Chapter 20 Braxton
Braxton
Several hours earlier
Benson’s is decked out in glitter, wall decorations, glitter balloons, and streamers. If you can buy it, they have it, and it’s even better when I catch sight of Benson himself, standing behind the bar with his arms crossed and a scowl on his lips as he stares at Randi.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” she’s saying crossly. “And Monroe hired out the bar. What did you think was going to happen?”
“It looks like a leprechaun threw up everywhere,” he grumbles. “You know you’re cleaning it up, right?”
“Sure, as soon as you pay for the privilege,” Randi retorts. She looks around thoughtfully. “Leprechauns would vomit green, I think. This is more like a fairy or a unicorn.”
Benson widens his eyes at her. “Does it matter what threw up? Just that they vomited all over my bar?”
Randi rolls her eyes. “If you’re going to be like that, you should make yourself scarce. You’re gonna ruin everyone’s mood.” She turns and saunters toward the other end of the bar, and Benson growls under his breath before stomping away to his office.
Randi catches sight of me and gives me a crooked grin. “You’re an eager beaver, aren’t you?” She checks the time. “Party doesn’t technically start for another hour.”
I give her a small smile. “But you’re gonna give me a beer anyway, yeah?”
She narrows her eyes, but then jerks her head toward the stool in front of her. “Come on, then, fire boy. You look like you could use it to settle your nerves.”
The next hour passes quickly, Randi coming up and chatting with me as she flits around, making sure everything is ready for the night.
People started trickling in about twenty minutes ago, but everyone seems to be giving me a wide berth.
The stool next to me is pulled out at one point, and I glance up from my half-drunk beer—number three—and look at Nick in surprise.
“What’re you doing here?”
He tips his head across the room, and I look over and catch sight of Esther and Joseph mingling in a group with Monroe, Asher, and Theo.
“I came with my folks,” he says unnecessarily. “And I figured you’d be here.”
I look back at him with a frown. “Paisley isn’t here, is she?”
“Nah, man.” Nick gives a sharp shake of his head. “She’s at home.” Randi’s working the floor, so the new bartender—with the lip piercing—has taken over, sliding an open bottle over to Nick. “Thanks.” The bartender nods and walks away, serving someone else, but Nick mumbles a curse.
“What?”
“Your parents are here. They’ve clocked mine.” I look up and see he’s right, my dad holding my mom’s arm like he’s locking her down while she glares in Esther’s direction. Dad turns her around, pushing her the opposite way, and Nick slumps. “What a fucking mess.”
“You think they’ll make peace?” I ask him. “They’ve been friends for almost thirty years.”
He huffs under his breath, tipping his beer to his lips. “Not unless my mother admits she was wrong and spoke out of turn. She should never have talked to Gracie like that.” He fixes a dark glower on me, and I blow out a breath.
“Okay,” I mumble. “I’m working on fixing it, okay?
” I turn back to my beer, finishing it off before raising my empty bottle to the bartender for another.
He nods, coming over a minute later and sliding fresh ones in front of us.
“I was hoping Gracie would come tonight,” I murmur. “Neutral ground, you know?”
Nick doesn’t look at me, frowning down at his beer. “You never know. I’m kind of surprised that she hasn’t reached out yet.” He looks at me, his eyes sincere. “She fucking loves you, Brax. That’s why she’s so hurt.”
There’s a sharp pinch in my chest. “I know.”
He slowly shakes his head. “I don’t think you do. Our families have always been a unit, right? We work together and support each other.” His expression tightens. “I’ve always had Paisley’s back, even when it feels like I shouldn’t.”
“What’s your point?” I ask gruffly.
“My point,” Nick says slowly, “is that Gracie never had that. When she moved here, she was alone, right? She got Bridget, and then us, but those relationships don’t erase a lifetime of being alone.
And now…” He blows out a breath. “You’ve just proven every damn thing she was scared of.
The minute shit got too hard, you bailed and left her to sink. ”
“I was sinking,” I tell him quietly.
“I know,” he says back, voice just as low.
