Chapter 4
Braxton
As we leave Esther and Joseph’s place, Gracie is dragging, her shoulders hunched and her eyes pinched like she’s in pain. I open the door to my truck, the interior light illuminating how pale she is as she slides in, dark bruises smudging the skin under her eyes.
I get in the driver’s seat, reaching over to touch her thigh. “Gracie,” I call softly. But she doesn’t look at me, just reaching for her belt and clipping herself in. “Rumpel, what’s wrong?”
“I’m okay,” Gracie whispers, her breath hitching in her throat. “Just tired.” She gives me the smallest smile, but it doesn’t touch her eyes—more gray than blue in the dim light. “It’s been a long day. So many people, so much food.”
I inhale as deeply as I can—slow and intentionally—desperately trying to steady myself. The scent hits me like the softest wave, vanilla and jasmine. It’s familiar. Home. A scent that has become an addiction since the first time Gracie let me get close.
It settles in my chest just like she always does, with a quiet, warm, and uncomplicated presence. It’s the kind of scent that stays with you hours after she’s gone, but you never mind because it’s home. It’s a Sunday morning—with coffee cooling on the nightstand and her legs tangled in mine.
I keep breathing as I pull away from the curb, my fingers too tight around the steering wheel, memories—nightmares—pushing at the edges of my mind, digging and ripping at me, making me flinch with every passing streetlight.
Gracie’s attention is focused out her window, her forehead pressed against the cool glass, and her honey-brown hair hiding most of her expression.
She’s unaware of the turmoil racing through my head, the thoughts that won’t stop moving, spiraling round and round, looping into a truth I’m not ready to see.
It feels as if hours have passed instead of minutes when we finally pull up outside of her place, the only light coming from the front window—a small lamp in the living room that she always leaves on when she’s out.
She once told me it was so she didn’t feel like she was walking into an empty house, a small token to make her feel less alone.
Fuck.
“Are you coming in?” Gracie’s question is soft, bone-weary, and I close my eyes, hating myself for everything that’s happened tonight. “I know you’re on shift tomorrow, but…”
I don’t normally spend the night before I go on shift, but she turns and looks at me, her eyes dull, and I know I can’t say no.
“Of course, Rumpel,” I murmur. “Come on.”
An hour later, sleep is eluding me.
Gracie’s tucked against my side, hand on my chest, and her breathing deep and even. She popped some pain relief after getting into her pajamas, but by the time her lashes drifted shut, the bruising under her eyes still hadn’t eased.
I’ve got one arm around her, the other tucked under my head as I stare up at the dark ceiling, unable to stop my thoughts from spinning—like I’m stuck in a never-ending whirlpool that’s constantly pulling me down.
If I fall asleep, I know I’ll dream. Just the thought of it makes me tense, an ache slithering up my neck and into the base of my skull. I thought today would have been enough of a distraction, but it wasn’t. Not until—
Paisley.
It was like someone tipped a bucket of icy water over me when she appeared in that doorway tonight, leaving me breathless and shocked. It cleared my mind for the first time in two weeks, sending me straight back to a time when Paisley had been…everything to me.
I’ve missed you.
The quiet words, whispered in my ear as she hugged me, had sent shivers rippling down my spine, and for a second, I was unable to tell the difference between past and present, the two of them merging together.
Paisley was the first person I ever loved—or thought I loved, I guess.
But as she stood there, smiling at me, it felt like every single feeling I ever had for her rushed back to the surface, reminding me of a time when I didn’t have to worry about nightmares and the bruises under my girlfriend’s eyes.
The feeling faded as fast as it came, muffled by the memory of Paisley abruptly leaving and the way she coldly cut me out of her life.
Our families were close—her brother, my best friend—and yet, the last time I saw her was when she told me that she was leaving, and there was no way we could make it work between us.
Paisley just cut me out of her life as if, the moment she left town, I stopped existing for her. We never talked about what happened, or that final conversation…until tonight.
I should never have gone outside with her when she asked to talk. It felt innocent enough at the time, but now, a dark feeling slithers through my body, telling me I’ve done something wrong.
I swallow roughly, the sound audible in the dark room. Paisley has changed a lot since the last time I saw her, the night she walked away and never looked back. I stopped imagining her coming back into my life a long time ago, and now, my memories have curled and faded with age.
The Paisley I met tonight…There was an air of confidence about her, in the way she carried herself and how she spoke. It is clear that her time away changed her, and it is hard to merge those memories of who she was with the reality of who she might be now.
Gracie shifts, a soft sigh leaving her lips, and my throat goes tight. I shouldn’t be thinking of another woman while I’m lying in her bed, and I hate myself for doing it to her. I moved on from Paisley a long time ago.
Gracie is my home now, and we’re building something together. Something real.
“Here,” Gracie says softly, placing a coffee in front of me the next morning.
“Thanks.” I watch as she sits down across from me, her eyes fixed on her mug, and I frown. “Your head still hurting?”
“A little,” she admits.
“Why don’t you go back to bed?” I urge. “The shop is closed today, right?”
