Chapter 14 Braxton
Braxton
“You want a beer?” Nick calls from the kitchen. Before I can answer, the fridge shuts, and he appears in the doorway, a bottle in each hand. “It was a long-ass fucking shift today, and I may need at least five more of these.”
“Thanks,” I murmur, taking one from him when he holds it out. I’ve been planted on his couch for the last two hours, playing stupid video games. He just continually beats the shit out of me.
It’s been three days since I’ve seen Gracie, only getting sporadic messages from her, always putting me off, telling me that she’s busy sorting something or other with Maryann.
It feels like an excuse, but I’m not ready to call her out on it when each delay gives me a little more time before I have to tell her about the house.
As soon as she sees my face, she’ll know something’s wrong, and I just can’t bear to add to everything else right now.
It’s cowardly as fuck, but I don’t have it in me to care.
Maybe I can just tell her after Christmas.
Needing a distraction, I look over at Nick as he slumps onto the other end of the couch. “What’s going on at work?”
“Christmas makes people stupid.” He frowns, picking up the TV remote and flicking through the channels before settling on Die Hard.
“There’s been a spate of break-ins,” he murmurs, kicking his socked feet up on the coffee table.
He slides a dry look my way. “They’re not setting them on fire, though. Thank fuck.”
We both grimace, remembering when a group of teenagers went around Sterling Creek, breaking into people’s houses.
They never took much, spending more time vandalizing the homes than anything else.
After a couple of weeks, they graduated to setting fires, and were damn lucky no one got fucking killed.
“Where have the break-ins been?” I ask disinterestedly, picking at the label on my bottle, eyes on Bruce Willis as he crawls through air ducts, a lighter in his hand.
“Mostly shops on the main drag of town,” Nick says.
My shoulders go stiff, but I keep my expression the same as he continues, “They’ve been targeting the ones that don’t have a lot of security, hoping to take any money that hasn’t been banked.
” He frowns, like something just occurred to him.
“What’s the system at Blossom Boutique?”
Disquiet fills me as I cast my mind around for details, my chest going too tight as I realize just how little attention I’ve ever paid to it. “They don’t go to the bank every day,” I murmur. “But they also don’t handle a lot of cash. Their big orders usually come through online.”
“Hmm…” Nick hums. “It’s alright. We’ll get them soon. They’re bound to make a mistake any day now.”
“Right,” I mutter, nothing about his words filling me with confidence. He knows more about this shit than I do, and I trust him with my life. But I still pick up my phone, shooting a quick message to Gracie, telling her to be careful and to pass the information on to Maryann.
Neither of us moves for the next several hours unless it’s to take a leak or get more beers. The distraction has worked wonders, the voices in my head drowned out to a muffled whisper.
Nick ambles to the kitchen at one point. I listen to him rustling around, the television a blur of static in front of me, but then he curses. He comes back to the doorway, propping both hands on the frame. “We’re all out.”
“Of what?”
“Beer and snacks. Wanna head to Benson’s?”
We haven't had much to drink, but neither of us is getting behind a wheel, and I screw my face up. “I’m not walking across town for a beer.”
Nick laughs, his eyes creasing. “Course not. We’ll get a ride.
” He bobs his eyebrows. “I’m sure Mom will be happy enough to play taxi.
” He levels a look at me that makes me think otherwise, but pulls his phone out anyway.
I tune him out as he makes his call, picking up my own phone and staring at the thread with Gracie.
The message I sent about the break-ins has been marked as read, but she hasn’t replied.
“Alright,” Nick announces. “Our ride will be here in fifteen minutes.” He looks around with a frown. “Where the fuck is my wallet?” He wanders down the hall to his bedroom. The guy would lose his head if it weren’t screwed on. I hate to imagine what would happen if he ever knocked someone up.
Deciding that the last few minutes have been enough space, I tap out a message to Gracie.
Braxton
Hey baby, you having a good night?
She reads it straight away, and I pull the phone up closer to my face, thumbs moving across the screen to write another message.
Braxton
I miss you. It feels like it’s been longer than three days. Are you home? I could come over. I’ll pick up a pizza or something.
The message has been sent before I realize I’ve forgotten my reasoning for keeping my distance, but fuck it. The last three days have crawled by, each one drawing me closer to when everything burns to the ground.
