Page 49 of Brawler
Her voice snagged on the past, and instantly he gathered her into his lap, locking her deeper into his body. “Dani,” he murmured. “You mentioned she was blind.” Her throat closed. Tears threatened. She hated that he remembered, that he prodded. Loved that he remembered, that hecared. “Tell me,” he pressed, his tone gentle but aching, “I’m dying to know what causes that darkness, that emptiness I sense sometimes.”
She stilled.Sensed?Was he…empathic? Sensitive in ways no one would ever expect from a rough-and-tumble warrior? The thought rocked her. That a man like Brawler, scarred, stoic, built of iron, could also feel her shadows. Could want to carry them.
The warmth of him seeped into her, the solid strength of him bleeding courage into her bones. Yes. If anyone deserved to hear it, it was him.
“It was the kind of afternoon that smelled like sunscreen and sliced watermelon,” she began softly, her voice trembling. “Sometimes I can still smell the chlorine. The sunlight sparkled on our patio bricks, casting long golden shadows. It was eight years ago…I was sixteen, and she was thirteen—brave andstubborn as always. She was in a lawn chair at the edge of the pool deck, her white cane leaning like an afterthought.”
She took a painful breath at the image of Dani frozen in time. “She adored me. I got a phone call from Tyler Montgomery—older, popular, gorgeous.” A broken laugh escaped. “So silly.”
His arms tightened around her, anchoring her. “Em,” he whispered, his voice hushed, aching for her.
“Danielle wanted to swim. I was already in my suit, humming some song, sun-warmed and smiling. My phone rang, and it was him, Tyler Mongomery, my crush, way out of my league. I told her not to move until I got back. I just wanted a moment of privacy when I wasn’t her caretaker, just Emily.”
Brawler’s hand stroked her hair, his touch so careful it undid her.
“He said I was a tiny little package of fury, courage, and attitude…and I lit up inside. He saw me. He asked me to prom.” Her chest caved, broken words spilling.
“Dani told me she could swim on her own, that she wasn’t helpless. I told her I knew she wasn’t.” Her voice fractured. “But she didn’t listen. She got up…maybe she slipped on water, maybe she tripped on the chair. I don’t know. But when I came back—” Her breath shattered. “She was on the deck. Her head was bleeding, and it was too late. We lost her.” Her voice caught on the last sentence.
Brawler gathered her against him, and wrapped in steel and gentleness, he rose and walked back into the cave. The fire had burned down to embers, but he settled into her tent, keeping her in his arms. Time passed and she drowsed, then his voice came out of the eerie glow of the phosphorescent cave light.
“You didn’t go to the prom?” Brawler asked, his voice low, roughened with curiosity. “Was Tyler crushed?”
Emily blinked up at him. “You remembered his name?”
Brawler’s face softened, his eyes a tender gray. His gaze locked on her. “I like listening to you.” A pause, almost reverent. “So… the prom?”
Her throat tightened. Tears pricked before she could stop them. “No. How could I? I took that phone call and she died.”
He stilled. That look came into his eyes, the one she’d seen more often lately. The one that said he wanted to touch her, but always held back, as if she were too breakable. The hesitation burned between them. This time, instead of waiting, she reached for him. His jaw flexed when she set his hand against her face, anchoring her in his warmth.
“Emily…” His voice was taut, gravel pressed thin. He cupped her cheek, gently caressing her jawline. “You could have been standing two feet from her, and she still would have died.”
She flinched, tried to pull back, but his grip held. Not rough, not forceful, unyielding.
“What are you talking about?” she whispered.
His eyes burned, banked charcoal shot through with fire. He didn’t blink, didn’t soften. “This wasn’t your fault. Not then. Not ever.” His voice carried a command that was also a vow. “It was the blow to her head that killed her. A tragic accident. Not your inattention, not the phone call, not the timing, not the day. Nothing you could have done.”
Her world tilted. For years she’d carried the guilt like shackles, never once daring to consider another explanation. Her breath broke. The pain welled up from some place so deep it shocked her, and then the sobs came, violent and raw. She buried her face into the hollow of his neck, ashamed of the sounds tearing out of her, but Brawler didn’t let go. He squeezed her harder, a steady anchor through the storm.
When the worst of it passed, when her body sagged, wrung out and trembling, he took all her weight. His arms unbreakable bands, his voice a low rumble against her hair.
“Everyone deserves joy, Emily. Especially after their lowest moments. Life moves on. It’s brutal, and it’s goddamn wrenching. But I believe this.” His breath hitched, then steadied. “What we do after we hit bottom…that defines us. Not the tragedy. Not the pain. Not grief or guilt. The choice to rise, to make a difference anyway. That’s what makes us human. That’s what makes us strong.”
He lifted her face, cupping it between his big hands, his thumbs brushing away tears. His gaze was fierce, unflinching, the vow in it searing. “You, beautiful…you are both.”
“Christian,” she sobbed, “I need you.” Her lips trembled on the words, and the world shifted under her. He had given her more than solace. He had cracked the chains she’d been dragging for years. Her grief for Dani would never vanish, but for the first time the weight of it eased, the edges blunted by the unshakable presence of this man.
She had no idea what it meant to have someone in her corner until now. To be held through the storm instead of braving it alone. Moira had told her for years it wasn’t her fault, whispered comfort in the quiet moments when the guilt was too sharp to hide. But Moira was her aunt, family. Emily had always dismissed it as loving platitudes, words meant to soothe, not absolve.
But this…this was different. Brawler wasn’t bound to her by blood or obligation. God, it felt good. Achingly good. That it was him, gruff and steady and impossibly strong, who undid her in ways she couldn’t name.
What had she denied herself for so many years? Joy. Comfort. Love. All withheld, a penance she thought she deserved. But pressed into him, safe in his arms, she realized she didn’t want to punish herself anymore.
She lifted, mouth finding his, the kiss desperate and tender all at once. He returned it, his chest heaving under her palms,the taste of salt and fire between them. When he broke away, he gathered her even closer, wrapping her small frame against the wall of his body. His voice came low, gravel softened at the edges. “It’s time to rest, Emily,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
In this moment, it felt as if he would always have her.
