Hope was a nefarious bitch though, and when Braxton reached out and held her hand right there in front of everyone, she wished for more just briefly.
When Braxton’s phone rang for what felt like the hundredth time, he answered it.
Paisley’s hand was still lightly clasped below his until the person on the other end of the line spoke.
Braxton’s hand squeezed Paisley so tight, it caused her to flinch in pain. She tried to pull away, only he squeezed it even tighter. Paisley shifted in her seat, ready to lay into Braxton about letting her hand go, but catching sight of his face, her heart sank.
Braxton’s skin was pale. His eyes met hers, and they were void of any emotion. They were hollow. As if there was nothing but a shell of a person looking back at her.
“Brax?” Paisley tried to rouse him, but he just sat there, lost to the moment.
Finally, Braxton lowered the phone from his ear. It was like watching a football play in slow motion. He released Paisley’s hand and pushed his chair slightly back from the table. Paisley moved hers as well, allowing her to get a good glimpse at her best friend. The screeching of the wooden legs against the colored concrete floor drew Paxton’s attention away from his conversation with Peter.
“Brax, what is it?” Paisley questioned again.
Everyone at the table waited quietly for an answer. Finally, as though acting on instinct, Braxton reached out for Paisley, embracing her tightly. His body began to shake within her embrace. Paisley felt wetness against her neck from his tears. Her body was on high alert as she began to run her hands up and down his back, willing him to take comfort from her.
“Talk to me,” Paisley quietly breathed into his ear.
With a shaky voice, Braxton replied, “Mom . . . Dad . . .”
Paxton had risen from his chair and was kneeling between Braxton and Paisley. His hand rested on Braxton’s shoulder.
A voice screamed Braxton’s name through the still-connected phone. Paxton rushed to pick it up.
“Hello, this is Paxton. Who is this?”
Paxton listened to whoever was speaking on the phone. His eyes met Paisley’s as they began to glisten with tears. Whatever he was being told was not good.
“I understand, Jacob.” Paxton somberly disconnected the phone and stared at his sister.
Jacob, as in Braxton’s brother Jacob?
Paisley started to put it all together. Something must have happened to Braxton’s parents.
Paisley’s hand braced the back of Braxton’s neck, and she pulled him tighter to her. “Shhh,” she said. “I’ve got you, Brax. I’m here.”
She would always be there for Braxton. He would always come first. And as much as she wanted to believe she could make a life with Peter, she’d never be able to give him her heart because the man who owned it was in her arms.
A week later, they laid Braxton’s parents to rest underneath the grey sky on a spring morning. Rain drizzled as both caskets were lowered into the ground. Everyone was grief-stricken by their loss. Braxton’s hand was in Paisley’s as Alissa comforted him with her arm around his shoulder.
The drunk driver who’d run the red light, T-boning Braxton’s parents’ car and pushing it into oncoming traffic, died upon impact. There was no one to punish for the crime, and no matter how much Braxton wanted someone to pay for killing his parents, he’d never be able to claim that satisfaction. Losing people you love was one thing, but not being able to obtain closure was another.
Once so full of life, he became a shell of his former self. Hell, they all were. Paxton and Paisley’s parents sat across the caskets from their children. And while he knew they mourned the loss of their dear friends, they’d made it clear they were extremely worried about how their children were also feeling. The Michaels had been second parents to Paxton and Paisley. And even though the twins would be there for Braxton no matter what, someone needed to support them as well. Mrs. Reed was determined to get all of her kids, which now included Braxton into counseling.
Paxton and Paisley both took a leave of absence from their respective employers. They were going to be there for Braxton in any way possible. Every day, Braxton would leave his house to try and get on with his life. But Paisley would regularly find him sitting on her sofa starring at the television as it played reruns of Two and a Half Men.
After a couple of weeks, Paisley couldn’t take it anymore. Braxton wasn’t getting better. Eventually, she had to return to work, but she’d come home in the evening only to find Braxton still at her house. She had become his enabler, and she knew it was time to stop. Sometimes, love had to be tough.
When the doorbell rang, just as it had done every day for the last twelve, she didn’t answer. She sat at her kitchen table, listening to the ding-ding over and over again. Each one ripped a piece of her heart out and tossed it to the wind. It killed her to reject the love of her life. But it would hurt her even more if he continued to avoid living his life.
“Answer the fucking door!” Paxton yelled as he stumbled from the bedroom toward the kitchen.
After a week, he’d decided to give his notice and stay out west with her. His friend needed him more than he wanted to return to New York. He had a hefty nest egg saved up so he could afford to take some time and reevaluate.
“What the hell is wrong with you? You know who it is.” His eyes were tiny slits reflecting his displeasure. He