“And you wouldn’t let her be there for you while you found someone else to keep you afloat.
” His eyes land on me. “I don’t want to keep belaboring the point, Brax, but until you see it from Gracie’s point of view, you’re never going to truly understand what you did to her. ”
By the time it’s pushing eleven, I’ve accepted that Gracie isn’t coming, and I’m on the wrong side of inebriated.
Mom and Dad bailed an hour ago, deciding to spend the rest of the night with Analise, who didn’t come because she had a book she wanted to finish. I haven’t seen Nick’s parents in a while, so I figure they must have left, too, which is probably for the best.
I’m slumped over in a booth, the world muffled and hazy enough that I can smile at Nick’s stupid jokes, forgetting for just a second how I’ve managed to implode my entire fucking life.
He confiscates my phone, claiming that nothing good will come out of it while I am as buzzed as I am, but I’m also too drunk to actually appreciate his interference. Not that he seems to give a shit about my disgruntlement.
I wish Gracie were here. This was how we planned to see the new year in, celebrating our second one together and imagining what the next twelve months would look like in our new home—a thought that sends another shaft of pain stealing through me.
I grab the glass in front of me, throwing back the liquid and grimacing at the burn.
“That wasn’t beer.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Ryan says from across from me, his expression dryly amused. “That was my bourbon. But sure, help yourself.”
I blink. “Where the fuck did you come from?”
He scowls. “I’ve been sitting here for the past twenty minutes.”
Nick laughs loudly, lifting his empty bottle in the air and shaking it obnoxiously. “The guy is lost in a bubble of misery,” he tells Ryan.
I slouch, scowling at the table, ignoring the way it won’t stay still. “Shut up,” I mutter petulantly.
Nick rolls his eyes. “She just needs more space.” It’s not the first time he’s tried to talk me out of my mood, but with each drink, the morose feeling only deepens.
“She’s had days. A week,” I complain mournfully. “I think she’s blocked me.”
“Just give it a little more time,” he advises as Randi appears, setting three more drinks down. Ryan snatches his bourbon protectively, but Nick’s shoving my beer closer. “Here. Stop bitching.”
Randi laughs. “You’re all gonna be absolutely fucked tomorrow.” She wags a finger at the three of us. “Make sure you puke outside. If there’s even a drop of vomit, we’re gonna have problems.”
Nick salutes her, and I chuckle, the sound cutting off short when he suddenly shoves me. “Move, motherfucker. I need to go to the bathroom.”
I stumble out of the booth, and as Nick gets past me, I reach out and clumsily shove his shoulder. He trips, righting himself with a loud curse, leaving me laughing behind him.
A gentle hand lands on my arm. Hope screams through the drunken fog. I whirl around, almost losing my balance, and the room spins, making my stomach churn. The gentle touch turns firm, fingers clamping down on my arm and holding me in place.
My lashes flutter, trying to focus my vision, but the wrong smell is filling my nose.
“What…?”
Paisley smiles up at me, her lips stained a bright red and her eyes hooded as they lock with mine. Surprise has me frozen, and before I realize her intentions, her arms are looping around my neck, dragging me toward her as she plants her mouth on mine.
Her tongue pushes into my mouth as she presses against me, and I stumble backward, trying to get away.
She follows me, teeth clashing painfully against mine, and that nausea swells dangerously.
My hands finally land on her shoulders to try to keep from tipping over, and I use the hold to tear myself away, shoving her off me.
She falls back, her expression falling, lipstick smeared across her mouth.
“What the fuck—”
Before the last word has even left my mouth, a hand lands viciously on my shoulder, ripping me around. I don’t fight the motion, focusing on not blowing chunks as the room spins wildly around me.
I glance up, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, but all I catch is a blur of movement before my head cracks back, leaving me stunned and tasting copper as wetness spurts from my nose.
The pain hits a moment later like a lightning bolt hitting my face, sending electricity arcing through my head and down my spine. My head gives a deep, intense throb, another, and then darkness descends, leaving me feeling the relief of nothing.