Chapter 34 Braxton #2
I stroke her cheek, marveling over the softness of her skin and the fact that she’s still here in my arms. “I’ll never stop fighting for you, Rumpel. No matter how many arguments we have, no matter what else might happen, I’m yours. Always.”
“I don’t know.” Her eyes flit between mine, her mouth parted on a silent breath as she searches my gaze. “What if it happens again? What if you seek someone else out the next time it all goes wrong? What if—”
“I’m going to make you believe it,” I tell her vehemently—there was no other option. “We’re going to rebuild the trust between us. But this time, it’ll be stronger. There will be no cracks for anything else to slip in.”
The outside of the house needs to be painted.
I stare up at the fading blue of the weatherboards, the color almost appearing gray.
There are hints where the original color—or at least, the potential of it—peeks through, but I’ve got no idea whether Gracie will want to keep that color or repaint with something different.
Feels like something I should know.
The roof is in pretty good shape, the previous owners having renailed and painted it before selling. But the front walk is uneven, and there’s a suspicious sloping to the front steps, the wood probably rotting.
I’ve got a list in my head, hating that it’s not actually my right to do it, but knowing I’ll try anyway. It’s a fifty-fifty guess over whether Gracie will welcome my help, but I know she doesn’t have the first idea where to start with any kind of DIY.
I won’t force my help on her, but if she outright refuses, I’ll pay for the supplies and just give them to my dad.
He told me about the odd jobs he did while Gracie was out of town—oiling the hinges on the front door, plastering a hole he found in the closet of the guest bedroom, and fixing a loose latch on a window.
Nothing too much. He didn’t want to step on Gracie’s toes when it was her house.
Her home.
It’s a thought that burns, knowing this house was supposed to be ours. The place where our future got started in the best way.
I don’t know if that ache will ever go away. Not when I remember the way Majorie called me more than once, and I ignored each call. And not when I think about Nolan claiming space inside the house—a mark that will be etched into the wood long after he’s gone.
As if summoned with my thoughts, the front door opens, and he comes out, a black duffel slung over one shoulder. He draws up short at the sight of me, his eyebrows lifting.
“Didn’t know we were having a farewell party,” he remarks as he continues down the path. “You here to carry my bags? Or just making sure I actually leave?”
I chuckle dryly. “I’m sure you’ve got no problem carrying your own bags. A little manual labor never hurt anyone.”
Nolan shakes his head, his eyes flashing with wry humor.
“You might think you know me,” he murmurs as he walks past me, “but I promise that you don’t.
” He stops at the rental car parked on the road—a black luxury thing that seems completely impractical.
He drops the bag into the trunk, closing it with a thud.
“I thought you’d be flying back,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “It’s what? A fifteen-hour drive?”
Nolan shrugs. “Something like that. I’m stopping to see an old friend on my way.” He turns to look at me, his blond hair shaggy and flopping over his forehead. “She gonna be alright with you?” His eyes shift to the house behind me.
Gracie and I aren’t going to be an easy fix. I have always known that. She couldn’t give me an answer that night at Benson’s, her expression still wary whenever she thought I wasn’t looking. But I told her I was fighting for her, and I am not going to stumble at the first hurdle.
“I’ll prove myself to her,” I say, almost to myself. “I’ll work to get her trust back.”
Nolan makes a small noise. I look up, finding him leaning against the side of the car, eyes locked on me. “Once trust is broken, it’s almost impossible to fix.”
“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Show me someone who hasn’t had their trust broken at least once,” he says dryly, “and I’ll happily call them a liar.”
I dip my chin. “Yeah.” The silence stretches out between us, tension mounting in small increments. “You think you’ll come back?” The question scrapes against my throat like sharp rocks.
He might have shit happening back at home with his family, but there’s also a reason he came back here with Gracie. It guts me to know that someone else was there for her, holding her while she was sad, and that jealousy beats at me whenever I share air with him.
Nolan’s watching me with shrewd eyes, and after a beat, he says honestly, “I don’t know.
This isn’t—” He glances around the quiet street, mouth twitching.
“I’m not a small town guy.” He looks back at me, arching a brow, the implication clear.
“Gracie…She’s part of my history. I think knowing her…
” Nolan frowns, his eyes dropping to the ground.
“Our relationship came at a time when I needed to be grounded, and I’ll always be grateful for that.
