Stupid Girl(114)

“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.