Grace
We pulled into Canmore just before noon the next day, and I felt like a freaking puppy.
I hung my head out the window, eyes wide as I attempted to take it all in. The air was crisp and light even in July, the sun shining but with a cool breeze right on its heels.
As if the breathtaking views of the mountains all around us weren’t incredible enough, the town itself was adorable. There was a little main street lined with shops and restaurants, a boardwalk along a gorgeous flowing river, and people everywhere soaking up the beautiful weather. There were bike-riders and families on skates, hikers with packs and locals taking their dogs for a walk, young couples blowing up paddle boards and friends joking around as they geared up for a climb.
It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced — which was my favorite feeling in the world.
Add in the fact that Jaxson was right beside me, smiling as he watched me, his hand on my thigh… and it was the most perfect moment.
Deep in my chest, a stone hand was wrapped around my heart in a tight fist. It was a constant sensation — my heart struggling to beat against it, my lungs tight as they forced every breath. But I ignored it all, pretending like the end of this week wasn’t something that would kill me, like right now was all that mattered.
I was good at that. It was one of my best qualities.
I could always turn my attention to the bright side.
I could always pretend like nothing could hurt me.
Jaxson had found a modern little cabin to stay at, an A-frame with tall windows and a gorgeous claw-foot tub that I couldn’t wait to soak in. It was right on the river next to the boardwalk that led to the main street of shops, and apparently it was owned by an old friend of his. We popped in long enough to unload the car, and for us both to put on sunglasses and hats, and then I was dragging him by the hand out the door to explore.
We didn’t have any plans for the day, but as we walked in and out of shops and ate lunch at a place with the best pierogies I’d ever had in my life, I made a list of everything I wanted to do.
I wanted to paddle board the reservoir. I wanted to drive up to see Lake Louise and Moraine Lake. I wanted to hike Grassi Lakes and eat fondue at the Grizzly House in Banff and take a boat tour of Lake Minnewanka. I wanted a picture of us by the Banff sign, wanted to make out in the gondola on the ride up to Sulphur Mountain. And I was definitely not leaving here without indulging in every weird Canadian snack I could get my grubby little hands on — starting with ketchup chips.
I wanted to do and see and experience everything that made Jaxson Brittain.
He listened patiently as I rattled it all off while we ate lunch, jotting line by line down in a special notebook I’d purchased from one of the stores. It had an illustration of the Three Sisters mountain peaks on the front and said Dare to Live Big.
But even as Jaxson chimed in with his suggestions, I could feel the tension radiating off him as he picked at his poutine.
I tried to keep the conversation light, but I was dying to get inside his head.
“Wait,” I said when the waitress brought us our second beers — an IPA for Jaxson, a watermelon sour for me. “Did you just speak French?”
The waitress had said something to one of her co-workers behind the bar, and when Jaxson heard it, he responded to her in the same language. She’d seemed somewhat surprised, and then I filled in the blanks that he told her he was from the area.
He cocked a brow. “I did.”
“What the actual fuck?”
“Surprised?”
“Very,” I said, waving my hand for him to fill in the blanks.
He just shrugged. “We all learn French in school here.”
“That’s so cool,” I said, leaning an elbow on my open notebook. “Say something in French.”
“Tu es une si bonne fille, Grace.”
Fuck me. Even the way he said my name sounded French.
“What did you say?”
Jaxson leaned forward over the table, his eyes dancing between mine. “I said — you’re such a good girl, Grace.”
My neck burned, and I immediately sat up and picked up my pen. “Yep. Definitely adding Fuck Jaxson Brittain While He Whispers Dirty French Things to the list.”
I scribbled it out with a smile, but when I looked up at Jaxson again, he was watching me like his stomach was sick.
“You okay?” I asked, closing the notebook and setting the list aside.
His gaze swept over my face, over and over, like he was committing me to memory. “I’m great, Nova.”
His voice was soft and sad, and I reached across the table to cover his hand with mine.
“You’re pulling a Grace.”
He chuckled at that.
“Is it your dad?” I guessed.
He swallowed, squeezing where my hand held his, and nodded.
“Do you want to go see him?”
“Hell no,” he answered quickly, and then let out a long, pained sigh. “And that makes me feel like such a piece of shit.”
“You’re not a piece of shit because you don’t want to see the man who constantly uses and abuses you.”
Jaxson frowned, cracking his neck. “He’s not all bad, you know. I have a lot of good memories with him — how he taught me to skate, taught me to play, taught me all the things to look for when I’m studying video.” He swallowed. “It’s just…”
“Tainted,” I finished for him. “Because most of the time, he’s yelling at you or asking for money.”
His brows bent together, and he nodded again. Then, he blew out a breath and sat back, releasing me and flattening his palms on the table. “What do you say we finish these beers and go back to the cabin?”
“So you can whisper dirty French words in my ear?”
“I can’t think of a better way to spend a night.”
I smiled, watching as he thumbed out some of the Canadian cash we’d picked up from the bank. He left it on the table and grabbed my hand in his, leading us back out into the street.
When we made it to the river, I pulled him to the side, sliding my hands up to hook on his shoulders. I waited for him to look down at me, and then I framed his face as best I could for being so much shorter than he was.
“You don’t owe him anything,” I said, holding his gaze and hoping he believed me. “You can love him and still need distance. You can respect him and still withdraw the power he’s had over you. Your dad has helped you — no doubt about it. But this gift?” I said, placing my hand over his heart. “It’s yours and yours alone. Don’t let him steal that from you.”
He sighed, covering my palm, his large fingers lacing over mine.
“How do you know exactly what I need to hear?”
I shrugged, pressing up on my toes to kiss him.
“The same way you can tell when I’m faking a smile, I guess,” I said. “I just know… you.”
