The cold hits me the second I step outside, biting the tips of my nose and ears. I walk down the cobblestone path, the loose bits of gravel scratching beneath my feet as I cross the road and head to Brax’s.
I knock.
Heavy footsteps sound from inside.
The door swings open, and Brax’s exhausted face appears.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he snaps, irritation lacing his voice.
“Can I come in?”
He steps aside, but the way he glares at me, nostrils flaring, I can tell he doesn’t want to. The door slams behind me, and I gasp.
His living room is a chaotic mess, the result of a storm sweeping through. Drawers are dumped out, cushions are torn, and photo albums are scattered across every surface.
“Did he come back?” I ask, eyes darting across the room.
“No.” His voice is flat. “I was looking for something.”
“What?” I ask.
“I don’t know, but I’ll know when I see it.”
I head for the kitchen. “I’ll make some coffee, then I’ll help you look.”
On the kitchen table sits his unloaded gun, taken apart piece by piece. It doesn’t seem smart to have a dismantled gun lying around, especially when someone already tried to attack Brax, but the tight look on his face tells me it isn’t for safety. It’s for control.
For the next idiot who tests his patience.
I make coffee, walk back into the living room, and nearly trip over his laptop on the floor. That’s when I notice the thumb drive we gave him earlier plugged in, but the screen only shows a screensaver of Roman’s grinning face, ice cream smeared around his mouth.
“Thanks.” Brax’s hand closes around the mug I’m still holding. I release it, set mine down, and try to balance myself.
He watches me over the rim as he drinks. “What are you doing here, Erin?”
“I just want to talk.”
“Does the pretty boy know you left him?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what Laurel said,” I say, sidestepping the question because we both know I don’t need to answer him.
“Oh?” His eyebrow lifts.
“The person who made Laurel do this—Hawk,” I say, choosing my words carefully. “He’s not random. Whoever he is, he knows Chase personally. And he knows this town. People’s schedules.”
Brax’s stare intensifies, but he stays silent.
“Laurel said Hawk threatened to go to Elliot,” I continue. “But I don’t think the threat was really ever abouthurtinghim.”
My voice shakes.
“Laurel agreed to help because she didn’t want Hawk going to Elliotat all.Not because she was afraid of what Hawk would do to him. I think she was afraid of what Elliot would doforHawk.”
Brax’s expression doesn’t change as he listens to me.
“She knew,” I whisper. “If Hawk approached him, even without a threat, Elliot would agree to whatever he asked. Not out of fear. Not out of love for Laurel. But to protect Chase.”
My words hang in the air. The silence that echoes around us is haunting.
