Deciding to circle the complex, I began a quick-paced run around the walkway. No one was out; the complex was deserted. Only me, the crazy one, had decided running in the rain was a great idea. By now my hair was sopping wet, the heavy braid bouncing off my backside like a soakened hemp rope, and the faster I ran, the deeper my lungs burned. I ran for over two hours; my skin was slick from rainwater, my clothes drenched. Finally, I stopped beneath the mammoth cottonwood tree close to the ball diamond, pulled my phone out of my pocket. I had one message, and it was from Mom. Hey, sweetie, I miss you. Give me a call when you get a chance. Xoxo

Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I took off, this time leaving campus. I ran through the main entrance and turned toward town and just … kept running. Few cars were out and about, and the rain continued to fall in light sheets that left me soaked to the bone. I didn’t care. Something was wrong; I could feel it. I swear I could.

My Nikes smacked the wet concrete as I ran past an old white wooden church, its spire jabbing the heavily clouded sky. I turned onto the side street, circled around, made my way back to campus. I was jogging along the run path at Rigley Commons, the park where Brax had kissed me by the fountain, when his voice jolted me from behind.

“Gracie, wait up.”

I spun around, and the moment my eyes rested on Brax, relief washed over me. I hurried off the path toward him where he stood beside the massive fountain, and I couldn’t help the grin that took over my face. “Hey, you. Where’d you—Brax, good Lord!”

I stopped in front of him, where he stood motionless at the fountain, and I inspected him closely. Shock and fear tore at my insides as I took in his busted and bleeding eyebrow, cut lip, and white tee shirt splattered with blood. More blood stained the front of his jeans. When I looked at his fists, I saw they were busted up and bleeding, too. He wouldn’t look at me. “What happened?”

It was then, when Brax’s eyes finally lifted to meet mine, that I felt it. Like someone just suckerpunched me in the gut. “We gotta talk, Gracie.” His voice was edgy. Strained. So not Brax.

I stared at him then, through the lightly falling drizzle, and my insides clenched. “What is it?”

He wouldn’t touch me; wouldn’t even come close to me. A good three feet separated us. Fear kept me frozen in place as I waited. He looked away first, to some unknown point, then lowered his gaze to the ground. Then slowly, to me. I felt the change in his character just as surely as I would a shift in temperature.

“This won’t work.”

Disbelief shocked the breath right out of my lungs. I could do nothing but stare. No way had I heard him correctly. “What won’t work?”

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, and glanced away. He grasped the back of his neck with both hands. “You and me, it won’t work.” He looked at me then. “You’re a nice girl, but I don’t do relationships, Gracie. Especially nice girl ones. Never have.”

My breath left me, like I’d dropped from a tree and landed on my back. It hurt to breathe, and I hardly knew how to react. What to say. Shame flooded me. I’d opened up to him. Trusted him. “Ok. You don’t do relationships. So all this time, and then last night was—”

“Nothin’. It was nothin’, Gracie.” His sharp bark of laughter made me wince almost as much as the frigid stare of his eyes. “Just a good old fashioned college chase and fuck.”

A mixture of heat and numbness sifted through my skin. I couldn’t feel my lips. Nausea pitted my stomach. I looked at him; at his battered face. “You don’t mean that.” My voice sounded weak, and I hated it.

“I mean every fuckin’ word of it.”

A myriad of emotions clamped around my throat and squeezed. I felt tears, somewhere deep inside my ducts, but they wouldn’t flow. My eyes stayed dry as a bone. I didn’t know what was going on; what had happened. Something epic had happened, but Brax wasn’t telling me. Whatever it was, it’d won. Had beaten him.

I stepped closer to him, and he didn’t move. I looked up, into those ghostly eyes, watched the rain drip down his soakened curls and trail down his face, and saw nothing but bitter cold as he stared back. Yet anger—raw and primal—rolled off of him in waves, a contradiction to his hurtful words. Either way, he’d made a decision. And I wasn’t about to beg. For anything or anyone. I steadied my breath, tried to keep from showing him how my heart had just been torn in half. I managed to hold my composure, and forced my eyes to remain locked onto his. I studied him for a moment, making sure he saw me, too. Something flashed in his eyes. Regret? I guess I’d never know.

