A Very Merry Bromance (Bromance Book Club #5) (82)

“What are you talking about?”

“Remember when I broke my arm?”

His breath became a shudder. “Are you saying—”

“It was Evan. I was too scared of him to tell anyone the truth.”

“Shit, Gretchen . . .” His voice was a tightrope, wobbly beneath the weight of regret.

“He used to lock me out of the house at night.”

“What?!”

“I was so naive. Every time, I thought we really were just going to play a game. I spent an entire night outside once when I was nine.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“I tried. No one believed me.” She flicked her fingernail against the stubborn sliver of wood, and this time it broke free and stabbed her skin. With a muttered curse, she resorted to slapping the board with the palm of her hand. “No one ever believed me!”

“I’m sorry,” Jack croaked. “I’m so sorry.”

She sucked in a sniffle and turned around. “You were right, though, what you said yesterday. All those times I ran away, I didn’t really want to. Every time I was just desperate for someone to notice I was gone and to care enough to beg me to come home.”

“I cared enough. I always came for you.”

“I know. And I’m sorry, but I was so disappointed every time to see you walk in. So that last time, I thought, maybe I just need to do something really crazy, you know? Maybe if I go far enough, maybe if I really fuck up, maybe if I take Blake’s car and go all the way to Michigan, maybe this time they would care enough to come themselves. My parents. But they didn’t. They sent you.”

The crunch of tires announced Colton’s arrival. A car door opened and slammed. The snap of Colton’s footsteps—hurried and urgent—grew louder. “Gretchen?”

He burst from the path with a near skid on the damp, cold grass. When he saw her, Colton jogged toward her, opened his arms, and let out a relieved breath when she walked into them. His chest was warm, his voice soothing. “I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

He framed her face with his hands and tilted it back so he could see her. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

He stepped back and dragged his hands over his hair. “You can’t do that, Gretchen. You can’t just take off.”

“It’s what I do. You said so yourself, remember?”

He spared a single glance for Jack. “I’m taking her home.”

Gretchen slipped Jack’s coat off her shoulders. “This is his.”

Colton took it from her and handed it unceremoniously to Jack. Then his hand was on her back and steering her back to the path.

Jack tried to follow. “Gretchen . . .”

Colton stopped and whipped around. With a single point and a glare, he ended Jack’s pursuit. “Jack, I think you’re a good person, the only good person in this whole fucking family besides Gretchen. But right now, I don’t want to hear a single goddamn word from any of you.”

They left him standing there in the halo of the moonlight, his coat hanging limply from his fingers, an apology hanging uselessly on his lips.

Colton guided her over the knotted roots and the jagged sticks, the path now alight from his headlights. His car was still running. She let him open her door and help her inside. She even let him help her with her seat belt. And when he was done, he paused to cup her face once again before kissing her sweetly.

“Let’s go home,” he said.

They didn’t speak during the drive, but he kept one hand wrapped around hers on the console between them, even when he stopped at his gate to punch in the security code. He didn’t let go until they were parked in front of his house.

Through the front windows, the Christmas tree glowed with welcome, but the rest of the house appeared dark. “I don’t want to wake the kids up,” she said when he opened her door.

“We won’t.” He took her hand to help her from the car. “And even if we do, they’ll go back to sleep.”

The front door opened as they walked up the porch. His mother stepped out, a robe wrapped around her body and a worried glaze in her eyes. “I’ve been stress baking,” she said, an attempt at humor that fell flat from the catch in her voice.

“I’m sorry,” Gretchen said. “I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

“Nonsense.” His mother pulled her into an embrace. She smelled like vanilla and chocolate.

Colton followed them inside, softly shutting the door behind them. Gretchen glanced back at him, and he just smiled as his mother led her toward the kitchen. “I’ll be right there.”

His mother’s arm was tight around her shoulders. “I have cookies fresh from the oven. It doesn’t solve anything, but it certainly doesn’t hurt either.”

Gretchen managed a soft laugh for her benefit.

“Are you hungry for anything else? I can heat up some stew or—”

“I’m okay. But thank you. I’m sorry I kept you awake. I didn’t mean to worry anyone.”

The look on her face was a cross between offended and sympathetic. “Of course I waited up.” She filled a plate with chocolate chip cookies, still so warm that a spiral of steam wafted up. “Sit,” she said, nodding at one of the island stools. “I’ll get you some milk.”