“Locked and loaded.” Nolan pushes away from the car, holding his arms open. Gracie moves out from under my hold and into his, hugging him tightly. I can see her profile, the way her eyes close as she sinks against him, and jealousy coats my tongue, even as acceptance fills me.
Seconds later, she pulls back, telling him, “Drive safe, okay?”
Nolan pats her on the head, a rare smile tugging at his mouth. “Always.” He looks at me, a warning in his eyes. “Take care of her this time,” he says softly, a dangerous thread under his words. “Don’t fuck it up again.”
I don’t blink. “I won’t, man.” My stare shifts to Gracie, who’s looking back at me, her expression soft. “I’m playing for keeps.”
Nolan watches me for a long moment before his expression eases. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I believe that.”
CHAPTER 35
Braxton
Ilook around Frothy Cakes with a sigh, everything feeling familiar and strange all at once. My knee is jiggling nonstop, my hands shaking as I lift my coffee to my mouth.
A couple of tables away, a family of three is sitting. The boy—about ten—has a small slice sitting in front of him with a flickering candle pushed into it.
As I watch, he sends his mother a severe look. “There’s a cake at home. I watched you bake it.”
“I know,” she replies with a grin, pressing the plate closer to him.
“Is the cake not for me?” he asks, looking back at the table, his frown deepening.
The father leans back in his seat, amusement tugging at his mouth. “The cake is for you, Killer,” he says, and my mouth twitches at the strange nickname. “But if you don’t want the lemon bar—” he reaches out to snag the plate, but the boy swats his hand away with a growl.
“Mine!”
I shake my head with a chuckle as Stevie takes the seat across from me, placing his to-go cup down and pulling thelid off. He reaches for three packets of sugar, opening all of them at once and dumping them into his black coffee.
“Did the meeting go as you expected?” he asks, carrying on the conversation we were having when we met outside. He stirs his sugar water as he looks over at me. “I know you’ve been worried about it.”
A cheer catches my attention, and I look over to see “Killer” has blown out the candle on his lemon bar, his parents clapping enthusiastically.
I lift my hand to rub my jaw, ignoring the tremble in my fingers as I look back at Stevie. “It was just as I expected, but more difficult at the same time.”
Carol and Don, Allison’s parents, asked to meet at a local park—neutral territory—sitting at a picnic table next to a duck pond. It was an emotional meeting right from the start, with Carol bursting into tears the second her eyes landed on my face.
“What made it more difficult?”
I look away from the family, focusing on Stevie. “Witnessing their grief, I guess. Hearing about it,knowingabout it is one thing, but…” I exhale heavily. “It’s been, what? Seven months? But there’s no time limit on losing anyone, let alone a child.”
Stevie nods, empathy and understanding on his face. “It’s confronting to see that in other people because it’s a reminder that it could have been us. It’s human nature to blame karmic justice, bad luck, or try to explain away horrible things other people go through.” The skin goes tight around the corners of his eyes. “Everyone thinks it won’t happen to them, and that’s why it’s hard to face someone suffering. We have to try to explain it away, but their pain is proof that this isn’t something you can avoid,” he continues. “You can mitigate the risks, sure, but you can’t live in fear of what might be coming.”
I stare at him, each word slowly crawling across mybrain. “It wouldn’t have happened if that guy hadn’t been speeding,” I murmur, anger leaking through each word.
He shakes his head. “You know that’s not true.” His tone is firm, reminding me of a truth I can’t hide from.
“I know.” I look down at the table, wishing I didn’t.
“People also need someone to blame.” Stevie leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving me. “We get all these feelings and no outlet, so it’s easier to point the finger at someone else and say, ‘Well, this wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t done this.’ It’s why so many relationships fail when people go through something traumatic.”
“I didn’t blame Gracie.”
“No, you didn’t,” he agrees. “You blamed yourself, and then you doled out a fitting punishment.”
“No—” I’m shaking my head, but Stevie talks over me.
“You telling me you didn’t self-sabotage your relationship because you survived and Allison didn’t?”
