by Cindy Miles
Thoughts ran cross-road style in my head as I tried to process everything Brax told me. I knew he meant them—I could see the sincerity in his eyes. He was being honest. Yet something held me back. I couldn’t put a finger on it, and it infuriated me.
“The morning I left you? Christ, you were lying there, so fucking peaceful, with your hair all around you. You made it hard for me to breathe, Gracie. It was the hardest fucking thing I’d ever done in my life, leaving you there alone.” He looked away, struggling for words, then stared back at me. “I had no idea when I left that I wasn’t coming back to you.”
My insides froze. “What do you mean?”
Brax let out a harsh breath. “Cory called me. Said Evans was drunk as all holy fuck yelling outside the Kappa house.” His eyes hardened. “About you and some video he had.” The muscles tightened in Brax’s jaw. “I slipped out of your room and hauled ass over there, ready to put a stop to the whole fucking thing. Sure enough, Evans was there, letting everything he knew about you out.” A sadistic curve settled over his mouth. “I beat the fuck out of him that morning, Gracie. If Cory hadn’t pulled me off, I might have killed him.”
My heart seized, and I shivered. I’d known there were cellular videos of me acting stupid at that party with Kelsy. “What happened?”
Brax stared straight ahead for a few seconds before turning a full gaze on me. “Evans’ father happened.”
Icy fingers of dread clutched at me. “What?”
“One of Evans’ dick buddies had called his father before I’d even shown up. Said his boy was in trouble. He, uh,” he scrubbed his jaw. “He brought a few thugs of his own. Pulled me off Kelsy and beat me pretty good.” Brax looked at me. “He told me it’d be in your best interest if I left you alone. Stayed away from Kelsy. That with the pictures and video he had of you, he could make sure your life at Winston would be pure hell.” He looked out of the loft. “He said he even knew a few people on the scholarship board. Said if I didn’t leave his boy alone he could make you look real bad. And after what he’d already done to you and your family, I fucking believed him.”
Words escaped me, and it grew harder and harder to breathe. “Oh my … God.”
Brax traced my jaw with his thumb, and his eyes, filled with worry and pain, sought mine. “I knew I couldn’t chance it. Risk you getting hurt, in any way. So I left.” He sighed. “Then, the more I dwelled on it, the more the selfish part of me kicked in. I thought we could handle whatever trash shit Evans threw at us together. I couldn’t stay away from you. I missed you so fucking bad, it hurt. And I wanted to explain what had happened.” He shook his head. “Maybe even go to the cops or something. I just couldn’t let you keep on thinking I was a soulless prick who took advantage of you.”
I let a long, pent up breath slowly release from my lungs. “I believe you,” I finally answered. Brax’s eyes remained guarded, though, never leaving mine. I exhaled, fought back tears as my own realization flashed before me. “But, Brax,” and at that moment, fear crossed his gaze, and I hated it. “I gave you my complete trust. After everything I’d gone through with Kelsy my senior year, I overcame it all by believing in you. What we shared that night? It meant way more to me than you can imagine.” I stared at him. “And I gave it to you. Willingly. I didn’t think that would ever happen. When you broke it off?” The too-recent memory crowded me. “God, it hurt. Hurt so bad, Brax.”
“It was not casual to me, either, Gracie, please,” Brax insisted. “Far from it. It was so goddamn real, it scared the hell out of me. I’d never experienced anything like it. Like you.” He lifted our joined hands to his lips, brushed a cold kiss over my knuckles, and my heart plummeted once more. “I’m sorry for letting you think, even for a second, that what we had wasn’t real. I’m sorry for letting Evans and his father convince me into breaking it off with you, instead of telling you what had happened. It was stupid. A fucking mistake. And I’m asking for another chance.”
My brain and my heart tangled. I wanted to trust him fully; believe in him. Part of me did, one hundred percent. But that other part had doubts, and not all were caused by Brax’s betrayal. It was residual, a dirty sheen of self-doubt left over from my days with Kelsy. I knew then if Brax and I were meant to be, we would be. But I didn’t want to go into that relationship half-cocked. I wanted no doubts. No second guessing.