Gracie gives me a wan smile. “Maybe I will after you leave.”
I dip my chin, and we fall quiet as I finish my coffee. I rinse my mug before gathering the last of my things, Gracie following me to the door. Her eyes are unreadable as she watches me slide my shoes on.
“I’ll give you a call later, yeah?” I straighten, giving her a smile before pulling her into a hug. “Just take it easy today.”
“Don’t worry about me,” she says, voice muffled against my shoulder. “I’ll be okay.” She pulls away, already half-turning, and I clear my throat.
“You forgetting something, baby?” I ask playfully.
Gracie hesitates. It’s only a second, maybe less. I wouldn’t have noticed if I weren’t watching her so closely. But then she turns back around, giving me a light kiss. I barely feel it before she’s pulling back and turning away, and an icy panic flares to life in my chest.
I don’t let myself analyze it, sliding my hand around her neck and pulling her back into me, slanting my mouth over hers. She doesn’t move for a breath, but then she sighs, melting against me, her tongue sliding against mine as I devour her.
Reluctantly pulling away, I stare down into her glazed expression, her lips reddened from the force of the kiss. “I love you, Rumpel.”
Something flashes through Gracie’s eyes, too fast for me to catch, but then her lips tip up. “I love you, too.” She stares up at me, and she’s my Gracie—the same person she’s always been. Relief has my shoulders sinking as she strokes my bristly cheek. “Be safe, okay?”
It’s the same words she gives me every time I go on shift, her concern warming me, knowing she’s waiting for me to come back to her. Those words have been hitting a little harder in the last weeks, but I grab onto them, holding them close, knowing they will be what gets me through this next shift.
“Always.”
It only takes me ten minutes to drive over to the massive red brick building that houses both the fire station and the police department. Each one shares half of a building that has been standing almost as long as Sterling Creek itself.
I scrub my hands over my face, leaning back against my truck as I prepare myself to face the day. Dread has become a familiar companion for me, and I battle it back down now, knowing it has no place here.
I give myself another minute before I walk inside, but as soon as I do, the chaos in my mind calms, reassuring me that life is carrying on as normal.
Everything is fine. I am fine.
Following in my father’s footsteps was never a question for me.
I joined the station straight out of high school, much to my mother’s disappointment.
Mom never held the choice against me, but she said that she knew exactly what toll this career took on both firefighters and their families, and she never wanted that for me.
If only she knew.
I beeline for the common room, finding Marco lounging back against the couch in front of the television. He runs a hand through his inky black hair, giving me a wide smile.
“You want a coffee?” is his greeting of choice, tipping his head toward the tray of takeaway coffees on the table in front of him. “The chief stopped by Frothy Cakes on his way in.”
“Oh, fuck yes,” I mumble, striding forward and snatching up the closest one. The coffee Gracie made for me did nothing to brush away the cobwebs caused by a sleepless night.
“I was gonna mention how tired you look, but thought I’d better not,” Marco taunts. I fling a baleful stare at him, but his grin only widens. “You ready for the next twenty-four hours? Thanksgiving always gets a little messy.” He waggles his eyebrows playfully.
I point a finger in his direction, glaring sternly. “Don’t say it, asshole. You jinx us, and I’ll put laxatives in your coffee.”
Marco throws his head back in a laugh, completely unconcerned about the threat. I glare at him just as the door opens behind me. I look curiously over my shoulder, tension tightening my shoulders as Ryan appears.
“Morning,” he grumbles. “Did you guys hear about Ben?”
I shake my head at the same time that Marco asks, “What happened?”
“He’s over in Ashland with pneumonia,” Ryan tells us. “He’s gonna be out of commission for a couple of weeks at least.”
Marco whistles. “Shit. I thought it was just the flu.”
“With Owen moving out of town, that leaves us two men down,” I say.
Ryan grunts. “And there’s no way we’re going to fill the vacancy four weeks before Christmas, which means—”
“Overtime.” Marco moans dramatically. “My face is not made for overtime.”
Ryan’s expression matches mine as we turn to stare at Marco, and he says, “Something is seriously wrong with you.”
Marco smirks. “You might think so, but the women don’t. In fact, they think that there’s something very right with me.”
I roll my eyes, but before I can retort, Theo sticks her head in the door, taking us all in. “Grub’s up, and Asher’s already in there.” She turns and walks away with a laugh as we all scramble after her; we know from experience that the food won’t last for long with Asher around.
Just before we reach the kitchen, Ryan grabs my arm, pulling me back. “Brax, man—”
“Know what you’re gonna say,” I cut him off quickly. “And there’s nothing to talk about.” His brows draw together in a deep frown, but I keep going, “I’m fine, Ryan. Let it go, okay?”
Reluctance creeps through his brown eyes as he sighs. “You can’t bury this, Braxton. You know that.”
“I’m not burying anything,” I counter. “There’s nothing to bury. I’m fine, and I’m hungry.”
I give him my back, stalking away, but I can’t block out his words as he calls from behind me, “You’re lying to yourself, Braxton, and it’s gonna come back to bite you in the ass.”