You let me be blindsided that night.
Gracie’s words trickle back into my head, remindingme of everything she overheard that night. It’s a glaring neon sign, pointing to everything I’m still omitting. But I just don’t know how to tell her that I did the one thing she asked me not to do.
And I can keep telling myself that it’s because Paisley keeps showing up, and that it’s not my fault because I can’t just turn her away. But then a voice in my head whispers,But you didn’t have to go outside with her. You didn’t have to go shopping with her. You could have told Gracie everything as soon as it happened instead of lying.
Shame curdles in my stomach like something rotten, and I grab my beer, slamming the rest of the drink back. “I need something stronger,” I mumble.
Nick shakes his head. “What’s going on between you and my sister, Braxton?”
“Nothing is going on with Paisley,” I say emphatically. I’m not lying, but I almost choke on the words, knowing they’re not the whole truth, either. Nick doesn’t look convinced, but before he can keep pressing, I blurt, “I lost the house. Gracie’s house. Someone else bought it.”
His mouth drops open, face paling. “Oh, you stupid motherfucker.” He drops his head, thumping his forehead against the table. After three solid hits, he stands up. “You’re right. We need something stronger. I’ll go get us some shots, and you can tell me exactly what you fucking did.”
CHAPTER 15
Gracie
My throat is filled with jagged pieces of glass, each breath shredding my throat, agony sliding down into my chest.
The phone on the counter blurs, even though my eyes are dry. I keep telling myself that it’s okay.I already knew, so it’s okay.But knowing something and then having it thrust in your face are two very different things.
“I was on my way to Ashland to meet a friend,” the woman standing on the other side of the counter is saying, one hand clutched around the strap of her purse and the other propped on her hip. “Your, uh…shop”—brown eyes swivel around critically—“is on the way out, so I figured it was easier to drop it off here than drive back to Nick’s.”
Paisley looks back at me, the faintest smirk curling her mouth. There’s a glimmer in her eyes that looks a hell of a lot liketriumph, as if she’s won something over me.
I moisten my lips, stifling the urge to ask. I won’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she got to me. She doesn’t seem to give a shit because her smile doesn’t change…even if it never quite reaches her eyes as she looks between me and the phone.
Braxton’s phone.
“We had too much to drink last night,” she explains into the silence. “It was easier for us all to crash at Nick’s together.” There’s an inflection on the last word, a coy suggestion.
My mind is whirling, going through every possibility of what that might have looked like, especially knowing Nick only has one bed, but I keep my expression blank, not giving an inch.
“Thanks,” I say, voice detached. “I’ll give it to Braxton when I see him next.”
She looks almost disappointed by my lack of reaction, but that’s not my problem. Paisley thinks she’s got a read on me because she’s treating me like I’mher,a girl who has no issue going after a taken man.
But still, she’s not the problem.
Braxton is.
I wish I were more surprised. I wish I hadn’t seen this coming, but the last three days have been a slow burn of denial and acceptance, knowing he’s crossed a line that he can’t come back from.
He hasn’t just walked over my boundary—one I clearly laid out for him in a way he couldn’t misunderstand. No, he trampled on it and then lied to my face.
And worse…He did it smelling of her.
Even now, in a shop full of fragrant flowers, her perfume is tickling my nose—a scent that’s already far too familiar. Paisley stands there, silent, smug, andknowing, but I’m not fighting her for someone who didn’t choose me.
She’s welcome to him.
“Okay,” she says slowly, fidgeting with her bag strap. “I’d better go. I woke up late?—”
“Because of all the drinking,” I supply smoothly. “With my boyfriend and your brother.”
Paisley’s expression tightens with displeasure, like mywords have left a sour taste in her mouth. She’s not sure what to make of me, but I no longer have the time for her, or this—whatever the fuck it is.
Bridget appears, almost like she could hear the SOS my brain was putting out. She takes the two of us in with a glance, her eyes hardening.