Jilly’s dying words rang in my ears. Make sure you come first, above all else.
I forced bravery into my stare, and it was a hard thing to accomplish. It’d be so easy to just say okay. To deal with my own doubts. But I couldn’t. I’d promised Jilly. “I just can’t give it to you right now, Brax. I just … need time. To sort things through.”
The pain in his eyes rocked me, and he nodded, looked away. “All right.” His voice was hoarse. “That’s fair. I can give you time.” He squeezed my hand, but didn’t look at me.
He didn’t understand, though. I knew he didn’t. I barely understood myself. And I wasn’t going to fill his head with a load of crap, with explanations and empty reasons why I couldn’t just give him another chance. “Thank you for being here for me during all this. It meant a lot to me. To my family.”
Again he nodded, and this time he looked at me. The hurt in his eyes almost unraveled me. “You have a great family, Gracie. I’m glad I got to meet them. Jilly especially.”
The thought crossed my mind about Jilly’s private meeting with Brax. “What did he say to you?”
A somber smile touched Brax’s mouth, and he let me hand go. “Sorry, Sunshine. That one stays with me. For now.”
We stayed at the ranch for two more days and helped Mom, Seth, Kyle and Jace with, well, everything. Brax was up at the crack of dawn each day, chopping wood, helping feed the horses, and he even helped Mom give a few vaccinations. He was still charming, miraculously watched his Boston potty mouth, but a change had come over him, ever since that night of confessions in the loft. Ever since I’d denied him a second chance. He kept his distance, for the most part. There beside me, yet not really. I chose not to share with my family what had transpired between Brax and Mr. Evans. My mom and brothers had suffered enough my senior year. I wouldn’t drag all that hell back up and them through it.
When we left the ranch, Brax hugged my mother goodbye, shook my brothers’ hands. No one suspected that I’d just hurt him. At least, I didn’t think they did. I hadn’t wanted to hurt him. My heart had begged me to change my mind. But my brain had decided not to ever be stupid again. And I’d listened.
The ride home wasn’t completely uncomfortable. There was no hand holding, no random brush of Brax’s knuckles against my skin, and no in-depth stares from eyes that no doubt would always haunt me. When we reached my dorm, he parked my truck, and walked me to the door. There he surprised me, and even with girls going in and out of the dorm, he kissed me on the cheek, and then said goodbye.
As I watched him jog across the parking lot and out of sight, my heart sank. I’d made this choice, this smart, highly intelligent decision of self-preservation. I had no idea what the future held as far as Brax and I were concerned; I only had control over myself. And it was there, standing in the lobby of Oliver Hall, that I decided not to waste a single second trying to decipher my own decisions, and whether they’d been the right ones. I had a semester to finish. Not just finish, but excel at. After all that had happened—Mr. Evans’ threat to destroy my life at Winston, my broken heart, and Jilly’s unexpected death—I had a lot of ground to cover.
The first week of December flew by. True to his word, Brax had somehow managed to convince Professor Callander to give me my job back at the observatory. Noah had been waiting for me in astronomy and gave me the good news. And when I’d shown up at work that afternoon, and thanked the professor, he just looked at me with those gentle brown eyes, and nodded. “I’m sure you won’t disappoint me, Olivia,” he said. He hadn’t mentioned Brax at all.
After work, my heart and brain divided once more, and as Steven and I pa
rted ways at the front entrance, my eyes scanned the parking lot for Brax’s bike. I continued to check my rear view mirror for it the whole way back to Oliver Hall, but I never saw it. Not once. And when I climbed into bed, amidst Tessa’s non-stop chatter about her and Cory’s weekend plans, I checked my phone. My text messages. Nothing from Brax. And I was disappointed. I willed myself to stop being so obsessive, and to stop thinking so much about Brax. To stay on track and get my grades back up. Easier said than done.
