My chin quivers at the sight of my dad lying on the floor, blood spanning out around him.
“‘I love him. You should have known better. I never wanted this to happen, but you left me no choice. You ruined everything,’”I say, my mother’s words rolling off my tongue. Brax leans forward and holds me again.
“Good job, kid,” he murmurs, voice brushing over me. “You did so good. I’ve got you.”
And for the first time since that day, I let myself believe it.
I poundmy fist against the door hard enough to rattle the frame. Pain shoots through my knuckles, but I barely register it over the thunder rattling through my bones. The door swings open a few seconds later.
Brax fills the space, wearing his signature scowl and no shirt, a bag of marshmallows dangling from one hand. He doesn’t move aside to let me in.
“Can I come in?” I ask.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Erin gave me strict instructions not to let you in if you were carrying that‘I should have been here’expression on your face,” Brax says, shoving a marshmallow in his mouth.
My lips twitch.
“And it’s clearly there,” he adds, chewing lazily as he points at my face.
Even when she’s falling apart, my brave girl is still thinking about me.
“Fine,” I say evenly, eyes narrowing. “I’ll stay out here until my attitude simmers enough to qualify for entry.”
Brax winks. “Wise choice.”
“But I need to know—is she okay?” The words come off as more accusatory than I intend. I know if I keep this up, I’m not getting inside.
“She’s okay. Camping with Roman out back.”
I blink. “What?”
“She came with me to pick him up from school. Friday means ice cream. Roman noticed she wasn’t her usual smiley self.”
Of course he did.
“When tacos didn’t get her to smile…”
“She loves tacos,” I mutter.
“He asked what made her happy. She said camping. Kid grabbed the tent and sleeping bags. They’ve been out back ever since. I’ve made them at least a dozen s’mores.”
“You’ve got a real heartbreaker on your hands,” I say, reaching inside the bag of marshmallows. “You know that, right?”
Brax smirks. “As long as he doesn’t come home before twenty-five and say, ‘Hey, Dad, I got a girl pregnant,’ I’ll survive.”
“Emma telling you she was pregnant was the best thing that ever happened to you, even if you’re not together.”
“Yeah,” Brax says, his lips tugging at the corner. “Yeah, it was.”
“What happened, Brax?”
He arches a brow. “Shit, Pretty Boy, are you a virgin? Sometimes when a guy likes a girl, they get naked in a truck bed and?—”
The marshmallow I lob at him bounces off his peck. He swats it away like a cat.
