More fun and games....Bonus!

Today I got a special treat for you.  For those who have been following the whole Grace and Harper Saga, more affectionately know as Fun and Games with K&K, I have another snippet for you this week.

I know what you are thinking right now.  Bonus!  Score!  Right?  Well don't get to used to it.  

So lets check in and see what happens when Truman and Grace crashed Owen and Harper's date after Grace got the call.

Grace directed Truman to Owens’s house, all the while singing a silent mantra, ‘Please let her be alright.’

Watching the headlights sweep across the front of the house, both Truman and Grace could see the outline of two bodies pressed close against each other through the pulled curtains of the front room.   Panic arced through her at the visual.  Oh my god, Harper.  Confusion knitted her brow, and Grace murmured, “O, what are you doing?” 

Hearing the uneasiness in her voice had Truman flinging open the door.  Fear had him tossing over his shoulder, “he wouldn’t hurt her, huh?” before vaulting up the porch steps and steamrolling through the front door, Grace hot on his heels.

Pandemonium broke all at once.  Truman plucking Owen away from Harper with no more energy than one might use to swat a fly.  A little boy and girl, both dressed for bed, pounding down the stairs at the sound of the noise, and Lucky, pushing in from what appeared to be the kitchen, taking in the scene before hurling himself into the fray.  

Grace, jumping on to his back, got a strangle hold on Truman before yelling, “Tru, stop it.  Damn it, I said stop it.”

Lucky tried inserting himself between the two, but Harper’s older brother had a pretty good neck lock on Owen.  “Jesus Christ.  Grace, what is going on?”

Grace, unsettled by Lucky’s sudden appearance, had to clear her throat before she could answer.  “Well as you can see, Owen isn’t high on Truman’s list of favorite people right now.  He thinks O was trying to hurt his little sister.”

“Hurt her?” Confusion laced each word.

Owen’s face quickly turning red had Grace’s alarm meter soaring.  Pivoting her head to get Harper’s attention, she saw her friend had slid to the floor in a boneless heap, head resting against the wall, all the while laughing like a loon.  Disbelief and anger warred in her at that moment.  This was funny?  Seriously?

Sliding from Truman’s back, she let her hand slide down before tugging on his jacket to get his attention, “Truman.  She’s fine.  See.”

Something in Grace’s tone alerted him, and he turned his head to look at his sister.  Seeing his opportunity, Lucky pushed Truman off Owen with more force than necessary, which sent Grace tumbling backward.   With nothing to make purchase of, she flailed before landing, hard on her ass in a very unladylike sprawl across the living room floor.   The sight, which seemed to tickle Harper’s funny bone all the more, had the pixie teen teetering to the side before she tottered over while tears continually streamed down her face.

“Owen!” The little girl wailed.

“Lucky, is O getting beat up?” the little boy demanded.

Truman raced to his sister and dropped to his haunches to make sure she was alright.

Pushing himself up and off the wall, Owen looked over at his twin and said, “Get them upstairs to bed.  Please.”

The brothers looked at each other, communicating in that silent way twins seemed to do so well, 

before Lucky nodded once and turned to herd his brother and sister out of the room and up the stairs.    

Grace levered herself into a sitting position and was taking in the weird tableau that consisted of Truman, Harper and Owen all the while wondering how her evening, which had started so promising had turned to shit so quickly.  

The laughter finally died down, and Truman eased Harper up in order to look at her more clearly.  Shaking her, he demanded, “Are you okay?   Did this ass-hole hurt you?” 

Harper stared at Truman through eyes devoid of emotion, and he felt the rage start to boil again.  “I swear Harps if he did anything to hurt you I will kill him.”

The earnestness, with which those words were uttered, seemingly more like a benediction than a promise, had Grace moving.  On hands and knees, she crawled across the hardwood floor to Harper. 

Truman’s temper was legendary.  Not because it was so common; it wasn’t.  It took a lot to get him to the point of no return, but once there, he was of the mindset to follow through and apologize later.  The last thing they needed was Tru pounding on Owen, especially for something he didn’t do. 

In Graces opinion, if he was going to use his fists to avenge Harper, there was only one person who should be on the receiving end of that, and it wasn’t Owen.

“Who should it be Grace?”  Truman asked in a mild tone underlined by solid steel.

Shaking her head, Grace asked, “what?”

“You just said that if I was going to be wailing on anyone, it shouldn’t be Owen.  Who should it be?”

Grace just stared.  “Did I say that out loud?” she squeaked.  How the devil was she going to backtrack from that?  Glancing over at Harper, she wasn’t surprised to see her friend shell-shocked, obviously overwhelmed by what Grace had just revealed.  Hell, Grace was just as taken aback.

Before Truman could respond, Lucky’s voice whipped across the room from his place at the bottom of the stairs.  “Why don’t you ask you sister that question?”

All eyes turned in his direction, and for once, Grace felt profound relief that someone had jumped to her defense.  The fact that someone was Lucky was not lost on Grace.

 

Truman pinned Harper with just a look and asked, “Harper?  Who?”

Harper turned and accusingly sought Grace with her eyes. 

 

The helplessness that rained across her features made everyone aware of her unease.  But Grace had to agree with Lucky on this one.  Harper wanted to handle this herself.  She had been very clear on that, and maybe it was time Grace stopped running to the rescue and listened to what Harper wanted. 

It was the hardest thing she ever did.  Shrugging, Grace lifted herself up and moved to the front door.  “Truman, take Harper home.  This is a conversation you should have in private.”

Frustration marking every word, Truman said, “Grace, what the hell is going on?”  Standing, he planted himself in front of her, prepared to stay that way as long as it took. 

 

Sighing, she turned away, and her eyes met Owen’s before sliding back to her date for the evening.  “Sorry, Truman.  I can’t tell you.  I wish I could.  Only Harper can.”

Okay, there you go.  You know the drill.  What do you think?

Until next time.