“Baby, Christ God, I’m such an idiot. Please don’t cry.” Brax’s calloused fingers grasped my jaw, forcing my gaze to his. Embarrassment swamped over me and I blinked, trying to convince my treacherous eyeballs to stop leaking. But Brax’s roughened knuckle brushed away the trail of dampness. He crouched down then, the material pulling taut over his muscled thighs, the tee shirt snugged over his broad shoulders, and he looked up from his lowered position. His hands now rested on my knee. He squeezed it, slightly, exhaled and stared at the ground between his feet, then back up to me. “You gotta believe me when I say I’m sorry, Gracie. I lost it back there.” He glanced away, thinking. “I thought he’d convinced you I was no good.” His eyes seared into mine, and I saw doubt there. A lot of it; more than what he probably meant for me to see. “I thought you believed him.”
Brax’s confessions from that night on the ball diamond came rushing back, and I was struck by the force of the fears he still had buried deep inside. Abandonment seemed an empty description. In many ways he was the strongest person I knew; his turmoil growing up had made him a survivor, valiant. Yet a part of him, no matter how small it might seem, lingered inside of him like a small, frightened kid—scared of being left alone in a dumpster to just … stop existing. It saddened me; it didn’t make me pity him, but just the opposite. I respected him for showing me this vulnerable side of Braxton Jenkins, for letting me in, and I was positive not another soul in Texas had witnessed it. I wondered if it meant something. If he might care for me as much as I secretly cared for him. I reached for his hands then, where they still gripped my knee, and threaded my fingers through his strong ones. My voice felt unsteady, shaky. “I draw my own conclusions, Brax. About everyone, and everything. That doesn’t just include you. It especially includes you.” I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t typically let people in”—I pressed one of my hands to my heart—“here. So trust me, if the rumors I heard about you from the get-go didn’t scare me away, nothing will.” His fingers tightened around mine, and I saw instant relief flood the harsh planes and unique features that the shadows tried so hard to hide. “Noah was wrong for what he said. Even he admitted having overstepped his boundaries, and he was right about that. And I have no idea what caused him to feel the need to warn me about you.” I peered closely at him. “I don’t need any more warnings. And I don’t like being yelled at, Brax, or accused falsely. I understand you felt like you’d walked up on something between Noah and I, but you didn’t. That’s not me, not the kind of person I am.” I smiled then, and I saw regret soften his unusual eyes. “I’m different. Remember?”
Brax stood, his body filling the space left by my opened door. With one arm, he braced his weight against the frame and leaned in. His hand lowered, pushed my braid over my shoulder, then grasped my jaw and drew his mouth over mine. “I know you are,” he whispered, and his lips brushed feathery over mine. Then, he nudged my mouth open as he deepened the kiss, and the gentle swipe of his tongue, so possessive and erotic, made my lips tingle. Without thinking, I eased across the bench seat, Brax slid behind the wheel, pulled the door closed and laid me back, our tongues and mouths fusing, tasting. My heart raced out of control. God, that kiss could have gone on and on.
Or maybe even further. And just when I thought it would, Brax stopped, his big palms resting against the bare skin of my ribs, our breathing in sync and fast and deliciously fogging up the windows. He instead helped me from the cab of my truck. Walked with one arm around my shoulders as he carried my scope to the dorm entrance. Kissed me again and swiped my card. Gave me a little push inside after we kissed some more. Watched me until the shadows swallowed me up in the darkened common room. Even inside the stairwell, the rumble of his muffler sounded, and I listened to it as it carried him further away. It was a double-edged sword, that distinct sound; one of comfort, of familiarity. And then, one of departure, an echo of Brax departing. Leaving. Fading away. That sound and thought thumped heavier in the pit of my stomach than it should have, and I didn’t understand why.
Over the next week we’d left September behind, and the first day of October brought about a subtle change in the atmosphere at Winston. Not so much in temperature; I mean, Texas was Texas, and if we were blessed with even the occasional cold front, we were lucky ducks. Regardless of the weather, though, the early sightings of fall, and pending Halloween, brought out the mischief in people. Girls tried to wear sweaters or long sleeves, simply because it was that time of year to do so. Frat and sorority parties grew in numbers. The Sigma Chis had an on-going rival with the Kappas, and pranks were traded back and forth. Colorful flags of pumpkins and changing leaves hung from the Lambda house. Football games became the thing to do on weekends, and were either preluded, preceded, or both, on game day with public acts of harmless humiliation. Underwear on car bumpers. Bras taped to windows. Someone from the Sigmas dressed as a Reaper and stalked students as they hustled from one class to another. They seemed immature, but all in good fun.