I turned my head to look at him, and found he was looking at me, too. The darkness shaded his features but I could still make them out; slightly crooked nose, arched brows against fair skin, with the longish curls he usually kept pushed back falling over his forehead. Although I couldn’t see it, I knew his sharp gaze searched my face, too. He was beautiful, strong, and stunning. I smiled. “It’s always perfect.”

“I don’t f**king deserve this. With you.” He had one arm behind his head, and he rolled onto his side so that he now braced himself with his elbow. I did the same. His words took me off guard, shook me. I wasn’t expecting to hear that from him. We were face to face, inches apart, our bodies pointing in opposite directions, yet we remained intimately close. To me it still wasn’t close enough. With his free hand he grazed my jaw with his knuckles. I thought he’d kiss me then, or more. But he didn’t. He simply stared, explored my face, throat, shoulder, with deft, long fingers that left my insides humming. When he spoke, his raspy voice was quiet, controlled, serious.

“I want to know what happened with Evans, Gracie,” he said. “I want you to trust me.”

16. Confessions

I could barely breathe. I wanted to trust Brax so badly it hurt. Should I? How wise would it be to trust someone with such a dark piece of my past? Even more was, how wise would it be to keep that dark seed locked away inside of me? It would only grow like a tumor until it spread from that secret hiding place, malignant and brain-infesting and all-consuming until all that remained was an embittered, fragile, ugly shell of a woman. I missed my old carefree self. I missed her so much. Brax was slowly bringing that part of me back and I knew it.

Brax’s fingers brushed my cheek, then grasped my jaw, lifting my gaze that had drifted away to meet his. I inhaled, drawing in his clean scent. “I’ve been in that dark place, Gracie. I know what it’s like to keep secrets.” He laughed softly, void of humor, filled with sarcasm. “Trust me, I’ve got my share of them.” He caressed my lips, my scar with his thumb. “But I don’t want you to shoulder yours alone anymore. I can see whatever it is in your eyes, hiding, every time I look at you. And I f**king hate it.”

So very close, I let my stare settle into his, and in my next breath it consumed me with trust, hope for a peace I hadn’t experienced in, well, over a year. Everything that drew me to Brax Jenkins merged and connected at once, and I knew then that it was meant for us to meet. Meant for us to belong. I drew in a long, cleansing breath, and let it exhale slowly. “Promise me something then, Brax.”

“Anything.” This he said without the first trace of hesitation.

Timidly, I lifted my hand and let my fingertips brush over first the scar at his cheekbone, where it lingered despite the slight flinch I’d felt. He didn’t stop me, though, and I fingered the roughened skin there, noticed the difference between it and his otherwise smooth texture. Then, I traced his perfectly shaped lips, and another scar so similar to my own. Like he’d done to me, I grasped his jaw, the stubble like sandpaper against the pads of my fingers. I liked that.

“You have to promise me that, no matter what I tell you, you won’t act on it. At all.” I pulled his face closer to mine, and as I stared at my hand holding his face, shadows merged our bodies into one. “I swear it’s the only way I’ll do this, Brax.”

His hand reached for mine, and he brought it to his mouth, pressed his lips over my knuckles, then my fingertips, one at a time. “I don’t think I like the sound of this.” He kissed my fingers again. “But for you, I promise.” He held our hands up between us, pressed palm to fingers, and then laced them together. And waited.

This was it. To not go forward with this, with trusting Brax? It meant I was a grade-A coward in the worst way possible. According to Jilly there was no such goddamn thing in existence as a cowardly Beaumont. I breathed. Then began.

“By the summer before my senior year, Kelsy and I had been dating for almost a year. We’d known each other since the fourth grade, when his family moved to Jasper.” My eyes watched Brax’s as he studied me, fierce and with every ounce of concentration evident in the shadowy blue depths. I smiled, and it was a mixture of good memories and deception that belied the humor tugging at my mouth. “Kelsy’s from a very affluent Texas family from Dallas. His father is a successful attorney with statewide connections and a shocking amount of power, political and otherwise. And Kelsy, boy,” I shook my head. “Kelsy had charm. Charisma. Respectful to adults, and all the guys looked up to him. All the girls swooned at his feet, including me. He,” I tried to decide how to describe it, and couldn’t. “He just had that thing that made every girl at Jasper High wish to God she was me.” I let out another whispery laugh. “His parents weren’t too happy about their son dating a poor ranch girl, but they left him alone about it. Kelsy sure had me fooled, though. Had everyone fooled, actually, only they just didn’t know it. Still don’t. Everyone except my grandpa Jilly. Nothing gets by him. Ever. Anyway.”

