25. Avery

CHAPTER 25

AVERY

The change happened so fast I couldn't process it—one second, Creed's body was arching beneath mine, desperate, wanting, and the next, he was gone. He'd shoved himself back, putting feet between us like the space could fix something that had broken. His breath came in short, panicked bursts, his eyes wide and distant. He wouldn't meet my gaze.

My chest tightened, a knot of confusion and guilt wrapping around my ribs. I knelt on the bed, my own breathing rough, trying to make sense of the sudden shift. "Hey," I managed, forcing my voice to stay steady even though my stomach churned. "Hey, it's okay. Just... talk to me. What happened?"

Creed pressed his palms against his face before dropping them to his lap. The muscles in his arms trembled. He sucked in a shaky breath, but he didn't respond. I reached out, hand hovering just inches from his shoulder, but I stopped short, unsure if the touch would make things worse. His shoulders were tight, his whole body wound up like he was ready to snap in two. I let my hand drop back to the mattress, the rejection biting deeper than I wanted to admit.

I tried again, leaning forward, voice softer this time. "Whatever it is, we can deal with it, okay? Just... let me in."

His silence felt like a slap. His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. No words, just that tight, grim movement. I swallowed hard, trying to push down the ache of failure clawing its way up my throat.

"Okay. Okay, we'll just—take a breather." My own voice sounded strange, too thin, like I was talking from a distance. I backed off, trying to give him space, even as I watched him shaking like he might come apart. The air felt too cold against my bare skin, the sheets twisted beneath me, a mess that mirrored the tension in the room. I tugged the comforter back up, covering myself more to keep from feeling vulnerable.

For a long moment, neither of us moved. My heart pounded in my ears, the weight of what I couldn't understand pressing down on me. Eventually, I pushed off the bed, grabbed our clothes from where they'd been tossed to the floor, and handed his to him. His hands fumbled as he took them, and he muttered a barely audible thanks.

I went to the bathroom to do my business and slipped on my pajamas. I stepped back into the room, forcing a smile that felt wrong on my lips. "Let's just... get some sleep, okay? We'll talk in the morning."

Creed looked up at me then, his eyes still haunted but a little less wild. He nodded, but the tension never left his shoulders. He went to the bathroom for several minutes and came back to the bedroom, his own pajama bottoms on. He looked so small, hunched in on himself like he was bracing for a blow. He climbed onto the bed and slipped under the covers.

I couldn't stand it anymore. The distance. The uncertainty. I reached out, not to grab him but to offer a lifeline. "Can I touch you?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.

He hesitated, but then he nodded, a tiny, exhausted movement. I inched closer, careful, like I was approaching a wild animal, and reached for his hand. Our fingers intertwined, his grip desperate, as if he was holding onto me like a tether. I wanted to pull him into my arms, hold him until he felt safe again, but I settled for that one point of contact. It would have to be enough.

We lay back down, our hands still joined. The bed was too big, the space between us a gaping wound, but his warmth reached me through the darkness, and I clung to that small comfort. I heard his breathing slowly even out, each exhale brushing against the quiet night. I stayed awake longer, staring at the ceiling, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting thin lines across the bed. Creed turned toward me, his face pale, his expression guarded. He offered a small, crooked smile, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"Sorry about last night," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. "I got... weird. You know me."

He tried to brush it off, letting out a laugh that came out brittle and strained. Before I could react, he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. It was more of a fleeting touch—like the kind you'd give a friend when you're trying to smooth things over, just awkwardly placed on the lips.

I wanted to call him on it, to push for answers, to ask why he pulled away last night like I was something dangerous. But his expression shut down before I could even open my mouth, a mask slipping into place. I knew that look—knew how hard he could shut down when he didn't want to talk. Pushing him now would just drive him further away.

So, I forced myself to smile back, even though my chest ached with the weight of the unsaid things hanging between us. "It's all good," I lied. "Let's just start fresh, okay?"

He nodded, but his shoulders were still tight, and I caught the way his eyes darted away from mine, like he couldn't bear to let me see too much. He was here, next to me, but I could feel the distance between us like a chasm.

