“The living room. The off-white walls have no personality, so I was thinking…a soft pastel green maybe. Not too bright.”
“I can see it.” He hums thoughtfully. “You order the paint, and I’ll get it started.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I protest, but I might as well be wasting my breath. “You’ve done enough.”
“It’s nothing.” He lifts a shoulder, his eyes glinting with stubbornness as he looks at me. “I would rather get it done before I need to head back home.”
I scrunch my nose up. “I thought we had more time.” Nolan watches me for a long moment, but then he turns away, lifting his beer to his lips again. “Elyse called. She’s wondering when you’re coming back to paintherhouse.”
He hides the smile behind his bottle. “About the same time, she proves that her boyfriend is real.”
A laugh escapes me. “So, not any time soon then.” I sigh softly. “I feel like none of us got through childhood unscathed.”
Nolan makes a low sound. “Show me a kid who doesn’t have some kind of childhood trauma, and I’ll show you a turtle riding a bike.”
I snort, chiding, “That’s a pretty cynical outlook. But some trauma is significantly worse than others.” I shoot him a pointed look, but he ignores me.
“How come you’re renting this place?” he asks abruptly.
I frown, offended. “I’m not. Well, I am. But it’smyhome.”
He waves me off. “I know, I know, but why aren’t you buying it outright?”
I freeze, my shoulders tensing as memories flood in of the time I first decided to move to Sterling Creek. When my relationship ended with Nolan, neither of us had been heartbroken by it, so I knew it was the right move. And yet, something had been shaken loose, telling me that I was never going to find the happiness I wanted if I stayed where I was. My parents were a constant shadow over my life, weighing me down with their expectations and my disappointment that things couldn’t be different.
“Gracie?”
I blink Nolan back into focus, shaking my shoulders out. “When I told them I was leaving, they gave me an ultimatum couched as a deal. If I stayed where I was and pursued a more suitable career, the status quo wouldn’t change.”
Nolan lifts a brow. “What did they do?”
My smile is small. “Disinherited me.” The words sting, but not as much as when they first happened. I didn’t care about their money, but for the longest time, showering me withthingshad been the only way they ever acknowledged that I existed. When they yanked that away, it was as if they’d finally severed a tie between us, telling me once and for all that I wasn’t part of their family.
Nolan’s eyes darken with fury, his mouth twisted into a scowl. “Why the hell do you still talk to them? See them?”
I look out over the dark yard, realizing dusk has completely fallen without me noticing. The light from the window casts a muted glow over us, but not enough to chase away the deepening shadows. “It seemed drastic to cut them out completely,” I murmur, hating how weak I sound. “It was like cutting away the final hope that one day, they’d be different. It felt like giving up.”
Nolan reaches over to nudge my side with his elbow. “Sometimes giving up is the right thing to do, especially with people who only drag you down.” He finishes his beer, setting the glass bottle on the deck beside his hip. “I haven’t been to see my father since he was arrested. He wrote us all a letter in the months it first happened—me, Declan, and Darcy.” His smile is humorless, sharp. “I set the fucking thing on fire and threw it off a bridge.”
A surprised sound of amusement leaves my lips. “That’s dramatic of you.”
Nolan glances at me, his eyes solemn. “Sometimes youneed to be dramatic. Purge yourself of the demons, and never look back.”
He’s right. I know he is, but I look away, not ready to admit it out loud.
“I met your Braxton tonight.”
“My Braxton,” I mutter before his words register. “You did? At Hal’s?”
Nolan dips his chin. “Ran into him outside the bathroom. He said he didn’t mind if I told you, but he’s not done yet, Gracie. He’s not giving up.” His expression turns reproachful. “You can’t keep leaving him in limbo like this, though. You need to talk to him.”
“I know?—”
“This isn’t healthy,” he interjects. “And it’s not fair to either of you. One of your problems was that he wasn’t talking to you, and now you’re doing the same thing to him. So, either cut him loose or?—”
“I know!”
“—shit and get off the pot.”
