Never Let You Go (a modern fairytale) (43 page)

His fingers trailed down her back to the waistband of her pants, skating around to the front. He unbuttoned and unzipped them quickly, slipping his thumbs into the elastic of her new, white, lace panties and yanking them down. Reaching up to hold his face, she kissed him deeply as she struggled out of her boots, then stepped on her pants to free her legs.

Completely naked, she reached for his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as he pressed his lips to her throat, her neck, gently biting her earlobe and making her shiver and whimper. She slid her hand into his boxers, curling her fingers around his thick, satiny penis, which pointed straight up and pulsed against her palm. He gasped, pushing his remaining clothes over his hips and kicking off his shoes.

Holden took a step away from Griselda, and she took a step back from him, panting as she leaned against the door behind her. His chest, cut from stone, with its hard angles and ripples, heaved with every breath as he traced her body with his eyes: her hair, her eyes, her lips, resting on her breasts, sliding down her flat tummy to the tidy curls that concealed her throbbing sex, before dropping to her long legs and feet. Her feet, which, for as long as she lived, would be crisscrossed with the barely visible thin white scars, reminding them both of the sharp, dry corn husks that had sliced her skin.

Slowly, deliberately, Holden’s eyes traveled back up her body, pausing at the apex of her thighs, his breath hitching at her breasts, finally resting again on her eyes.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” he murmured, dropping to his knees before her and reaching for her hips. His head fell forward, the close-cropped hair on the top of his head tickling her belly. She dropped her hands to his head, sliding her palms to his cheeks and tilting his face back so she could look down at him. His gaze was bewildered, worshipful, waiting for her permission to continue.

“Love me,” she whispered.

“Do you trust me, angel?” he asked, his gray eyes smoldering as he stared up at her.

“Completely.”

He leaned forward to push her back against the door, then grabbed her thighs and lifted them onto his shoulders so that his mouth was level with her sex. Still holding her eyes, his tongue dipped forward to find its mark—the tight bundle of nerves hidden behind soft, wet folds. Her shredded whimper made him groan as he stroked her more urgently, his tongue circling, then lapping, her heels pushing into his back. He looked up, and she managed to smile before letting her head fall back against the door, her breath coming in sharp pants. Her thighs tightened. Her fingers curled into his scalp. And from the back of her throat burst a sound of pure pleasure as her body went rigid then limp, trembling against him in waves as she laughed quietly above him.

“Oh my God,” she panted. “That was . . .”

He placed a palm on her tummy to hold her up as he disengaged her legs from his shoulders and stood up. Just as her knees buckled, he swept her into his arms, walked quickly through the living room and down the hallway to his bedroom, where he set her gently on the bed.

Covering her with his body, he kissed her with glistening lips that tasted of her essence, salty and sweet, a reminder of his tenderness: that her pleasure came first. Overcome with love for him, she opened her legs, running her ankles along the backs of his calves . . . thighs . . . finally resting lightly on his backside as he positioned himself to enter her.

“Holden,” she said as he leaned over her, his arms taut, his eyes dark and desperate. “I meant it. I trust you completely. I trust
us
completely.”

***

Her words mended whatever was left of Holden’s once-shattered heart, giving him the only thing he still longed for between them: trust.

Holden’s eyes clenched shut, and he slid forward into the tight, wet heat of her body, her quivering muscles pulling him forward until he was lodged as deep as possible, his pelvis flush against hers, one being, no room for breath between them.

He throbbed inside her, forcing himself to stay still as she accepted his length and thickness, the walls of her sex adjusting to embrace him. He reached for her face, framing it, cradling it, treasuring it, after such a long and aching absence.

“That means everything to me,” he said.

Her lips tilted up, and she leaned her head back as she arched her hips into his, an unspoken request that he move within her, and he answered her plea, finding a rhythm that was new but familiar, immediate but eternal, the good and the right and the reward and the gift, and as the wave of perfection built steadily inside him, he rocked into her faster and faster.

“I love you. I love you . . . forever,” he said, his voice strained and rough.

She opened her eyes, dark, dark, and wide blue that were the windows to the only soul he would ever want or ever love, and they locked on his without mercy.

“I jump, you jump,” she murmured.

“Now!” he bellowed, sliding his arms beneath Griselda and clasping her to his chest.

Their bodies exploded together, shattering into a million mixed pieces of forever, and two people who had always been one—from the very beginning—were finally free.

Hours later, as the sun set and the sounds of American life funneled up from the sidewalk below, Holden sat against the headboard of his bed and laughed, shaking his head as Griselda lay naked beside him, her head propped up on one bent elbow.

“I swear,” she said earnestly.

“I don’t believe you,” he said, marveling that he was here and she was here, and they were finally free: free of the Fillmans, of Caleb Foster, of Gemma, of fear, of longing, of loneliness. Free of mistrust and doubt. Free to love. Free to be together. Free to chase down their forever.

