by Nina Levine
“Love you, girl,” she said before ending the call.
As I sat and waited for my tears to dry, thinking about Winter and babies and hard times, I also thought about Cleo and friends and how lost I’d be without her. She gave me strength when I didn’t think I had any left. She always had. I couldn’t imagine not having a friend like that. Just like I couldn’t imagine not having Winter by my side.
I might have done my best to keep him out of my life all this time, but I knew now, without a shadow of a doubt, that Winter was the man I wanted to grow old with. And I would do whatever it took to make that happen.
24
WINTER
I surveyed the mess I’d spent today making in Dad’s house. Boxes of belongings sat packed in the living room, overflowing into other rooms of the house. Max had texted me that he wanted to put everything into storage to go through later so we could rent the house out soon, so I’d packed up almost the entire house ready to transport to the storage unit I’d hired this morning. The only rooms left to go through were Dad’s bedroom and his study. I wasn’t sure if I hadn’t done them yet because I was waiting for Max or because it felt too fucking hard to do. He was on his way here now, so I decided to wait for him. I knew there would be belongings in those rooms he might want to look through now rather than later.
Heading into the kitchen, I grabbed the bottle of whisky I’d found while packing and poured myself a drink. Fuck knew I needed one. Between thinking about Dad, Max, and Birdie today, my mind was completely fucked up.
Handling all of Dad’s belongings had been harder than I’d imagined. The fact I’d simply had to pack everything into boxes rather than think about whether we wanted to keep them or not helped, but even then, just looking at and holding each item had been difficult.
A lifetime of memories was in these items. And while I wasn’t sentimental about many things in life, if something concerned those I loved, it stirred my emotions.
I didn’t want to think about the fact I’d never see my father again. Hell, not being able to talk to him about the shit between Birdie and me was the fucking kicker that slammed it home he was gone. There’d be no more phone calls between us where he’d give it to me straight. No more conversations in which he’d point out the things I couldn’t see in a situation. And no more of him helping me be the man he’d raised me to be.
I threw some whisky down my throat.
I needed Max more than I’d ever needed him. He was being distant, though. Hell, he couldn’t even bring himself to call me earlier, but rather he’d texted to let me know his plans for today. That wasn’t how our relationship ran. Before he left tonight, I was determined to clear the air between us. I just had to take Birdie off repeat in my head while I did that, because she was like a non-stop loop that got in the way of everything else I was trying to focus on.
How long are you going to not talk to me about what I did?
She’d asked me that this morning and I hadn’t been able to give her an answer. Fuck, I hadn’t even been close to being able to answer that question, because the truth was I’d found myself in a place I’d never been—I didn’t want to talk to Birdie.
I didn’t want to confront what she’d done.
I didn’t want to confront our past.
And I sure as fuck didn’t want to confront our new reality.
We may never be able to have children.
“Matt,” Max said, entering the kitchen. I’d been deep in thought and hadn’t heard him arrive.
I took in his dishevelled appearance and the exhaustion etched into his face. “You look like hell, brother.”
Placing his keys on the kitchen counter, he nodded. “Yeah. I feel like it too.” Then, motioning at the whisky, he said, “Pour me one of those.”
Max wasn’t a drinker. Not these days. Not after years of Melissa making it clear she didn’t want him drinking.
I poured him a glass and held mine up as I said, “To Dad.”
Grief flashed in Max’s eyes as he held his glass up. “To Dad.”
My own grief clawed at me, but I forced it back down, unwilling to go there tonight.
We both drained our glasses and Max slid his across the counter to me, indicating he wanted another. After I’d poured the drinks, I said, “This bottle isn’t going to be enough for tonight, is it?”
He shook his head. “No.” He took a gulp of his drink. “But I know where there’s more.”
I lifted a brow. “Where?”
“In his office.” He glanced around the kitchen. “You’ve been busy.”
“I don’t want to leave you with a huge job.”
“When are you leaving?”
“I have to be back by Monday. I’ll probably leave early Sunday.” King had stuff he needed me to take care of and couldn’t push it any longer than then.
Max stared at me while he drained his second glass of whisky, while we both danced around what we really needed to talk about. I couldn’t do this a second longer, though. I fucking needed my brother back.
“Have you slept at home the last two nights?” I asked, suspecting he hadn’t. The last time he and Melissa had a fight that threatened their marriage, he’d slept at a friend’s house for a week. My brother liked to avoid his problems.
He surprised me when he said, “Yes. On the couch.”
As he poured us another drink, I thought back over our lives. To the day he’d married Melissa and the days he’d brought his sons home. They’d been the best days of his life, he’d told me. And I knew they had been by the happiness that had radiated from him. I couldn’t recall ever seeing my brother happier than those three days.
I took the drink he offered me. “Do you think two people can get past lies and betrayal?”
“Fuck, Matt, are we settling in for some deep shit tonight?”
“It feels like the night for it.”
He scrubbed his face. “We’re definitely going to need this other bottle of whisky,” he said before exiting the kitchen.
