Give Me Grace (31 page)

“You’re lucky your in
juries weren’t life-threatening. With the kind of impact you sustained, the medics rushed you in with suspected internal trauma. The CT scans came back clear. We’ve put a soft cast on your arm for now. When the swelling goes down we’ll put a hard cast on for you but otherwise, you’re going to be fine. Grace …” She paused, casting an assessing gaze between both Casey and myself. “We noticed your recently healed scar in our exam. I think it’s best if I contact your GP to inform them of your injuries. They’ll need to take this into consideration—”

She broke off when the door opened again. Henry came through, followed by—

“Dad,” I said loudly, my body tensing with shock when he stepped inside my room.

My father
was usually a handsome man—tanned, shoulders broad and imposing, his eyes the same bright blue my brother inherited. Today he looked like he’d gone through the wringer. His clothes were rumpled, face pale and drawn, his lips tight with fear. My actions put that fear on his face and the knowledge made my insides twist with guilt.

“Hell,” I heard Casey mumble under his breath.

With a painful hiss, he turned his body and sat up. Planting his feet on the floor, he stood slowly and faced my family. I liked that he didn’t leave or let go of my hand. Instead, he gave it a squeeze and sent a reassuring smile my way. I got lost in it, somehow forgetting for a second my father was there. Casey had that ability to make me forget everything. I returned his smile.

Henry cleared his throat pointedly
.

“Dad,” I said, ignoring Henry because I knew he’d have nothing good to say
, “this is Casey Daniels.” Dad was busy looking between the both of us and our linked hands. I guess that meant I didn’t need to explain the nature of our relationship. The tightening of Dad’s jaw told me he got it loud and clear. “Casey, this is Nate, my dad.”

“Son,” Dad replied, holding out his hand.

I hadn’t mentioned Casey to my father so his response had me sighing with relief. Perhaps it was only in deference to our injuries and the inquisition would come later. Either way, I was taking it.

Casey cleared his throat. “Sorry to meet you under these circumstances, sir.”
He let go of my hand and took hold of Dad’s, giving it a firm shake. Dad would appreciate that. He was a strong, no-nonsense man and it showed. His brown hair was lightly peppered with grey and closely cropped, and his tall frame displayed his usual weekend attire of jeans and a polo shirt. The clothes were a little worn because it was Dad’s belief that shopping was akin to purgatory. I’d tried sneaking trendier items into his wardrobe a time or two but I’d yet to see him wear any of it.

“Call me Nate,” Dad barked before letting go. Then he dismissed Casey
, his face paling further as he took me in.

“Oh
, love,” he murmured, and I knew what he saw because his face was sad. Mum and I looked so much alike—right down to the exact same shade of eye colour—so seeing me laid out in a hospital bed just brought it all back for him. Tears threatened. I hated seeing him so defeated and alone.
Hated it.

Doctor James
stepped away from bed, allowing room for Dad to step in. Telling me she’d be back later, she returned my chart to the end of the bed and gave us privacy.

Dad
leaned over and pressed a kiss on my forehead. When he pulled back I saw his jaw tremble.

“I’m fine, Dad,” I assured him.

“She’s not fine,” Henry interjected from beside Dad. Folding his arms, he glared across my hospital bed at Casey.

“I don’t look that bad,” I
insisted, despite having no clue what I looked like.

There was no purpose to Henry making a big deal over it. It would just upset Dad further. Not to mention I didn’t like the way he glar
ed at Casey as though it was his fault this happened.

“You do,” Henry contradicted. “You’re
a mess. Both your eyes are bruised along with your cheekbone and jaw. You’ve got stitches in your head and dried blood all over you!”

I believed him
. Not only because the tone of his voice rose with each word, but because he looked just as upset as Dad did. I also winced because Casey had lay next to me in bed and seen all that up close. “Well.” I brushed a hand over my forehead and encountered a bandage. “If I’m that hideous, maybe you should leave so you don’t have to keep looking at me.”

“Look at you? I’m lucky I
can
look at you because you almost died.”

Casey straightened his shoulders
under the laser beams Henry shot his way. The move would’ve hurt with the pain he was in, but his face was like stone, giving nothing away. “None of this would’ve happened if you’d stayed away from Casey like I told you. He almost got you killed, Grace.”

“Enough,” Casey said. His voice was quiet but
there was underlying steel behind the words. “I was going to talk to you, Henry, and I’m sorry I didn’t do it sooner. I fucked up—”

“Damn straight you fucked up
,” my brother interrupted. “I told you to stay away from Grace. Instead, you did the exact opposite and went behind my back.”

“Henry,” Dad said
in his scary warning tone that always stopped me in my tracks no matter what.

Henry wasn’t
deterred. “You didn’t even listen to what I said, let alone consider it, did you, Grace?”

“Because you can’t tell me what to do, Henry. Casey was all for telling you. Keeping it quiet was my decision. You and I went through a long, rocky patch. Knowing how you felt, I was scared to make it worse just when it was starting to get better.”

“And going behind my back wasn’t making it worse anyway?” he pointed out.

“Henry,” Casey began, beginning to sound pissed off.

I interrupted, not wanting him caught up in our fight. I took his hand and squeezed in silent apology. “You’re right, Henry, and I’m sorry, but it’s not up to you to decide whether Casey is good or bad for me; it’s my decision. And while I respect your advice, I need you respect the choices I make.”

“
Like the choice you made to leave?” he asked, his tone still bitter when I thought we’d started to move past it.

“Enough,” Dad roared at Henry, his voice a whiplash that reverberated off the walls.
“I won’t have the two of you fighting. Henry, you need to let it go. Grudges are ugly. I raised my son better than that.”

