Page 12 of The Promises We Broke
Gage
Aweek of following Billie's orders had taught me two things. First, that she'd been absolutely right about everything, and second, that I didn't recognize the woman she'd become at all.
I sat in Booker's living room, my casted leg propped up on the coffee table, actually feeling something close to human for the first time since the accident. The pain had dulled to a manageable ache, my shoulder moved with less stiffness, and I could navigate the stairs with crutches without wanting to collapse halfway down. All because I'd swallowed my pride and taken the damn medication like she'd told me to.
She'd been back twice more for therapy sessions, each one a masterclass in professional distance that left me more confused than the last. This wasn't the Billie I remembered. The girl who used to laugh at my terrible jokes, who could read my mood from across a room, who'd worn her heart on her sleeve and loved with her whole being. This woman was controlled, clinical, untouchable.
Which raised the question that had been eating at me for days. Was she hiding behind professionalism because I'd hurt her, or had I broken something fundamental in her that could never be repaired?
The thought made my chest tight with a guilt I wasn't sure I had the right to claim. I'd told myself for eleven years that leaving had been the right thing to do, that she'd be better off without me. But if I'd damaged her ability to trust, to love, to be vulnerable... then maybe I'd been wrong about everything.
"You're brooding again," Xander said from the kitchen doorway, carrying a mug of coffee and wearing the expression of someone who'd been watching me think myself into circles for the past hour.
"I'm contemplating," I corrected, shifting to ease the pressure on my ribs.
"You're wondering about Billie."
It wasn't a question. I'd never been able to hide anything from Xander, even as kids.
"She's different," I said finally. "Not just older, not just more professional. She's... harder somehow. Closed off."
Xander settled into the chair across from me, considering his words carefully. "She's been through a lot, Gage. Losing her parents, rebuilding her life here, establishing her career. People change."
"Did I do that to her?" The question came out quieter than I intended. "Did I break something in her when I left?"
Before Xander could answer, the sound of a car pulling into the driveway cut through the afternoon quiet. I looked toward the window and felt my stomach drop to somewhere around my ankles.
Trace's truck.
"Shit," I breathed, suddenly feeling like I might throw up.
"They wanted to give you time to settle in," Xander said gently. "But you've been downstairs for three days now. They figured it was time."
Time. As if there would ever be enough time to prepare for this conversation. As if eleven years had been anywhere near long enough for me to figure out what to say to the brother whose life I'd helped destroy.
The truck doors slammed, and I could hear voices approaching the front door. Trace's familiar laugh, and then a woman's voice that had to be Delaney. She sounded happy, relaxed, nothing like the devastated teenager who'd left Willowbrook all those years ago.
"I can't do this," I said, reaching for my crutches. "I can't..."
"Yes, you can," Xander said firmly, standing to block my path. "You've been running from this for eleven years. It's time to stop."
The front door opened before I could argue, and suddenly they were there. Trace, looking older and more settled than I remembered, and beside him, Delaney. She was visibly pregnant, really pregnant, with the kind of glow that came from being genuinely happy.
They'd built a life together. Despite everything Regina had done, despite all the time they'd lost, they'd found their way back to each other and were expanding their family.
The family I'd helped tear apart in the first place.
Seeing Delaney hit me harder than I'd expected. This was the girl I'd helped Regina destroy, the teenager whose life I'd helped tear apart. I once would have called her a friend, but I'd definitely lost the right to that label. Yet she looked nothing like that broken sixteen-year-old who'd left Willowbrook. She looked confident, radiant even.
"Gage," Trace said, and his voice was warm, genuinely glad to see me. "Look at you, mobile and everything. Xander said you were making good progress."
I stared at him, searching his face for any sign of resentment, but there was none. Just the easy affection of our youngest brother who was happy to have his sibling home.
It made everything worse.
"Trace," I managed, my voice rough with emotions I couldn't name. Then I looked at Delaney, and the guilt nearly choked me. "Delaney. You look... God, it's good to see you."
She stepped forward with a smile that didn't quite hide the careful assessment in her eyes. "It's good to see you too, Gage. We've been worried about you for so long."
