Page 63 of Saving Pookie

For once, Braxton is speechless. All he can do is pass Gunnar a timid thumbs-up as he buries his face in his hands and lies down on the bed.

Gunnar's cold glare lands on me. "What did Cameron do to you?"

The claws of panic settle at the back of my throat, dragging the words I want to say down the length of my esophagus and trapping them there. Something comes out of my mouth, but it's not words.

Gunnar's gaze lingers, waiting, but there's a feeling deep inside that he already knows the answer. "Pookie," he demands, "what did he do to you?"

I exhale and duck away, looking anywhere but at him. This anxiety that has drowned me my entire life won't let me look at him. "He..."

Nope, the words won't come out. It was so much easier confessing to Braxton than Gunnar, but Braxton has always felt safe, and Gunnar feels anything but.

"I'm so fucking stupid," Gunnar mumbles with a shake of his head and presses his lips together. "My father used to beat the shit out of my mother when I was younger. I was a kid, and I made excuses for it. Did whatever I could to stay on his good side, but I don't think he ever would have hit me because it wasn't about being violent. It was about jealousy and control."

I stare at Gunnar, stunned. He really did piece it all together on his own. He's smarter than Braxton would give him credit for and more empathetic than I would have ever believed.

Gunnar tongues the inside of his cheek and sighs. "Why didn't you say anything?"

I shrug, but I know the answer. "Because I don't feel comfortable with the whole world knowing. It makes me feel small."

"Not small." He shakes his head and approaches, placing a strong hand on each of my biceps. "You're not responsible for the things men like my father and Cameron do."

Braxton shoots up in bed, eyes narrowed on Gunnar. "Watch your hands, bro."

Gunnar passes Braxton a sideways glare, to which he counters with a roll of his eyes as he lies back down but stays propped up on his elbows. Braxton keeps a watchful eye on Gunnar, showing a hint of jealousy that would be cute if I hadn't experienced the dark side of the violent emotion before.

Gunnar takes a measured step back and sighs. "I'm going to go take care of Cameron. You won't have to deal with him anymore."

"What are you going to do?" I ask sheepishly, my mind running through all the possible scenarios.

Braxton jumps to his feet and punches his fist into his palm. "Yeah, if you're going to fight him, I'm coming with you."

"No fighting," Gunnar says. "That'd only cause a scene, and we need him to leave without saying a word."

At his core, maybe Gunnar is a good person. I don't want this to become any more of a storyline than it already is, and he heard that loud and clear.

Still, I ask, "Why are you doing this for me?"

He pauses at the door. "Because I'm an asshole, not a monster."

"See?" Braxton shouts excitedly. "That's what I said."

"Watch your mouth," Gunnar grumbles, pointing at Braxton. "Your ass is fair game."

"And what about us?" I ask. "You're not going to tell anyone about what you saw?"

Gunnar's eyes dart back and forth. "I was outed against my will by the person I thought was my best friend in high school. Your secret is safe with me, but I think you're both delusional if you think it's going to stay secret for long."

Braxton frowns. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, look at you." Gunnar grins and opens the door. "You two are so in love with each other that it makes me fucking sick."

"Oh no," Braxton shakes his head. "I'm not in love with him."

I'm not sure Gunnar heard what Braxton said as he slammed the door behind him, but I definitely heard what he just said.

I glare at Braxton, unsure if I'm hurt or confused. It's been a long day—and it's only been a few hours—and I'm tired and exhausted. Facing my past in such a head-on way has taken a lot out of me, so I don't have the energy to pry feelings from my favorite 'straight' boy.

"What?" Braxton scoffs, blissfully unaware of the inward battle he's sparked. "Love is a big ass word."