Noah exhaled slowly. “Olivia. Jesus. I’ll walk you out—”

I held up a hand. “Seriously. It’s okay. I prefer to go alone.”

“He’s drunk.”

“And I’m not. He isn’t going to hurt me, Noah. That much I know.”

Noah nodded. I could tell by the worried look in his eyes he didn’t believe it. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

I pushed out of the lobby doors, barely hearing Noah’s words past the fury and chaos rushing in my ears. I walked fast, purposefully, toward my truck. Brax’s motorcycle was nowhere in the parking lot, but there he was, crouched down by my front left tire, inspecting it. When he heard me approaching, he rose and started toward me, palms facing up.

“Gracie, listen—”

“No, Brax, you listen.” I stopped just so we stood toe to toe, and I looked up at him. “Because of you, I just lost my job. You know, the one I use to live on and send money home to my family in order to help keep our struggling ranch afloat.” His face paled, and my voice quivered, and I hated it. But I couldn’t control it.

“Are you f**king kidding—they fired you?” He ran his hand over his head, swore under his breath. “Jesus Christ, I’m sorry. I never meant—” He turned, his eyes wide. “I’ll straighten that out, Gracie, swear to God.”

I shook my head. “No, you won’t. You’ll only get yourself into trouble because Professor Callander was a half inch from calling the campus cops on you. Just …” I closed my eyes, sighed, opened them. “You leave me alone, and I mean it. Stop calling. Stop texting. And stop,” I waved my hand. “Being here. In my life.” I settled my gaze on his. “I don’t want you around me, Brax. At all.”

Although I caught the waft of liquor, Brax wasn’t sloppy drunk; he still knew exactly what he was doing. In two steps he was right in front of me, grasped my shoulders, lowered his head, and fixed that ethereal gaze on mine. As he frowned, the scar on his cheek pulled. “God, you don’t really mean that, Gracie.”

I didn’t. God knows I didn’t. But I couldn’t handle this anymore.

I couldn’t handle Brax anymore. I felt like it was sink or swim, fight or flight. Him or me. And for once, this time, it was going to be me.

With a deep inhale, I steadied myself, forced my insides to be cold, hard, unfeeling. All of which were as big a lie as the next. “I wish I’d never even met you. Just … go away, Brax.”

He jerked as though I’d hit him, and I instantly regretted my choice of words. In his eyes I saw a flash of emotions; pain, desertion, rejection. But he’d hurt me. He’d betrayed me, set me up for a big public display of humiliation. At the cost of what? A frat prank? Seriously? Neither of us was good for the other. In our wake, chaos and disruption followed. I needed that like I needed a hole in the head. It was better this way. Brax with his Silverbacks and his various girlfriends and player’s reputation; me, my family, and my studies. Period. At least, that’s what I spent hours trying to convince myself of.

Brax stared at me for a long time; so long that I thought I was going to have to make the first move to step away. In his eyes I saw pain, his soul, and that disturbed me more than anything else. Darkness and the light pole I was parked beneath cast his scarred face into sharp planes and shadowed angles. But I could still see him, plain as day. He swallowed. The muscles at his jaws flinched. Then he dropped his hands from my shoulders.

“Sorry you feel that way, Sunshine. Because you’re the best f**king thing that ever happened to me.” He turned and started walking away. “See ya ’round, Gracie,” he said without turning back.

I watched silently, those familiar broad shoulders, his cocky, bow-legged swagger, until the shadows swallowed him up.

Only then did I allow the tears to flow. And when they came, they rushed, like a deluge, and I slowly climbed into my truck and drove back to the dorm. Tessa was gone when I got there, probably out with the girls, and that was actually a good thing. I didn’t want her seeing me a mess. Not again. All this drama was exhausting, and I was tired of it. I got ready for bed, climbed beneath the covers, and clicked out my light. Then cried some more. Finally, my body depleted, the tears subsided, and I fell into a restless sleep.

Over the next two days, I did a lot of pretending. I pretended my heart wasn’t ripped in two. I pretended it didn’t really, really matter that I’d lost my job. And I pretended that Brax’s presence in class—especially the way he completely ignored me now—didn’t bother me. Lies. I was full of them lately. Bottom line, though, was simple enough. Brax had betrayed me. Not just that, but after knowing what he’d known about me, from high school, what I’d gone through? I still couldn’t believe it.