The accident, Paisley, the house…
I can’t hold on to all of it, but letting it go means finally confessing what I’ve done, and I don’t know if Gracie will forgive me. She deserves so much better than what I’ve given her this month, but I can’t watch her walk away from me. I can’t.
Gracie
Aren’t you with Nick tonight? Your traditional pre-Christmas boy’s night?
Braxton
Yeah, but he’s not as pretty as you.
Braxton
And his body odor is terrible.
Gracie
LOL!
Braxton
What do you say?
The bubbles pop back up, but then disappear again. My brows dip together as Nick comes back into the room, a smirk tugging at his mouth. “You look like one of those teenage girls, messaging the guy you’re obsessed with.”
I give him a flat look. “You’d know all about being a teenage girl, wouldn’t you?”
He laughs. “That must be why I got more action than you in school.” I roll my eyes, looking back down at my phone, realizing the bubbles haven’t come back this time.
Braxton
Gracie?
Gracie
Not tonight. I’m tired, and we need to do an inventory tomorrow before we shut over Christmas.
I tap my fingers against my knee, wishing I could see her face and get a read on her. Something feels off, but I’m not sure if I’m just projecting my own worries onto her.
Braxton
When will I see you?
Gracie
I’m heading to your parents place first thing on Christmas to help your mom cook. I’ll see you then.
She adds a little smiley face to take the sting out of it, as if it makes it all better when we haven’t seen each other in days.
If we don’t see each other until Christmas, that will make it almost a week since I’ll have laid eyes on her.
Apprehension swells in my chest, unable to deny what I’ve known since my trip to Ashland.
Something is definitely wrong.
“Alright, she should be almost here,” Nick declares, grabbing my attention. “Come on. Time’s awasting, beers adrinking.”
“That’s not a saying,” I mumble, stuffing my feet into my sneakers before I follow him out, phone still clutched in my hand and Gracie on my mind.
My head is down, attention on my phone, so I don’t see it when Nick comes to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk outside, my face smashing against his back.
“What the fuck, man?” I complain, touching the tender bridge of my nose. “It’s like actually walking into a brick wall.”
He doesn't answer me, his focus on the car idling at the curb. I hear a car door, just as Nick wonders, “What are you doing here?”
I peer around him, catching sight of reddish-brown hair that’s a little too long to be Esther’s. Ah, shit.
I haven’t seen Paisley since that night in Ashland, but she’s been messaging me a lot, asking me to meet up, to talk. I haven’t responded, knowing I’m rolling down a slippery slope at full speed, aiming straight for a goddam rocky cliff.
Paisley’s eyes flit between the two of us over the roof of the car.
“Mom’s busy. She’s making Christmas pies, and you know how she is with them.
” Her smile is timid as she rolls her eyes.
“The pastry has to be cut perfectly, and then golden brown—not too dark, not too light. She didn’t trust me to watch the oven long enough to come get you. ”
Nick’s head dips. “Believable.” He chuckles. “Considering your history in her kitchen, I’m surprised Mom lets you within ten feet. Pretty sure I heard her moaning about you cracking eggshells into something the other day.”
Under the street light, Paisley’s face flames red.
“Shut up,” she hisses, and I know I’m missing something, but I’ve had just enough beers that the strings of it are too hard to catch.
“Do you guys want a ride or not?” she demands impatiently.
“It’s cold, and I could be doing something a lot more fun right now. ”
Nick scoffs. “What, watching that Marriage is Blind show?” But he yanks open the passenger door and slides in, immediately shoving the seat as far back as it can go. I get in behind him, kicking his seat to force it forward as Paisley gets back behind the wheel.
“That’s not what it’s called,” she tells Nick snottily. “And you know what? Just for that, I might hang around with you guys and have a beer or two.”
Nick shrugs, unbothered, and Paisley adjusts her rearview mirror until she can see me. “It’s good to see you, Brax,” she says, voice a touch too soft. “I haven’t seen you since Ashland.”
Nick goes still as she flicks on her indicator, easing the car out onto the street. “Ashland?” he asks lowly, right before he turns to pin a dark stare on me, and I blink back at him.
“Yep,” Paisley chirps. “We met up last week and finished our Christmas shopping.” My brow knits together at how intentional she made it sound. “Don’t ask what I got you, Nicky. I’m not telling.”