Henry went to open his mouth
but dad didn’t let him speak. Instead his gaze shifted to Casey. He had his determined face on. His brows were drawn, jaw set, and he wanted answers. “My little Gracie was in your car at the time of the accident?”

Casey nodded. “Yes, sir, she was.
”

“I see.” Dad f
olded his arms, giving his intimidating glare. I was impressed when Casey didn’t appear intimidated. Dad’s glare could part the Red Sea and was the only look that worked on me when I was in trouble. “And this other car, they rammed the side she was sitting in?”

Casey nodded again. “Yes, sir, they did. A hit and run,” he added.

Dad sucked in a deep breath, his nostrils flaring as he absorbed this piece of news. “And were they caught?”

My gaze shifted from Dad
to Casey. I hadn’t known the other driver fled the scene. Who would do something like that?

“No, sir,”
Casey answered with that steel back in his voice. “Not yet.”

“This car of yours, it have side airbags?”

“Yes, sir, it did.”

“I see,” he murmured, his nostrils flaring even wider. “I want to speak to the police. Se
e what they’re doing to find the sonofabitch who would ram a car and then leave my daughter for dead.” I winced at dad’s dramatic turn of phrase. “I want to see the car too,” he added.

Dad knew a thing or two about cars. He’d
been employed as a mechanic at Dave’s Family Auto from his teens, working his way up to the Office Manager position he was in now. That’s how he met my mum. She brought her car in with a broken thermostat and I guess he knew just the right way to fix it.

He
still worked there because he didn’t like change. Dad was all about the status quo, and while they paid him for his loyalty, it didn’t pay enough to live a life of luxury. He still lived in the same house we grew up in. The only updates to the furniture were the wide-screen television on the wall and surround sound. Dad told me Henry bought it for him—sneaking in one day to have it installed while Dad was at work. It was the weekend of the Bathurst 1000 (Dad’s favourite weekend), where the V8 Supercars took to Mount Panorama Circuit in a festival of exhaust fumes, rumbling engines, and blazing testosterone. Dad had insisted the installation would stay only for the weekend, but the weekend came and went and the television stayed.

It was obvious he was a
proud man, so when I covered mum’s medical bills, paid out the home loan and all our schooling, as well as contributing to food on the table, it almost broke him.

He promised me it would only be a loan. He
saved every year, and at the end of that year, he would deposit those savings in my account as repayment, and every year, I would transfer the money into an investments account I had under his name. It was building nicely, and when he was ready to retire, I’d hand it over and tell him to do that trip around Australia Mum told me he’d been itching to do all his life.

“I can arrange a meeting with the police for you,” Casey told him.
Then he picked up his phone from where it sat on my hospital side table and said, “I also have a photo here of the car that one of my guys took for me if you want to have a look.”

Dad
’s brows rose in question. “One of your guys?” He held his arm out over the top of my bed, indicating for Casey to hand him the photo. “What do you do, son?”

Casey tapped at the screen, calling it up before giving it to him.
Casey gave dad a brief rundown while Dad stared at the photo, his jaw ticking ominously.

“That’s a damn shame about your car.
It was a real beauty.” His eyes narrowed on the photo. “You say they hit Grace’s side of the car?”

Casey nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“I see,” Dad replied for the millionth time, each time sounding more growly and tense than the next. He handed the phone back to Casey.

“Seems Casey’s car had enough side
airbags to inflate the Titanic,” he told Henry. “Did you know that?”

Henry folded his arms, his expression mutinous. “No.”

“A beautiful car like the one in that photo, they don’t come standard with side airbags like that. Casey would’ve had those installed special.” Dad glanced at Casey. “Right, Daniels?”

Casey nodded and Dad continued. “
After looking at that photo, it’s pretty obvious our Gracie could’ve died without them. You know what else, son? It was a hit and run. You know what that means?” He didn’t allow Henry time to answer. His voice gathered speed and momentum and we both knew to keep shut when that happened. “It means some goddamn sonofabitch hit my little girl and then fled the scene like a coward. Also,” he whipped out and Henry flinched, “the impact was on the driver’s side. Do you know what
that
means?” Dad didn’t wait to see if Henry knew what that meant because he was on a roll and stopping for no one. “It means Grace was the driver, not Casey here. So out of all that, what makes you figure this man here…” he jerked his chin in Casey’s direction “…almost got our Gracie killed?”

“Jesus,” Henry muttered when he could finally get a word in. He looked at Casey, his eyes full of apology.

Trust my dad to get to the heart of the matter in the most roundabout way possible. It warmed my heart that he wasn’t letting Henry be a right prick to Casey. It wasn’t deserved and being an outsider to the situation, it was easier for Dad to see that.

Dad sucked in a breath, indicating he hadn’t yet finished. “You a criminal?” he barked at Casey.

Oh no.

Casey was getting the inquisition
now
? I wanted to pull the sheet up and over my head and block it all out. “Dad!” I wailed.

They both ignored me
, and Casey answered him with a, “no, sir.”

“Nate.”

“No, Nate,” Casey repeated. “I’m not.”

“You married?” my dad continued.

“No.”

“Divorced?”

“No.”

“Dad!” I interjected. “Do you really—”

“Kids?” he boomed over the top of me.

I squeezed Casey’s hand to get his attention. His eyes cut to mine briefly and
I mouthed, “I’m sorry.”

He winked
at me and my heart squeezed. He turned back to my dad and answered, “No kids, Nate.”

“Do you own a chainsaw and a goalie mask and run by the alias of Jason?”

I smothered the snort of laughter. Dad might have checked out for a while after Mum died (and who could blame him because my mum and dad were the definition of crazy, stupid love) but when he’d checked back in, he did it with guns blazing. By that time I was embedded in my career, because like my dad I was content with the status quo and focused on trying to be the type of person he would be proud of: polite, calm and well-mannered.