A Graceful Mess Read online

  Copyright ©2013 Nacole Stayton

  All rights reserved.

  This work of fiction is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without proper written permission by the author, Nacole Stayton, except where permitted by law.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Photography by Toski Covey Photography:

  https://www.facebook.com/toskicoveyphotography?fref=ts

  Cover Design by Sommer Stein at Perfect Pear Creative:

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  Cover Models are Allison Rae and Brett Brock

  Editing by Adept Edits

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  Formatting by AngelaMcLaurin at Fictional Formats

  https://www.facebook.com/pages/Fictional-Formats/578230928856597?fref=ts

  Author contact information:

  Website: www.nacolestayton.com

  Email: [email protected]

  Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6871799.Nacole_Stayton

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/#!/AuthorNacoleStayton

  Twitter: https://twitter.com/NacoleStayton

  Pinterest: https://pinterest.com/nacolestayton/

  Warning: This book is intended for readers 18+ due to explicit language and sexual encounters.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A Graceful Mess Playlist

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To my husband whose unwavering support has kept me afloat on this journey.

  You are my anchor.

  Ding, ding, ding.

  The sound of tiny pellets of hail beat against the glass of my bedroom window. It is all I have heard other than the tornado sirens for the past several hours. I don’t know where Mother Dawn is. No one has come in to check on us, or the boys across the hall, yet. I know this because I haven’t heard my best friend Brody’s loud mouth yell at any of the orphanage’s many nuns. I am almost positive he is sound asleep. The wind hits the massive brick house with such force that my teeth instantly start to chatter. I wish I could run across the hall and climb into bed with Brody. He is nine, which is only three years older than I am, and despite our age difference, he has been my best friend since he came to Saint Vincent de Paul Orphanage for the Innocent. I wish he were my older brother, and I’m sad that tomorrow I will have to say goodbye to him, forever.

  The door creaks open, and Helen, one of the only nice nuns here, appears. She peeks in to make sure we are all tucked in bed, just like we’re supposed to be at this hour. I see her eyes travel down to my twin cot, third on the left, and then I watch as she glances around the room, an indication that she noticed my small body missing. She is quiet as she tiptoes through the doorway. I stay bent in the corner close to the big, wooden toy box. I know that if the tornado hits, this toy box won’t save me, but sitting here with Lucky, my stuffed rabbit, tucked away in the corner eases my fears.

  “Gracie?” her voice whispers into the darkness before I see two legs covered in a blanket of black material bend down in front of me. “Aw, Gracie, there you are. You had me worried when I didn’t see your pretty face lying in bed. Are you scared, little one?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I reply, short and to the point.

  “Well, the storm is just about to pass, little one. Come on and climb back into bed for me, and I’ll sing your favorite lullaby.” She stands up and holds her ivory hand out to me. I take it, and she guides me back to bed and tucks me in before she takes Lucky into her arms and gives him a kiss on his furry cheek. It makes me smile, but I don’t dare make a sound, scared to wake the others in my room. I know there are consequences for bad behavior, and I try to avoid those as much as possible.

  Helen climbs into bed with me and lays her body next to mine on top of my comforter. The gesture is innocent, although I am sure it would be frowned upon. The soothing words of Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star help calm my fears of the storm that has been brewing outside. As the song ends she extends her hand to brush a piece of hair off of my face. “Now hush, little one. Close those big, blue eyes and picture the stars. Remember what Father Collis taught you?” I nod my head up and down. “When you’re scared what are you supposed to do?”

  “When I’m scared I’m supposed to pray.” My voice quivers from nervousness, caused by the thrashing sound of wind only inches away.

  “That’s my girl. Are you still scared of the storm?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Lucky and I are scared.” I squeeze Lucky’s once-white body that is now a dingy gray.

  “Bow your head, little one,” she instructs, and I do as I am told. I close my eyes while lying down with my head on my pillow and begin to pray.

  “Dear Heavenly Father, I’m scared of the storm. Please keep us safe tonight. Amen.”

  Helen stands up, straightens her attire, and then kneels beside me on the floor.

  “Now close your eyes and allow God to work.” She smoothes my hair back off of my forehead, stands back up, and heads in the direction of the door. Once I hear the latch shut, I turn on my side facing the window. My eyelids start to get heavy as I stare into the darkness. Sleepiness finally overwhelms me as I drift off to sleep holding the only possession that is truly mine, Lucky.

  They say be careful of the quiet ones. A statement I never truly understood, to be honest. What is wrong with being quiet or a little on the shy side? It’s a demeanor I use as a mask to hide myself from a world I don’t feel like I fit into. In one false move, the life I’ve so carefully constructed could crumble, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. Wretched thoughts invade my mind as I sit outside of the campus auditorium fiddling with the frayed ends of my purse, patiently waiting for Maci, my best friend, to change out of her cheerleading uniform and meet me.

