Stupid Girl(69)

I blinked away tears. “He confessed only to my brothers that he’d spiked my drink. But after the beating they gave him,” I said, shaking my head. “Kelsy’s father went ballistic. Kelsy, of course, denied spiking my drink with anything. Then there were the pictures others had taken of us—of me—at the party.” I gave a short laugh. “It was quite apparent I was having a good time, hanging all over Kelsy and acting like …” I shrugged. “Like so many other girls do at parties. Like a complete fool. Everyone saw it and there was no denying it.” I breathed again. “Kelsy claimed my brothers caught wind of the party and came for me, found me drunker than a skunk and then jumped him for letting me get that wasted. Kelsy’s father not only threatened to drag the Beaumont name through the dirt with a public trial, but that my brothers would surely go to jail for assault and battery. I believed every word of it, too. Like I said—Kelsy’s father is extremely powerful.” I gave a hollow laugh. “My brothers—they are so damn hardheaded. They were willing to risk everything—even their whole future—to defend me. I begged them. Begged. Pleaded with my mom, Jilly, not to do it.” I looked at Brax. “Not to go fight Mr. Evans in court. To just … let everything be forgotten about, and settle everything quietly, just between us and Kelsy’s father. I’d do anything to keep my family’s name out of the dirt. And they reluctantly agreed.” I pushed my hands into my lap. “My senior year left little to be desired, and I’m relieved it’s over. Everyone loved Kelsy and it was easy for them to turn against me for causing so much trouble.” I shrugged again. “I was shunned. You know, poor ranch girl versus the ever-so-popular lawyer’s kid. But I’d worked my ass off to get where I was academically. Senior year I submerged into my studies, ignored the taunts and accepted the solitude, worked twice as hard, and I received this scholarship and employment. My brothers were safe and not facing jail time, and that was the most important thing to me.” I let out a long sigh, amazed by Brax’s silence. “Nothing else mattered. Which is why you have to keep your promise.”

Brax sat now, knees bent up with his forearms resting on them, his head hanging down and staring between his feet. He sat that way, wordless, for several moments. Then, his head rose. His fingers found mine, and he stroked my ring. “What made you decide to wear this?”

I looked at the ring and marveled at its sudden weightiness. I shrugged. “After Kelsy, despite the ugliness that followed, I was still heartbroken. He was my first boyfriend.” I twirled the ring around my finger, ashamed to be withholding details from that night. But I had to. One day, I’d tell Brax. But not now. He would no doubt run off half-cocked and do something crazy, get himself in trouble with the law. Or with Kelsy’s father. I looked at him. “My oldest brother Jace bought it for me. Said it would send a message to idiot dickheads who tried to bother me. I’ve worn it ever since.” I met his stare. “What it stands for to me now is choice. Abstinence until I say otherwise.” I brushed the blanket with my palm. “I know I’m atypical, Brax. Most girls my age have casual sex like there’s no tomorrow. I’m sorry, but that’s just not me. I’m … simply not causal.”

Brax slowly exhaled, nodded, then rose to his feet and started walking. At first I thought he was going to keep on and leave me there. I wouldn’t blame him; I’d been lying to him from the moment we first met. Still was, if I dared tell myself the truth. Fear struck me, and that sensation of panic made my breath catch. My eyes watched him in the darkness as he stopped, put his hands on his hips, and stared at the ground. Then he walked back, sat behind me, and wrapped his arms completely around me. He pulled me between his thighs, nestling me against his chest, and rested his chin on my head. Only when his lips brushed my temple did some of my alarm alleviate. He reclined, lowering us both to the blanket and tucking me against his chest. The steady beat of Brax’s heart thumped against my ear, and it was a soothing sound that comforted me. My hand skimmed the hard muscles of his chest, and rested there. My exhale was audible, and I closed my eyes.

“You’ve put me in a fuck-bad position, Gracie. Fuck-bad.” Brax’s voice resonated beneath my ear, and it was husky and strong and perfect. It wasn’t accusatory, his statement; it was sheer fact. I knew I’d placed him in a predicament. I hadn’t meant to, but there it was all the same. My head, resting on Brax’s chest, rose with his slow, deep inhale; lowered on his exhale. Darkness surrounded us as we lay on a blanket near the pitcher’s mound in the deserted baseball field. “I grew up as one of Boston’s derelicts. Born, then thrown the fuck away. A Chinese restaurant owner on Braxton Street found me when he took out the garbage. His name’s Yen, and he still sends me a box of fortune cookies and a Christmas card every year.” Fohtune. Cahd. Gahbage. “The cops called me Braxton Doe, since I was found on that street. Better than John Doe, I guess. Anyway, the name stuck.” His arm held me close against his body, and I felt him tense at his own words. I stilled as much as my breath did as I listened, and Brax’s uniquely sharp Boston accent washed over me with words more painful than I ever expected. A pain Brax still tried to hide. “I grew up in foster care, and I remember a lot of shady families. I ran away dozens of times, started fightin’ for cash in back alleys, runnin’ with low-lifes.” I remained silent as he lifted my hand, grasped my finger and grazed the scar at first, his cheek, then his throat. “See these, Gracie, I earned in a bar fight at the ripe old age of fourteen with one of my foster fathers. A real grade-A prick, that guy. Nothin’ but a loser drunk who beat his wife and own kids, but thought rippin’ my throat out with a broken bottle was a little more rewarding than using his fists or a belt. I stopped that thought process of his real fuckin’ fast, and with the same broken lager bottle he’d used on me.” I held my breath, already knowing his next words. “I killed him, Gracie. Killed the fuck out of him.”