Losing Grace (Falling Away #2) Read online

  LOSING GRACE

  Allie Little

  Copyright © 2016 Allie Little

  All rights reserved.

  This book is published in Australian English and includes relative diction.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  If you are reading this as an eBook and have not purchased it or been gifted a copy via an online retailer, it has been pirated. Please delete the eBook and support the author by purchasing a copy from one of its many distributors. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Allie Little is in no way affiliated with any brands, songs, musicians or artists mentioned in this book.

  Cover design: Rebecca Berto of Berto Designs

  Cover image: © Jetrel Shutterstock.com ®

  Formatting: Word-2-Kindle.com

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For JR.

  Because it takes courage to find grace.

  Time is too slow for those who wait

  Too swift for those who fear

  Too long for those who grieve

  Too short for those who rejoice

  But for those who love

  Time is eternity

  ~ Henry Van Dyke

  Prologue

  I’d never given much thought to how I would die. Perhaps in my sleep, drifting with a tide of infinite light. Or quickly, taken by a bolt of lightning from the sky. I’d imagined my spirit floating free, in cobalt and sapphire. I’d be weightlessly adrift, my awareness alive.

  He’d offered me the universe. The lazy scent of summer and the glisten of sunlight, fractured over the sea. He’d taken my hand beneath a blood-red sky and I’d wished for forever. He’d promised me an eternity of gooey marshmallow-hearts and tattooed wings of freedom.

  My desire for that was immeasurable.

  Survival now is on memories alone, the scraps and pieces left behind. I let them take me. Away from here, and from this …

  His voice chills my soul.

  “Tell me your darkest secret, darling.”

  I will never be your darling.

  “Tell me your deepest fear.”

  You, Daniel. You are my deepest fear.

  My eyes burn.

  Shuffling footsteps clear the fog. On floorboards above, the murmur of voices both soft and frantic is barely audible, like vapour in air. In the dark I can’t see, fear blinds me. It swallows me whole, the earthy stench suffocating.

  But his voice …

  That voice …

  A large hand clamps down upon my mouth. I might smother beneath it; might choke without air. And cutting at my temples, the pain isn’t dull. Can’t be softened by half-measure or diluted by lack of clarity.

  My wrists hurt.

  But that voice …

  My mind cracks open and a desperate heart hopes.

  He’d search for me.

  He’d come for me.

  He’d never give up.

  Six months earlier …

  1

  Grace

  “Gracie? Are you in there?” Gemma calls, rapping on the door. “Are you okay, honey?”

  “Just getting dressed.”

  “Don’t forget we’re going to the cinema tonight. Just you and me – girls’ night, okay? You are not allowed to mope in there any longer. Four nights is way over the legal limit for moping. You’re turning into some kind of freakish hermit!”

  Having dragged a pair of work pants successfully over my hips and slipped into a smart shirt, I throw open the bedroom door to my best friend.

  Treasured. Trusted. Loved.

  Gemma’s always been there, whenever I’ve needed her. If it wasn’t for her, I wasn’t sure where I’d be. Although honestly, after the way I’d been feeling the past few months, I could happily seclude myself away from the world forever.

  “Don’t forget, Grace.” She narrows her eyes in mock warning, pointing a brightly painted fingernail directly at my nose. “Girls’ night.”

  “How could I forget? What are we seeing?”

  “For the Love of Red Sunsets. I’ve been dying to see it for ages.”

  The vast difference in our movie tastes was something we’d encountered on many occasions before now. Gemma enjoyed romantic schmaltz, which I avoided like the black plague. “I… I’m not particularly in the mood for funny and romantic, Gem. How about Dark Devil Hunting? I’ve wanted to see that for ages.”

  “A vampire movie? Really, Grace? Isn’t that a bit, you know, passé?” She exhales with a loud sigh, considering my suggestion. “Oh, all right. But you’ll owe me big time. Next time I choose.”

  “You truly are the best.” I give her an appreciative hug. “You better leave though or you’ll be late for work. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Gemma quickly checks her watch and grabs the handbag dangling from the hallstand. “Look at the time! See you tonight. Be there!” she commands, peeking at her image in the mirror. She straightens the long chestnut hair draped loosely over her shoulders, closing the door to the apartment with a soft click.

  I finish dressing, pulling on a white blazer. As the recently appointed manager of Blue Swimmer, a seafood restaurant in Manly, I’m always on show. Gemma called in a favour with her friend Riley after I’d arrived so pitifully on her doorstep that cold, grey morning.

  You’re as pale as a ghost, she’d murmured, wrapping me in her arms. Almost translucent.

  I’d barely even recognised myself.

  My mind hovers over a scene I’d rather forget. Those memories hit when I least expected, catching me off guard.