He’d left his jacket—and the ring—in the car, but it had occurred to him at least five times to get dressed and run downstairs. But was this how he wanted to propose? Lying in bed in his crappy apartment?

She was so beautiful with the dying sun backlighting her blonde hair like a halo, and he chuckled again as she held up three fingers in Scout’s honor.

“I promise. I didn’t do it—
not once
—until I was almost eighteen.”

He slid down until he was lying level with her, his head propped on an elbow in a mirror image of her.

“That’s impossible. You’re so gorgeous. How did you keep the boys away?”

She looked down at the sheets, then back up at him, a rosy blush coloring her cheeks. “I didn’t want any of them.”

“Who’d you want?”

She gave him a saucy look through lowered lashes. “Billy. I was holding out for Billy, because he—ah!”

Holden’s fingers slipped under her arms and started tickling, and she rolled onto her back, giggling like crazy, trying to escape him, but he followed her, lying partially across her chest. He took her wrists, holding them over her head, and then stared down at her with a teasing grin.

“Answer me now. Who’d you want, Miss Griselda?”

She took a deep breath, her breasts pushing against his chest on purpose. He knew from the sassy gleam in her eyes. “Hmm. Okay. I’ll come clean.” She sighed like she’d been found out. “Mr. Fillman. Those black socks he used to wear at the beach . . .”

He pushed her wrists together and held them with one hand, the other reaching for her armpit again.

“No!” she squealed. “Don’t tickle me! You!
You
! I wanted you. I always wanted you.”

He stared down at her, taking in the flush of her skin, the redness of her lips from so much kissing. “And I wanted you.”

Though she was veritably trapped beneath him, she smiled so tenderly, so serenely, with such trust and love, it made his heart swell.

“You aren’t mean,” she whispered. “And you’re real pretty.”

He searched her eyes, remembering their perilous walk to a general store years and years ago, and the words he’d chosen to tell her how much he liked her. “It’s as true now as it was then.”

He let go of her wrists and dipped his head to kiss her, tangling his tongue with hers, and his erection grew thick and hard against her thigh, telling her he wanted her again.

“What comes next?” she asked.

“Hopefully you.”

She looked surprised, then smiled, raising her eyebrows. “And you.”

“Hell, yes,” he said, rubbing against her.

“Then what?” she asked, winding her arms around his neck.

He glanced at the door to his bedroom. “I could use some help packing up here. Furniture stays, but I’ll take my clothes and towels. The Xbox. We’ll take what’s mine. I’ll leave a check for two months’ rent and the key on the kitchen table.”

“I’m happy to help. What’s after that?”

“Sleep?”

“Unlikely.” She licked her lips and raised her hips just a touch, teasing him. “And then?”

He shook his head at her minxy ways. “Visit Hannah tomorrow morning before we go?”

“I’d love to meet her.” She gazed up at him, her fingers tickling the hairs on the back of his neck. “Before we go where?”

“Home.”

“
My
home?”

He shrugged. “For this week, it’s
our
home, angel.”

“And when we get there?” she asked, her eyes expectant.

His mind flashed to the ring waiting for her in the car. Is that what she was asking him? Was she asking him about this week or about forever? He knew her so well, but there were moments that adult Gris threw him and he just wasn’t sure. More than anything, he wanted the moment to be perfect for her when he asked. It was important to him. She deserved that.

Will you say yes to me, sweet angel?

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see,” he said, claiming her mouth with his mouth and her body with his.

After breakfast, Holden and Griselda stopped by the hospital to visit Hannah, and Holden’s heart swelled when Gemma invited Griselda to hold his daughter.

Seeing Gris, so young and beautiful, holding his baby made all sorts of ideas swim around in his head, all ending in how fucking badly he wanted to be married to her and have babies with her and be allowed the privilege of calling her his wife. He kissed his tiny daughter on the forehead, whispering that he loved her, before gently handing her back to Clinton, who beamed down at the child’s face like no baby had ever been more precious. And again Holden knew the rightness of his decision to relinquish his paternal rights. He would find his place in Hannah’s life, but Clinton had been her real daddy right from the start.

After packing up the McClellans’ trunk with Holden’s meager belongings, they stopped by Quint and Maudie’s to say good-bye, and Maudie made them promise to come back on Thursday for Thanksgiving. It was Griselda who accepted Maudie’s invitation with tearful thanks, surprising him when she suddenly embraced the older woman, and Holden realized how much Griselda needed and wanted to be included in his life with the Davises. And he loved her for it because it meant that she had opened a room in her heart for his daughter, ex-girlfriend, best friend, and surrogate parents. It meant that Griselda wanted them in her life too.

As they drove out of town, Holden turned to her, the ring still burning a hole in his pocket, and asked, “M-mind if we make one more stop?”

