Chapter 8
Braxton
“The kitchen has recently been renovated. The owners really wanted the place to be picture perfect before it sold.” Majorie follows me through the kitchen, smiling when we hear Gracie ohhing and ahhing over the original crown molding in the living room.
“They’re an older couple, but they lived here for forty years with their two children.
Now, everyone has flown the nest, so they’re ready to downsize. ”
I tuck my hands into my pockets, taking in the slate-gray marble counters and off-white cabinetry, imagining what our life might look like here. A small smile tugs at my mouth before I look at Marjorie again. “And they’re firm on price?”
She tilts her head, looking around the room critically.
“Yes. Sterling Creek real estate has really taken off in the last couple of years, and they’ve done their research.
This house has been listed at a little over market value, but with the work they’ve done”—she taps a finger nail against the kitchen island—“I’m sure you’ll agree it’s worth the cost.”
I wander over to the kitchen window, which faces the left side of the house. There isn’t much to see but trees and the old wooden fence separating the property from the one next door.
“That fence will need replacing,” I murmur, desperately trying not to think of Gracie standing at a window in a different kitchen, listening to a conversation I never should have let happen.
Marjorie joins me, looking out the window thoughtfully. “Not right away, though.” She gives me a long look just as Gracie comes into the kitchen.
“Every room is better than the last,” she says enthusiastically, moving around the kitchen, disappearing into the pantry, and then back out. “There’s so much space for things.”
I chuckle. “What things were you thinking of, exactly?”
“Everything.” Gracie’s eyes are bright, a massive contrast to the solemnity and hurt I was facing this morning.
Guilt slices through my stomach, air catching in my throat.
“Having the apartment has been one thing, but having a home?” She stops beside the island, her eyes touching on every detail of the kitchen.
Hidden in my pocket, my hand clenches into a fist.
“Go check out the bedrooms.” I tip my head in that direction. When she’s gone, I look back at Marjorie. “Do you need the offer before Christmas?”
She pushes her glasses up her nose. “While things tend to quiet down over Christmas, houses do still get snapped up, especially by people in desperate situations, willing to pay for a fast turnaround.” She purses her lips in thought, one hand tugging at the sleeve of her blazer.
“I’d recommend getting it in next week at the very latest. I’ve held off showing anyone else this place as a favor to your mother, but I can’t do that after today. ”
“I understand.”
“I’ll leave you two to finish looking around.
” Marjorie gives me one last professional smile and then sweeps out of the room, heading for the front door.
I wait for it to shut behind her, dragging a deep breath into my lungs.
Feeling steadier, I search out Gracie, finding her standing in a small bedroom with soft blue walls and a bay window seat.
She’s standing in the middle of the room, her expression pensive, mouth scrunched to one side, and eyes faraway.
“You okay, baby?”
She jumps, whirling around to look at me. “Yeah.”
I step closer, noticing her eyes seem a little red, and I frown. “You sure?”
Her head swivels again, trailing around the barren space.
“It’s everything I pictured,” Gracie whispers.
“Not empty, obviously.” She swallows audibly.
“My whole life, I knew I was an imposition. My parents didn’t tell me that, but they didn’t make any effort to hide that they thought I cramped their style.
” There’s very little expression in her voice, like she’s recounting someone else’s experiences, but my heart aches for the little girl Gracie was.
After a stilted pause, she looks back at me. “When it’s something you know and expect from someone, it’s not so bad…but I never had a space that felt like mine.”
I pull her into a tight hug, and she lets me take her weight as I sway us gently, brushing my lips against her temple.
“My place in that house,” she continues in a whisper, her arms loosely wrapping around my waist, “was always temporary. It was never mine, and I never forgot that. One day, I’d move out, and they would take it all back.
I might have had stuff, but the permanency of that room?
It was never mine to claim. Not really.”
“That’s fucked up,” I mutter, agitation slithering through me. I can’t imagine my own parents doing anything even remotely similar—not to me, or anyone else.
My mother has a tendency to get upset if I don’t visit more than once a week, and my bedroom in their house looks exactly the way it did when I was a teenager.
The day I moved out, Mom cried despite the fact that the apartment was only ten minutes away.
My father wasn’t much better, although he’d staunchly claimed it was because my new place was too dusty.
