He swipes his tongue over his lips, eyes beseeching. “I just…My head was a mess, Gracie. The accident?—”
“The one you wouldn’t tell me about.” His mouth snaps shut as my eyes drop to his. I smile, but it’s not a nice one, and he flinches. “Who did you tell about it?”
“The counselor?—”
I give him the most withering glare. “You’re not this stupid.”
There’s another scoffing noise from Raewyn, before I hear, “Woman, I will remove you from this room. Here, have another wine.”
I’m glad they’re the only ones here. Analise and Nick disappeared pretty quickly to give us some space. I didn’t want to be alone with Braxton, but I also didn’t want a big audience for this, either.
“I told Paisley, but it was straight after my session,” he rushes to add. “And she was there, and she understood. Her dad was a firefighter. Shegotit. In a way…” He trails off, but it’s too late.
“In a way, I don’t?” I nod, processing that. “Okay, well.That makes sense then.” My voice is tight, brittle. “Next time, you should break up with the other person first.”
He blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I shake my head. “Braxton, if you can’t figure out what you did wrong, there’s literally no point in us having this conversation.”
His head jerks back, panic flaring his eyes wide. “What does that mean?” he demands angrily.
I press my lips together, feeling tired and broken. “What did you think would happen, Braxton? When I told you that I wanted full transparency and you deliberately chose to ignore that, how did you think this would end?”
He surges upward, his face close to mine and his hands on either side of my hips. “You’re not ending us over this. You’re not ending us because my head’s all fucked up. You’renot.” His green eyes are wild with desperation, and I stare back at him impassively. “I don’t accept it.”
My lips tug up. “That’s not how this works, Braxton. You’ve decided so much for us, but you don’t get to decide this.”
“Don’t,” he begs. “Don’t say it. Please, Gracie. I can fix this.”
I shake my head once. “You took your space, and now I need mine. I don’t stay in situations that hurt me, Braxton. If you know anything about me, you should know that.” I stare at him, wondering who this man is, because I don’t recognize him as the person I fell in love with. “I need time to heal and process what comes next.”
“No, Rumpel, please. If we don’t talk about this, we can’t come back from it.”
“Braxton,” I say softly, and he falls quiet, his shoulders heaving with each breath. His hands scrunch into fists beside my thighs, preparing for the blow. “Your serial killer percentage is at 90.” My eyes fill with tears that I didn’t think I was capable of shedding. One trails down mycheek, and his broken eyes follow its path before slowly coming back up to mine. “There is no coming back from this. We’re done.”
His head drops, his forehead resting on my knees. He shudders with a broken sob. I’ve never seen him cry, and a distant part of me hurts for him, knowing he’s got a lot more going on right now than he’s willing to share. But I also know that I need to put myself first, to take care of myself, especially when it’s clear that no one else is going to.
“I need to go home,” I say. Braxton doesn’t move a muscle, a low, haunting sound leaving him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Nick approaches, his expression grim, with Stephen a step behind him.
“I’ll look after him,” Nick tells me as he bodily hauls Braxton up. “Come on, man.”
Stephen holds a hand out to me next. “Come on, sweetheart. You want me to drive you home?”
Knowing I’m in no space to be behind the wheel, but also knowing I absolutely can’t stay here, I bob my head, letting him pull me to my feet. “I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”
I gather my belongings in shaking hands, but just as we reach the door, Raewyn appears with her coat on and bag tucked over her arm. “Not to worry, honey,” she tells Stephen. “I’ll take her, and I’ll stay with her.”
Stephen eyes her, and I’m sure he’s going to tell her no, but then he just gives her a small smile, shaking his keys in his hand. “I know how much you’ve had to drink. I’ll drive you both.”
CHAPTER 17
Braxton
The silence is deafening.
I don’t even know when the carols got turned off, but the echo ofnothingthunders in my ears. The lights on the Christmas tree are glittering brightly, casting a merry rainbow of colors against the walls and making a mockery of everything I just allowed to happen.
Everything I’ve done.