She turned to him with bright eyes and shrugged. “Sure. Where?”

“You trust me?”

“With all my heart.”

“There’s just somewhere I need to see.”

It was hard to find the spot where they’d tried to cross the Shenandoah so many years ago, with Caleb Foster and Cutter chasing them down, so in the end he’d had to approximate the location. He parked on the side of the road, as close as he could get, and turned to Griselda. “I want to see it.”

She stiffened in her seat, staring out her window at the woods.

“I don’t,” she finally whispered, her eyes sad and heavy as she turned to face him. “I don’t want to see the place where I left you.”

“The place where we were
separated
.”

“The place where I escaped.”

“The place where we
survived
.” He paused a moment, looking deeply into her eyes. “Come with me. We need to face it together, Gris. It’ll haunt us if we d-don’t.”

“I can’t,” she sobbed.

“You
c-can
, angel. I’ll be right next to you.”

She tugged her bottom lip into her mouth, looked out the window, then took a deep, ragged breath. “Okay.”

He stepped out of the car and walked around to open her door. Her fingers trembled as she took his offered hand. She stood up, looking at the woods with cautious eyes, before turning to him.

“It was a long time ago,” he said, lacing his fingers through hers. “We were just kids trying to survive something terrible. We were b-brave, Gris. We were strong. We had hope.”

“We gave each other hope,” she said, her voice breaking on the word “hope.”

He tugged on her hand, leading her over the gravel at the side of the highway and into the woods, where they could hear the faint, faraway sound of the rushing Shenandoah through the trees. Griselda didn’t say a word, her head down, as she walked quietly behind him.

It was a long walk, and Holden’s memories rushed back—
I know you hurt, Holden. I hurt too, but don’t stop!—
in jagged, painful flashbacks,—
Through the cornfields and across the river
—blinding him with snapshots—
Don’t look back, no matter what
—that made his head ache—
You still with me, Holden?—
and heart clench—
You leave him be! Let him go!

But he soldiered on, for a good half hour or so, pulling Griselda silently behind him. Stepping over fallen trees and around boulders, they drew closer and closer, until he looked up and there it was: the Shenandoah River, water rushing white over the exposed rocks, loud and ominous and . . . beautiful.

It was beautiful.

Through any eyes, by any yardstick, it was proof of nature’s bounty, of God’s mastery over His earth, and it was not responsible for the actions of Caleb Foster so long ago. It was a beautiful place that had been tainted by evil, but here and now Holden could see clearly: it was stunning.

The clear, fresh water.

The bright green trees flanking the shore.

The rolling hills.

The dazzling blue sky.

Finishing their walk to the shore line, he realized that he wasn’t pulling Griselda anymore; she was walking along beside him, as much in awe of this magnificent place as he.

As he gazed down at her, she stared out at the river with wonder for a long time, finally looking up at him with tears in her eyes. And he saw it as much as he felt it: the lightness that comes when you settle old scores. The Shenandoah was just a river, and they were no longer the helpless children it had so cruelly separated.

“We’re on the other side.”

He nodded, just able to catch sight of the cornfields across and downriver in the distance. “That’s right.”

“We’re on the other side,” she said again, her voice soft and amazed.

“Together, Gris.” He squeezed her hand, his eyes burning as he smiled down at her. “We finally made it across.”

He wasn’t just talking about that terrible day so long ago. He was talking about finding each other, and loving each other, and—hopefully, soon—choosing each other. Holden stepped behind Griselda and put his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his chest as the sun shone down on their faces and the river rushed before them.

Something terrible had happened here once upon a time, but now they stood victorious in the very place of their defeat, and their happily ever after was just within reach. At some point Gris reached up and covered Holden’s hands with hers, and he thought to himself,
Right here. Right now. Me holding onto her and her holding onto me . . . this is as close to heaven as a man can get on earth.

And then,
What in the world are you waiting for?

He leaned down, settling his chin on her shoulder.

“Gris?” he said softly by her ear, his arms still tight around her.

“Mmm?”

“Gris, I gotta ask you something.”

“Whatever it is,” she said, her voice soft, full of trust and love. “The answer’s yes.”

He laughed softly, his chest rumbling behind her, joy making him smile and press his lips to the warn skin of her neck.

“No, angel. I gotta
ask
you.”

Her breath caught—he felt her chest under his hands—and suddenly her fingers tightened.

“Holden . . .,” she started.

He let his arms slip from around her and stepped in front of her, lowering himself to one knee. He heard her surprised gasp and when he looked up, her eyes were wide and glistening.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice nervous, breathless.

“You know exactly what I’m doing,” he said, as she covered her mouth with trembling fingers.

Holden reached out for her free hand and held it, sweeping his gaze over her lovely face before focusing on her eyes.

