Page 295 of Face Off
“You are the best of us,” I tell him. “You show up before anyone asks. You remember what everyone needs, and you turn yourself into a ridiculous one-man parade when a room becomes too heavy. Lyric should’ve embraced that. She weaponized it instead.”
His mouth trembles.
“She convinced you that loving people loudly made you embarrassing because she wanted the freedom to love you quietly whenever it suited her. You deserve someone who looks at everything you are and feels lucky that she gets all of it.”
Briggs wipes roughly beneath his right eye. “You rehearsed that.”
“No. I’m extremely gifted under pressure.”
“Your mascara is running.”
“I’m emotional.”
“You’re supposed to look good in photographs today.”
“I have mastered looking good when under pressure.”
His hand turns beneath mine and holds it. “Thank you,” he says.
I stand and bend to kiss the uninjured side of his forehead. “You’re welcome.”
Temple remains near the end of the table, staring at her untouched breakfast.
Briggs looks toward her. “I’m sorry Lyric dragged you into it.”
Temple lifts her face. “You didn’t.”
“She threw a bottle because I walked you upstairs.”
“She threw a bottle because she’s abusive. I happened to be the excuse she grabbed first.”
Aura nods. “Correct.”
Temple stands and approaches him slowly. Her hand hovers near his injured eye before she allows it to fall.
“I’m glad you walked me to my room,” she says. “I felt safe with you.”
Briggs looks up at her.
“You deserved to feel safe when you entered yours.”
His breath catches.
Nobody makes the Temple-is-a-female-Briggs joke this time. Nobody looks around and announces what every person in the room can see. Temple offers kindness without demanding anything in return, and Briggs receives it without trying to perform his way out of the moment.
That is enough for today.
Cade glances at the clock. “We have six hours before the ceremony.”
Briggs’s face pales. “You’re still letting me stand up there?”
Cade grabs a piece of toast from his plate and throws it at him. “Ask again and I’ll bruise the other eye myself.”
Briggs catches it. “Mixed messaging.”
“Eat.”
He does.