  The year’s end signifies not only my graduation from college, but also three straight months of not having to come to this God awful place. To say I dislike being on this campus is an understatement. Who enjoys coming to a place every day where you have to walk from point A to point B, even if it’s pouring rain or the sun is smoldering, with a phony smile plastered across your face? I’m not much of a social butterfly or fond of large crowds, and I’m pretty sure those are requirements for attending college nowadays. People care much more about partying and playing matchmaker than their education, which in all honesty is why we’re all here in the first place. But as much as I dread returning after the summer’s end, I’ll be back for another three years of law school. One degree down, one to go. The start of summer break also means I
’m only a few weeks away from celebrating my twenty-third birthday. I don’t really get into the hype of spending an entire day celebrating myself, but Maci does, and she takes full advantage of the occasion. Why spend a day with a fake smile pasted on that makes my cheeks feel like they are twitching on the inside? I guess I figure it’s best to play along, at least for her enjoyment.

  The reality is I feel like a stranger in my own skin. The beauty my parents say radiates off of me isn’t an inward feeling in the slightest. I get that the blonde hair and fair skin is attractive to the human eye, but what’s inside is what matters, and I am as hollow as they come. Order and attention to detail have become my saving grace. The only thing keeping me sane is the picture I see when I close my eyes, “Grace Clearwater, Attorney at Law,” written in script on the cloudy glass of an office door. Standing in the mock court room on campus, acting like I am in charge, is the only time I feel sure of myself, unless my confidante, Maci, is standing next to me.

  “There you are, gorgeous.” She glides towards me with her sparkly white teeth on full display, putting even the sun to shame as it beams down and radiates off of her already tanned face.

  “Here I am.” I try to mimic her wide grin, but she notices my fakeness immediately.

  “Well, Miss Cranky Pants, why the long face?”

  If anyone on the planet understands my façade, it’s her. I still don’t know what she sees in me, but we have been inseparable since the beginning of our freshman year in high school. I remember my dad dropping me off, rolling down the window, and yelling “I love you, Gracie.” Way to kick off what was already going to be a promising four years of hell. I turned to see a tall brunette staring at me. She stalked over, bent down, and whispered through glossy lips, “I’m Maci, and I’m your new best friend.” We spent all of high school glued at the hip, and dormed together in college. I am tedious and well-mannered, while she is a wild child, always breaking the rules and pushing her limits. We are like oil and vinegar, but somehow our relationship works. I hate to say it, but more in my favor than hers. Maci is graduating with a Bachelor’s degree in education. I have to say, she too wears a pretty good mask. Her whole party girl image doesn’t do her heart justice. She is one of the most caring and compassionate women I have ever met. I am the blessed one that she took under her wing eight years ago.

  “Come on, Gracie, what’s up with the bitchy attitude?”

  “Nothing, I’m just ready to get this summer started,” I lie, once again hiding my true feelings, as I hook my arm through the crook of her elbow.

  “Fuck yeah, honeybuns, that’s what I wanna hear!”

  We stroll to her navy Honda parked in the student section and prepare to make the short drive to our apartment. I am normally one hundred percent myself around Maci, but I’m not good with change, and let’s face it, graduating college counts as a huge change. It’s not fair to bring her down with me today of all days, so I do my best at stowing my feelings and smiling, a real, from-the-heart, genuine smile. As we near the car, she turns her head and winks at me, and suddenly I feel sane again. She knows me, sometimes I think better than I know myself. It is one of the main reasons I adore her. Well, that, and she kind of chose me. But she also pushes me out of my comfort zone even if I stumble on my way. I always appreciate her push in the end, which is why I have allowed her to talk me into going to a new bar downtown for my birthday on opening night, which she’s been going on about the whole way home.

  “Shameless.” She shuts the car door after grabbing her oversized suitcase she calls a purse.

  “The bar is called ‘Shameless’? Are you kidding me, Maci? You want to ring in my birthday at a place with a name like that?” I ask, annoyed and a little disturbed that the place she wants to celebrate my birthday has such an awful name.

  “Yes. And no, I’m not kidding!” her voice screeches as we get onto the elevator before she grabs her phone and tunes everything else out. I assume she is nose-deep in some celebrity gossip column. Who am I to judge? We all have vices. Luckily, I dodged hearing more about the bar. I know she means well and is always trying to strip away the mask of insecurities I wear more than make-up, but clubbing really isn’t my style. What the heck, I guess I can give it a solid effort. I look over and see a gleam of pure joy in her eyes. It makes me smile as I turn the corner and shut the door to my room, blocking out the world.

  “A little quiet time, alone, is just what I need to regroup.” Grabbing my Kindle from my nightstand, I climb onto my perfectly made queen bed.