The day crawled by in a blur, each minute dragging out longer than the last. Creed and I played our parts—smiling when someone made a joke, nodding through endless chatter, pretending that everything was fine between us. Christmas dinner turned into a marathon of forced cheer, the table too crowded and yet too quiet at the same time.

When the meal finally wrapped up and everyone gathered to watch It's a Wonderful Life , I couldn't sit there pretending for one more second. The weight of Creed's presence beside me felt like a stone in my chest. I muttered an excuse about needing some air, and slipped outside before anyone could stop me.

The cold hit like a slap, biting through my coat as I headed for the garden. I hadn't planned on going there, but my feet carried me down the familiar path, past the frozen flower beds and bare, twisted branches. The headstone sat at the edge of the garden, a solitary marker under the spreading limbs of an oak tree. Snow had begun to fall, soft and quiet, muffling the world around me.

I stopped in front of the stone, shoving my hands deep into my coat pockets, and stared at the name carved there. My father's name. Avery Branson, Sr. The man whose shadow I'd spent my whole life trying to escape. The snow settled on the top of the stone, a fine dusting that blurred the edges of the letters.

I let out a breath, watching it plume in the air. "Well, Dad," I murmured, my voice rough, catching in my throat. "Here I am. Screwing up again. You always thought I'd find a way to do that, didn't you?"

The cold crept up my legs, but I couldn't bring myself to move. Talking to him like this had been a habit once, back when the grief was fresh and raw, but now it felt like trying to have a conversation with a ghost. And yet, words kept spilling out, ones I hadn't known I'd been holding back. "I thought... I thought I could be happy. That he wanted me like I want him. But maybe you were right about me. Maybe I don't know how to keep anything real. Maybe I don't know when to pump the breaks, when to hold back. Maybe I just push everyone away by coming on too strong."

Silence pressed in, heavy and suffocating. The snow kept falling, brushing against my cheeks like a cold caress. I could almost hear his voice, deep and disapproving, the way it always was when he talked about my choices. You're a Branson. You have responsibilities. Expectations. But those expectations had never included being happy, had they?

I crouched down, fingers brushing the icy edge of the stone. "He's a mess, Dad. I'm a mess. And I don't know if I can fix this. I don't even know if I should try." My chest tightened, and I had to swallow back the lump in my throat. "But he's—God, he's everything I didn't know I needed."

A shift in the shadows caught my eye and I straightened, turning just in time to see Creed walking toward me, his shoulders hunched against the cold, his breath fogging the air. He wore a look that shattered something inside me—a mix of guilt and sorrow.

"You shouldn't be out here," I called, my voice cracking against the icy air. "It's freezing."

Creed stopped a few feet away, shivering in the thin jacket he'd probably thrown on in haste. His lips trembled with cold, his face pale in the moonlight. "Yeah, well," he muttered, wrapping his arms around himself, "I figured you shouldn't be alone."

My chest tightened again, but this time for a different reason. He'd come after me. He'd left the warmth of the house, braved the cold, just to be here with me. Without another word, he crossed the last bit of distance between us and dropped down onto the frozen ground, sitting beside me in the snow like it was the most natural thing in the world.

I hesitated, then reached out, slipping my arm around his shoulders, pulling him closer. He leaned into me without resistance, and I could feel the chill in his body, the way he was shaking. I tightened my grip, trying to share what warmth I could. His head rested against my shoulder, and for a moment, we just breathed together, the night wrapping around us.

I stared back at the headstone, my voice a low murmur, barely more than a breath. "He'd hate seeing me like this, you know? Falling apart over someone."

Creed huffed a quiet laugh, the sound dry. "Yeah, well, I'm not too fond of it myself."

It should have hurt, but it didn't. Not really. Because there was honesty in it, the kind we hadn't been able to find all day. I turned my head, pressing my lips to his temple, letting the kiss linger against his cold skin. "I don't know what you're afraid of, Creed. But I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He shifted, his breath a warm puff against my neck. "I'm afraid of... this. Of wanting this too much." His words trembled, like he was barely holding himself together. "Of letting myself think that I deserve this."

I closed my eyes, swallowing hard against the ache that welled up inside me. "You deserve so much more than you think, Creed. And I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe it."

He went quiet, but he didn't pull away. And that was enough for now, enough to keep holding onto, even with the cold seeping into my bones and the night stretching out around us.