Chapter 38 #2
“Here!” a high-pitched voice shouts, and we turn to look just as the little girl from earlier comes flying toward us, shoving a penguin skate helper in front of her. “They didn’t have any seals left, but maybe you like penguins.”
The girl lets go of the penguin as she comes to a jarring halt, and it goes flying into Braxton’s shins.
A low curse escapes as his hand leaves mine, his skates sliding wildly against the ice as he tries to regain his balance.
The girl’s eyes go wide, her mouth a perfect o, watching as I try to capture Braxton’s hands and pull him upright… but it’s too late.
His skates go forward while his body goes backwards, and he lands with a solid thwack on his hip. His mouth twists into grimace—one that only deepens when he catches sight of me standing over him, trying to smother my laughter behind my hand.
“Oh my god.” The girl’s mother arrives, her expression horrified as she stares down at Braxton. “I’m so sorry. Rita just really wanted to help.”
He smooths his expression out. “It’s fine, I promise. Rita? Thank you for the penguin.” He doesn’t try to move, seemingly comfortable sitting on his ass on the ice, pointedly ignoring me as my laughter quiets to soft giggles. “I’m sure I’ll get the hang of this skating thing.”
Rita looks dubious. “I don’t know. You’re pretty bad. I’ve never seen someone fall down with a skate helper.”
“I didn’t—” Braxton cuts the argument off before it can start, inhaling deeply through his nose.
She doesn’t seem to notice his consternation. “Why are you just sitting there? Mom says the best way to learn is to get right back up if you fall down.” She shuffles closer, asking curiously, “Is your butt broken? Do you need an ambulance?”
“No!” Braxton says quickly. “I’m just…taking a breather.”
“On the ice.”
“Yes,” he says firmly. “On the ice.”
“Rita, time to go,” her mom says firmly, reaching out to grab her daughter’s shoulder and turning her away, shooting us one last apologetic look. “I think we’ve done enough damage for one day, and there’s a hot chocolate in the cafe with your name on it.”
“Yes!” Rita cheers happily. “I want extra marshmallows!”
“You got it, kiddo. Just no more mowing anyone over, hm?”
They skate away, Rita’s protest that she didn’t mow anyone drifting back to us.
I look down at Braxton and the penguin. “So—”
“Not a word, Rumpel,” he warns. “Not now, and not to anyone else.” I bite my bottom lip, but he sees right through me, shaking his head with resignation. “Next date, we’re boxing.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “Just know I won’t go easy on you.”
Braxton barks out a laugh. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Rumpel.”
“You’ll forgive me if the man sitting on his ass on the ice doesn’t scare me,” I taunt, and Braxton rolls over onto his knees, getting one skate under him.
“Keep going,” he says lowly, eyes gleaming. “See what happens.”
I grin wickedly. “But baby…” He blinks at the endearment, his face softening, but it clears on my next words. “You’d have to catch me first.”
I turn and skate away before my meaning has fully sunk in, laughing when I hear his panicked voice behind me, “Gracie, wait!”
Braxton completes an entire circuit of the rink without falling before he begs for mercy, claiming that he can no longer feel his ass. We recover at a nearby pizza place before making the drive back to Sterling Creek, his fingers threaded through mine and resting on my thigh the entire way.
When he pulls the truck into my driveway, he gets out without a word.
I watch as he rounds the hood, mouth set in determination as he yanks open my door and reaches in to unclip my belt.
I wait for him to step back so I can get out, but he just yanks at my thighs, turning me in the seat and stepping between my legs.
“What—”
Braxton cups my cheeks in his hands. “Thank you for today. I know it probably wasn’t what you expected.”
“It was perfect,” I say, meaning every word. “I had a great time. It’s more fun than I’ve had in ages.”
That brings a contrasting mix of emotions to Braxton’s green eyes—relief, happiness, and remorse. “I’m glad.” He strokes his thumb over my cheekbone. “I would’ve been happy doing anything just as long as I got to spend the day with you.”
I reach out, scratching my nails against the scruff of his jaw. “I’m sure you were never this cheesy a few months ago. Have you been abducted by pod people?”
The corner of his mouth lifts. “No. I’ve been taking serial killer classes. They told me I need to do better at fitting in. Otherwise, my victims will never climb into the suitcase on their own.”
I stifle a laugh. “I knew it! Once a serial killer, always a serial killer.”
Braxton gives me a mock-serious look. “How else will I keep you forever?”
I don’t look away. “I can think of a few ways.” There’s a weighty pause before I ask, “Do you want to come inside?”
