I sniffled and wiped under my eyes, her words making me smile. I knew she was trying to make me feel better. “I know.”
I heard movement down the hall, and I stepped back. “Go see your husband. I’m sure he’s wondering why his bride is chatting over coffee with her friend instead of in bed with him.”
“Best friend,” she corrected. “And he knows.” She winked, looking ludicrous as she attempted to be lewd. “I already made sure he was taken care of before you arrived.”
“Ew. TMI, Addi.”
She pushed me toward the door. “He’s in the guest room.”
I paused and wiped at my face. “Thanks, Addi.”
“Love you.”
I smiled. “Love you right back.”
I slipped into the guest room and made my way to the bed. Jaxson was asleep, but even in repose, he didn’t look relaxed. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed, and his cheek bloomed dark with the bruise my father’s fist had caused. I had never known my father to react in such a violent manner. Nor heard him yell the way he did last night. I knew if he found out, he’d be angry—exactly how angry, I had no idea.
Carefully, I sat at the foot of the bed, looking at Jaxson. I still didn’t understand. I couldn’t remember our night in Vegas. Tiny details floated through my head, blurred images, snippets of conversations, but nothing tangible. Nothing to grab on to and help clear the fog. The strongest images were of him and me together. His hot breath on my neck, his body meshed with mine, his burning, drugging kisses. Wanting more. Needing more.
But how had we gotten there?
And why did our physical connection always come into play? Even now, sitting close to him in the midst of all this hurt and chaos, I felt…better. Calmer.
I sighed, and his eyes flew open, the ice-blue irises meeting mine. He sat up, dragging me into his arms. And like a fool, I went willingly.
“Gracie, darling.” He pressed a kiss to my head. “Tell me you’re all right. I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.”
For a moment, I basked in his strong embrace. Relaxed into his warmth. How he continued to have this effect on me, I would never understand. I pushed him back, studying his face in the dull light. I traced my fingers over his cheek.
“Does it hurt?”
“It’s fine. What happened? Are you all right?”
“It was awful. My father is furious, my mother upset. There was lots of yelling. Not my usual family Christmas.”
He gripped my hand. “Anything else?”
I frowned. “It’s my parents, Jaxson. What do you think they would do?”
He looked away, his jaw flexing as he swallowed. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t really think they’d hurt me, do you?” Understanding dawned, and I gasped quietly. “Did your parents hit you?”
“We’re not talking about that right now.”
I pushed back my hair. “No, we never talk about anything when it comes to you, do we? Your past, your reasons for breaking it off, why you insist on staying married to me. You expect me to simply agree and follow you blindly.”
He caught my hands as I began to rise. “No, Gracie, it’s only—”
“Only what?”
“I don’t know how to talk about it.”
“You pick a word, and you start.”
“Not here. Not now.”
He was right. Sitting in Addi’s guest room wasn’t the place to hash this out. But Addi was correct. We had to talk and be honest.
I extricated my hands from his grip.
“I want to go home, Jaxson. I need to sleep and clear my mind. Then we need to talk.”
“Okay. I’ll drive you.” He swung his legs off the bed and stood, towering over me. “Will you come home with me?”
“No. I need to sleep. I need to organize my thoughts and try to sort out my head. If I’m with you, I can’t. You-you overwhelm me.”
He smiled sadly. “I guess I’ll hold on to that, at least.”
I paused at the door. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”
His eyes were troubled, but he nodded. “Okay.”
Jaxson
I entered the kitchen, my gaze finding Gracie immediately. She sat at the table, a cup of coffee in front of her. She looked exhausted, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, her shoulders hunched as if she was holding herself in. I hated I had a part in her looking so torn. That I had caused this rift between her and her parents.
Brayden and Addi were nowhere to be seen, but Grace held out a cup of coffee and I drank it quickly, wanting to get her home so she could rest. I picked up her bag, and we left quietly, heading to the SUV. The sight of a large man leaning on the fender made me stop.
Ronan, one of Aiden’s triplets, stood as we approached. He was massive, much like his father—tall and strong. His dark hair was tucked under a knitted cap, and his green eyes were piercing as he looked at us. I wondered if I was about to get a matching bruise on the other side of my face.