Thanks, brother. You’ve always got my back.
Phoenix
Sounds like he’s got more than your back.
Bass
I’ve got to get to work, just wanted to make sure you made it there.
Brody
See you in a couple days.
Cannon
Bring our girl home. Tell her we miss her.
Phoenix
You’re all so sappy lately.
I’d arrivedin Paris and grabbed a taxi, and I was immediately taken with the architecture, the cool mix of old and new. I cracked my window to let the breeze in, taking in the streets bustling with people as we drove past local shops and cafés. I craned my neck to get a view of the Eiffel Tower in the distance, making small talk with my driver before we pulled up at her building.
I swiped my card, thanked him for the ride, and stepped out of the car before climbing three flights of stairs to her apartment.
The door swung open, and there she was.
My girl.
Gracie Reynolds.
She looked thinner than usual, her face a bit gaunt, but her dark brown eyes still sparked the way they always had. Her long brown hair fell around her shoulders in waves, and even though I could tell it had been a tough couple of months, she was always the most beautiful girl I’d ever laid eyes on.
It was difficult for me to see her in pain. It always had been. When Gracie hurt—I hurt. I never could stand to see her struggling. So my rage for Gabriel ran deep.
I had this weird mix of anger and relief as I took her in.
I wanted to put my fist through Gabriel’s face—but at the same time, I was so damn happy to see her.
I’d made the right decision insisting she come home and stay with me until her big move to New York. No sense staying here and suffering when we could have the summer together.
There was no hesitation. I pulled her into my arms and wrapped her up.
“I’m so glad you’re here, Bear,” she said, her cheek settling in the crook of my neck.
She’d given me the nickname when we were young. Everyone else had called me my self-given nickname at the time, “Beefcake,” which still made me laugh. Because that shit had stuck, and it was a name I went by for most of my childhood.
But Gracie started calling me “Bear” when we were just nine years old, one summer when our families had gone camping. She said that I hugged like a bear.
As if she’d been hugged by a bear before.
She looked relieved to see me. Gracie had always been strong. She’d been there for me at my darkest moments, and I was happy to return the favor. I’d always known I was the lucky one in this friendship.
She was the best person I knew.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Come in and see what I’ve done with the place,” she said, her voice teasing as she stepped back and motioned for me to come inside.
