by Levine, Nina
“Yeah,” Winter said. His whisky-soaked voice hit me right as his eyes met mine. My belly filled with flutters at what I saw in his eyes. He was still mad, but the edge was gone. I wasn’t sure what emotions were there now, but he wasn’t looking at me like he had last night.
I kicked my legs out from under me and stood. Eyeing Max, I said, “Thanks for the talk.”
Then, to Winter, I said softly, “I’ll let you two get back to your conversation.”
As I took a step to move past him, he wrapped his hand around my wrist. “Stay. We’re just reminiscing.”
We were so close I could smell the whisky on his breath, and the scent of his that I loved. Winter smelled like leather and the woody cologne I’d introduced to him about eight years ago. It both surprised and delighted me that he still wore it all these years later.
I nodded and sat back down while he asked Max if he wanted another drink. He then looked at me again. “Do you want anything?”
“No, I’m good.” God, we’re being so fucking formal with each other.
Max and I discussed his kids while Winter was getting drinks. He caught me up on how they were going with school and sport. When Winter rejoined us, he sat next to me, taking a sip of whisky before placing his glass on the low table between Max and us. We all turned silent, the tension between Winter and me taking over the conversation.
Max ended up filling the silence. “Remember that time Dad caught you two doing the dirty in his lounge room? He mentioned that to me the other week.”
Oh God, did I remember. That was something I would never forget. Winter and I had been together for about six months at the time. I was a naïve eighteen-year-old back then; Winter had been twenty, with a lot more life experience than me. I’d only slept with one other guy, and had made Winter wait three months before I’d slept with him. So at the time his father had caught us having sex in his house, we’d been having sex as often as we could, anywhere we could.
Winter chuckled as he took in the flush of my cheeks. It was the first time in days I’d seen anything but pain or anger fill his features, and I liked that Max had made that happen. “Fuck,” he said. “Dad never let me forget that. He must have brought it up at least every few years with me.”
“Really?” I asked. “Why? What did he say?”
His eyes flashed with heat rather than the laughter of a moment ago as he said, “He reminded me that was the kind of love I needed in my life—one filled with fun and passion.”
My pulse raced. My skin tingled. My memories chased away my hesitation with him. “He called me a few times after we broke up. Did you know that?”
“No, I didn’t. He never told me.” I saw his surprise, but he shouldn’t have been. His dad always had his back.
“He asked me if I’d had a good reason to break your heart.”
A hush fell over us. The room fell away. The noise around us failed to exist. Max was forgotten. It was just our memories, our heartbreak, and us.
“What did you tell him,” Winter asked, the deep gravel I loved in his voice surfacing.
“That I believed I did and that I wished I didn’t.”
“What did he say to that?” Oh God, that gravel.
“He told me that love keeps no record of wrongs. That it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” I’m going to cry if he keeps staring at me like he is.
“Corinthians,” he murmured. “He was always quoting that to me, too.”
“Another time, he told me a strong relationship requires two people who choose to love each other, even when they struggle to like each other.” I paused for a beat. “Your dad was a smart man, Winter. He knew I’d done something and I was fearful of telling you. In each conversation we had, he was trying to tell me you could handle it, that you would still choose to love me regardless of what I’d done. I just felt too much guilt to see this was true.” I reached out for him, placing my hand on his forearm. “I’m so sorry.”
For the first time since I’d confessed my secrets to him, he listened to my apology. I didn’t blame him that he hadn’t been able to before. He’d had to process my actions before he could even listen to an apology. And this time, he was listening.
Nodding, he said gruffly, “Dad always told me to get my head out of my ass and go find you again.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Fuck”—he reached for his drink and threw some whisky down his throat—“I should have listened.”
“We both should have,” I said, wishing like hell I had. Wishing like hell I hadn’t wasted all these years.
Winter turned to his brother. “Why did Dad bring that up with you? The sex in the lounge room thing.”
Max smiled and drank some of his whisky. “He was trying to help me with my marriage. Told me I should fuck my wife all over the house like you guys used to. Told me I was too fucking uptight and that I should have a little fun with Mel. Mostly though, he was telling me to let go of the muck and remember that the only thing worth holding onto was the love.”
A smile slowly spread out over my face and I shook my head at Max as I mouthed a silent “thank you.” He hadn’t brought that memory up for shits and giggles. He’d brought it up very intentionally. And it had hit the mark. Winter’s eyes were on me, and this time I saw the hope in them that had been missing the last couple of days. I saw the determination that had been missing, too. And I knew that when Winter was determined, nothing stopped him from getting what he wanted.
27
Winter
* * *
I was sitting here looking at the woman I loved, and for the first time in days, I was seeing something other than my anger and disappointment. Birdie had fucked up, and yeah, I was still fucking mad with her about it, but listening to her—really listening to her—and listening to my father through both her and Max, I was reminded of what I’d told her recently. I’d said that cheating was my only hard limit. That life was too fucking short to get hung up on shit that didn’t matter when all was said and done.
