Brax's POV
I sat on the edge of the couch, anxiously tapping my knee. A glass of water remained untouched on the coffee table. The silence was suffocating, every moment a reminder of how awfully I had screwed up. My mind replayed the scene over and over—Willow’s horrified expression, her wide eyes, her retreating footsteps.
“Get a grip,” I muttered to myself, running a hand through my hair. But the tension in my chest wouldn’t ease. I wanted to punch something, anything, just to release the pressure building inside of me, but that’s what got me into this mess in the first place.
I heard tyres crunch on the gravel outside before the front door creaked open. Dillion walked in, his face unreadable as usual, but I could see the concern in his eyes. He took one look at me and sighed.
"Hey
