving on to take photos of other people.

Bennett’s hand settles on my waist and I look up at him. He wears the biggest smile and my heart soars. I think it’s safe to say that I’ve never been happier than I am in this moment.

He ducks his head and presses his lips to mine. My heels put me closer to his height and I grasp the back of his neck, holding him to me when he might otherwise break the kiss. I don’t care who sees—let them all see and know that I love him and I’ve chosen him. We might’ve had the most unconventional start ever but our love is real and nothing can change that.

Nothing.

Grace and I sneak away from the ballroom and find a closet to fool around in. Now I really know she loves the thrill of possibly being caught. Even though there’s a part of her that doesn’t want to admit it, she was bad before I met her, she’d just never explored that part of herself.

It’s nearly midnight and she tugs on my hand. “We need to go outside.”

“Outside?” I raise a brow. “But it’s freezing.”

“Don’t worry, they’ll have heaters so we won’t be cold.” She pulls me toward a large set of double doors. “The fireworks go off at midnight, and I don’t want to miss them.”

We shove our way through the growing crowd. My wide shoulders help us move through faster, but I think Grace would be fine all on her own. The girl is a bulldozer.

We lose Elle and Ryland, as well as her brother and his girlfriend, in the crowd but Grace doesn’t seem to care. She’s like an eager little kid at the thought of fireworks and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like her being this happy.

We step outside into the frigid December air and onto a large … I don’t know what the fuck you’d call this. I guess it’s a deck, but fuck, it’s so large that deck hardly seems like an adequate enough description.

Grace keeps tugging on my hand until we reach the railing.

“Just wait,” she breathes and her breath fogs the air. “It’s amazing.” She looks up at the pitch-black night sky, waiting for the show to start.

I know I should look to the sky too, but I only have eyes for her. I find myself taking a mental picture of the look on her face—the one of pure happiness and awe—so I can remember it forever. There are some moments in life that should never be forgotten; this is one of them.

The fireworks explode in the sky and still, I only look at her. Her lips part and she gasps a soft, “Ooh,” as the sparks fall through the air and disappear. Another one shrieks through the air and explodes, bathing her face in halos of red and silver. She shivers and I don’t know if it’s because she’s so moved by the experience or because she’s cold. I shrug out of my tux jacket anyway and drape it over her shoulders. She gives me a grateful smile and loops her arms into the large sleeves. She looks even smaller than normal in the jacket and I feel a tug in my gut—one saying I would do anything and everything for this girl.

She gazes up at me and a tiny smile dances across her lips. “Happy New Year, Bennett,” she murmurs.

“Happy New Year, Grace.”

I kiss her and hope to whatever God is out there that this year will be as fucking amazing as the last two weeks.

When things are too good to be true, it’s usually because they are, and eventually the other shoe has to drop.

I sleep with my body curled around Grace’s in the mansion—it was late and none of us wanted to go home—when the doors to the room come slamming open.

Both Grace and I sit up, fumbling for the covers, which is stupid since we’re both clothed.

“I warned you!” Trace bellows, storming over to the bed.

I’m too stunned to move and he yanks me from the bed onto the floor.

Grace screams from somewhere in the room and I want to tell her it’s all right but Trace’s fist slams into my face and I taste blood in my mouth.