Brax’s body had grown tense; I could tell by the slight pressure he’d started exerting in squeezing my hand. He wanted to speak, and I believed it was extremely difficult for him not to, but he didn’t say a single word. Just listened. It was a lethal silence though; deadly and dangerous. Even his breathing had stilled. In anticipation of what I’d say, maybe? Inside, I shook like crazy. This was it. I hadn’t told a soul about that horrible nightmare of a night that I barely remembered. But I was going to tell Brax. Trust him.

I continued, carefully choosing my words. “Like I said, it was the summer before senior year. It was Saturday, a typical August Texas night, blistering and sticky, and our graduating class had gathered at Marshal’s Pond for a huge party. It’d been kept a secret, of course, since there was a lot of under aged drinking going on.” Dread began nagging at me as I remembered details, and I stared at Brax’s chest now, focusing on the rise and fall as he breathed, and it urged me to push past the pain and continue. I swallowed. “I’d lied and told my mom I was sleeping over at Carrie Yeoman’s house, and she’d believed me without question. I’d never lied to her before, but Kelsy said we couldn’t miss our own class party. And I knew I’d never be given permission to go. So I did it.” I may have been pretty toasted, but I recalled his angry face, jaws clenched, cheeks reddened. He was so mad at me. I drew a deep breath. “We’d been at the pond since four in the afternoon, swimming, drinking beer, having a swell time. We had a bonfire once it got dark, and the fun continued. Just a bunch of teenagers goofing off, making memories.” I stared down at the blanket now, a small space between Brax’s shoulders and mine, and forced my self to breathe as the memories flooded back. When I lifted my gaze, Brax’s stare held me steady, so profoundly, even under the cover of darkness. I could see clearly enough to notice the depth at which he listened. And it gave me a strength that surprised me. “I remember only a few things after the darkness came. One, was Kelsy’s insistence that I have one more drink. I’d had enough and could tell it, but he was so damned adamant.” I shook my head. “He started to get angry, telling me I was going to ruin our fun, that we’d only have shitty memories of our class party. I caved. He left, brought me a drink. Everyone had their trucks backed up to the bonfire in a huge circle, and we sat on the tailgate of the Beast, the very same truck he drives now. I remember … drinking the whole thing. You know, typical red plastic cup.” I shook my head again. “The next thing I remember was my lip being sewn up in the emergency room—”

“Jesus fuck! He hit you, Gracie?” Brax pushed off the ground, clasped both hands behind his neck and paced the pitcher’s mound. “Jesus f**king Christ!” He returned and stopped beside me. “I’m going to f**king kill him,” he growled. Crouching beside me, he ducked his head, and he grasped my face with both his hands. They were shaking. “Tell me the rest, Gracie.” He dropped his hands and waited.

Fury fell off him in pulsing sheets as more curses followed, and I pushed up to sit cross-legged. His reaction made me rethink my decision to tell him everything. I didn’t want Brax to go nuts on Kelsy. He’d get into trouble. Maybe even lose his scholarship. Kelsy Evans wasn’t worth it. Not at all. I swallowed hard, pushing that part of my nightmare into a darkened corner in my mind. “He didn’t hit me, Brax. I tripped.” He hadn’t hit me, at least that’s what he’d sworn to my brothers. But I had no memory of anything after that red cup, except the emergency room. A burning between my legs. And having my lip sewn up. Brax laced his hands behind his neck and paced. Swore. After seeing his reaction now? It’d been a good call not to tell him the one part that I felt sure would ignite his fury like a stick of dynamite.

I blinked away tears. “He confessed only to my brothers that he’d spiked my drink. But after the beating they gave him,” I said, shaking my head. “Kelsy’s father went ballistic. Kelsy, of course, denied spiking my drink with anything. Then there were the pictures others had taken of us—of me—at the party.” I gave a short laugh. “It was quite apparent I was having a good time, hanging all over Kelsy and acting like …” I shrugged. “Like so many other girls do at parties. Like a complete fool. Everyone saw it and there was no denying it.” I breathed again. “Kelsy claimed my brothers caught wind of the party and came for me, found me drunker than a skunk and then jumped him for letting me get that wasted. Kelsy’s father not only threatened to drag the Beaumont name through the dirt with a public trial, but that my brothers would surely go to jail for assault and battery. I believed every word of it, too. Like I said—Kelsy’s father is extremely powerful.” I gave a hollow laugh. “My brothers—they are so damn hardheaded. They were willing to risk everything—even their whole future—to defend me. I begged them. Begged. Pleaded with my mom, Jilly, not to do it.” I looked at Brax. “Not to go fight Mr. Evans in court. To just … let everything be forgotten about, and settle everything quietly, just between us and Kelsy’s father. I’d do anything to keep my family’s name out of the dirt. And they reluctantly agreed.” I pushed my hands into my lap. “My senior year left little to be desired, and I’m relieved it’s over. Everyone loved Kelsy and it was easy for them to turn against me for causing so much trouble.” I shrugged again. “I was shunned. You know, poor ranch girl versus the ever-so-popular lawyer’s kid. But I’d worked my ass off to get where I was academically. Senior year I submerged into my studies, ignored the taunts and accepted the solitude, worked twice as hard, and I received this scholarship and employment. My brothers were safe and not facing jail time, and that was the most important thing to me.” I let out a long sigh, amazed by Brax’s silence. “Nothing else mattered. Which is why you have to keep your promise.”

