“No,” Raewyn says firmly. “There is nothing you could’ve done differently, I promise you that.” She sighs softly, going quiet for the longest moment. “There are things you don’t know, and they aren’t my story to share, as much as I wish I could. He’s still my son, and I want to fix this for him, but I can’t.”
My heart thuds uncomfortably as my breathing picks up, lights flashing across my vision, and I bite viciously into my cheeks, desperately trying to hide how much what she’s saying is affecting me. But then Raewyn says, “There is something I can tell you, though.” Her voice is serious, and I swallow hard, fear surging through me. “And I really want you to listen to me, okay?”
I pull in the deepest breath I can, filling my lungs to burst before I slowly let it all out. I curl into a ball on the couch, dragging my knees to my chest, almost like I’m protecting myself from a physical blow.
“Okay,” I say, my voice barely louder than a whisper. “I can do that.”
CHAPTER 24
Braxton
There is no sound in the gym except my heavy breathing and the repetitive thud thud…thud of my gloves hitting the bag hanging in front of me. I bounce on my toes, exhaling hard with every hit before pulling my air in through my nose.
I’ve been going for a while now, but I’m not slowing down yet, even with the burn creeping up my arms. Instead, I sink into it, letting the adrenaline fuel me, the rest of the world fading away into a haze.
It’s been just over a month since I found out that Gracie skipped town without a word, which means it’s been even longer since I saw her.
She’s blocked me.Everywhere.I even logged into all the social media apps I never use—which was a pain in the ass because I couldn’t remember the password for any of them—but she hadn’t missed a single one.
In the first two weeks after she left, I spent a lot of time with my parents, but the more time that went by without hearing from Gracie or finding her, the more my resentment built, turning into burning anger.
Not just at myself, though. My anger had spiraled intosomething wild, finding a target in whoever made the mistake of standing too close.
Sweat pours down my face, and I blink rapidly, trying to clear my stinging eyes, keeping my focus forward. One of my swings goes wide, and Ryan, standing on the other side of the bag, loses his grip.
“Hold it still!” I growl.
“How ’bout you just don’t miss?” he drawls, barely giving me a look as he readjusts his position. He levels a dark scowl in my direction. “You’ve been a goddamn asshole for weeks. Punch it the fuck out already.”
I don’t bother answering, barely waiting for the jerk of his head before I go in again, throwing a sharpone-two, then driving an uppercut into the bag. Ryan grunts, but I don’t relent, snapping out a wide hit before starting all over again.
I’m the one who has fucked everything up. I know that, but I feel cornered, fighting every single person in my life—including myself—and I’ve reached a point where, unless I’m in this room, I can’t think without feeling like I’m drowning.
I can’t breathe for missing Gracie, but I’m also just so goddamn mad that she didn’t even give me the courtesy of a conversation before she got the hell out of dodge.
I don’t want to be angry. Not at her, not at the people around me, or myself, but I can’t just switch it off. I feel so out of control. I don’t even know which way is up anymore, and the anger is the driving force keeping me going.
If I’m not raging, then I have to accept that nothing I did fucking mattered, that there was no way of saving Allison that day. And if I’m not raging, I have to truly accept that I’m the reason that Gracie’s gone, and she’s probably never coming back.
So, instead, I’m here, doing the same damn thing,trying to save people and forget the ones I’ve lost. But there’s no safe place to land anymore because I drove her away.But Gracie was never supposed to go.
My chest feels like it’s about to crack open, but I just keep going, faster and faster, until it feels like my lungs are on fire with every single breath.
“Braxton.” Ryan exhales heavily. “Come on, man…”
“Shut up,” I grunt out. “Just hold the bag.”
“This isn’t goddamn healthy,” he argues. “We all see you spiraling. Let us in, man. Let ushelpyou.”
A breathless sound of unamused laughter escapes, sounding as brittle as I feel. “You can’t keep pulling me out of the way, Ryan, so just holdthe.damn.bag.”
“Braxton—”
I shake my head, but the room keeps spinning, even when I focus on Ryan again. “This isn’t a therapy session. My appointment was yesterday.”
Ryan jerks. “What—” The bag shifts the wrong way on a hit, and he loses his hold on it. I’m already moving, my fist flying forward—too high, too wide—and there’s no pulling it back, even when I can see exactly what’s going to happen.
His eyes widen in surprise, right as my glove crashes into his unprotected face. I hear a grisly crunch, and then blood is pissing out everywhere.