I followed him into Dad’s office, trying like hell to shake off the nostalgia washing over me. Usually, I liked taking a trip back to old memories, but not today. Fuck, not today. However, they were flowing thick and fast, and I couldn’t avoid them.
Standing in the office doorway, I watched Max rummage in Dad’s filing cabinet. A flash of a smile crossed his face as he pulled out two bottles of whisky. Both full.
“This should do it,” he said, placing them on Dad’s desk.
I heard him, but I was too caught up in the memories this room held that I didn’t respond.
Dad teaching me at the age of ten how to play poker.
Mum sitting on Dad’s lap at this very desk, kissing him and laughing with him while she tried to distract him from working so many hours.
Max and I hiding from each other in this room while we played hide-and-seek.
Fuck.
My chest tightened as I thought about going through Dad’s belongings in here. This office was jam-packed with his personal possessions.
“We can go through the office another day,” Max said, drawing my attention back to him. He came my way, holding up the whisky bottles. “Let’s just sit tonight.”
I let out the breath that had been trapped deep in my chest, thankful he’d recognised my inability to deal with the office today.
We moved into the formal lounge room and he passed me another drink as we sat on the couch we’d hardly ever sat on in our lives. This had been Mum’s favourite room. The one room in the house Max and I’d had to be on our absolute best behaviour growing up. No shoes, no food, no drinks, no mess. The cream couch had never had a mark on it from us. Her crystal vases had remained unbroken. And her beloved piano was still in immaculate condition. Even after her death, the three of us had looked after her favourite things.
“Thank fuck we only have two parents,” I muttered. Going through this twice was hard enough.
Max nodded, but didn’t say anything.
W
e sat in silence for a long while, both lost in our thoughts, before Max finally answered my earlier question. “I think it’s possible for two people to get past lies and betrayal if they want to.”
I sat forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “How?”
Displeasure flashed across his face. “If this is going to be another conversation where you trash my choice to fight for my marriage, I’m not fucking interested.”
I stared at him, my thoughts and emotions a mess. “Birdie got herself pregnant five years ago without telling me. She was trying to force me to quit the army. But it was another ectopic pregnancy. She lost the baby and her ability to have children naturally.” I swallowed hard. “She only just told me this yesterday.”
His eyes widened. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, that covers it,” I said roughly. “So tell me, how the fuck do we move past this?”
My question pushed us into silence again as Max contemplated it. He always had been the deep thinker out of the two of us, and I’d always gone to him with my problems when we were younger. The years had come between us since then, and I’d stopped reaching out to him for help, but I needed it now.
“You have to want to move past it,” he finally said.
“I want to, but right now I have no clue how to do that.”
He drank some whisky. “So maybe it’s just time you need.”
I thought about that. Hell, I’d done a lot of thinking about that over the last twenty-four hours. “I can’t be in the same room as her, Max. Fuck, I can barely look at her. I’m that fucking angry. And I know she’s gotta be hurting too while we’re bringing everything up that happened to her, but I can’t bring myself to…. Fuck, I can’t even bring myself to check in on her over that.”
A minute or so passed before he took a deep breath, exhaled it, and said, “I’ve been angry with Melissa for two years over the way her spending has impacted our family. It started off as a tiny spark, but because I’ve held onto that anger for all this time, and avoided dealing with it, it’s grown into this ugly thing that sits between us, festering. The place we’re in right now is a place I wouldn’t wish on my enemy. I know it’s why she started a friendship online with this other guy. And while I hate to say it, I can understand why she’s done it. Fuck, I’m no saint; I found myself flirting with a woman at work for a while there.” He paused briefly. “It’s easier to avoid the muck than it is to get in it. Don’t do that, brother. You love Birdie and you have another chance at a future with her. Get in the fucking muck with her.”
I threw some whisky down my throat as I contemplated what he’d said. There was so much there. Finally, I said, “You flirted with another woman?”
He shook his head. “Out of everything I just said, that’s what you focus on?”
“Seriously, though, you’re Max Morrison, upstanding fucking citizen who lives his life in fucking order. You do all the right things. You try to please your wife. You help your community. You don’t fucking flirt with other women.” I drained my glass. “I can’t wrap my head around this.”
He shrugged. “We’re all just trying our best, and at the end of some days, our best isn’t quite up to standard. But whose fucking standard are we trying to live up to?” He drank some whisky. “None of us are perfect, Matt. Not me, not you, not Birdie. Not Mel. But in amongst all that imperfection is love that’s worth everything. That’s what you need to hold onto and keep remembering, brother.”
I couldn’t argue with him there; I’d always lived my life with the belief that perfection didn’t exist. And since all I’d ever wanted for my brother was for him to be happy, I couldn’t dispute what he said or how he handled his marriage and life. For the first time, it seemed that Max wasn’t avoiding his problems with Melissa. And regardless of whether I liked his choices, I supported his effort to find happiness.
Grabbing the bottle of whisky, I filled our glasses again and lifted mine. “To your happiness.”
He raised his glass and took a sip before saying, “I don’t want any fights between you and Mel tomorrow. Do you think you can manage that?”
I nodded, but before I had a chance to reply, Birdie’s voice sounded from the hall. “Hey, you two.”
