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“He didn’t give a shit that it hurt. Or that I cried after. When it was over, he took me home, like nothing had happened. I didn’t tell anyone for a long time. I just wanted to forget about it.”
“Oh, Kylie,” Selene says, her voice soft.
Aubrey and Matthew shift uncomfortably, but Derek and Braxton both stare at me, their faces clouded with anger. A vein sticks out on the side of Braxton’s neck, and he’s breathing hard.
They both start talking at the same time, and I can’t tell what either of them say. They stop, turning their gazes on each other.
It’s like a fucking Old West showdown on some dusty road in front of a saloon. All they need are six shooters at their hips, and one of them would wind up with a bullet hole in his chest. They stare each other down, like they’re competing for who gets to be angrier on my behalf, who has the right to try to make me feel better. My shoulders clench and the tension in the room is so thick, I can barely breathe.
“Damn, that’s fucked up,” Matthew says, as if he’s completely clueless to the fact that the two men in front of him look like they’re about to hit each other.
I need to backtrack out of this. Fast. “Yeah, well, I kicked him in the nuts later, so it worked out okay.”
Aubrey laughs again. “Wow, that’s intense.”
Derek comes over to the couch and puts a hand on my arm. “That’s brutal, babe.” He kisses the top of my head and walks past me toward the kitchen.
I need some air. Selene was the only person in the world who knew about that, and I just blurted it out for everyone to hear. I get up and head outside to the balcony.
The temperature has dropped significantly since the sun went down. The air has a bite to it, despite the fact that it was well over eighty earlier today. I wander out to the railing and lean against it, listening to the soothing sound of rushing water from the river below. The chill air clears my head a little, but my stomach is still in knots. It isn’t from the rum, although I’ve definitely had too much.
I hear the sliding glass door open and close. I know who it is. I don’t even have to look.
I turn, about to say that I’m fine. Before I can speak, Braxton’s arms are around me, crushing me to his chest. I go stiff, tears flooding my eyes. Oh god, he feels good. He should not feel this good. His arms are thick and his body warm. He’s strong and steady, and he smells like cedar and whiskey. I let my eyes drift closed, let him hold me tight, banishing the worry over what everyone will think if they look outside.
Braxton doesn’t let go. I feel his chest rise and fall as he breathes, the cold air brushing across my skin a sharp contrast to his body heat.
Braxton’s voice is a throaty whisper. “I wish you would have told me.”
“There wasn’t anything you could do,” I say, “and I didn’t want you to kill him and go to jail.”
His arms are unrelenting. “I could have done this.”
I relax against his warmth, the tension melting from my body. My arms are bent, tucked close to my sides—the only thing keeping this from being a true embrace. Braxton rubs his hands up and down my back. I want to slide my arms around his waist, pull him closer. I want to bury my face in his chest and cry. I don’t know why. Enough time has passed that I’m no longer hurt over what happened. I don’t like talking about it, but the memory no longer makes me sick to my stomach. But I feel the sting of tears and my throat tightens.
Derek is going to see this. It’s dark, but the sliding door is right off the kitchen. What am I going to say to him? I was drunk and upset? Braxton’s a good friend and I needed a hug? His arms feel like home and I don’t want him to stop?
The door opens and I gasp. Braxton’s arms drop and we both step away. The cold air rushes back around me, like I just walked into a bank of fog after sitting in front of a warm fire.
“Oh, hey, you guys.” It’s Matthew. “Kylie, Selene’s looking for you. Are you okay?”
Braxton’s eyes are on me. Even in the dark, I can see their intensity. My heart beats too fast.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Can you tell her I’ll talk to her tomorrow? Too much rum, you know?”
“No shit. I think we’re all starting to fade. See you guys in the morning.”
“Night,” I say.
Matthew closes the door.
Braxton doesn’t move.
I don’t know what I want him to do. I want his arms around me again, but I don’t want Derek to see. What does that say about me?
Nothing good.
“I’m okay, Brax,” I say. “I’m just drunk. I need to go to bed.”
I don’t wait for his reply. I head back inside and go straight to my room, leaving him standing on the balcony.