She’d done something I didn’t agree with and then she’d kept it from me. When all was said and done, none of that mattered. She loved me. I knew she did. The trouble was, I’d gotten to the crux of my anger with her last night when I’d talked it over with Max, and it didn’t concern any of that. I was angry because we’d lost five years, and I was angry that she’d walked away without giving me the chance to tell her I’d accept what she did. And somewhere in all of that, I struggled to get past my irrational fear she’d leave me again when shit got too fucking hard for her. I knew it was irrational at this point because shit was already fucking hard and yet here she was, still by my side.
Max thought it would just take time. I fucking hoped he was right, because I wanted Birdie just as much as I had before she’d told me what she’d done.
“I’m gonna head home,” Max said, standing. Birdie joined him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug that lasted longer than a usual one. I knew she was thanking him for tonight because he’d helped thaw some ice between us.
He pulled me into a hug after Birdie let him go. “Get in the fucking muck, brother,” he murmured against my ear. “Dad’ll kick your ass when he sees you next if you don’t fix this.”
Don’t I fucking know it.
He let me go and said, “I’ll see you in the morning”—he glanced between Birdie and me—“but you should both come for dinner tomorrow night.”
I arched a brow. “Melissa’s good with that?”
“Mel will have to be good with that. I don’t get to see you often enough; I’m making the most of this visit.”
Birdie moved next to me, her arm brushing mine, sparking the need her touch always did. “We’d love to.”
Max’s eyes questioned me and I nodded. “We’ll be there.”
Birdie and I stood silently, watching him leave. Alone together again. It was fucking absurd how two people with the years of love behind them we had could feel so disconnected. But here we fucking were.
I placed my hand to the small of her back and we walked to the lift. It took forever to arrive. Birdie wasn’t good with silence, never had been, and I knew she wouldn’t be now. I was right.
She looked up at me with an expression that implored me not to pull away again. “I know you want space and I know I’m not good at it, and I’m sorry for that, but I need to know how you are, Winter. It was your dad’s funeral today and I’m worried about you. Please tell me something. Anything.” Her face twisted with the anxiety I knew she must have been feeling. “God, I—”
I pressed my fingers to her lips. “I’m okay, Angel.”
She opened her mouth to say something but then snapped it closed. The lift arrived and I ushered her in. Once the doors had closed and we were riding up, I said, “What?”
She fidgeted, absently pulling stray hairs from her clothes nervously before letting her thoughts rush out the way only Birdie did. “Your idea of okay is a lot different to my idea of okay. You certainly weren’t okay last night, which I don’t blame you for, but how you were last night compared to how you are today is confusing me. Where are we, Winter? Do you still need space? Can I touch you? Will you sleep on the other side of the bed again? Do you want me to go home? Or can I stay?” She stopped for a moment, before laying her heart down, bruised and beaten. “Do we even have a future?”
The crack I heard in her voice as she asked her last question hit me fair in the chest. Fuck, my inability to shift my anger was hurting her just as much as her confession had hurt me. And while I’d wanted nothing more than to inflict hurt last night, I didn’t want it today.
Love keeps no record of wrongs.
It always protects.
“I’m angry, Birdie, but I don’t want to be. What I do want is a future with you, but I need to find a way out of this place where I’m stuck first.”
The lift reached our floor and we walked the short distance to our room. I opened the door and met her inside where she looked at me with all the confusion she’d told me she felt.
As I stopped on my side of the bed and kicked my boots off, her face crumpled with tears. She madly wiped them away. “Okay, I’ll keep giving you space to do that.”
We stared at each other for a long few moments while more tears fell down her cheeks. Then, as I took a step towards her, to pull her into my arms, she made her way into the bathroom with—“I’m going to have a shower.” She’d read my moment of indecision for what it was—my failure to keep no record of wrongs.
Fuck, how long was I going to keep that fucking record for?
28
Birdie
* * *
I eyed Melissa with caution and hesitation when I entered her kitchen the next night. Max had met Winter and me at the front door and let us in while Melissa was nowhere to be seen. The boys had greeted us with excitement. And I had wondered how Melissa felt about us coming over.
When she heard me enter, she faced me with the same caution. Then she surprised the hell out of me when she said, “I owe you an apology. I’ve been a bitch to you when I shouldn’t have been.” She wrung the tea towel she held, her nervousness on full display. “Max and I have been going through stuff, and I took it out on you and Matt. I’m sorry.”
I moved closer to her. “Apology accepted, because honestly, none of us are perfect. But seriously, Melissa, if you go after Winter again, you’ll have to hold me back. He’s a good man and he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treated him.”
Displeasure flashed in her eyes, but she held it in. Max had clearly let her know he wouldn’t put up with her shit. I figured her apology was mostly because he’d told her to make it. However, I also hoped she had it in her to change, which was why I accepted it.
Winter and Max joined us, and Melissa turned back to the dishes she was washing after greeting Winter with a quick hello. I noted that he received no apology, but was unsure if that was because of what I’d said. It would be interesting to see how dinner panned out.