Max stood. “Hey, Birdie.”
She embraced him before locking eyes on me. She didn’t speak, but everything from her body language, to her expression, to the look in her eyes was one big question. Are you still shutting me out?
Max broke the silence. “I’ve gotta call Mel.”
Birdie and I continued to watch each other as he left, barely registering his exit.
“Why are you here?” I asked, trying like hell to ignore the anger forcing its way up. I wasn’t ready for whatever conversation she wanted to have. Fuck, I wasn’t even sure I’d planned on returning to the hotel tonight. I’d told her this morning I’d be back, but after the day I’d had, I figured a bottle of whisky and crashing where I sat was how I’d likely spend the night.
My four words crushed her. The ache was right there in her eyes. In the twist of her beautiful features. In her sagging shoulders.
“I bought you some dinner,” she said warily, as if she was afraid of my response. Holding up a bag of what looked like Chinese takeout, she quickly added, “It’s a little cold now; I’ll heat it up for you.”
As she spun around to head into the kitchen, I said, “Leave it, Birdie. I’ll eat it later.”
Faltering, she stopped and turned back to me, pain slicing across her face. “Okay.” An agonising moment of silence filled the space before she continued. “I’ll put it in the kitchen.”
I let her go this time.
Fuck.
I forced out an angry breath.
Fucking hell.
I didn’t like being in this place with Birdie, and yet I was stuck. Unable to dislodge the emotions choking me.
She returned a minute later, hesitation written all over her. “You’ve packed up the house.” It was a statement, but I heard the question in there too. She appeared confused by the fact.
I emptied my glass and stood. “Yeah.” I didn’t acknowledge her confusion.
Tilting her head to the side, she pulled her brows in as she said, “That was fast.”
“Max wanted everything packed up and moved into storage so we can rent the place out as soon as possible.”
“I get that, but it’s only been three days, Winter. Don’t you want time to go through your Dad’s stuff and—”
“There are a lot of things I want, Birdie, that I can’t have,” I ground out. “Time with my dad’s belongings isn’t one of them.”
She recoiled like I’d slapped her, but it didn’t stop her from forcing the conversation between us. “I know you said you needed space, but I think that’s the last thing we need. I think—”
I tried to push my anger away. I tried like hell, but it circled and refused to dissipate, until finally it caused me to snap and unleash a holy hell of ugly emotions. “At this point, I don’t really care what you think, Birdie, because when it fucking mattered, you didn’t think about what we needed; you only thought about what you needed.” I jabbed a finger to my chest. “What I needed five years ago was the truth and a woman who refused to walk out when the shit hit the fan. And what I need right now is exactly what I told you this morning, some space. Do you think you can fucking give it to me?”
Her face flushed as her emotions surged. “No, I’m not giving you space. I was going to, but then I realised that this”—she motioned back and forth between us—“is what we need. You need to let all your anger out. Yell at me. Throw your hurt at me. But don’t you dare shut down on me, because then we get nowhere.”
“Fuck!” My eyes bored into hers. The fury I felt was on a level I’d never experienced with Birdie. It was wild. Ferocious. It was ripping me apart from the inside. I wanted to tear it from my chest and never fucking feel it again. And yet, I was doing the complete opposite; I was allowing it to consume every fucking inch of me.
“Winter—”
I took a step towards her. “Tell me why, Birdie,” I demanded, not recognising my own voice or the snarl in it. “Tell me why the fuck you threw it all away. We had ten fucking years behind us; why would you think the truth could wipe that history out?”
She swallowed hard. “I couldn’t take away your chance at having kids. That’s why.”
“Not good enough,” I snapped. “There are other options; IVF, adoption, fostering. Did you consider those?”
“Yes.” Her voice cracked. “I didn’t want my mistake to force you into a corner with fewer options.”
“You didn’t want to fucking tell me what you’d done,” I thundered. “Your guilt broke us up. That’s what it came down to. Ten years thrown away because you didn’t have it in you to admit what you’d done.” I shoved my fingers through my hair. Fuck, I was wild. Livid. I wanted to make her hurt as much as I hurt.
Tears tracked down her cheeks as she nodded. “You’re right, but there was so much more to it. It killed me to think you might never be a father. I—”
“You should have let me worry about that. You should have told me what you did and let me deal with it. Because I fucking would have, Birdie. I would have stayed right by your side and found us a way to have the family we wanted.”
Birdie closed the distance between us, coming too fucking close for my liking. My breaths came hard, fast, and furious as she said, “I know that now. I know I made a huge mistake, Winter.” Her eyes pleaded with me to understand, but I wasn’t in an understanding mood.
I stared at her for a long, dark moment in which I wondered again how the fuck I’d ever move past what I was feeling. “Tell me how long it’ll be until you run again. Tell me how long you plan to stay this time.”
My words didn’t just crush her this time; they fucking slayed her. She scrunched a handful of my shirt, torment carved into her face. “I’m not leaving you, Winter. I promise you. I’m staying and I’m fighting for us. I love you.”
I worked my jaw, wanting to believe her, but stumbling like fuck over her promise.