Over the next two and a half weeks I stayed crazy busy. When I wasn’t in class, I was at the library. When I wasn’t at either of those places I worked overtime at the observatory. Brax’s presence in humanities made life nearly impossible, but I did it. He was nice. Cordial. And would most of the time scoot out of class ahead of me. I’d step out of the building in time to see him jogging to his next class, in that bow-legged swagger that he had. And while Kelsy didn’t directly bother me anymore, I’d notice a sly grin on his face. One that reeked of victory, of power over me and my family. It made me want to charge him and slap it right off. I didn’t, though. I’d decided he wasn’t worth it.
Brax didn’t call. He didn’t text. But every once in a while, I looked at him in class. And he’d be looking right back at me. And I’d see in his eerie eyes a somberness that shook me. It drove me completely crazy. I almost called him. More than once. But each time I’d pull up his name on my out-of-date flip phone, my finger would hover over the call button, and I’d snap it shut. He was driving me internally kookoo. And it’d been my decision for it to be that way. I’d denied him. My fault. Told him I’d needed more time to sort things out. Well, I’d had time, and Brax had made sure I’d had it, too. I wasn’t sure now that it’d been the right decision. But what was I to do about it now?
The last day of class before Winston let out for the Christmas holidays, Brax was absent. I’d made it to class early, hoping to speak to him. I wondered what he planned on doing for the holidays, and thought about inviting him home. My eyes stayed glued to the doorway, waiting, and when he didn’t show, my heart sank. I could’ve called him, or texted him. But I didn’t. After saying goodbye to Tessa at the dorm, I loaded my scope and pack into the truck and started for home. Disappointment followed me. Made me a little gloomy, even. Not only was I facing my first Christmas without Jilly, but I missed Brax. Truly missed him. I’d turned him away, and he’d gone without another look-back. I’d blown my chance, I supposed.
The day was gray, cold, but the miles flew by and before long, I pulled into the ranch’s winding drive. No sooner did I kill the truck’s engine did my cell phone ring. I grabbed it, hoping it was Brax. It was Tessa instead.
“Oh. My. God,” she said immediately. “Chica, are you home yet?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “Just got here.”
“Good. Go straight inside and check your email. I’ve sent you a link.” She paused. “It’s Brax. And it’s freaking bad.”
Fear froze my insides. “Okay. Let me get inside.”
“Call me right back. You have to see this now.”
I hurried inside, and Mom greeted me at the door. “Hey, baby,” she said, and I hurried right by her. “Where’s the fire?”
“Tessa just called. Something’s happened to Brax.” I set my bag down, fished my laptop out of my pack, and took it over to the sofa.
“And it’s on your computer?” Mom asked.
“Apparently,” I answered. She sat beside me and I pulled up my email. A YouTube link. I clicked it, and my stomach dropped as I waited. I called Tessa.
“Are you on it yet?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. Then my eyes widened as the video began. A bar. Brax, in a Winston baseball jersey.
“Is that Brax beating the horse snot out of …?” Mom stared closer at the screen. “Kelsy Evans?”
“It is.” He was, too. Like rabid-dog fighting and beating the holy hell out of Kelsy. I stared hard, studied it. Replayed the video. “That’s not recent.”
“Nope, it’s not,” Tessa agreed. “Apparently it happened after your truck was vandalized with shoe polish. Kelsy denied it, but Brax said he knew Kelsy did it. Then a few days ago he got wind there was this video of him beating the shit puss out of Kelsy in a bar.” Tessa drew in a breath, pushed it out. “Cory said some girl took the video. Kelsy found out about it, convinced the girl to send it to him, and as soon as she did, he bragged to Brax, saying he’d make sure he never played baseball for Winston again. Brax ignored him until Kelsy threatened to not only upload that one, but also a video of you from some party.”
“Oh, God,” I said, stunned.
“Cory said Brax went to his coach and told him everything. He dropped out of the Kappas and moved out of the frat house. Coach confided in a Winston attorney about yours and Brax’s video and has threatened Kelsy’s father with a slander case. Brax is a seriously balsy gringo, my friend. I mean, talk about self-sacrifice. He just laid his whole baseball scholarship on the line.”
I felt sick to my stomach. Had Brax done all that? For me? Had he lost his scholarship? “Hey, Tessa, thanks for letting me know. I … gotta go.”