“I’ll leave your bag outside.” With one, long final stare, I turned and started across the lawn. I didn’t look back to see if he followed; I couldn’t. I’d shown weakness once in my life. To hell with that. I’d never show it again.

By the time I made it back to Oliver Hall, I jogged up to the entrance, slid my key card and hurried inside. I took the steps two at a time, making my lungs burn just a little more, before I reached my room. Inside, I grabbed his duffle bag, ran back downstairs, and to the curious eyes of two girls seated on the sofa, I opened the main door and set Brax’s bag on the walkway. I didn’t look to see if he was waiting. Instead I turned and jogged back to my room. Inside, I peeled out of my wet clothes, stepped into the shower, and beneath the searing water I let the suffocating pain come. I bent over at the waist and sobbed until my throat was hoarse and the water ran cold, and I forced my emotions to run just as icy. It didn’t work, really. The moment I stepped out, wrapped up in a towel, and faced my dorm room alone, grief swamped me. Shame. More humiliation. And the ultimate sting of rejection. It hurt. It just goddamned hurt. I’d cried so much in the shower, I had nothing left. Only a hollow pain in my stomach that wouldn’t ease up.

My phone rang then, and I hurried to it. My heart sank as I answered it. “Hey, Mom.”

“What’s wrong?”

The hole in my stomach felt jagged, ripped. I wanted to cry, just at the sound of her voice. But I had no tears. I inhaled. I wanted the comfort of my family, but I couldn’t talk about it over the phone. “Can I come home?”

“Baby, what’s the matter?” she asked, her voice panicked. Then, she sighed. Almost as if she’d guessed. “Never ask such a silly question. Of course come home. I’ll be waiting on you.”

I wasn’t usually a runner; not the kind that hid from problems. But this … unexpected whirlwind of emotions with Brax? Just thinking his name made me hurt. But staying clammed up in the room we’d just made perfect love in hours before? I couldn’t do it. Quickly, I dressed in my old favorite jeans, tank and a button up. I pulled on my boots, plopped my hat on my head, stuffed a few things to wear in my pack, grabbed my scope bag and headed out. At the door I stopped, scrawled a note to Tessa and left it on her bed. I knew my roommate was going to react badly to news of me and Brax and I’d rather her hear it from me in person.

When I stepped out of the entrance, I noticed Brax’s bag was gone, and the pain bit a little deeper. I made it to my truck, tossed my stuff inside, and thanked God my tires were still intact.

My thoughts scrambled as I sat in the parking lot, gripping the wheel as if my life depended on it. Home would ease this pain, wouldn’t it? Jesus, it hurt. After so long I’d finally let someone in. Gave Brax not only my trust, but my heart. Whether he knew it or not, I was in love with him. Was I truly nothing more than a glorified chase and fuck? Really? Had Brax the capability to say such endearing things to me, to look at me with such wonderment, and to react to my touch with such ferocity then turn so cold, callous, with no regards to my feelings? After the secrets we’d shared; after he’d called me his? How could he have changed his mind so fast? I turned the engine over, threw the gear into drive, and left Winston behind.

By the time I hit the city limits, my tear duct system had replenished.

I cried all the way to Jasper.

21. Southern Comfort

When my headlights fell on the familiar graveled driveway of our small ranch, my gut twisted inside, and a homesickness I hadn’t been aware of made my heart even heavier. It hadn’t been two full months away from home, yet it felt like years. The yard lamp cast a faded yellow arc over the porch swing, where Mom sat, swaying gently back and forth. She rose and started down the steps as I climbed out of the cab, where she met and enveloped me in a tight embrace. She smelled of her favorite honeysuckle shampoo and leather, and the familiarity of it washed over me. I squeezed her tightly, and my tears fell on her shoulder.

“Oh, baby,” she said into my hair. Grasping my face in her hands, she studied me with concern edging her soft brown eyes. “What in the world’s happened?”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “It’s a long story.”

A wise smile touched her mouth. “I’ve already got a pot of coffee on and ready, darlin’.”

