Chapter 22 Braxton #2
I try the door, but it’s locked. I frown in consternation, pulling my keys out and slotting them in, hearing the deadbolt turn. But when I push the door open, the chain catches.
“What the fuck?”
“That you, Brax?” Analise calls cheerfully, her green eyes appearing as she peeks through the gap in the door. As she takes in my face, her eyes widen. “Wow. What happened to you? You look like you went a round with a boxer and got knocked out on the first hit.”
“Ha ha,” I mutter dryly. “Why is the chain on?”
Her eyes flicker down, like she’s only just realized the door isn’t opening. “Oh. Mom did it, I guess.”
“Well, can you open it?” I demand impatiently.
Analise’s smile doesn’t slip an inch. “Nope.”
“Why not?” I demand in exasperation.
“Look, Brax. Braxton. Brother of mine.” She lets out a long sigh. “I’m not picking sides here—”
“What sides?!”
“—but if I were, it wouldn’t be yours.”
I stare at her. “Annie, what the hell is going on?”
Before she can answer, Analise disappears. In her place is my mother, her face grim as she stares at me like she’s trying to set me on fire with her mind.
“You’ve got a lot of nerve, Braxton Newport.”
“Here.” My mother drops a gel ice pack onto the table in front of me, her glare still just as dangerous as it was when she let me in the door. “Put this on your face. We’ll switch to hot compresses later, see if that doesn’t get the swelling down.”
She sniffs unsympathetically, stomping around the kitchen, slamming open cabinets as she pulls out everything she needs to make sandwiches.
I do as she says, tracking her as she moves around the room. “You’re not gonna ask me about it?” I point at my face when she looks over at the question.
She presses her lips into such a thin line, they practically disappear. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the woman you kissed last night.”
My head spins, and I can feel the color draining from my face. I stare across the room at her, everything suddenly too hot.
“How do you know about that?” I croak.
Mom opens her mouth to answer, but then Analise appears, singing out, “You’re famous.” She heads for the fridge, pulling out two cans of soda and setting one in front of me.
“I don’t know what that means,” I say numbly.
Analise takes the seat next to me and digs her phone out of the side pocket of her exercise leggings, pulling up a social media app with deft fingers.
“You should really start using these,” she says conversationally, but it’s muffled, like she’s speaking from far away.
“Otherwise, you’re the last to know everything. ”
Mom is stiffly chopping tomatoes, keeping her head turned away from us, and dread settles into my bones. I drop the ice pack onto the table. “Last to know what?”
Analise doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to. She’s pulled up a photo that tells a whole awful fucking story on its own.
I stare down at the tiny screen, my mouth gaping open and heart racing so fast in my chest that a distant voice in my head wonders if this is what a heart attack might feel like.
Each breath saws in and out of my lungs, the sound the loudest thing in the room.
Analise is watching me, her brow knitted, and Mom has whirled around, her expression creased with worry.
“Braxton?” she asks.
“I didn’t…She—” I shake my head, the room spinning faster and making it impossible for my eyes to focus.
I clear my throat, trying to force the words out past the lump that seems lodged there.
“Please tell me…Don’t tell me Gracie saw it.
” Mom’s eyes fill, and I shake my head again.
“No. Mom, no. Tell me she didn’t see it. That she doesn’t think…”
Mom sets her knife down, coming around the table and dragging a chair closer so that when she sits down, her knee bumps against mine. She reaches out to grab one of my hands, wrapping both hers around it.
“Braxton,” she breathes. “What on earth is going on?” Her mood has flipped like a switch, the anger draining away like it was never there, leaving her apprehensive.
“Gracie saw it,” I repeat, hammering the horrible truth home for myself.
“Gracie saw it, and she’s not home. I need to talk to her.
” My head swivels, searching the kitchen wildly like my girl is going to jump out at me.
“Where is she?” Analise and Mom share a long look, and my heart actually skips a beat.
“Mom,” I plead desperately. “Just tell me. Where’s Gracie? ”
My mother drags in a deep breath, her nostrils flaring. “Gracie’s gone away for a little while,” she finally says. “I don’t know for how long, but she needed some time. To heal.”
“To heal,” I echo dumbly. “From me.”
Mom dips her head, mouth trembling. “Yes, Braxton. From you.”