“Okay, you know where to reach me if you need me.”
We hung up and I sat back, and looked at my mom. “What a mess.”
With gentle fingers she pushed a long hank of hair from my eyes. “Yes, darlin’, it is. So,” she patted my knee. “What are you going to do about it?”
I leaned my head back against the sofa cushion and closed my eyes. “I have no idea.”
“Did you ever find out what it was Jilly said to him at the hospital?” Mom asked.
I gave a wan smile. “Brax wouldn’t tell me.” I looked at her. “You wanna know something, Mom?”
“I sure do,” she answered.
I told her about mine and Brax’s discussion in the loft, and how he’d asked me for a second chance and I’d denied him. I told her my reasons, and how they didn’t seem to hold much weight any more. “What should I do?” I asked.
“Well then,” she said. “If it were me, I’d have to give Brax that second chance, darlin’. Before you miss your own.”
Mom was right. And over the next two days my mind pondered it. All of it. It was a big pill to swallow. Jilly’s larger-than-life presence was gone, yet not. I could still hear his laugh. His deep, graveled voice as he swore at random things that irritated him. And when I glanced at his favorite chair, I envisioned him in it. All of that grief warred with my thoughts of Brax. I wanted to set things right with him. I did. Yet I didn’t call. Didn’t text. I don’t know what stopped me, but something did. Something inside of me held on. For what? It was so … stupid. Every time I thought about calling Brax—which was, like, every hour—I stopped myself. Embarrassment? Shyness? Did I want him to make the first move? Seriously? He’d just risked his baseball career and scholarship in my honor. Was courageous enough to challenge Mr. Evans. And I was embarrassed? That wasn’t just stupid. Jilly would call that being a grade-A dumbass.
While I ran every scenario over in my head, I worked like a demon with my brothers at the ranch. Jilly had been older but he’d more than carried the weight of a man three times younger. We had a lot to catch up on, and I didn’t slow down for a second. It helped, really. To deal with Jilly’s death. And with my ever-growing ridiculous dilemma over what to do with Brax. Dammit. I knew what to do. I was just scared. Scared to take that dive. I was starting to get on my own nerves, with all that scariness, waffling behavior. Beaumonts fight for what’s theirs. For what’s right. And for what they want. Enough was enough.
That night I laid in bed, cell phone in my hand. I’d had enough. I was tired of fighting it. Tired of wondering what to do. I knew what I had to do. I flipped open my phone and with my stomach in knots, called Brax.
It rang, and I smiled at his ringback tone. Take Me Out to the Ballgame. It played out, and Brax’s voicemail took over as quickly as my disappointment at him not answering the phone. My self-righteousness had f
inally bitten me in the ass. Double-jawed, as Jilly would say.
I left a message. “Hey, Brax, I, uh, missed you in class.” I blew out a breath. “No, I mean, yeah, I did, but what I mean is.” I sighed. “I’m an idiot. I miss you. Please call me back?”
He didn’t, and I fell asleep with my phone in my hand.
The sound of an ax connecting with wood pulled me out of a deep sleep the next morning as I blinked open my eyes. A shadowy, hazy light fell over my room, and I knew it was super early. The realization that Brax had never returned my call socked me in the gut. Was he finished with me? Had I pushed him away? I patted my covers and found my phone. No missed calls. No texts. I continued to hear the chop-chop of the ax outside, and it started grating my nerves.
What had gotten into Seth? I’d told him I’d chop wood with him at first light. I grumbled to myself as I climbed out of bed, jerked my feet into my boots and over the cuffs of my Winston sweat pants. Brushed my teeth, stuffed a knitted hat over my head and pulled on my down coat. I pushed out into the frigid December morning where the sun hadn’t even cracked the horizon yet, yanking the zipper of my coat up to my throat.
“Jesus, Seth Beaumont,” I grumbled as I hurried down the steps. “Why didn’t you wake me up—”
At the bottom of the porch steps, my words fell away. My heart raced, my eyes widened and I stood there, gap-mouthed, gaze fixed on the wood pile. Not Seth Beaumont.