Neither could I shake his pleading words in my head. You don’t know the full story. Just let me explain …

If there had been a good explanation, or a good story behind his betrayal, I’d closed that door the night I told Brax I wished I’d never met him. Harsh, but it had certainly done the trick. Not one text, or one call, or even a single glance had he graced me with. It’s what I’d asked for, right?

Then why did I feel so shitty? Why did everything feel so wrong now?

It was the day before Thanksgiving break, and I was sitting in humanities, staring at the words in my notebook until they all swirled into a big blur. Some students had already left to go home for the holidays, so the class wasn’t as full. I was taking notes for the test we’d have after break when the pen I was using ran out of ink. Blindly, I reached into my pack to fish out a new one and noticed my cell phone vibrated as my fingertips brushed over it. No one ever called me during the day. Well, except Brax, and since two days ago, he’d stopped. Curious, I grasped my old phone and flipped it open.

Four missed calls from Mom.

Totally unlike my mother. Instantly, my insides froze, and a bad, bad feeling pitted my stomach. I rose from my seat and without thinking, hurried out of the classroom. In the hallway, I dialed home. My mom picked up on the first ring.

“Baby,” she said. “I’m sorry to call you in class—”

Mom’s shaky, faint voice immediately set me on edge. I knew something was bad, awful wrong. “What is it, Mom?” I couldn’t hide the panic in my own voice.

From the corner of my eye, a body emerged from the classroom, and Brax moved close to me. He didn’t touch me, just stood by. Waiting. I lifted my eyes to his, fixed on mine.

“It’s Jilly,” Mom said, and her voice cracked. “He’s … bad, honey. You need to come home. Now.”

“How bad?” I asked, the panic rising. “Mom, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong with Jilly?” I started pacing, my throat constricted. I could barely swallow. “Tell me.”

“It’s his heart, honey. He’s had a massive heart attack,” Mom said. She cried now. Cleared her throat. “He’s in the ICU at Jasper Memorial. You need to come on home, Olivia. Okay?”

I found the wall and sagged against it. “Is he awake? I mean, or is he in a coma?” Tears stung my eyes and my voice shook as the words stumbled out of my throat. “Mom, please.”

“He’s awake, honey. But his heart has sustained a lot of damage. Just … come home.”

Brax moved closer to me. “Okay, Mom. Okay. I’m coming. As soon as I grab some stuff from my room. I’ll be there.”

“Drive straight to the hospital,” Mom said quietly. “Be careful, baby.”

My hands shook, and I felt my phone slipping from my fingers, but suddenly, it was gone and in Brax’s hand. Still, he kept his distance. He ducked his head to look at me. “What’s wrong, Gracie?”

“My, uh, grandfather.” I looked around, a little dazed, unsure what exactly to do next. This couldn’t be happening. Jilly? Sick? He’d never been sick a day in his life. I started walking to the exit door. He was awake, though, so that was a good thing. Right? “I … gotta go.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Brax said gently, and grasped my arm. “Hold on.” He stopped me, lifted my chin, forced me to look at him. “What’s wrong with Jilly?”

Tears filled my eyes, and confusion webbed my brain. “Heart attack.” The words cracked as they exited my mouth, and I hated them more than I’d hated anything in my life. I started back for the class room to get my pack. “I gotta go.”

“Wait here,” Brax said. “I’ll get your stuff.” He left, and I stayed put, my mind whirling in a thousand different directions. Before I knew it, Brax slipped back out of the class with both our bags slung over his shoulder. He grasped my elbow. “Come on.”

Reality struck me. Brax. “No—what are you doing? I … don’t need your help.” I pulled away from him, confused, now running.

Brax stopped me, gently pulled me against him. I fought at first, then … didn’t. I allowed him to hold me, and I sobbed. I was so scared. And he felt so … comforting. His hand cupped the back of my head, and I liked it there. After a moment he ducked again to fix a determined gaze onto mine. “You ain’t drivin’ nowhere, Sunshine, so forget it. I’ll drive you.”