Brax sat now, knees bent up with his forearms resting on them, his head hanging down and staring between his feet. He sat that way, wordless, for several moments. Then, his head rose. His fingers found mine, and he stroked my ring. “What made you decide to wear this?”

I looked at the ring and marveled at its sudden weightiness. I shrugged. “After Kelsy, despite the ugliness that followed, I was still heartbroken. He was my first boyfriend.” I twirled the ring around my finger, ashamed to be withholding details from that night. But I had to. One day, I’d tell Brax. But not now. He would no doubt run off half-cocked and do something crazy, get himself in trouble with the law. Or with Kelsy’s father. I looked at him. “My oldest brother Jace bought it for me. Said it would send a message to idiot dickheads who tried to bother me. I’ve worn it ever since.” I met his stare. “What it stands for to me now is choice. Abstinence until I say otherwise.” I brushed the blanket with my palm. “I know I’m atypical, Brax. Most girls my age have casual sex like there’s no tomorrow. I’m sorry, but that’s just not me. I’m … simply not causal.”

Brax slowly exhaled, nodded, then rose to his feet and started walking. At first I thought he was going to keep on and leave me there. I wouldn’t blame him; I’d been lying to him from the moment we first met. Still was, if I dared tell myself the truth. Fear struck me, and that sensation of panic made my breath catch. My eyes watched him in the darkness as he stopped, put his hands on his hips, and stared at the ground. Then he walked back, sat behind me, and wrapped his arms completely around me. He pulled me between his thighs, nestling me against his chest, and rested his chin on my head. Only when his lips brushed my temple did some of my alarm alleviate. He reclined, lowering us both to the blanket and tucking me against his chest. The steady beat of Brax’s heart thumped against my ear, and it was a soothing sound that comforted me. My hand skimmed the hard muscles of his chest, and rested there. My exhale was audible, and I closed my eyes.

“You’ve put me in a fuck-bad position, Gracie. Fuck-bad.” Brax’s voice resonated beneath my ear, and it was husky and strong and perfect. It wasn’t accusatory, his statement; it was sheer fact. I knew I’d placed him in a predicament. I hadn’t meant to, but there it was all the same. My head, resting on Brax’s chest, rose with his slow, deep inhale; lowered on his exhale. Darkness surrounded us as we lay on a blanket near the pitcher’s mound in the deserted baseball field. “I grew up as one of Boston’s derelicts. Born, then thrown the f**k away. A Chinese restaurant owner on Braxton Street found me when he took out the garbage. His name’s Yen, and he still sends me a box of fortune cookies and a Christmas card every year.” Fohtune. Cahd. Gahbage. “The cops called me Braxton Doe, since I was found on that street. Better than John Doe, I guess. Anyway, the name stuck.” His arm held me close against his body, and I felt him tense at his own words. I stilled as much as my breath did as I listened, and Brax’s uniquely sharp Boston accent washed over me with words more painful than I ever expected. A pain Brax still tried to hide. “I grew up in foster care, and I remember a lot of shady families. I ran away dozens of times, started fightin’ for cash in back alleys, runnin’ with low-lifes.” I remained silent as he lifted my hand, grasped my finger and grazed the scar at first, his cheek, then his throat. “See these, Gracie, I earned in a bar fight at the ripe old age of fourteen with one of my foster fathers. A real grade-A prick, that guy. Nothin’ but a loser drunk who beat his wife and own kids, but thought rippin’ my throat out with a broken bottle was a little more rewarding than using his fists or a belt. I stopped that thought process of his real fuckin’ fast, and with the same broken lager bottle he’d used on me.” I held my breath, already knowing his next words. “I killed him, Gracie. Killed the f**k out of him.”