The Game That Breaks Us (Us 3)

“I’m sorry,” I say, because I don’t know what else to tell him.

He sets his mug down and it clanks against the stone top. He crosses his arms over his chest and clears his throat. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.”

“What?” I ask, when it becomes obvious he’s waiting for me to speak.

“I’ve been like you. Maybe not quite as bad, but I’ve been there. The meaningless sex and living the ‘good life.’” He says good life with very obvious air quotes. “But let me tell you something, it’s not that good, and when you find someone who changes everything—shakes the very foundation that you’ve built everything you believe on, then you hold onto them and never let go.”

“Did Grace’s mom do that for you?” I ask. “Shake your foundation?”

“She demolished it,” he says stone-faced. He lowers his arms and places his hands flat on the counter, leaning toward me. “Grace is a good, sweet girl, and I’m not going to warn you away from her, I’m realizing there’s no point, but what I can say is if you hurt her I’ll make your life a living hell. I mean that whole-heartedly.” He clenches his jaw. “One day, when you have a daughter, it’ll change your foundation again and you’ll understand where I’m coming from.”

“I won’t hurt her,” I promise.

Grace means more to me than I ever thought possible and the thought of anything hurting her, especially me, kills me.

Trace grows solemn. “I’m sure you mean that, but you will.”

I physically rear back at his words. “Excuse me?”

He shrugs and picks up his coffee mug once more. “It’s inevitable.”

He stalks from the room, leaving me with those two words; words that bounce back and forth in my brain before settling my gut.

Everyone’s awake by eight and gathered around the large tree in the family room. Trace’s mom joins us, as does Olivia’s mom and step-dad—who’s a hell of a lot younger than her mom, and looks hardly older than Olivia—and Olivia’s little sister, Abby, who isn’t much older than Dean.

Presents are passed around and laughter is had. It’s nice, pleasant even, but I can’t shake my conversation with Trace this morning.

Is it inevitable that I hurt Grace?

My gaze falls to her face. She’s not wearing any makeup and her hair is pulled away from her face in a sloppy bun and she’s wearing the same pajamas from last night. The ones I ever-so-carefully removed from her body. She smiles and shakes the present she holds. She’s so happy, and it kills me to think of that smile disappearing because of me.

She tears off the wrapping paper and reveals a brand new, shiny gold watch. “Thanks Mom and Dad.” She smiles at each of them and admires the gold band. She sets it aside and reaches for another present. I expect her to open it, but instead, she hands it to me.

“For me?” I ask.

She laughs. “Of course, silly. Did you think I would forget you?’

I grin. “Of course not. I’m unforgettable.” I shove my hand into my pocket and hand her the small Tiffany blue box. She gasps and I can’t stop my grin. That was the reaction I was hoping for.

“Bennett,” she breathes my name and takes the box from my hand. She undoes the ribbon and it falls into her lap. Taking her time, she lifts the lid of the box off and reveals the necklace inside. “Bennett,” she says again. She bites her lip and it looks like she’s holding back tears. “It’s beautiful,” she finally whispers. She lifts the dainty rose-gold—that’s what the salesperson called it, anyway—necklace out of the box and runs her finger over the small heart charm.

“I know it’s pretty simple, but it reminded me of you, and I thought it would match that one watch you wear all the time.”

She laughs and—yep those are definitely tears in her eyes—says, “You noticed my watch?”

I grab a stray piece of hair that’s fallen loose from her bun and rub it between my fingers before tucking it behind her ear. “Of course. I notice everything about you.”

“It’s funny you should say that.” She nods at the box in my lap. I’d forgotten it was even there. “Here, help me put this on first.” She hands me the necklace and turns with her back to me so I can slip it around her neck.

I fumble a few times before I can finally get the tiny clasp to attach. When I do, she grabs the necklace between her fingers and holds onto it.

“I love this, seriously.” She smiles at me and leans over to kiss me.

I smile against her lips and murmur softly, “I love you.”

She beams at my words and I hope, I really fucking hope that I continue to make her look that way.

She claps her hands together and says, “You next.”