Free Higher Octave (Heavy Influence #2.5) by Ann Marie Frohoff

woman, who was
starting a new life? And me, a man (albeit younger than her) with
the option to start a new life right then and there, cutting Aly
out of it once and for all?
    I gulped. “I don’t know,” I answered
honestly. “Part of me wants to run right out of here, and the other
wants to say fuck it, it’s over.”
    Grace’s eyes roamed my face, and I watched
her swallow, blinking at me. She sighed deeply and licked her full
lips. A weird vibe coursed around, and she shook her head, looking
down at her hands.
    I instantly felt bad. Here I had the option
of trying to get back with my love, and Grace would never have that
chance again, just like Sienna.
    “I don’t mean to get so heavy, Grace. I’m
sorry.”
    She gave me a sad, lopsided smile, and then
sat up straight, with a more upbeat air. “Okay. Let’s stop feeling
sorry for ourselves. I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m the one that got
all…heavy…as you say, asking too many personal questions.”
    Oh, just you wait until I have my turn.
    Her willingness to lighten the mood
invigorated the moment. I watched her look over the menu she’d
taken into her hands. I did the same. We discussed the menu and
compared it to other Mexican joints in the area (Grace had lived in
the South Bay for over ten years herself). We ordered tacos: she,
the chicken and steak, and I, the fish and shrimp.
    “Do you eat seafood?” She nodded. “You wanna
share?”
    “Sure,” she agreed and lifted her glass
filled with iced tea. I picked up my water glass. “Cheers to new
beginnings.”
    Our glasses clinked together, and I wondered
if she wasn’t drinking alcohol because of me. “You don’t
drink?”
    She laughed mildly in spite of herself. “Not
in two years.”
    Now it was my turn to ask
questions. “What have you done the last two years?”
Her head tipped down, and then she met my gaze. “Much like you,
I’ve just been trying to survive.”
    The next question tumbled out of my mouth
like a disgusting loogie. “How did he die?”
    Shock registered in Grace’s eyes, and she
gulped. I wanted to punch myself in the mouth. The look on her face
told me she could burst with tears at any moment, and I held my
hands up. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that…”
    But before I could say another word, she
blurted out the answer. “He died in a plane crash.” She held her
breath and touched her cheek, running her fingers down her
neck.
    My hands went numb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t
mean to be so…” I couldn’t even finish my thoughts. I just hung my
head in embarrassment. Grace had no idea about how my dad, Michael,
died.
    Similar tragedy. Instant. Permanent.
Forever. Leaving behind a young son.
    She reached over and rubbed the top of my
hand, sending a chill running up my arm. “Jake, it’s okay. I don’t
know what either of us expected this to be. I was flattered you
wanted to get to know me.” She looked around the room again, as if
searching for someone she might know. “I’m not ready to be out in a
social situation. I don’t know what to talk about, but you don’t
need to tread lightly. I’m a big girl. I’ve made it this far.”
    She smiled and pulled her hand away. I
wanted to reach out and grab it back. “Thanks for being a good
sport and not kicking my teeth in for the direct, insensitive,
question.” I laughed nervously. “I guess I need some etiquette
classes or something.”
    My remark made her giggle. “Sorry you’re the
guinea pig.” She took another sip of her tea and sighed again.
“You’re the first person other than family and very close
friends…and Ethan’s teachers…who I’ve shared that with.”
    “The first one outside your circle, in two
years?”
    Her eyebrows rose up her
forehead, silently telling me , no shit,
that’s what I keep saying.
    I wanted to know more. I wanted to know his
name and what he did for a living, and what kind of plane crash it
was. There’d been jetliner crashes in other parts of the world,