Page 62 of Holding Grace
I sat down on the hard little loveseat that sat under the big window in Grace’s hospital room and dropped my head into my hands. She was digging her heels in, and I couldn’t blame her. I was acting like an asshole.
I lifted my head and looked at her. The bruising along her left cheek and around her eye had bloomed into a mix of purple, blue, and green. Though I couldn’t see it at the moment, I knew she had bruising to match on her left hip from where she’d hit the wall when her attacker had thrown her. She had other scrapes and bruises all over her body. Her left arm was cradled close to her body in a sling, protecting her injured shoulder.
I didn’t want to fight with her or force her. All I wanted to do was take care of her.
I tried something I hadn’t. “Please, Grace? Will you please come stay with me and let me help you? I want to do it. I’ll worry a lot less if I can be sure you’re safe and getting the rest you need.”
I watched as the fight drained out of her. She watched me, saying nothing, then...
“Alright,” she said quietly. “Only for a couple weeks until I don’t need the sling anymore.”
I wanted to agree, to take what I could get, but I didn’t want to have this argument again.
“It might need to be longer,” I cautioned. “Depending on what the police have to say about whoever tried to grab you, you may not be safe at your apartment.”
Grace’s shoulders slumped and I regretted reminding her.
“Okay. Let’s say a few weeks then we’ll reassess.”
“Deal,” I agreed. Not that I’d want to let her go after a few weeks, but that gave me time.
“Hey, guys.” Mercy breezed through the door, setting a chai tea on the little table in front of Grace before settling on the loveseat next to me, coffee in hand. “I think the detective is here. He was asking for directions to your room at the nurses’ station as I came past.”
A few seconds later there was a knock, then Della walked in, a man in a dark suit following close behind her.
“Grace, this is Detective Chase. He’s here to talk with you about your incident.”
The man stepped forward, holding out his hand to shake Grace’s. “Miss Mathews, I’m Detective Chase with the Lark Police Department. I’d like to talk with you if you’re feeling up to it.”
“Of course.” Grace looked around the room, then at Della. “Della, are there any extra chairs?”
“I’m fine standing,” the detective assured her. “Thank you, though.”
“I’ll leave you all alone to talk, then. If you need anything, just buzz me.” Della left, closing the door behind her.
Detective Chase looked over at me and Mercy, his gaze seeming to catch for a few extra seconds on Mercy before returning to Grace. “Would you introduce me, Ms. Mathews?”
“Please call me Grace. This is Mercy and Michael Baron, my friends. I also work with Mercy.”
I noticed that she’d skipped over the fake fiancé thing, which was probably best under the circumstances. There were nods of acknowledgement all around.
The detective looked from Mercy to me and back. “And you two are...?”
“Michael’s my cousin,” Mercy filled in the blank.
“Thank you.” Detective Chase turned back to Grace. “I understand you were assaulted late Tuesday evening. Can you tell me what happened?”
Grace exhaled a slow breath. “I’ll try. I’d had dinner at Romano’s and I was walking home.”
“Romano’s is on...?” Detective Chase asked.
“Seventh.”
“And ‘home’ is...?”
“My apartment is just off 9th Street.”
“Thank you. My apologies for interrupting. Please go on.”