GRACE
I’d never met two men who confused me more. They riled me to the point of epic frustration. They also riled me to newfound arousal. I didn’t understand them. I had no idea how to behave or act. I had no idea what to do with them, what to say, especially when Charlie took it upon himself to toss me over his shoulder and carry me off. And talk about—and touch—my p***y as if it truly belonged to him.
Father, Travis, even Barton Finch. Those men I understood. They were driven by selfishness and greed. Hatred. They knew about justice, but to them it wasn’t shiny like the sheriff’s badge. It was tarnished and for the weak. I’d grown up with this perspective, and I had to wonder how I hadn’t turned out like them. Somehow, I’d known trouble when I saw it, knew right from wrong. Bad from go