I was being sucked into a world of darkness and rot, and it was Gracie who kept me out of it. ”
My brows lift at that, a sour taste filling my mouth. Before I can say a word, Nolan looks up, eyeing me carefully as he adds, “I was glad I could do the same for her.”
I swallow roughly. “I hate that you had to,” I say gruffly, unable to hold his stare. “I hate that I’m the reason that brought you back into her life.”
“You hate that I’m here at all,” Nolan surmises. There’s no point in denying it. Not when the answer is written all over my face. “What about you?” he asks.
“What about me?”
Nolan doesn’t answer straight away, his eyes going back to the house, like he’s checking that Gracie isn’t going to make an appearance. “What happens now? With Paisley?”
I frown in bemusement, shaking my head. “Nothing. I’m done with her. For good.”
After Nick went to his parents’ home the other night, he found Esther screaming at Joseph while Paisley threw clothes into a bag. Now, Esther and Paisley are gone, and Nick has shut down on the subject of his family, focusing himself completely on finding the guy who attacked Gracie instead.
Nolan’s expression doesn’t change, his tone bland as he reminds me, “Your best friend is her brother.”
“I’m aware, but it doesn’t change anything. Nick knows that.”
I hate explaining myself to Nolan, but I also appreciate the way he took care of Gracie while she was hurt. She doesn’t have many people in her life who genuinely care for her, and pushing Nolan away because of my jealousy isn’t the right move.
“Isn’t that part of the reason Paisley was even a problem?” Nolan keeps prodding, his brows knitting together. “You had history with her, and your family were friends. You think she’ll stop being a problem just because you decide so?”
“Gracie comes first,” I murmur softly. “Always.” I slide my hands into my pockets, tipping my head back and looking up at the overcast sky. “I let her down. I got in my own head, forgetting what she truly meant to me. I got a taste of what it was like to lose everything.”
“You didn’t lose everything,” Nolan counters. “You had your job, your family, your friends.”
“And yet it felt meaningless without her,” I admit, the confession easier without looking at him.
“I’m terrified. Every day, I worry about losing myself to that spiral again.
Paisley…She walked through a door I edged open because I was lost in my own guilt.
I didn’t have the strength to shove her right back out.
” I exhale slowly, trying to forcibly push every negative feeling out into the ether.
“I was facing this battle to survive, and I crumbled, taking the easy out that she offered.”
“Why?”
I drop my chin, finding Nolan watching me curiously. But there’s compassion hiding behind his hazel eyes, too, and I think he understands more than he’s letting on.
“Why did I take the easy out?” I clarify, and he nods.
“I don’t know. Maybe I knew that letting Gracie in meant actually facing what happened to me, and I wasn’t ready to do it.
Maybe Paisley just represented a time where people—children—didn’t die.
I never—” I clear my throat, feeling like a rock is lodged there.
“I was confused during a time when I didn’t have the energy to fight.
Not with Gracie, Paisley”—I glance down—“or my own demons.”
Nolan’s stare is assessing, but I don’t feel like he’s judging me. His attention shifts over my shoulder, and I pause, not needing to hear the creak of wood to know that Gracie is standing there.
A step, and then her arm brushes against mine, sending electricity bursting through me. I look down at her, but she’s staring straight ahead, the slightest tremble to her mouth.
“You’re fighting now,” she says, but it’s a question. A request for reassurance, or maybe validation that she’s making the right choice.
I slide an arm around her shoulders, pressing my lips to her temple. “I’m all fight, Rumpel. I’ve got too much to lose.”
Gracie still doesn’t look at me, but some of the tension leaves her shoulders. She looks over at Nolan, her lashes fluttering before she changes the subject. “You all ready to go?”
“Locked and loaded.” Nolan pushes away from the car, holding his arms open. Gracie moves out from under my hold and into his, hugging him tightly. I can see her profile, the way her eyes close as she sinks against him, and jealousy coats my tongue, even as acceptance fills me.
Seconds later, she pulls back, telling him, “Drive safe, okay?”
Nolan pats her on the head, a rare smile tugging at his mouth. “Always.” He looks at me, a warning in his eyes. “Take care of her this time,” he says softly, a dangerous thread under his words. “Don’t fuck it up again.”
I don’t blink. “I won’t, man.” My stare shifts to Gracie, who’s looking back at me, her expression soft. “I’m playing for keeps.”
Nolan watches me for a long moment before his expression eases. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I believe that.”