  It’s dark outside. The kind of dark where shadows lurk, loitering between trees. Dan’s car pulls swiftly into the drive. My heart is a messy disaster lately, because his heart has turned black. A sinister kind of black, where everything is opaque.

  The front door clicks open, the shadowy bulk of him silhouetted against streetlights outside.


  “Gracie.” He brushes his lips over mine. “These are for you.” He delivers a bunch of yellow dahlias into my hands, his eyes holding regret. “These are for this morning. I hate losing control, baby. I’m so sorry.”

  My heartbeat slows, rejecting memories still fresh from this morning’s argument. If I deny them, they’re not real. Can’t hurt. Won’t destroy me.

  “They’re beautiful,” I choke out.

  “I couldn’t resist. I know how much you love yellow dahlias.”

  I wish to be away. To be anywhere but here, because here is not home. Not my sanctuary. Not my safe-haven.

  Here is far from it.

  In the kitchen, he reaches for a vase. Fills it with a gushing stream of water, and taking the flowers, positions them stem by stem, never removing his gaze from mine.

  “How was your day?”

  “It was fine.” The words sing-song from my lips, turning my stomach.

  “You’re not still angry I encouraged you to leave your job, are you?”

  “Of course not. I love to cook and keep house.” The nasty words fall from my lips like sweetly poisoned syrup.

  “You know it’s for the best.” Shuffling onto a bar stool, he digs his fork into the meal. Freshly baked garlic bread, pasta marinara. Even the salad is a delicate work of art. “There’s no need for you to work. It’s not like we’re hard up for cash, and I like knowing you’re here waiting for me when I come home.”

  He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

  His world.

  His way.

  I shove a forkful of tasteless mush into my mouth, biting my tongue. The man I’d married three years ago is nowhere in sight. He left a while ago, abandoning me to this guy.

  He pours two glasses of red from the bottle of Pinot breathing between us. “Please, Gracie. Have some wine.”

  He’d done it. Got what he wanted. Won.

  But where was I?

  ***

  In the sunshine splintered on the surface of the sea, a salty haze rolls blithely over the beach. Curling into north Manly, the road hooks left into the straight, bottoming out at the northern end of the beach. Today I meet Riley for the very first time. Riley Atherton owns several fancy restaurants: one in Manly, one located in a holiday town on the mid-North coast, and possibly more I haven’t yet heard about. Riley offered me this job a month ago, all thanks to Gemma. And this past month I’d been happy. Really happy, considering everything.

  Standing two storeys high by the roar of foaming surf, Blue Swimmer’s sandstone façade is a welcome barrier to the cold. It faces the biting slap from the Coral Sea through winter, then the spread and rise of simmering heat beyond. Despite the chilly temperature, surfers dot the water, rolling over waves like dark-suited seals.

  Stanley is sprucing tables with flourishes of strange red berries and waxy greenery when I arrive. “How’s my best girl? You’re early today. I’m impressed.”

  “It’s not you I’m trying to impress, Stan. Is our elusive boss here yet?”

  “No sign of him, chicken. Although, if Riley said he’d be here, no doubt he’ll miraculously appear at some point.”

  Mia and Lucy burst into the restaurant, giggling with infective chatter. They stifle the laughter at the door.

  “Hi Grace,” Mia says mid-giggle, running a hand through long blonde locks and removing her jacket. “Ooh, it’s cold out.”

  “Morning girls.”

  “It’s freezing! Where do you want us?” Lucy asks, opening the office to deposit her belongings. She casually throws her bag inside and shuts the door with a smile.

  “Lucy, I need you down here, and Mia, you’re on mezzanine.”

  “Awesome. I’ll light the fire,” Mia calls over one shoulder, disappearing upstairs.

  “She loves mezzanine, mainly for the view.”

  “Which is lucky, because I need you down here. It’s bigger and busier and you’re quicker on your feet.”

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence. You’ve only been here a month but we love having you as our manager.”

  “And I love being here.”

  And I honestly did. Since leaving Daniel, Swimmer gave me the promise of a future I’d only dreamed of. A future of independence and freedom. Freedom from him. It was a promise I was holding onto with both hands.

  “I’m very pleased to hear it,” a deep voice resonates from the door.

  Swivelling at the velvety sound, I stand in close proximity to a tall and stereotypically attractive man. He gazes down, his smile lighting the features of his face.

  “Riley Atherton,” he says, holding out a hand. “I assume you must be Grace?” His gaze lands square upon me, the warmth in his eyes catching me off guard for a fleeting, breathless moment.

  I pull myself together and place my hand in his. “Yes, I’m Grace. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” He angles his head as if to improve the view. “I had no idea …” He relentlessly scans me from head to toe, causing me to colour.

  Get a grip, Grace! And remember why you’re here!