“I fell in love with you when I was ten years old because you were pretty and you weren’t mean. And I would’ve died so many times in this life if it hadn’t been for you . . . my angel, my friend, my family, my hope, my joy, my love.

“Every time I said the words ‘protect and serve’ in boot camp, I’d think, ‘protect Gris, serve Gris,’ and then I’d add on every other word I could think of: talk to Gris, write to Gris, make babies with Gris, grow old with Gris. Love Gris. Loving you is like breathing for me. I can’t live without it.

“And I know we’re g-going to have to say g-good-bye a hundred times in this life, but I figure we’re pretty good at holding on, aren’t we? And we’re pretty good at finding each other again. N-no matter what.”

She nodded, her lips trembling as she swiped her tears away. He flipped her hand over then dropped his head, pressing his lips over the letters “H+G.”

“You turned my life around, Griselda. You gave me my life back. You made me want to live again . . . and live well. You are the breath that I take and the beat of my heart, and no matter where I am, you are always beside me, so we will never be separated again. But I want one more thing from you. You ready?” he asked, blinking his eyes with emotion, but managing a lopsided grin that she lopsidedly returned with a small nod. “Griselda Schroeder, I will love you and protect you and serve you and honor you, angel, until the day I die. I jump, you jump. And you already said yes a few minutes ago, but I figure I should ask you again . . . W-will you marry me? W-will you be my wife?”

***

“Yes!” she exclaimed, still holding out her hand and trying, unsuccessfully, to keep it steady.

Holden leaned down to press his lips to her fingertips before reaching into his pocket to take out the little black velvet box. He flipped it open, taking out the ring and slipping it onto her finger. She leaned down and reached for his cheeks, cradling them tenderly and urging him to stand. Once he did, she pulled his face down to hers.

“I love you,” she said. “I have
always
loved you. I
will
always love you, Holden Croft. I can’t wait to be your wife.”

“My wife,” he murmured.

“You taught me how to love again, how to hope, and how to trust. I wasn’t alive until the day you walked back into my life, and now nothing matters but you. You and me. Together,” she finished, her voice breaking with emotion.

When she’d exited the McClellan’s car an hour ago, Griselda never imagined she could feel a peace as profound as that she’d felt standing at the banks of the dreaded Shenandoah with Holden’s arms around her. No, they could never go back to that catastrophic day so many years ago, but life had given them a second chance to cross to the other side together, and this morning all of her dreams had come true.

“I love you forever,” she whispered.

His lips descended swiftly, the weight of his body crashing into hers as she kissed him back.

By now, it felt like she’d kissed Holden a thousand times, certain in the knowledge that their hearts and souls and minds were bound on an otherworldly level, and yet this kiss was new because the ring on her finger would join her life to his in the last remaining—very worldly—way: in marriage. She had been Griselda Schroeder and Zelda Shroder. But becoming Griselda Croft—a name written on her heart more than a decade ago—would be her dearest, most longed- for dream come true.

Holden drew back, smiling down at her. “You said yes.”

“Twice.”

“There’s more.”

Worry crept into her joyful heart. “What?”

“I want us to get married now.”

“Today?”

“No. Well, sure, if that’s what you want. I mean
now
, before I go to Fort Sill a week from Monday. Once we’re married, we can apply for base housing at my PDS, which will almost definitely be Camp Pendleton. I want you to meet me out in California in a few weeks, and we can move into our first house, Gris.”

“Our first home,” she said, sniffling from tears, her heart overflowing with love for him and excitement for her life with him.

“
You
were my first home,” he answered softly, kissing her again.

Her fingers spanned his scalp as she slipped her tongue into his mouth, swallowing his groan. Running her hands down the strong arms that had held her as a child, and now held her as a woman, she acknowledged the profound depth of her gratitude and the eternal well of her love for him.

“I want you, fiancée,” he growled, the words tickling her ear.

“We have wedding plans to make,” she said, arching her back to tease him, “as soon as we get home.”

“That’ll have to wait,” he said, the low rumble of his chuckle making her toes curl with happiness. “I’ve got other business with you first.”

“Okay, Holden Croft, you win.” She leaned back to look up at him and knew that her eyes were shining with more joy than she ever imagined she could possibly deserve. “But you better not tire me out
too
much. I’ve got a wedding to plan.”

***

Holden quickly learned that when you ask a girl to marry you and tell her she has nine days to make it happen, she doesn’t waste a minute.

After a call to Sabrina, who insisted they get married at their house in Georgetown on Sunday night—Roy would take care of the license and officiant—Griselda called Maya to ask her to be her maid of honor, and Holden called Quint to be his best man, since Clinton needed to stay close to Gemma and Hannah. Maudie made Quint wrangle another promise from them to come back for Thanksgiving on Thursday, and while there, Maudie offered Griselda her wedding dress, which had been lovingly preserved in a box of tissue paper for twenty-five years and fit Griselda like a glove.