“Griffin.”

Whatever. “Nice to see you again,” I lied. “Can you get Braxton?” I wasn’t about to pretend I didn’t know she was here.

Gryffindor crossed her arms as she leaned her shoulder against the jamb. “If she wanted to talk, I wouldn’t be answering the door, would I?”

“You would if you were practicing to be a doorman, but I don’t know your life. Braxton?”

“Unavailable.”

“Can you please just give her a message?” Rich inquired politely.

The way Greta skewered him with her gaze despite his pleasant tone, I knew Braxton had given her friend at least the gist of what he—we’d done. “Sure. The approved words for your message are—piece, shit, married, lying, a, of, I’m.” Giving Rich an accommodating smile, she cocked her head to the side, making her blonde hair fall in waves over her shoulder. “Feel free to use them in any order you’d like.”

Stepping back, Groot promptly slammed the door in our faces.

“She’s so not invited to the wedding,” I grumbled as I stared at the blue door with paint chipping off…everywhere. “What do we do now?” I looked to Rich, who now had his back against the wall next to the door and his head tilted back with his eyes closed. Houston was still leaning against the wall across from the door.

“We don’t leave L.A. until she talks,” Houston said loud enough for Braxton as well as her neighbors eavesdropping from their apartments to overhear. He approached the door as he continued speaking, making sure she heard him loud and clear. “We come back, and we keep coming back. There’s no sleep for the wicked, there’s no saving the damned, and there’s no prayer to be had. We’re already ensnared, my little lamb,” he said, quoting her song. The same piece that showed us what she was made of and made us want more.

This was her fault, really.

She’d put this monkey on our backs, and there was no knocking it off.

I could hear whispering, mostly Greer talking shit on the other side of the door. When I smiled at the confirmation that Braxton had heard, it wasn’t arrogance that drove me to do so. Just utter relief that she had and that she’d been listening all along.

We left Braxton’s shitty apartment building and jumped into our rental. Rich drove us to a hotel that erupted in pandemonium the moment we were recognized. We hadn’t even considered bringing security, and even if we had, we wouldn’t have wasted the precious moments getting to Braxton—even if it had mostly been for nothing.

“How the hell did she find out?” I’d finally asked the question forefront in my mind when we made it inside our suite.

“She obviously found the papers,” Houston answered dryly.

“But how?”

“I think I had another episode.”

Rich was staring at his divorce papers that Braxton had all but destroyed when I turned to him. He knew what she was telling him. He knew they meant absolutely nothing without both signatures and too many secrets attached. Rich pointlessly carried them around still because, as I said before, he liked to punish himself.

“I only remember fragments from last night, but I think Braxton saw me. I remember going to the tower and signing my name, but that’s it. She must have followed me and found them after I’d gone back to bed.”

“Shit,” I muttered.

I wasn’t thinking of how badly we fucked up, though. I imagined Braxton and how freaked out she must have been since none of us had bothered to inform her that Rich sleepwalked. He hadn’t had an episode in sometime. With everything else, it had been easy to forget. Now, this shit had popped out like ‘surprise, motherfucker!’ and kicked us in the ass. I should have told her when I found him wandering around in his sleep three nights ago.

There was a lot I should have said.

“So tomorrow then,” I decided out loud. If I let my mind linger on things I couldn’t change, who knew what would happen. Nothing good. “Operation Stalk the Fuck out of Braxton until She Files a Restraining Order begins.”

“What if she doesn’t forgive us?” Rich proposed like an ass. He could be so goddamn pessimistic. “We’re supposed to be in Europe in three weeks.”

“Fuck the tour.” There would always be another one, but there was only one of her. If I’d listened when Braxton warned me, we wouldn’t be standing here.

“If Carl—”

“Fuck Carl Cole.” He could take that three-sixty deal and shove it up his ass. He’d already taken everything that mattered and didn’t matter. I wasn’t letting him take Braxton too. Moving over to the couch, I dropped down onto it and let my head rest against the back as I stared at the ceiling. “We were going to take her to meet Mom today,” I reminded them.

My head fell to the side so that I could meet Houston’s somber gaze. His grandmother would have loved Braxton, and he knew it.

Rich gave us his back.

The only sign that he’d lost the composure he’d held until now was his shoulders as he walked away.

Jericho’s desolation would be a slow descent. His heart breaking wouldn’t just sneak up. No, he’d make us feel every splinter. He’d make us watch the pieces wither to dust. The only difference was the girl he’d given his heart to this time had given hers too.

Braxton had offered him everything his lonely soul had been hunting.

And then she took it away.

We kept our word, but Braxton stuck to her guns.

Every day for five days, we tried and failed to get Braxton to let us see her so we could explain. It wasn’t until her friends screwed up by getting Braxton to leave their apartment that we got our chance.

We were waiting inside their apartment—it had been way too easy to break in—when the three of them stumbled in after two in the morning. I shook my head. Even in the dark, they should have noticed us occupying their living room by now.

“Oh, shit,” one of them drunkenly slurred. Maeko, I think. “I left my bone—I mean phone.”

The three of them erupted into laughter that made my ears ring. I think it was Houston that groaned like he was being tortured by nails on a chalkboard. Even though he’d tried to conceal his voice, the apartment fell quiet.

I guess they’d heard him too.

There were more stumbled footsteps, hurried this time, and a moment later, light flooded the room. My gaze caught Braxton’s, who was standing by the door with her hand still holding the switch and her full lips slightly parted. I stared at them, lost in the memory of how they felt against mine, until they started moving.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

I smiled at her greeting to silence the roaring in my head. “Hey, baby. Missed you.”

“Get out.”

Ignoring her request, I turned to Rich, who was slumped in their armchair with the hood of his black sweatshirt pulled so low over his head that I couldn’t see his eyes.

I imagined he was staring at Braxton like she was heaven’s gate, and he held a one-way ticket to hell.

I was going to fuck him up, though, if he didn’t start pleading his case soon.

Sitting up slowly, he pulled his hood back and…yup.

Just as pitiful as I imagined.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse when he spoke because he hadn’t said a word. Not one goddamn thing since she’d left us. “Can we talk?”

“What is there left to say?”

The moment she asked the question, her friends quietly made themselves scarce, and I thanked God for small favors. It was right there in her tone—the first crack in her armor. Chin in my hand, I kept my focus on Rich because if I looked at Braxton…I’d start pleading my case too.

I would.

Just not now.

Because I knew who she needed to hear from, which meant I had to wait my turn. It was just proving harder than I thought to be patient.

And hope that Rich didn’t fuck this up.

“Everything,” he said as he stood up. “Starting with the fact that I lied, and there’s no excuse for it. I should have told you about Emily. I could tell you that I didn’t know what would happen between us, but it would just be another lie. You’re the reason those papers existed for you to find.”

“So I’m responsible for you wanting to leave your wife?” She rolled her eyes and looked away just as the first tear fell. “That’s just great, Rich. Thanks.”

I’m sure he could feel my glare, but he paid me no mind as he inched closer to Braxton, who still held up their front door. Houston stood by the window overlooking the street while I sat on their ratty sofa.