I reach out, cupping a hand against the rough bristles shadowing his jaw. “I don’t want to talk about her,” I tell him firmly. “Tell me about the accident."
Braxton searches my eyes like he’s testing my certainty. A minute passes, and then another, but eventually, he takes a deep breath, ducking his head to hide his eyes. His voice is quiet but steady as he recounts the accident that cost a little girl her life, telling me in detail—not graphic, but enough—everything that happened, right down to the way Allsion smiled at him before she went pale and limp.
A long silence stretches over us when he’s done, neither of us moving as I absorb the information of just how much I missed. “You almost died,” I murmur brokenly, “and I had no idea.” Irrational guilt surges through me, knowing everything that followed—as much as Braxton doesn’t want to completely attribute it to the accident—was influenced by it.
“Don’t,” he snaps, and I swing wide eyes to find him watching me, green eyes dark and fierce. “None of this is on you. I didn’t talk to you,” he reminds me. “I shut you out. I shuteveryoneout.”
“But you told Paisley,” I say, my lips feeling strangely numb. “You said—You told me she would understand more than I could, but I never even had the chance. I should’ve pushed harder. Fought you to talk to me.”
Braxton leans right into my space, the tip of his nose almost brushing mine. “And that probably would’vepushed me further away,” he says confidently. “I was so sure I could handle it on my own. That I didn’t need to lean on anyone.”
“So, why Paisley?” I demand, voice acerbic.
“I didn’t care if she thought I was weak,” he says simply. “I didn’t care if she thought less of me.” Pain echoes through his green eyes. “I didn’t care if she disappeared.”
I make a noise that makes it clear what I think ofthat, and Braxton’s lips twitch. “I suppose I proved you right when I left.” A caustic laugh leaves my lips.
“No,” Braxton insists fiercely. “You protected yourself the only way you knew how. Don’t lessen what I did, Gracie.” He pauses, chest moving as he fills his lungs with air. He slides his hand back around my neck, fingers digging in gently, massaging the tense muscles. “I’m a work in progress.” He pauses, every muscle in his body going taut, his brain working furiously behind his eyes. “There is something that happened recently, and I haven’t told anyone outside of the crew. I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, and I wasn’t…”
My expression creases uncertainly. “And you want to tell me?”
Braxton shifts forward, making sure not to hurt me as he presses his forehead to mine, our breathing mingling. “I want to tell you more than anyone else,” he murmurs. “When I found out, you were the only person I wanted to talk to, and it killed me that I couldn’t.”
I don’t pull away, hating that so much bad shit has happened to get us here, but glad we’re here anyway. I don’t know what will happen next, but for the first time in months…I feel hope.
“What is it?” I whisper. The moment feels fragile, and I’m loath to break it.
“Allison”—his voice breaks—“was going to die anyway,but the other driver accelerated her death. He’s been convicted of aggravated vehicular manslaughter, and two counts of reckless endangerment.” Braxton pauses. “He’s pleaded guilty.”
A soft sound escapes me, knowing this won’t ease the responsibility that Braxton feels for Allison’s death. Reasoning and logic hold no place in our minds when we’re overcome with that much guilt, surrounded by a constant narrative ofwhat if.
“Allison’s parents have reached out through Monroe. They want to talk to the firefighter who stayed with Allison in her last moments.”
“Oh, Brax…”
His eyes are bright as they move between mine, one hand on the back of my neck and the other coming up to my cheek, his thumb stroking over my cheekbone. “Don’t feel obligated to say yes, but I wanted to ask if you would?—”
“Yes,” I cut in.
He chuckles softly. “You didn’t let me finish.”
“I want to go with you,” I say firmly. “I didn’t have a chance to be there for you before.” His eyes drop away from mine, but I quickly add, “Not just because of you, Brax. I let my past haunt me enough that I went straight into flight mode. But I think…” I roll my lips between my teeth, hesitating. “I think if there’s any chance of us coming back from this, we need to let the past go.”
Something dark flashes across his face as he stares at me. “What does that mean for Nolan?”
It’s a question I was expecting, and I don’t answer straight away, really considering what I want to say. I haven’t made all the right decisions—not even close—but I am not going to regret anything that has helped me to overcome the hurt that has been swallowing me whole.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say quietly, but Braxton shakes his head.
“I would rather know, Gracie. No matter how much it hurts. My imagination is doing far worse things to me.”
“Nolan and I slept together before I came back,” I blurt, hating it when a shutter falls down over his expression, hiding his thoughts. He’s not surprised, but I know that doesn’t make it any easier to hear. “I didn’t do it because I had feelings for him.”
Braxton’s expression is tight, his eyes unreadable, but he doesn’t shift away. “We weren’t together, Gracie. It’s okay.”
I shook my head. “I used Nolan to make myself feel better. I knew there was no chance of feelings developing between us, and I used that like a shield. I just…It was a distraction from everything else. After Christmas, afterher, I felt so utterly rejected. I felt like…a second choice. I was powerless and out of control, and then I went to see my mother, and she?—”
“I can imagine,” Braxton mutters. He’s still tense, his shoulders hunched, but his hands on me remain gentle, his fingers stroking the column of my throat.