  The sound of my bedroom door creaking on its hinges alerts my eyes to look towards its frame. I watch as it swings open allowing a stream of light from the hallway to brighten the darkness, interrupting my session with my book boyfriend of the week. My eyes wander from the device in my hand back up to the door as I notice a shadow tiptoeing to the corner of my bed.

  “Yes?” I question the unannounced visitor.

  “Oh damn, am I interrupting your porn session again?” Sensing her sarcasm I give Maci an evil look as she playfully jerks my Kindle from my hands.

  One of my darkest secrets is my addiction to raunchy romance novels. Way back when, before e-readers, I would stash books from our public library under my bed in a small shoe box. One day Maci was over trying to spruce up my wardrobe when she noticed the box. In hindsight, I should have hidden it more carefully, but leave it to her to have found it. She teased me for weeks saying, “My coy, little bestie is a secret skank!” She never really judged me though. Tormented me, yes, but it was all innocent. She merely accepted me for me, which is another reason why I adore her. Don’t get me wrong, there were plenty of times she held my secret over my head, especially during our first few years on campus. Being the bombshell she is, she got invited to almost every elite party, and of course she always had me tag along with her. Parties weren’t really my scene, but she would do her best to make me feel welcome while joking and whispering in my ear, “He looks like he could be Channing Tatum’s brother.”

  Finding a few books in my parents’ room, and blushing from embarrassment that my mom was reading them, left me horrified. In retrospect, it is one of the only things we have had in common. To say I am a misfit in my family is putting it mildly. My father, Joseph, and my mother, Karen, are the total opposite of me. They’re kindred spirits, and my two younger brothers are just as rambunctious. I, on the other hand, am meticulous and like things in order at all times. Which is why it was such a shock to picture my mom buried in a romance novel. Thank goodness I never actually caught her, rosy-cheeked and gushing all sorts of lust while reading one. The thought alone makes me cringe.

  “Oh, come on, you’ve read this series more than once. Get up, brush your beautiful blonde locks, and let’s go out. I’m bored and we should be celebrating the last day of classes, not sitting in a dungeon reading sappy love stories about chains and whips!” Maci whines while fidgeting on the edge of my bed.

  “All right, all right, and what exactly did you have in mind?”

  “Well, Blondie, I ran into this sexy guy at the tattoo shop. His name is Spencer…Spencer Ramsey…”

  “Tattoo shop?” I cut her off mid-sentence as my nose crinkles from her statement. “Why…? Oh God, do I even want to know?”

  “Come on, you’re not that naïve, are you, babe? I was there getting my bellybutton pierced!” Squealing as she stands up, she exposes the silver jewel on her flat stomach. I squint in the dark trying to examine the shiny piece of metal dangling from her belly button.

  “Oh. My. God! I can’t believe you had the guts to do that and I didn’t even know. How long have you had that?”

  “Umm, about a week.” She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, like getting a piercing is no big deal.

  “Well, are there any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me?” My voice sounds madder than I actually am. I have never kept anything of importance about my life from her. Granted I’ve never gotten a piercing either. Heck, she even knows about my dee
pest darkest fantasies, and even about Brody. Simply thinking his name sends chills down my spine. I regain my composure as I get up out of bed and straighten the creases my body left while sitting there.

  “Don’t get all insecure on me, Gracie.” Reaching to grab my hand, she interrupts me fluffing my pillow.

  “I was just leaving the tanning bed, and the flashing neon lights grabbed my attention and drew me in. The man standing behind the counter just kept me there longer than expected.” I eye her warily, still unsure why this is the first I have heard of her little escapade.

  “So let me get this straight: you left the tanning salon and stopped by the tattoo studio, or whatever you call it, and then, bam, you came home with a piercing?”

  “That sounds about right.” The simplicity of her answer leaves me wondering why she is being so vague.

  “And you used to call me a skank! You little tattoo whore.” I smack her on her rear, and she wiggles it beneath my hand.

  “Did my little innocent Gracie just use the word ‘whore’? Now, we know demeaning words like that shouldn’t come out of a future lawyer’s pretty little mouth!”

  “And we know an elementary school teacher shouldn’t be sporting a bellybutton ring either!”

  We both burst out laughing, ignoring one another’s meaningless insults.

  “Get your cute, little ass out of that bathroom so I can doll you up!”

  I decided it’s best not to fight her tonight. After all, she’s right: graduating college is something to celebrate, so it didn’t take much convincing. As always, she is my personal stylist and tonight is no exception. Personally, I like my attire to stay on the simple side. Usually my outfits consist of neutral colors like beige or a simple floral. But whenever she has the chance, she uses it as an excuse to have free rein on my wardrobe. When I open the door, I almost run face first into her as she stands in the doorway holding up a bright teal cocktail dress. My eyes drift over the piece of cloth she claims is a dress, then dart to her face in one swift motion.