I blink. “That’s oversimplifying it a little bit.”
Stevie shrugs just as the door to the bakery opens and Gracie steps inside. I watch as she searches for me, her eyes brightening when they land on mine. She comes over, pulling the chair out from beside me and sitting down.
“Sorry,” she murmurs. “Stacey was having a little confidence issue at the shop.” Her mouth turns down, and I know she’s hating that she hasn’t been able to step back into the florist yet. She thinks time will help, and when they finally catch Gerard, but I don’t think it’s that simple.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, sliding a hand around her neck and squeezing. I look up, catching Norielle’s eye behind the counter and tilting my chin. She nods back, turning away to make Gracie’s coffee. “I got you a latte and a cookie,” I tell Gracie.
“Thank you.” Her hand lands on my knee, squeezing, as she looks over at Stevie. “Hi. I’m Gracie.”
I jerk. “Oh, shit. Sorry. Gracie, this is Stevie.”
He reaches across the table, and she slips her hand into his, giving him a small smile. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Gracie,” he says with a grin. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Her cheeks warm, her eyes sliding to me in question. I shrug, and she turns back, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I’ve heard that you’re not very good at first-person shooters.”
Stevie blinks, surprised, before he turns a playful scowl on me. “Seriously?”
I lean back in my seat, draping a casual arm over the back of Gracie’s chair, my smile smug. “Look, man, I’m all about honesty these days.” I tap a finger to my nose. “I shall not tell a lie.”
He rolls his eyes. “We’ll see what kind of lies get told later,” he threatens, but his eyes are flashing with amusement. He lifts his coffee to his mouth, sipping before turning to Gracie. “How did you find the meeting today?”
She blows out a heavy breath. “Emotional,” she whispers. “I felt like I was intruding on a very personal moment.”
“You weren’t,” I tell her, not for the first time. “I needed you there today.”
Her smile is wobbly, and she leans more heavily against me as she tells Stevie, “They lost their entire world when they lost their daughter. Having the man partially responsible behind bars doesn’t feel like much of a consolation.” Gracie’s hand is still on my knee, and I rest my free one on top of hers, our fingers tangling together. She looks at me, her eyes filled with emotion. “I’m glad I got to be there for Braxton. I know it wasn’t easy.”
I don’t say a word, my throat tight enough that I’m not confident I won’t choke on my words.
Stevie watches us, his expression soft with understanding. “It gets easier,” he says. “Not those kinds of meetings.They never do. But finding ways to cope with the grief and stress that come part and parcel with our job.”
I swallow hard, squeezing my fingers around Gracie’s hand but not looking at her as I ask, “How do you stop from ever falling into that hole again? I don’t?—”
I cut myself off when Norielle appears with a smile, setting down Gracie’s food and drink. She melts away without a word, probably sensing the tension hovering over our table.
He leans forward, eyes firmly fixed on mine. “There are no guarantees, which you’ve learned. You can go into this with your eyes wide open, and one day—” He snaps his fingers. “But you learn from your mistakes and you find the coping strategies that work. The biggest thing, though?” Stevie’s eyes move between us before settling back on me, his expression sincere. “You talk it out, Braxton. Don’t hold it in until you explode…or until you vent to the wrong person. Take the advice of people around you,leanon them, because you aren’t alone in this.”
I look down at Gracie, finding her watching me with her eyes gleaming. “Stevie’s right,” she whispers. “You aren’t alone, even when it feels like not a single person in the world could possibly understand.”
The emotions of the day crash down on me all at once, leaving my eyes gritty and my chest too hot. I suck in a shaky breath, leaning down to press my forehead against her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Gracie,” I whisper. “So goddamn sorry.”
She angles herself toward me, wrapping me in a tight hug. “No more apologies.”
Stevie gives us a moment, sipping at his coffee as his eyes move around the bakery. When I pull away from Gracie, he eases the conversation back into something less emotionally wrought by challenging me to a shootout later that night.
He leaves fifteen minutes later, telling us he’s got a lunch date he needs to head back to Ashland for. Gracie and I follow not long after, heading over to my parents’ place for lunch.
They knew about the meeting with Allison’s parents this morning and understood why I had Gracie come with me. Still, I can imagine Dad having to hide Mom’s phone to stop her from blowing mine up with messages, demanding to know how it went and whether I’m okay.
As I pull into the driveway and cut the engine, Gracie makes a quiet noise beside me. I palm my keys, eyeing her curiously.
“You okay, Rumpel? We can give this a miss if you want.” As much as I love my parents, I’m exhausted and emotionally drained, and the last thing I want to do is keep talking about it.
I would rather take Gracie home—her home—and curl up on the couch with her, watching bad television and pretending like my world is perfect.
“No, it’s not that,” she murmurs, staring through the windshield at the house. “I’ve been thinking…about us.”