Funnily enough, the same thing happened the day they moved Analise into her dorm room at college.
“You didn’t deserve what they did to you,” I tell Gracie. “What they still do to you.”
She chuckles weakly, her eyes shadowed, the gray stealing through the blue.
“I don’t know if I ever told you this, but coming to Sterling Creek…
I basically opened a map, closed my eyes, and pointed.
And yet…” She pulls back, looking up at me, the gray in her eyes bleeding into the blue, like stormy clouds covering a summery sky.
“I think I found a home here, Brax. And I’ve never had that before. ”
I wet my lips. “Just by looking at an empty house?” I wonder.
“Not just the house.” Gracie looks around the room one last time, her brows drawing together.
Her stare is thoughtful, and I hold my breath.
“Braxton, are you sure we should be doing this now? The timing of it all feels…” It’s like a dimmer switch has flicked on, stealing all the light behind her eyes, and I know she’s thinking about this morning—and the past week.
“I let you down,” I say honestly, pulling her closer to me.
She remains stiff for a beat, but slowly relaxes, and my eyes drift shut as I breathe her in, savoring the familiar feel of her in my arms. I smooth a hand over her back, testing the curve of her hip in my palm, the soft scent of jasmine filling my nose.
Everything in my head slows, coming into a clear focus that’s been missing since before Thanksgiving.
“I made choices this week that put distance between us, and they are mistakes I’m sorry for. But it’s behind us now.”
“There’s a part of me that’s still scared,” she confesses, pain seeping into her voice. “You disappeared on me so quickly. There was no warning.”
I put an inch of space between us, cupping her face in my palms, pressing my thumb to her pillowy lower lip. “I’m sorry, Gracie. I reacted badly, I know that. But I’m here now.”
Her eyes lock with mine, soft with affection. “I trust you.” But there’s an underlying edge that wasn’t there before, a small trace of doubt.
“Thank you for giving me another chance.”
She eyes me seriously, but I don’t look away, not hiding anything from her, showing her that I mean every word I say. Eventually, she nods, and I give her a small smile.
“Majorie told me we need to have the offer in next week,” I tell her, and she tenses against me.
“I don’t want you to worry about anything, okay?
I know how stressed you’ve been at work, so I’ll take care of it all.
” I infuse more strength in my voice than I feel, but I can do this for Gracie.
I’ve let her down enough already, and I won’t fail at this.
I can’t.
“Okay.” Gracie exhales deeply, her shoulders deflating. “I’m ready to call this a day. Why don’t we go back to my place and get some food?”
“I can’t think of anything better,” I tell her, relief thickening my throat.
Today has been a wake-up call, showing me how close to the edge I am, a firm warning of just how much I stand to lose.
“I’ll do the dishes,” I tell Gracie, taking her plate and stacking it on mine. “Why don’t you go line up something for us to watch?”
“Sure. There’s that new show about a fire station that I’m sure you’ll love.”
I drop my head back as I walk to the sink, letting out a dramatic groan.
“No torture, please. The amount of hours I’m spending there at the moment have been bad enough.
I don’t need it at home, too.” I shoot her a dark look over my shoulder.
“Asher has been walking around like a bear with a sore paw, and if I have to listen to one more story about Marco’s conquests… ”
She laughs softly. “Oh, come on, I’ve heard good things about this show.”
“Sounds good to me,” I say as easily as I can, turning away to rinse the dishes. “Just me, you, and a bunch of sexy firefighters with abs for days? My ego will be able to take it.” I infuse just enough comical doubt into my tone that Gracie giggles.
She pins me with a dry look. “Fine, no firefighters.” She waits a beat. “Maybe hot cops will do instead.”
I give her my most affronted look. “Oh, you’ve been sharpening your knives tonight. And you know what? Your serial killer percentage is climbing fast.”
She blinks innocently. “Good thing the dating laws don’t apply to me, hm?”
Gracie gets up and struts out of the kitchen, her swaying hips catching my attention. A low huff of air escapes me before I belatedly call, “That’s not how laws work, you know!”
“That’s how my laws work.”
Shaking my head, I make quick work of tidying up. In the living room, she turned the lights off, except for one warm lamp, and she’s curled herself into a corner of the couch.