Chapter 16 Gracie #3
“I heard you lost it,” I tell him archly, acting like I’m not falling apart. Maybe I could be an actress, after all. “You’ll never guess who found it and returned it for you.”
“Fuck,” he breathes, his eyes flying to mine with dawning horror.
Raewyn looks between us before she focuses back on Paisley, Esther, and Joseph hovering behind her. “That’s enough. You need to go. Right now.”
Joseph sighs heavily, grabbing both Esther and Paisley by the arm and directing them out. “Come on, Nick,” he calls. “Let’s see if we can salvage the day at home.”
“No.” Nick crosses his arms over his chest, a grim scowl on his lips. “I’ll stay here. I’d like to support Gracie through this because she’s the one who has been wronged.”
“Nick—” Esther starts, but something that looks like realization crosses over Joseph’s face, and he shakes his head.
“Go, Esther,” he commands quietly. “Just go.”
The room falls deathly quiet as we wait for the door to close behind them. When it finally snicks closed, a sob bursts from me, my chest aching with the force of it. Stephen’s still holding me, his hand stroking my arm, but then Raewyn’s there, pulling me from him and wrapping me in her arms.
Stephen turns to Braxton, his voice loud as he demands, “What the fuck did you do?!”
“Please talk to me, Gracie.”
I stare out the window in front of me, my hands lying limply in my lap.
My heart has calmed, but it’s made way for the ice trickling through my body, and now…
I just don’t feel anything at all. I know I should—devastation, fury, grief.
But I just feel oddly detached, almost like my body and mind no longer belong to me.
Braxton has just finished telling me everything that happened with Paisley, from them sharing baking outside the red maple—from a basket—to the movies, where they cuddled.
At least, I think that’s everything. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not, especially when he’s already lied so much.
“Gracie—”
“What happened with the house?” I interrupt, my voice hoarse. I shift my weight, my shirt sticking to my clammy skin. My thoughts are trying to fire in several different directions with no real destination, but I need answers, and if I don’t ask now, I never will.
Braxton is crouched on the floor in front of me, and he suddenly sits back on his haunches, rubbing a hand over his face.
“Someone else put in a better offer.” He looks as drained as I feel, and bitter amusement pulses to life in my chest. He looks as if he’s been hurt by everything that has just happened.
Our pain is not the same.
A loud scoff sounds from somewhere behind us. “The truth, Braxton,” Raewyn demands, blatantly eavesdropping and clearly not caring who knows it.
Braxton glances in her direction before blowing out a breath, like he’s bracing himself. “I forgot to put the offer in—”
“You forgot,” I echo, staring down at him like he’s a stranger.
He swipes his tongue over his lips, eyes beseeching. “I just…My head was a mess, Gracie. The accident—”
“The one you wouldn’t tell me about.” His mouth snaps shut as my eyes drop to his. I smile, but it’s not a nice one, and he flinches. “Who did you tell about it?”
“The counselor—”
I give him the most withering glare. “You’re not this stupid.”
There’s another scoffing noise from Raewyn, before I hear, “Woman, I will remove you from this room. Here, have another wine.”
I’m glad they’re the only ones here. Analise and Nick disappeared pretty quickly to give us some space. I didn’t want to be alone with Braxton, but I also didn’t want a big audience for this, either.
“I told Paisley, but it was straight after my session,” he rushes to add. “And she was there, and she understood. Her dad was a firefighter. She got it. In a way…” He trails off, but it’s too late.
“In a way, I don’t?” I nod, processing that. “Okay, well. That makes sense then.” My voice is tight, brittle. “Next time, you should break up with the other person first.”
He blinks. “What the hell are you talking about?”
I shake my head. “Braxton, if you can’t figure out what you did wrong, there’s literally no point in us having this conversation.”
His head jerks back, panic flaring his eyes wide. “What does that mean?” he demands angrily.
I press my lips together, feeling tired and broken. “What did you think would happen, Braxton? When I told you that I wanted full transparency and you deliberately chose to ignore that, how did you think this would end?”
He surges upward, his face close to mine and his hands on either side of my hips. “You’re not ending us over this. You’re not ending us because my head’s all fucked up. You’re not.” His green eyes are wild with desperation, and I stare back at him impassively. “I don’t accept it.”
My lips tug up. “That’s not how this works, Braxton. You’ve decided so much for us, but you don’t get to decide this.”
“Don’t,” he begs. “Don’t say it. Please, Gracie. I can fix this.”
I shake my head once. “You took your space, and now I need mine. I don’t stay in situations that hurt me, Braxton.
If you know anything about me, you should know that.
” I stare at him, wondering who this man is, because I don’t recognize him as the person I fell in love with.
“I need time to heal and process what comes next.”
“No, Rumpel, please. If we don’t talk about this, we can’t come back from it.”
“Braxton,” I say softly, and he falls quiet, his shoulders heaving with each breath.
His hands scrunch into fists beside my thighs, preparing for the blow.
“Your serial killer percentage is at 90.” My eyes fill with tears that I didn’t think I was capable of shedding.
One trails down my cheek, and his broken eyes follow its path before slowly coming back up to mine.
“There is no coming back from this. We’re done. ”
His head drops, his forehead resting on my knees.
He shudders with a broken sob. I’ve never seen him cry, and a distant part of me hurts for him, knowing he’s got a lot more going on right now than he’s willing to share.
But I also know that I need to put myself first, to take care of myself, especially when it’s clear that no one else is going to.
“I need to go home,” I say. Braxton doesn’t move a muscle, a low, haunting sound leaving him. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Nick approaches, his expression grim, with Stephen a step behind him.
“I’ll look after him,” Nick tells me as he bodily hauls Braxton up. “Come on, man.”
Stephen holds a hand out to me next. “Come on, sweetheart. You want me to drive you home?”
Knowing I’m in no space to be behind the wheel, but also knowing I absolutely can’t stay here, I bob my head, letting him pull me to my feet. “I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”
I gather my belongings in shaking hands, but just as we reach the door, Raewyn appears with her coat on and bag tucked over her arm. “Not to worry, honey,” she tells Stephen. “I’ll take her, and I’ll stay with her.”
Stephen eyes her, and I’m sure he’s going to tell her no, but then he just gives her a small smile, shaking his keys in his hand. “I know how much you’ve had to drink. I’ll drive you both.”