Braxton doesn’t move for several seconds. It doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. “I want to,” he confesses in a hushed whisper, “but I’m not rushing this.”
The rejection stings, but I don’t let it consume me, thinking past that initial hurt to the intention behind his choice. “You’re worried I’m not fully in yet,” I guess.
“I think you’re still considering what our future looks like, and it’s firmly in your hands. I’m not rushing that decision, Gracie. I told you, I’m fighting for us, and I’m in it for life. There’s no one else for me but you.”
“Braxton—”
“No. You’re not there yet, and that’s okay.
Gracie, it’s okay. I broke your trust. I don’t want to hold on to the past, but I’m also not going to pretend it didn’t happen.
” He sucks in a breath, his eyes falling closed.
“I lied to you. If we want to work past that and everything that’s happened since…
” He swallows roughly, his throat bobbing.
“I’m not rushing this. I’m fighting for keeps, which means waiting until you know for sure that your future lies with me, because I know mine lies with you. ”
My heart lurches, skipping a beat and then jumping into a too-fast rhythm. Braxton searches my face, before nodding.
“I’m going to walk you to your door,” he tells me, almost in warning. “I’m going to kiss you. A lot. It’ll shock the neighbors.” A startled laugh escapes me, and his eyes soften. “And then I’m going to drive home and have a really fucking long cold shower.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Braxton seems shocked at my agreement, echoing, “Okay?”
“It makes sense,” I explain. “It hurts a little”—I hold my thumb and pointer finger up, a small gap between them—“but you’re making sense.”
“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” he says dryly. “Sometimes I make sense.”
I lift a shoulder. “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
Braxton smiles, watching me closely, but then it falls away. “I love you, Gracie.”
My mouth parts on a sharp inhale, my vision watery as I stare up at him. It’s been so long since I’ve heard those words—well over half a year—and I wasn’t sure if they were something I would ever hear again. My lips tremble, and Braxton swipes his thumb over my cheekbone, brushing away a tear.
“Don’t cry, Rumpel. I didn’t tell you to make you cry.” He presses his forehead to mine. “And I don’t expect you to say it back. In fact, I don’t want you to say it back.”
“You don’t?” I whisper, voice cracking.
“No.” Braxton’s smile is small, crooked. “You can tell me you love me when you decide on us. That’s when I want to hear those words again…When it means that you know for sure our future—our family—is together.”
“Okay,” I say quietly, a promise. Braxton steps back, but I surprise him by lunging forward, wrapping my arms around his neck and dragging him to me.
Our mouths meet, and he groans, his hands sliding into my hair and holding me still as his tongue plunders into my mouth, sensually stroking against mine.
It feels so familiar, his woodsy scent filling my lungs, his chest brushing against mine, the way it feels like my world is finally centered after being off-kilter for so long.
“Gracie,” he says my name like a prayer, his lips still on mine. Warmth curls through my chest, sliding lower and lower as I scratch my nails against the best of his neck, pressing myself as close as I can physically get.
Braxton pulls back, burying his face against my neck. His lips are wet, his breath hot, and I shiver, arousal pooling low in my body.
“Fuck, Rumpel. I never thought…” There’s a tremor in his muffled voice, a thread of emotion that steals my breath. “I never thought I’d be holding you like this again.”
“Me neither,” I confess.
“You make it damn hard to walk away,” Braxton grumbles playfully, nipping my neck, making me yelp. “But I’m sticking to my guns.” He pulls back, staring into my eyes, his own glazed with love and heat. “Tell me we’re going on another date.”
“Right now?”
“Right now,” he says firmly.
I furrow my brow, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Aren’t you supposed to wait three days to call? This seems pretty forward of you.”
“Gracie…” he warns. “Don’t make me—” His fingers go to my ribs, the threat clear, and I wriggle back.
“Okay, okay. No need for drastic measures,” I rush out. “You get a second date.”
“Good.” Braxton’s shoulders sink, like he was actually worried I was going to turn him down. “Your birthday is in two weeks. That’s our next date.”
“Two weeks—” I start to protest, but he cuts me off with a firm look.
“Two weeks,” he says again. “And I’ll be here every day to see you, and we have our weekly dinner with my parents.”
I blow out a breath, jerking my chin down in a nod. “Fine. Two weeks.”
Braxton trails his knuckles over my cheeks, his smile wide. “Thank you, baby.” He leans down to press another lingering kiss to my mouth, leaving me breathless. “You won’t regret this.”