I shook my head. “No.”

Brax’s eyes softened. “Sorry, Gracie. I know you sort of hate me right now, but this ain’t happening.” He shook his head. “I’m driving you home. No arguments.” His hands found mine, and he lifted them between us. “See? You’re shakin’ like a leaf. You’re not getting behind the wheel.”

Ahguments. The familiarity of his harsh Boston accent washed over me, and I knew he was right. I hadn’t let my mom know how upset up I was, but I couldn’t hide it from Brax. Not in person. I felt as though I was going to shake right out of my boots. I had no time to worry about trust, betrayal, or anything else. I needed to get home. And I wasn’t sure I could do it alone. “Okay.” I looked at him. “But I have to go now.”

“Come on.”

As we walked, I barely noticed Brax making calls on his cell. One I knew was to Cory, and after that my mind went in five thousand directions. Was Jilly going to be okay? Old, cranky Jilly? Nothing could get that ornery old ex-Texas Ranger down. He’d been shot five times in the line of duty. Kicked and thrown by wild horses. He was made of piss and cast iron. Wasn’t he?

By the time we made it to my dorm, Tessa and Cory were both there and met us at the front door. Cory handed Brax a packed duffle bag. Tessa hurried toward me.

“Are you okay with this?” she asked. Her eyes skimmed over me as though I’d been hurt, or in a car wreck. “Liv?”

“I’m okay with it,” I answered, and I knew she’d meant with Brax taking me home.

“Well, come on, I’ll help you throw some things together,” she said, and grabbed me by the hand and led me upstairs. She had my pack on the bed, unzipped, and helped me gather clothes. “Is your grandpa going to be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I answered, and forced a smile. “He’s, uh, tough as nails. He’ll be okay.” I felt numb, like I was watching someone else go through the motions of gathering a toothbrush, sneakers, and clean panties. I just wanted to leave. Go. Now.

Finished, Tessa shouldered my pack and looked at me. “Come on, chica, let’s go.” She bumped my shoulder with hers as we walked.

“All right,” I answered.

Downstairs, Brax took my bag and we headed across the parking lot. Tessa pulled me into a tight embrace at my truck. “Call me, okay? For anything, any time.” She kissed me on the cheek. “I mean it, Liv.”

“Thanks, Tessa,” I said quietly. “I will.”

Brax helped me across the seat, then slid behind the wheel. He slammed the door shut, rolled down the window. Cory towered over Tessa, his arm draped over her shoulders. I’d been so consumed with myself lately that I hadn’t processed the fact that they’d started seeing each other. “Let me know something, bro.”

“Will do.” Brax started the engine and as we pulled away I barely saw Tessa waving.

We drove in silence through town, and when we hit the Interstate Brax hit the gas, and my truck surged. Exhaust pipes rumbled.

And I closed my eyes and prayed.

26. Promises

Despite how fast Brax drove it was a long ride back to Jasper. Halfway there he pulled into a Petro-Stop for fuel; while he pumped gas I ran inside to use the restroom and grab some coffee. A cold front had moved in, the weather dropping into the thirties. My breath puffed white ahead of me as I made my way to the passenger side of my truck. I handed him one of the steaming cups as he climbed behind the wheel.

“Thanks,” he said, and slammed his door shut. He reached over, his cold fingers caressing my knuckles. His eyes searched mine. “You okay?”

I felt raw, exposed, and frankly, I didn’t care anymore. I didn’t even look away from him. “I’m scared.” My throat tightened. I forced myself to swallow past the enormous lump there.

The muscles in Brax’s jaw flinched. “I know you are. Sit tight. I’ll get you home.”

Brax didn’t force conversation; he didn’t force anything. In silence we sipped our coffee, and I stared out the window and it struck me how bleak the scenery was. Leafless trees, brown grass. Occasionally I’d slip a glance at Brax. His features were tense, eyes straight ahead on the road, the gas pedal to the floor. He’d sense me looking at him, and his gaze would turn to mine, hold for a few seconds, and wordlessly he’d return to the road ahead. At some point, he’d reached across the seat and grasped my hand, lacing our fingers together, and I let him. It calmed me a little, and it felt right. We drove that way for a long time.