“Fuck!” I use my teeth to tear at the velcro straps of the gloves, chucking them to the ground before yanking off the wrappings. I grab the first-aid kid and turn around, finding Ryan standing in the same spot. He’s got his head tilted down, blood dripping from his nose onto the gym mats under our feet.
As I reach him, he spits out a glob of it from his mouth. “Get me an ice pack, you cocksucker,” he mutters, voice nasally and choked. He snatches the first-aid kit from me, pulling out gauze, trying to staunch the blood.
I’m back with an ice pack less than a minute later, and Ryan’s moved to a weight bench. He takes the pack, wrapping gauze around it and pressing it to his face, his other hand braced on his knee. His face is already bruising as he watches me, his expression unreadable.
“Fuck, man,” I breathe, guilt bitter in my mouth. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
He lifts a shoulder. “I shouldn’t have moved like that.”
I lace my fingers together, holding them against the back of my head. “I feel like I’m losing my mind,” I confess. “I never should have…”
Ryan tips his head to the bench next to him, and I sit down, my knees almost collapsing out from under me. I’ve never hit anyone like that—I’ve never had a need to. And getting nailed by Nick’s fist on New Year’s Eve, I know how much it hurts…but at least I had the alcohol in my system to soften the blow.
Ryan drops the ice pack. “Still bleeding?”
I watch for a second before shaking my head. “No. Is it broken?”
He slides a finger down the bridge of his nose. “Think you got lucky.” He pauses. “I’m glad you’re still going to counseling.”
I lean forward, planting my elbows on my knees and staring at the floor. “It’s been weeks, and it doesn’t feel like I’m making any progress. Every time I close my eyes, I can seeherface. Every time it’s silent, I hear her mother screaming.” I swallow thickly. “And I’m just…I’m furious all the goddamn time. And whenever I’m not, it feels like I’m being sucked into this black hole where I can’t make anything right.”
Ryan nods, understanding flickering through his eyes. “I get it, man. I wish I didn’t, but it hits harder when it’s a kid.” He reaches out, patting a bloody hand on my shoulder. “You gotta go easier on yourself, though.” He lets outa rough chuckle. “And stop making stupid fucking decisions.”
“You’re not wrong,” I mutter, staring blindly across the room. “The counselor said it’s not unusual that I would shut down or act out of character, but it feels like an excuse. And it’s not gonna make Gracie feel any better.”
Ryan doesn’t speak for a long moment. “You want her back? Gracie?”
I turn and meet his stare, letting him see the utter sincerity there. “More than I want air, man.”
His shoulders move as he sucks in air through his mouth. “If she came home tomorrow—hypothetically—how would you win her back?” I frown, opening my mouth, but Ryan’s not done. “She turns up tomorrow. How are you gonna prove she can trust you? Because this angry asshole, sitting here? All this proves is that Gracie was right to walk away.”
“You think she was?” I ask softly.
“I didn’t say that, but…if you can’t figure out how to move past this, then what happens the next time you see shit go down?” Ryan looks up at the ceiling, looking exhausted. “This job isn’t suddenly going to get easier. You need to have solid strategies to fall back on when everything gets dark.” He turns to me, eyes widening pointedly. “And you should never be talking to someone who’s not your damn woman.”
I wince. “Point taken.”
Paisley had been noticeably absent since New Year’s. Nick said she flew back out to Minnesota to see her friends, but chances are more likely that she’s licking her wounds after practically the entire town started talking about what went down that night. I don’t think anyone had a kind word to say about her, all of them siding with Gracie, even when she was nowhere to be found.
“What if Gracie never comes home?” I murmur. “Ihaven’t heard jackshit since she left, and I’ve got this bad feeling…” I press a hand to my chest, trying to ease the ache that’s become a constant companion. “I never even got the chance to tell her that it wasn’t…That I never kissed Paisley.”
“What if she does,” Ryan counters, “and you’re just as fucked as the day she left?”
The doorto the chief’s office is ajar when I knock an hour later, gently pushing it open. When he looks up and catches sight of me, he doesn’t look surprised, his eyes softening as he greets, “Braxton.”
“Chief,” I return, shaking my hands out at my side, trying to clear off the nerves. Monroe is a good man and a good chief. I’ve known him for most of my life, but I still feel uneasy coming to him like this. “I need a favor.”
Monroe sets down his pen, watching me carefully. “Is this about Ryan’s face?” he asks dryly. “Because I gotta say, the new look is not an improvement.”
The guilt is hot and sharp. I rub the back of my neck as I step further into the room, sitting down in one of the chairs across from him.
“It has a little something to do with it,” I admit reluctantly. “I need a leave of absence…Just until I get my head screwed back on.”
Monroe’s expression tightens, but he just sighs. “I thought this might be coming.” His eyes go distant, and I can see the cogs whirling as he starts planning. “I can pull another crew member from Ashland, maybe, but I might need you to give me a week to pull it together.”
I clear my throat. “No need.” He looks at me with a question in his eyes. “I’ve just gotten off the phone with my dad and, if it’s okay with you, he’s willing to step in until I’m ready to come back to work.”
Monroe’s shoulders sink, his face immediately easing. “Well, I do like it when I’m presented with solutions instead of problems. Of course Stephen is welcome to come get his hands dirty.” He watches me for a beat. “What will you do?”
