Page 76 of Held-

“It's been over for a long time.”

Ethan pushes past Brayden, careful not to touch him, and stumbles toward the door. He pauses in the doorway, looking back at us.

“You two deserve each other,” he spits, then he's gone, the broken door swinging behind him.

As soon as he disappears, my knees suddenly buckle. The adrenaline that kept me standing during the confrontation drains away all at once, leaving me shaking. Brayden is at myside instantly, his arm around my waist, the only thing keeping me upright.

“I've got you,” he murmurs, guiding me to sit on the closed toilet lid. “Breathe, Cece. Just breathe.”

I try to do what he says, but my lungs feel restricted, every breath too shallow. My hands won’t still, and the red marks on my wrists seem to beat along with my frantic pulse.

“He grabbed me,” I whisper, staring at the angry welts. “He actually put his hands on me.”

Brayden kneels in front of me, gently taking my hands in his. His thumbs brush over the marks on my wrists, touch feather-light despite theangerstill simmering just beneath the surface.

“I should’ve killed him.”

“No.” I shake my head, suddenly desperate to make him understand. “That’s what he wants. He wants you to snap so he can use it against me.”

Brayden’s jaw tightens, but he nods. “Smart bastard.”

“Not smart enough to know I’d never go back to him.” I swallow hard, fighting the nausea crawling up my throat. “The things he said…”

“Were lies,” Brayden finishes, his fingers still circling my wrists in slow, calming motions. “Every word out of that fucker’s mouth was a lie.”

I nod, but I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. Ethan’s voice still echoes in my head—cruel, cutting. The words settle like barbs beneath my skin. What if there was truth in them? What if I really had been…

“Hey.” Brayden’s voice cuts through my spiral. He tilts my chin up, coaxing me to meet his gaze. “Whatever he said before I got in here—whatever’s putting that look on your face—it’s bullshit. You know that, right?”

I try to nod, but tears spill instead. “He said I was frigid. That I was the reason he cheated. Because I was…inadequate.”

The muscle in Brayden’s jaw twitches. Fury pours off him, but he doesn’t move to leave. Doesn’t explode. Instead, he takes a slow, controlled breath and cups my face with surprising tenderness.

“Listen to me. His kind ruins you and then tells you to apologize for it.”

“But what if?—”

“No.” His thumb sweeps away a tear I didn’t even feel fall. “Do not carry his blame. Every bit of this is on him.”

“I need to get you out of here,” Brayden says, helping me to my feet. “Can you walk?”

I nod, even though my legs are unsteady, soft under me. “I’m okay.” It isn’t true, but I need the words to hold.

He wraps an arm around my waist as we move toward the door. I keep my head down, not wanting to see the stares that are surely waiting for us in the restaurant. The last thing I need is to become even more of a spectacle for the town gossips.

We step through the doorway and nearly collide with an elderly woman standing right outside. Her silver hair is pulled into a tight bun, and her faded blue eyes widen at the sight of us emerging from the women's restroom together.

“Mrs. Holloway,” I manage, recognizing my father's long-time church secretary. Of all the people to witness this moment.

Her gaze travels from my face to my wrists, then to the splintered bathroom door hanging off its hinges. Something shifts in her expression—not the judgment I expect, but something softer, almost knowing.

“Are you alright, dear?” she asks.

“She's fine,” Brayden answers as he maneuvers past her, ignoring the question. Instead of going up front, Brayden leads me further down the hallway until we come to a service entrance door. He shoves it open, stepping out first before reaching back for me.

“Stay here,” he orders before disappearing around the corner towards the front of the restaurant. I hear the rumble of his motorcycle from the alley, and a few seconds later, he comes around the corner.

Brayden holds out his helmet, jaw tight. “Get on.”