Shouldering my scope bag, Mom picked up my pack and we set them inside the front door. Grabbing two cups, she made our coffee, blond and sweet, she’d always called it, and we sat together on the porch swing. At two thirty in the morning, only the creak of the chain, the wind rustling through the cottonwood trees and the chirping of crickets broke the air as I told her all about Brax Jenkins. Sadie Beaumont listened quietly, with no interruptions; a solid presence, a strong shoulder. God, how I needed all of it, and it released a flood of emotions I’d been fighting so hard to keep penned up.

“I opened up to him,” I said, so quiet that it barely rose above a whisper. With the toe of my boot I gave the swing a push. “He was so fiercely protective, so furious toward Kelsy.” I shook my head and looked at my mother. “His eyes hold everything, Mom. When he looks at me, it’s like he sees way deeper than just the surface. It’s like he sees what I’m really thinking, really feeling. It doesn’t make sense inside of my head, or my heart, for him to break it off like this.” I stared between my feet, at the worn wooden planks of the porch. “Especially after last night. I told him everything about what happened that summer with Kelsy. And then we,” I stopped my words, and tears filled my eyes again. I pushed my hands against my heart. Briefly, I remembered the ring that no longer sat on my finger. “You know it actually hurts here, Mom. Like real pain.” I squeezed my eyes tight, pushing out the tears. “I tried not to like him. I tried so hard.” With the back of my hand I dried my eyes. “I fell in love with him, Mom.” I shook my head, picking at the hole tearing through the knee of my jeans. “Can you believe I was such a stupid girl? I can’t believe I left for college and immediately became so involved with a guy.” I met Mom’s gaze and gave another half-hearted laugh, then exhaled. “Sure wasn’t planned.”

My mom pulled me to her shoulder, kissed the top of my head. “Well honey, it never is.” She looked at me, wiped a tear with her forefinger. “But I will say this. For Brax to break things off, and especially after all of that,” she said. “Either the boy’s got a frigid heart and such deep-seeded problems you never want to get involved with—trust me. Or, there’s something going on here that you’re not seeing. Boys do stupid things, I know that.” She turned my face to hers. “And right now I’d like nothing more than to punch him right in the eye.” She let out a long, tired sigh and gave the swing another push. “But one thing we Beaumonts have always known. Only the good Lord looks out for us. Him,” she patted my knee. “And each other. I know it hurts, sweetie. I’ve known that hurt before and it’s nothing but a sonofabitch.” She turned sideways in the swing. “But you worked hard to get where you are right now. You’re the strongest person I know.” Her eyes grew glassy in the sallow light of the yard lamp. “You can’t let Brax or Kelsy or anyone else ever take it away from you, Olivia Grace. And I’m not talking about just your scholarship.” She pressed her hand against my chest. “I’m talking about what’s in here, baby. Your ferocious lion.” She cupped my face. “You go ahead and grab its tail, give it a hard yank.” She smiled. “Piss it off. Then you kick a path through all the crap, hold your pretty head high and proud, and shove your way through the muck. That’s how you survive this. Trust me, darlin’. I know.”

I studied my mom’s features; each fine line that fanned out from her soft brown eyes, the high cheek bones, her strong, determined jaw, and the arched brows that made her face so expressive. She’d suffered plenty in her life; our dad had left her high and dry with three kids and a barely-surviving horse ranch. He’d broken her heart; not her spirit. And knowing all that, seeing the kind of strong woman she’d turned out to be? It lifted me. Lifted my spirits. Gave me strength.

I threw my arms around my mom’s neck and hugged her so tight. Almost as if her strength could seep through her skin and sink into mine. I pressed my face against her neck. “Thanks, Mom,” I said softly. “That’s so what I needed.”

“What in the damn hell is goin’ on out here?” Jilly pushed the screen door open and it creaked as he stepped onto the porch. The Texas Rangers tee shirt was rumpled and faded; he had on his favorite plaid sleep pants tucked into his crusty old cowboy boots. When he focused on me, then Mom, he frowned. “Lil’ Bit, what the—I don’t like the looks of this. Why didn’t you two wake me up?” He nodded to our discarded coffee cups. “You got any more of that?”

Mom got up and gently pushed Jilly into a rocking chair close to the swing. “Sit. I’ll bring you a cup. And she arrived in the middle of the night, that’s why.” She grabbed ours and headed into the house.