“I know.” She ducks her head. “If I came home, I might never have gone back.”
“Paisley…”
“Do you love her?” she rushes out.
I hold my breath, waiting, but the silence stretches out too long. “Of course I love her,” he retorts, his tone defensive, and my heart drops. He steps away from her, running a hand through his dark hair, and her shoulders slump.
“Oh…”
My eyes are stinging, and I can’t bear to hear anymore. I straighten, just as someone calls, “Gracie?”
I jump, whirling around with wide eyes to find Nick standing in the doorway, watching me with a frown. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I rush out. “I was just…getting water.”
He looks from my empty hands to the sink, lifting his eyebrows. “Were you planning to drink from the tap?” His lips twitch.
An uneasy laugh escapes me. “Of course not.” My knees are shaking, but I commit to the lie, grabbing a glass out of the cabinet. There’s no part of my pride that will allow him—or anyone—to know everything I just overheard.
“I was looking for Paisley. Have you seen her?”
A door opens, and she steps into the room, her cheeksflushed a dull red. “I’m right here,” she says brightly. “I was just getting some fresh air.” She looks over at me, our eyes locking. I don’t know if her guilty look is in my imagination, or if she knows she did something wrong.
“Well, come on.” Nick rubs his hands together. “Mom and Dad are ready to start charades, and you’re on my team.” His eyes bounce between the two of us, a dip in his brow. “You seen Braxton?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking to me, and I mutely shake my head, nausea churning through me.
“No,” I say, avoiding Paisley’s careful glance. “I haven’t seen him.”
CHAPTER 4
Braxton
As we leave Esther and Joseph’s place, Gracie is dragging, her shoulders hunched and her eyes pinched like she’s in pain. I open the door to my truck, the interior light illuminating how pale she is as she slides in, dark bruises smudging the skin under her eyes.
I get in the driver’s seat, reaching over to touch her thigh. “Gracie,” I call softly. But she doesn’t look at me, just reaching for her belt and clipping herself in. “Rumpel, what’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” Gracie whispers, her breath hitching in her throat. “Just tired.” She gives me the smallest smile, but it doesn’t touch her eyes—more gray than blue in the dim light. “It’s been a long day. So many people, so much food.”
I inhale as deeply as I can—slow and intentionally—desperately trying to steady myself. The scent hits me like the softest wave, vanilla and jasmine. It’s familiar.Home.A scent that has become an addiction since the first time Gracie let me get close.
It settles in my chest just like she always does, with a quiet, warm, and uncomplicated presence. It’s the kind ofscent that stays with you hours after she’s gone, but you never mind because it’s home. It’s a Sunday morning—with coffee cooling on the nightstand and her legs tangled in mine.
I keep breathing as I pull away from the curb, my fingers too tight around the steering wheel, memories—nightmares—pushing at the edges of my mind, digging and ripping at me, making me flinch with every passing streetlight.
Gracie’s attention is focused out her window, her forehead pressed against the cool glass, and her honey-brown hair hiding most of her expression. She’s unaware of the turmoil racing through my head, the thoughts that won’t stop moving, spiraling round and round, looping into a truth I’m not ready to see.
It feels as if hours have passed instead of minutes when we finally pull up outside of her place, the only light coming from the front window—a small lamp in the living room that she always leaves on when she’s out. She once told me it was so she didn’t feel like she was walking into an empty house, a small token to make her feel less alone.
Fuck.
“Are you coming in?” Gracie’s question is soft, bone-weary, and I close my eyes, hating myself for everything that’s happened tonight. “I know you’re on shift tomorrow, but…”
I don’t normally spend the night before I go on shift, but she turns and looks at me, her eyes dull, and I know I can’t say no.
“Of course, Rumpel,” I murmur. “Come on.”
An hour later,sleep is eluding me.
