Knowing that Gia had moved on to someone else was much easier to handle when she was still this fluid concept that he couldn’t get a grip on; when she was still the girl that people had told him a million times “if she hasn’t come back, then something probably happened to her”. Some nights it tortured him to think she might have died; some nights it comforted him that maybe she hadn’t come back just because she couldn’t. Facing the fact that she hadn’t come back because she’d found something better was much, much harder than anything he’d ever done.
“Yeah,” he nodded, “Let’s sit.” He didn’t trust himself to walk. He needed to sit, because he felt like his head was swimming and the last thing they needed was his six foot frame hitting the ground. He motioned back inside, and once she’d stepped in, he followed behind her. The door closed out the cold wind that was brushing over the snow, and he raised a hand to his hair and shook out the snow flakes that had settled there before reaching out to pull out a chair for her. Braylin may have looked imposing, and been a werewolf, and a packmaster… But he was a softie on the inside.
He took a seat across from her and simply gazed at her for a long time. Braylin had always been a man of few words; but then… what exactly did one say to a woman who’d run away after you’d proposed to them? He couldn’t quite figure it out. He supposed it was this sentiment that meant the most, “I’m glad you’re okay.” He paused for a moment, looking down. “When I never heard anything… I worried…” he said softly, trying not to think about how desperately he’d searched for her. Especially now that he knew she’d come here and found… happiness.
He could smell the guilt on her before she’d even opened her mouth to apologize. He raised a hand to silence her and smiled just a bit, “Gia, don’t. It’s… You don’t have to apologize or feel bad. It’s… It’s okay.” He dropped his hand back to the table and his fingers drummed against it, “All I ever wanted was you to be happy. And it… Well, you look happy. So, I’m glad.”
She smiled up at him as he pulled the chair out for her and sank into the seat. It felt, surreal, in that moment, to sit in this chair at this place and watch Braylin Morrow sink into the seat across from her. She’d had good intentions. Once, she’d decided to send him flowers (at first she’d wanted to send a letter, but it had turned into flowers once she’d sat down to write it and stared endlessly at the blank page, unsure where to begin) with a return address, so he’d know where she was if he needed her...but she’d chickened out, even of that, at the last moment.
Gia had thought, in the past, about what he’d say if she saw him again. It was a spew of all the vitriol she felt towards herself, usually, (deep down, she wasn’t sure if he’d really say those things...but she still felt as if she deserved to hear them,) detailing every little way she’d hurt him. Oh, yes, she’d thought of the things he might say, but every time she’d imagined a way of responding, of defending her actions, she’d come up blank. It was perhaps because of this that she’d never said anything, at all.
Still, it was good to see him. As long as she’d known him, Bray had never failed to bring a smile to her face and she felt it glowing, even now. Whatever else they’d been, they’d always been friends: she’d always cared for him, trusted him, relied on him, and she liked to think that, once, he could do the same. She wondered if she could ever hope to repair that, now.
Her brows knitted together when he said he’d worried. Of course he had. She bowed her head. Gia had never quite considered that: she’d considered the hurt, the anger, he must have felt, but not that. She should have given his selfless heart more credit. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” she said, softly. She meant, too: I never wanted to hurt you, but somehow the words didn’t come out that way.
“But I do,” she responded, biting her lip. “I owe you that much, at least.” She shifted. “I just don’t know where to start.”
All I ever wanted was you to be happy, he said. Gia felt a pang. Impulsively reaching across the table, she touched his hand. “Bray, that’s all I ever wanted for you, too.” Her fingers curled around his hand in affection, but quickly she pulled away again. It was terribly strange, this notion that their lives had taken such a different track. Strangely enough, before he’d proposed, she’d never imagined living her life separately from his in any way. Now, though, her life with him seemed worlds away, and she wondered how she could ever hope to repair what she’d so damaged. She wanted to ask if he hated her now - she couldn’t blame him if he did - but she found she didn’t want to know if the answer was ‘yes.’
“I was too afraid to say goodbye, I think,” she murmured. “But then, I don’t think I really thought it’d be goodbye. I just...” Gia looked at her hands, folded in her lap. She’d just left. She hadn’t thought, she’d just run. After her father had abjured her and Braylin had proposed, Gia hadn’t had a single rational thought. She’d just run.
Gia nodded softly when he said she looked happy and she nodded. “I am happy,” she said, softly, hoping those words didn’t sting. He didn’t look terribly happy, just then. “Oxford is like no place on earth, Bray,” she added. “You’ll see.” Of course, when she’d first arrived, it hadn’t been nearly so charming. She’d never forget that poor fledgling vampire chained in burning silver she’d discovered in the basement...She’d quit V cold turkey, then, and she liked to think she’d been a stronger person since, but she knew where the change in both Oxford and in herself had come from. They all owed Everett Lawson an unpayable debt.
“That is,” she added, softly, “If you...stay?” She was certain he must have a life back in New York to go back to - maybe a wife (who wouldn’t desert him), some pups who must adore him, even a Pack drawn to his personality, but she couldn’t help but hope...Well, it was silly. Things could never be as they’d been once, anyway, but Gia found somehow she wanted her old friend back, at least: the chance to make things right. She couldn’t fix what she’d done, but she could do right by hm, now, and Gia knew that was the only place to start.
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