  “Later today, we’ll sit down and go through your role. I apologise for not getting here sooner. I’ve had …” he pauses to consider his carefully chosen words as if it pains him to do so, “…other business to attend to.” He leans down and kisses me inappropriately on the cheek. Catching his scent, it’s kind of woodsy and fresh, which surprises me. Like sandalwood and roses. Patchouli even. On first impression, though, he didn’t strike me as a patchouli-scented hippie.

  “Today we’ll go through everything you’ll need to know, from the rosters to the budgets, the pay system for the staff, and if ever you’re in need of advice, just give me a call.”

  Nodding idiotically, I scuttle toward the kitchen. And it’s clear I need to stay away from him, because in any other capacity than that of my boss, Riley Atherton is not what I need.

  Most definitely not now.

  And unquestionably not ever.

  Because how did he fit with my promise of freedom?

  2

  Grace

  Swimmer is a buzzing hive of harried activity. Riley’s hung around since this morning and you can’t help but notice him. His dark hair cut just-so, tall muscular frame and the way his t-shirt hangs perfectly from his shoulders.

  He emerges from the office with the late afternoon light, scanning the room, smiling warmly as though pleased and surprised to see me. “Blue Swimmer’s in good hands with you at the helm, Grace.”

  “Thanks Riley, it’s a great job and a joy compared to Sprig. I loved Sprig, but this is even better. You really can’t beat the position, either.” I glance over the ocean, dazzling in the sunshine.

  “Pleased you’ve taken to it. By the looks of things, it won’t be long before you put me out of a job.” He laughs at his own humour, clearly amused.

  Sprig was my entire world before I married Dan. Busy. Stylish. Full of corporate types, emptying the stress contained by their day. I’d enjoyed being in a management role, it provided success and the accomplishment I’d worked hard for. Long term fulfilment evaded me, though.

  It never stood a chance.

  “I don’t like it, Gracie. I won’t have you working there. You attract too much unwanted attention. You’re my wife and I need you at home, not holding court in some sleazy bar.”

  “It’s not sleazy Dan, and you know it. There’s absolutely nothing sleazy about Sprig.”

  “Bars are always sleazy. Especially a bar like Sprig. I won’t have you associated with a place like that.”

  “You won’t have it?” This had been staple dinner conversation for weeks. “You’re being ridiculous, Dan. I’m not leaving my job.”

  Over the dinner table his voice takes on a stern, serious tone. Unsmiling. “I’m not giving up on this. Or you, Gracie. I’m not giving up until you leave.”

  “Gemma assured me you’d be perfect for the role and I’m stoked I trusted her. She’s become
a really good friend over the years.” Riley looks down at me, waiting.

  Waiting.

  His voice returns me to reality and when I look, sunlight has caught the amber in his eyes. “Um, yes. She’s the best friend I could ever hope for.”

  With a muscled arm pressed casually against the wall, he lowers his voice. “By the way, do you have any plans tonight? This might seem a little forward, a little … presumptuous even, but I’d be honoured to have the pleasure of your company. I’d like to thank you for all your hard work.”

  Taken aback, my mind races. For one, I don’t like the look in those strangely hypnotic eyes, and two, I’ve sworn off men, possibly forever. “I do already have plans tonight. Gemma and I are seeing a movie. We’re having a girls’ night, just the two of us. Sorry Riley, you know how it is?”

  He gives a slow chuckle. “Can’t say I do, not being female. But I understand you girls like doing this on a regular basis, right?”

  “Oh yes, pretty regular, I suppose.” The awkward moment is filled with a girly smile, letting him know that this is important. That a girls’ night is precisely that – for girls.

  “Okay, you’re off the hook,” he says lightly, laughing it off. “Mezzanine is busy, so I’ll let you check on Mia.”

  Making my way upstairs, I breathe out a huge sigh of relief. Mezzanine has filled quickly, the busyness of work a welcome distraction. “Mia, do you need Stanley?”

  She nods earnestly. “Stan’s busy in the kitchen, though. It’s crazy in there too.”

  “All right, I’ll find him. I can muck in if need be.”

  Downstairs Stanley grapples with saucepans, helping the chefs prepare food. Amid the hum of ovens and whir of exhaust fans, he dusts his hands across the apron when he spots me. “Chicken, what’s up? Do you need me somewhere?”

  “How on earth did you know?”

  “Oh, just my breathtaking mind-reading skills and all that palaver. Do you want me upstairs?”

  “Sure do. We’re full up there and Mia’s struggling.”

  “I’m on it. Come get me if downstairs becomes too busy to handle.”

  Riley pushes open the office door. He swaggers across the room and I can’t take my eyes off the way he moves, the assurance in every step. “Unfortunately, I can’t get back here for at least a week, so if you need anything, just call.” He presses a piece of torn paper with his mobile number scrawled across it into the palm of my hand. “I’m always available for my staff, Grace. Day or night.”