“Birdie, would you like a drink?” Max asked.
I left Melissa and followed Max and Winter into the formal lounge. “I’d love some of the wine we bought, thanks.” We’d ubered it over because Winter intended to have some drinks with his brother. On the way, we’d stopped at a bottle shop and picked up some of my favourite wine. Today had been a shitty day and I needed a drink.
Max exited the room to get our drinks, and Winter and I sat next to each other on the two-seater couch. As he spread his arm over the back of the couch, I said, “Did you guys get everything finished up at your dad’s?”
The reason I didn’t already know this was because Winter had left me at the hotel this morning while he went to his father’s house. After yesterday, where I’d sensed a softening from him, he’d gone back to barely talking to me. That was after he’d told me he was angry last night, after which I’d told him I’d continue giving him space, after which I’d broken down while he stood watching me.
One step forward, two steps back.
I’d known we’d go through hell before we’d find our way back, but fuck, this shit was hard. Especially when he opened to me but then closed right back down. It was confusing, because I didn’t know what he wanted from me—space or no space.
So here I was making the kind of small talk strangers made, hating every minute of it.
“Yeah,” he answered my question.
I picked at my clothes, pulling stray hairs from my pants. “Yeah” didn’t really tell me much.
We sat in excruciating silence while waiting for Max to return. I almost pounced on him when he did, needing a friendly face, but I didn’t. I took the glass of wine he offered with a “Thanks,” and practically skulled half of it.
He’d just taken a seat when Melissa came in with a platter of dips and crackers. She placed it down on the coffee table without a word. As she tried to leave, Max reached for her. “Don’t worry about dinner just yet. Come and talk with us.”
The way she didn’t stiffen in his hold told me they’d done some serious talking since the last time I’d seen them. And the way she said softly, “I’ll just get the other platter and then I’ll be in,” confirmed it.
God, if they could get from where they’d been to where they appeared to be now, surely Winter and I had hope. But then, she probably hadn’t done anything near as bad as what I’d done.
After Melissa left, Max asked me, “What did you get up to today?”
“I went for a run and found a Pilates studio to take a class. Then a little retail therapy.” My sweet-as-pie smile was in direct contrast to my feelings on the inside. On the inside, I was screaming that I wanted to help them today. I wanted to be useful and give them the support and help I came to give.
Melissa returned with a platter of cheeses and set it down next to the other platter before taking a seat next to Max. Smiling tightly at Winter, she said, “Max told me you guys got everything moved to the storage unit. Thank you.”
Winter shifted in the seat next to me, his body tense. “I’ll head over there tomorrow to let the guy in who I’ve organised to clean the carpets, and then on Friday, the cleaners will be in. I’m going to get out into the garden tomorrow and give it a tidy up. The place should be ready to rent by next week.”
It concerned me how fast he and Max had moved on this job, but I figured it was the Morrison way—get shit done fast and don’t think too much about it. God forbid it might stir your emotions.
Fuck, I needed to shake off my shitty mood if I had any hope of making it through the night without getting into a fight with Winter.
Max picked up the conversation from there, discussing which real estate firm they would use to rent the house out. That conversation seemed to go on and on, and I tuned out. My senses were in overdrive sitting next to Winter, drinking wine from a glass that Max refilled twice before Melissa brought me back to the discussion.
“What have you been doing with yourself since we last saw you, Birdie?” she asked, h
er tone holding genuine interest.
The wine I’d drunk had gone straight to my head, loosening me up and pushing my taut edges away. Relaxing, I shifted in my seat, angling my body towards Winter while bringing my leg closest to him up and slipping my foot under my other leg. His gaze dropped to my knee that now rested on his thigh, but he didn’t react in any other way.
“I’ve gone into business with my best friend,” I said to Melissa. “We own a physiotherapist and Pilates studio. I’m a Pilates instructor now.”
“Oh, I remember how you used to do Pilates all the time. That’s great that you have your own studio.”
Goodness, Max must have really given her a good talking to.
Why is she being this nice?
Or maybe I’ve just drunk enough to think she’s being nice.
“What are you doing with yourself?” I can be nice too.
Her features tightened a little and she glanced at Max briefly. Weird. “Umm, I’m in between jobs at the moment, but I took a course a few years ago in bookkeeping, so that’s what I do now. I gave up retail after all those years. Best thing I ever did.”
“I bet,” I agreed. “I remember those long days you used to do.” God, kill me now. Before this superficial conversation does. Or before the fact Winter has barely responded to my leg resting on him does.
As I took the last sip of wine from my glass and eyed the bottle with the intention of getting a refill, Winter leaned in close and said quietly, “I think you need some water instead.”
My gaze snapped to his. “I don’t think I do.”
“Yeah, you do. I’ll get it.” He pushed my leg off his and made a move to stand, but I stopped him.
Gripping his arm, I said, “No.” I then picked up my empty wineglass, got up, and refilled it. When I sat back down, I ignored his frown and squished myself as far away from him as I could. He and his mixed signals could have that end of the couch while I had this end.