Nick doesn’t reply, taking another long drag of his beer. After a minute, he turns to me. “What’s going on with you? I know that crash fucked with your head. It would have fucked with anyone’s head. Even me…” He shakes his head, pressing his lips together. “I still think about what would have happened if Ryan hadn’t gotten to you in time, you know?”
“I made another appointment with the counselor,” is all I say. It’s all Icansay, everything in me revolting at the idea of talking about it.
Except you told Paisley.
I frown because Ididtell Paisley that day, and I still don’t know why. I told Gracie it was because Paisley got it, that she understood. But Nick got it, too, and I didn’t want to spill my guts athisfeet.
Nick looks at me, his brows drawn together. “Do you still have feelings for Paisley?”
My eyes flare with annoyance. “No.No.I haven’t seenher in four years, but I’ve known her my entire life, Nick. I’ve known her just as long as you. It’s not as simple as just pretending she doesn’t exist.”
He looks away, mouth flattening. “No one asked you to.”
I scoff, cloaking myself in defensiveness.Better to feel that than anything else.“Gracie did.”
A humorless chuckle leaves him. “Did she?”
I don’t want you to spend time with her alone.
Full transparency. I need you to give me this.
“No.” The word escapes in a rush of air. “She didn’t ask me to cut her out. She…”
“Shewhat?” Nick demands.
“Gracie overheard Paisley talking to me on Thanksgiving,” I finally confess. “She heard Paisley tell me that she wished I waited for her.”
He lets out a curse. “I wondered what the fuck happened,” he mutters angrily. “I knew she—” He cuts himself off, closing his eyes. When he opens them, his expression is impassive. “What did you tell Paisley?”
“I told her that I love Gracie,” I say, and it’s the truth. But I remember how shocked I felt, seeing Paisley for the first time since the night I told her how I felt all those years ago. It had pushed everything else out of my head, giving me some relief from reliving the accident over and over again. It wasn’t about Paisley, not really; it was about everything she represented—a time for me that wasn’t drenched in blood and stress.
That wasn’t something I could tell Gracie, though. It would have been the same as admitting that Paisley gave me something that she couldn’t.
“You understand what Paisley did tonight, right?” Nick suddenly asks, and I flinch, swinging wide eyes to him. “Every little thing she said to Gracie was a carefully aimed dagger. Paisley was trying to hurt her, Braxton.”
The memory of Gracie’s eyes, broken and lifeless, surges to the forefront of my mind. “Not compared to the hurt I caused.”
“Yeah,” Nick agrees, and I flinch, wishing he’d given me at least a shred of hope. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to get her back after that shit show.”
I shake my head again, feeling like a puppet on strings that have been cut loose. “She’s taking space,” I say numbly. “Gracie just needs time, and then she’ll talk to me. She’ll hear me out. This is just…” I trail off, my chin dropping to my chest. “This is just space.”
Nick leaves eventually,and I find myself back in the living room, ignoring my phone because I know Gracie won’t be trying to contact me.
Instead, I watch the Christmas lights twinkling merrily over the clock, tracking each minute that passes, desperate for my mother to come home and give me any kind of update on Gracie.
At one point, I get up, palming my keys, determined to head to her apartment, but Dad gives me the darkest scowl in his arsenal, ordering me to “Sit the fuck down.”
It isn’t until the early hours of the morning roll around—with everyone else in bed—that I finally admit Mom isn’t coming home. I take myself to my old room, staring up at the ceiling, aware that sleep won’t be coming tonight.
By the time I drag myself out of bed in the morning, Mom still hasn’t come back, and with each hour that passes, my father grows more and more agitated. Whenever he’s not fixated on his phone—a device he usually can’t stand—he’s shooting me dark glares across the room.
Still, I don’t go back to my place, unable to bear the idea of being alone with only silence, regret, and misery to keep me company.
Mom comesthrough the front door late that afternoon, looking drained. She takes one look at my expectant expression and stiffens, her face firming into a glare. “I’m surprised you’re still skulking around here.”
I flinch, but don’t bite. “Is Gracie okay?”
Her cheeks flare red as she gapes at me disbelievingly. “No, Braxton. No, she is not okay. On Christmas, she got confirmation that her boyfriend is cheating on her and that he lost her dream house, and then lied to her about it.”
