Page 82 of Just Say When

But I didn’t want to say any of that. I didn’t want to fight.

I just wanted to hold him.

So that’s what I did, when we crawled into bed together and he rolled onto his side, facing away from me. I snuggled up against his broad back and wrapped my arm around his middle. He stiffened and for a terrible moment I thought he might actually push me away. But then his muscles relaxed on a heavy sigh, and he covered my hand with his.

We slept like that.

When Adam had called to inform me that my formerly uptight, rule-stickler husband had somehow landed himself in jail, I had told him not to expect me at Lodestar until noon. That would give Brax and me some time to talk things through before he had to work.

That was the plan, anyway.

But when I finally pried my eyelids open, his side of the bed was empty.

Brax was gone.

I bolted out of bed and ran to the window, but I already knew what I’d find. Sure enough, his truck was gone.

He had walked away…again.

That fucking coward.

With nothingbetter to do since Brax bailed on me, I showered and headed to Lodestar Ranch, with a quick detour at Sweetie Pie. Because while I wasn’t one of those people who believed pie could solve all the problems, I did believe my problems would still be there without pie, so I might as well suffer and have pie, too.

Anyway, I knew Mom would be working because Mom was always working, and right now, I really wanted my mother.

Mom looked up from a conversation with a customer as I walked in. After she finished helping her, Mom pulled a cherry pie from the glass case, removed a slice, and slid it onto a porcelain plate. Cherry pie was my favorite.

“To go, Mom,” I said, even though all I wanted was to cry in her arms. God, being an adult sucked. “I have to be at Lodestar.”

She sank her fists onto her hips and frowned at me. “Esther Louise Price, you did not come in here the morning after you had to bail your husband out of jail just to take a slice of pie to go. Now, you go park your butt at that table over there, and I’ll be over with your coffee in a minute.”

“Mom!” I protested. I looked around, but no one seemed at all shocked to hear Braxton Hale, formerly an upright citizen, had spent some time behind bars last night.

“What? Everyone knows already. Three people told me before eight a.m. Now, sit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered. I took my pie and sheepishly slunk to the table in the corner.

I took a bite of pie, ignoring the curious looks of other customers. Occasionally, someone stared a little too long and I gave them my bestgo ahead, I dare youexpression. They always looked away quickly after that.

“Here we are,” Mom said, placing two steaming mugs of coffee on the table and sitting down across from me. “Cream and a little sugar.”

Exactly how I liked it.

I took a careful sip, knowing Sweetie Pie tended to serve coffee piping hot, and let the warmth spread through me. I took another bite of pie, then had another sip.

“Now,” Mom said. “What happened?”

I told her everything I knew, which wasn’t a whole lot. Adam hadn’t shared any of the gory details. All Iknew was that Brax and Alan had exchanged words, Brax had attacked Alan, and then Alan had called the cops. Alan, to my understanding, had been able to walk away on his own two legs without assistance, which meant Brax had been holding back. He wouldn’t have murder charges in his future. That was something, at least.

Mom’s gaze fell to my wrist and her eyes narrowed. “Alan Gaffney did that to you?”

I groaned. “Not you, too, Mom. It barely even hurts anymore.” I huffed an annoyed sigh and leaned back in my chair. “You…Brax…argh. I’m not saying Alan should get away with it. I just…I can handle it myself. I don’t need people babying me.”

“Caringfor you.” Mom took a slow sip of coffee. “That’s what we’re doing, honey. We’re caring for you. And I’ll tell you something, Essie. You might as well try to hold back the ocean as tell Braxton Hale not to care for you. That man would move mountains for you.”

“I never asked him to!” I exploded. Frustrated, I stabbed my pie with my fork.

“No, you never asked him to,” Mom agreed. “How do you think he feels about that?”

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