Grace

One

Grace

"Put it down, Leigh...That's enough." Reece's voice always comes out light and sweet, but this time it's hushed like it's on the verge of a whisper. "You've had enough."

I know that's only so I don't hear. As far as they know, I'm in bed down the hall. Where I should be at this time of night. But like most nights, something brought me out before I could get any rest.

"Stop—stop, stop it," he goes on in that same gentle scolding.

I hear Mom's erratic giggles as I peek around the corner. Both of them have their hands on one of the many brown bottles she can't seem to go without every night. Fighting for it, just like they always do. Every night.

Every night since the one that seemed to have began it all.

"Leigh, dammit-" He curses as he topples over the edge of the coffee table knocking a few mostly empty cups and a full ashtray with him.

Mom's small body flings backward onto the couch with his shirt balled up in one of her fists, wearing that listless smile that's so different from the one I grew up seeing.

Big and wide, but dull and lifeless despite her laughter. It swells her cheeks but does nothing for her eyes.

The sound of his grainy, frustrated sigh makes my belly tense. I watch him roughly rake away the loose face framing strands of dirty blonde hair hanging over his eyes while he's hovering over her. Her grip so strong on his tank top, exposing so much of his bare chest and abs you wouldn't know he were wearing it.

Reece is something different. I mean, men like him were a dime a dozen in our neighborhood. Street smart, thuggish—almost conniving, even—but he was something else. A different breed, a deity.

Bad and good all rolled into one tall, broad package.

Reece has only been back for 2 months now. The last time I saw him I was twelve, and I'll be eighteen in October.

Ever since I opened the door for him that day, I can't help but wonder what he expected to come home to, but by the look in his eyes I don't think he expected this. At least not all of it.

"Come here, Reece," Mom hardly whispers, his strong arms flexing on either side of her as he tries to push himself up, caught quickly in her grasp before he can get away. "Fuck me, right here. Like you used to."

The room goes so still I swear I can hear the dust coasting on the air, but it all goes silent when Reece turns his head up and looks dead at me.

His eyes on mine, almost like he knew I was standing by all along. Like he expected me to be.

I quickly inch back and out of sight. My eyes slamming down in regret as my fingers smooth over the bumps in the old paint on the wall. I should go back to my room, but I don't.

My feet stay sticky in this one spot.

"Gracie's up," he tells her in a gruff tone and my heart pounds in my throat. I inch back from the wall in a sudden jerky movement and clench my lips in embarrassment, but I still can't bring myself to move.

Mom clicks her tongue at the idea and for a minute I feel like I'm seven again. "Yeah well, she's old enough to know what goes on. Like she cares, anyway—c'mon."

I tune out the rest of their mutterings, taking a breath and finally hauling myself back to my room. Even with socks on, the soles of my feet ache over the freezing cold laminate as I take quick steps on the way.