Ask Me Why(70)

Me: Getting Ollie ready for bed. I hope to hear from you soon.



How hard is it to send a quick message back? Dammit, Brance.

My mind is elsewhere while waiting for my phone to buzz. I’m using all my willpower to remain planted in this rocking chair. What I really want to do is call Brance and demand that he answer me. This is an entirely new level of asshole for him. I’ve read Ollie seven books by the time his eyelids droop closed. I’m tempted to shake him awake. The impending doom is much heavier when faced alone.

For my sanity, I keep Brance in the loop. Maybe he’ll finally respond.



Me: Ollie is sleeping. Please tell me you’re okay.



But nothing pings in return.

The first hour bled into two, followed by three and now four. Soon, it’s after eleven o’clock. I’ve worn a path in the hardwood floor from pacing. This can’t be happening. I’ve texted him at least twenty times. The two voicemails I left are bordering on hysterical. I’m sure he’ll get a real kick out of hearing me wail.

I resume my pacing. A tropical storm of repressed nightmares swoops down on me. Ripping my hair out at the roots. I’d moved past the traumatic memories. There hasn’t been an episode for months. I’d kept a straight face for Ollie, but he’s tucked away and safe. All there’s left to do is crumble inside. The edges of my vision are officially blurring with murky darkness. The horrible possibilities start pinging inside my brain. My thoughts turn black. I can’t stop the images from washing over me.

There’s his car and an accident. But instead of Devon, Brance is dead inside. Toxic visions replace the positivity I’ve been working so hard keeping in the forefront. Lethal vines wrap around my legs and snake upward, tightening their hold.

Why is he ignoring my calls?

What if there was an accident?

Is he hurt?

Would someone contact us?

What if he’s dead?

How will I find out?

The pictures flash in front of me on a panic-inducing loop. I can’t handle going through this again. It’s brutal and eats at my soul. The wounds rip open with a scream. The only thing keeping me above ground is Ollie sleeping upstairs. He’s relying on me. This can’t happen now.

When I hear the garage crank open, my knees buckle. I grip the counter and manage to stay upright.

The door swings open, and Brance appears in the foyer. His smile falls when he catches my expression. “Brae? What’s wrong?”

I can’t speak. I’m shaking my head, tears gathering in my eyes. My vision tunnels, narrowing further with each gasped breath. He’s okay. Thank the Lord.

Brance rushes toward me, gripping my shoulders. “Is it Ollie?”

“No,” I croak. “He’s sleeping.”

His exhale is harsh. “Don’t fucking scare me like that. What the hell is wrong with you? Why’re you crying?”

The whooshing in my ears subsides. I gulp down some much needed oxygen. “I haven’t heard from you all damn day, Brance.”

“My phone died.”

The limp explanation skewers my panic, allowing a spark to flicker. “You didn’t think to charge it?”

“I was in the middle of dinner with a client. What’s the big deal?”

His defensive tone rattles me. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been worrying myself sick. You’re a father. Shouldn’t you check in for Ollie’s sake?”

“Don’t you dare attack my parenting.”

“That’s not what I’m doing. Shit. Sorry. This is just… I don’t know. I need some air.”

I start to turn away and he grabs my arm. “We’re not done discussing this.”

“Why wouldn’t you let me know about being late? We waited up for you. Ollie wanted to say goodnight.”

Brance glares at me, blue flames threatening to incinerate my heart. “Low fucking blow, Braelyn. Excuse me for assuming he was in capable hands and my tardiness wouldn’t be noticed. I figured you’d be too busy having fun.”

I let my jaw hang loose. “Tardy? This was way beyond a few minutes, even an hour or two.”

He growls, loud and low. “So fucking what? I don’t answer to you, Braelyn. Don’t jump down my damn throat. Everyone is fine. You need to relax.”

A loud crash booms inside of me. His temper feeds my fading panic, giving the shadows strength and power. Everything is certainly not okay. Dammit, I can’t go back there. A shaky hand covers my gaping mouth. No. No, no, no. I won’t go down this road. Not again. There’s no surviving that type of loss twice.

“But it’s not.” I refuse to look at him.

He smacks his chest. “Alive and well, right here. Calm down.”

I swallow the glass shards in my mouth. “I can’t risk it.”

Brance snorts. “Oh, give me a break. Being with me is a risk?”

I’m nodding fast, almost manic. “Yes. I couldn’t handle losing you.”

“There’s nothing to lose.”

“To me there is.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sounds like a you-problem. The reward isn’t worth this apparent risk?”

I blink more moisture from my lashes. “You don’t get it. Can you at least attempt to understand how I’m feeling?”