Stupid Girl
Page 40
After work, my heart and brain divided once more, and as Steven and I parted 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 But each time I’d pull up his name on my out-of-date flip phone, my finger would hover over the call button, and I’d snap it shut.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 finally 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.
Brax swung the ax, embedding it into the chopping block. He leaned on the handle, his Boston Red Sox cap on backwards; his thick leather Winston Silverbacks baseball jacket zipped to the neck. In the haze of early morning, his pale skin stood stark against dark brows and dark scruffy jaw. Even from where I stood, his eyes held a radiance that made them almost glow. Gloves covered his inked knuckles. Winter clothes covered the rest of him. Yet I could do nothing but stare in silence. He literally stole my breath.
The smile on his face started slowly, tipping the corners of that beautiful mouth upward, and he took a step in my direction. My heart nearly shut down at the predatory expression.
“Your mom called. Asked if I wanted to come for Christmas.” He kept walking, that sexy, baseball player’s swagger, his eyes fixed on mine, and I stayed frozen to the porch step. Finally, he stopped, barely a foot away. His frosty breath billowed out in front of him on each exhale. I don’t know why I thought that sexy, too, but I did. “Mind if I stay?”
28. Sacrifices
Brax was so close I could smell the sharp soapy scent on his skin. I forced myself to breathe. Then, to speak. My mom called him? How did she get his number, anyway? “Why didn’t you call me back?”
His gaze moved over me, from my boots to my hat. Then fastened on my eyes and his smile only widened. “I almost did. I played that message over a dozen times, just to hear you say you missed me.” He moved closer, took my hands. “I’d already talked to your mom, but I don’t know. I guess I was scared you’d change your mind if you knew I was coming. Thought it would be easier, face-to-face. So?”
I cocked my head, wondering what he meant.
He tucked my hands into his coat pockets. Pulled me close, and gave me the most arrogant, beautiful smile. One dark brow lifted. “Do you want me to stay?”
I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. “I saw the video. Tessa called and told me what you did.” I closed my eyes for a brief second, then looked at him. “Please tell me you haven’t lost your scholarship, Brax.”
“I haven’t, Sunshine. It’s all squared,” he promised. “I came clean with the coach. All I have to do is keep my 4.0, stay out of the bars.” Bahs. “But it would’ve been worth it.” A smile touched his mouth. “Well worth it, though, to have that prick Evans’ balls on a pike. He won’t bother you again.”
“You have a 4.0?” I asked.
Brax covered his heart with one hand. “You wound me, sweetheart. Of course I do.”
“So that’s why you missed the last day of class? Squaring things up with your coach? And you’re not in any trouble?”
Brax’s eyes lit up in a silent laugh. “Yes to all of that, Sunshine.”
Hope seized my heart; I couldn’t help but smile back. This could really work. Brax. Me. It felt real now. “I suddenly feel inclined to use my safe word.”
Brax looked away, then back. “What is that thing, anyway?”
“Nutcracker.”
“Is that so?” He removed first his left glove, then the right. He dropped them on the porch step.
“Yeah, it is.” My breath caught, just before he lowered his head, held mine still with both hands, and swept my lips with his. Fire sparked between us, and my hands left his pockets and slipped around his neck, tangled in his hair. With a groan, Brax deepened the kiss, his tongue grazing mine and setting my insides on fire. We kissed that way, in the twenty eight degree air on that December morning, for a long, long time. Until someone cleared their throat.
“You call this chopping wood?”
I took my time ending the kiss, saw the heat in Brax’s eyes as he stared down at me, then slowly we turned and faced my baby brother.
“Get a room, why don’t ya?” he said with a grin. “Mom said coffee’s on.” He stepped back inside, the door cracking shut.
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 finally 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.
Brax swung the ax, embedding it into the chopping block. He leaned on the handle, his Boston Red Sox cap on backwards; his thick leather Winston Silverbacks baseball jacket zipped to the neck. In the haze of early morning, his pale skin stood stark against dark brows and dark scruffy jaw. Even from where I stood, his eyes held a radiance that made them almost glow. Gloves covered his inked knuckles. Winter clothes covered the rest of him. Yet I could do nothing but stare in silence. He literally stole my breath.
The smile on his face started slowly, tipping the corners of that beautiful mouth upward, and he took a step in my direction. My heart nearly shut down at the predatory expression.
“Your mom called. Asked if I wanted to come for Christmas.” He kept walking, that sexy, baseball player’s swagger, his eyes fixed on mine, and I stayed frozen to the porch step. Finally, he stopped, barely a foot away. His frosty breath billowed out in front of him on each exhale. I don’t know why I thought that sexy, too, but I did. “Mind if I stay?”
28. Sacrifices
Brax was so close I could smell the sharp soapy scent on his skin. I forced myself to breathe. Then, to speak. My mom called him? How did she get his number, anyway? “Why didn’t you call me back?”
His gaze moved over me, from my boots to my hat. Then fastened on my eyes and his smile only widened. “I almost did. I played that message over a dozen times, just to hear you say you missed me.” He moved closer, took my hands. “I’d already talked to your mom, but I don’t know. I guess I was scared you’d change your mind if you knew I was coming. Thought it would be easier, face-to-face. So?”
I cocked my head, wondering what he meant.
He tucked my hands into his coat pockets. Pulled me close, and gave me the most arrogant, beautiful smile. One dark brow lifted. “Do you want me to stay?”
I couldn’t tear my gaze from him. “I saw the video. Tessa called and told me what you did.” I closed my eyes for a brief second, then looked at him. “Please tell me you haven’t lost your scholarship, Brax.”
“I haven’t, Sunshine. It’s all squared,” he promised. “I came clean with the coach. All I have to do is keep my 4.0, stay out of the bars.” Bahs. “But it would’ve been worth it.” A smile touched his mouth. “Well worth it, though, to have that prick Evans’ balls on a pike. He won’t bother you again.”
“You have a 4.0?” I asked.
Brax covered his heart with one hand. “You wound me, sweetheart. Of course I do.”
“So that’s why you missed the last day of class? Squaring things up with your coach? And you’re not in any trouble?”
Brax’s eyes lit up in a silent laugh. “Yes to all of that, Sunshine.”
Hope seized my heart; I couldn’t help but smile back. This could really work. Brax. Me. It felt real now. “I suddenly feel inclined to use my safe word.”
Brax looked away, then back. “What is that thing, anyway?”
“Nutcracker.”
“Is that so?” He removed first his left glove, then the right. He dropped them on the porch step.
“Yeah, it is.” My breath caught, just before he lowered his head, held mine still with both hands, and swept my lips with his. Fire sparked between us, and my hands left his pockets and slipped around his neck, tangled in his hair. With a groan, Brax deepened the kiss, his tongue grazing mine and setting my insides on fire. We kissed that way, in the twenty eight degree air on that December morning, for a long, long time. Until someone cleared their throat.
“You call this chopping wood?”
I took my time ending the kiss, saw the heat in Brax’s eyes as he stared down at me, then slowly we turned and faced my baby brother.
“Get a room, why don’t ya?” he said with a grin. “Mom said coffee’s on.” He stepped back inside, the door cracking shut.