Analise’s phone is lying forgotten on the kitchen island. The screen is still lit up with the photo, pulling my attention back to it again and again—Paisley’s arms locked around my neck, her mouth on mine, my hands on her shoulders.
It looks like I’m kissing her back.
A low sound leaves me, bile climbing up my throat. “Turn it off.”
“Analise, give us some time, please,” Mom requests. “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”
My sister doesn’t argue, grabbing her phone and drink, heading out of the kitchen without another word. Mom grabs the ice pack from where I dropped it, holding it gently against my nose, apologizing when I wince.
“Keep it on,” she says gently. “And tell me what happened.”
It still feels like adrenaline is flooding my system, but I’m helpless, just staring back at my mom.
There’s nothing for me to do here, nothing left to fight, and yet, my heart hammers against my ribs, a cold sweat sliding across my skin.
Confused, my mind flashes me back to blood, terror, and screaming, but I force it away, focusing on breathing the way the counselor taught me.
Inhale. Hold. Let it go.
When it feels like I’ve beaten the chaos back, even if only temporarily, I tell Mom, “I messaged Gracie to come to Benson’s last night.
I thought we could talk, and that the bar would be…
I don’t know, more neutral, you know? I wasn’t surprised when she didn’t show up, but I was gutted.
” My voice cracks. Mom doesn’t say a word, her fingers still gently holding the ice pack to my face.
I reach up, brushing her hand aside and taking over.
“I could see it whenever I looked over at you,” she murmurs. “But you were with Nick and Ryan, and it didn’t feel like the time for your mother to step in.”
I nod, looking away. “I stood up to let Nick out of the booth,” I recall stiltedly.
“And someone touched me. I thought it was Gracie. I hoped it was Gracie. I spun around, and everything went sideways…” I drop my hand, the ice pack falling to my lap, feeling so goddamn lost. “The last time I saw Paisley, I told her to leave me alone, Mom. I told her to back off and let me make things right with Gracie. And then she just…”
“She kissed you,” Mom says slowly, the slightest waver to her voice. “And you didn’t want it.”
She’s not asking, but the loud “No” explodes out of me. I scrub a hand over my mouth, hating that the last lips on mine were hers, when they should’ve been Gracie’s. And now Gracie is gone.
“That girl,” Mom hisses out, her eyes glittering with anger. She seems to make an attempt to shake it off, pointing at my face. “What happened here?”
I reach out, sliding a finger down the swollen bridge of my nose. “Nick,” I mumble. “He saw Paisley kiss me, but he didn’t realize I was trying to get her off me.” One corner of my mouth tips up in an unamused smile. “Nick said he punched me for Gracie.”
Mom’s lips purse, her cheeks flushing a dull red. “Paisley is…” She blows out a steadying breath. “I won’t say what I’m thinking, especially with your sister eavesdropping—”
There’s a thud, and then Annalise calls, “I get it off you!”
“Well, go read one of your books,” Mom demands, not unkindly.
Analise laughs, the sound trailing off as she moves away from us.
Mom waits until she’s sure my sister is out of earshot, and then turns to me again.
“I knew something was going on with that girl. And the way Esther talks about her, like she hung the moon, the stars, and the sky? But turns out, she’s just walking around, assaulting people with her mouth.
” A huff of laughter escapes me, but Mom’s expression is deadly serious. “Do you want to press charges?”
I falter, the idea not having even occurred to me. “Mom, it’s Paisley.” Her expression doesn’t change, watching me expectantly. “She’s Nick’s sister. Esther and Joseph’s daughter. There’s no taking that back.”
“You listen to me.” Mom leans in closely, her eyes intent on mine. “Her actions are her own, and that’s what can’t be taken back. Our ties with that family might be broken forever because of it, but that’s not on your shoulders. It’s on Paisley’s.”
“I don’t want to press charges, Mom. It was just…” I sigh heavily. “I want to erase it from my mind and forget it ever happened. I’m not okay, but it’s got nothing to do with last night and everything to do with Gracie being gone.”
Mom sits back in her seat, her eyes sliding away from mine, her expression conflicted. “Braxton…if this were just about that kiss, things might be different. But it’s not.”
I furrow my brow, but Mom’s patting my hand and standing up. I watch as she walks away from me, picking up her knife to finish cutting the ingredients for the sandwiches.
“Mom?”