He laughs through his nose. “We’ll be back in a bit. You’re free to make sure your father, who has been nothing but nice, hasn’t trapped me, if it makes you feel better.”
I tuck my hair behind my ear. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’ll be hard to operate with one hand.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Westin says before giving me a kiss.
And I’m going to take care of my brother.
When they both leave, I march into his room, throwing the door open. “You don’t get to blame me for Mom’s death. You want to blame me for living a good life, have at it, but don’t you ever imply I didn’t do enough for her. It was you who ran away when things got too hard. I was the one who cleaned her up, changed her sheets, and tried to comfort Dad while you were too busy fucking anyone who would open their legs.”
I continue on, getting it all out. “I gave up everything for her. I don’t live with any regrets about how I cared for her, so don’t project your shit on me! Selfish prick!” I pull the door shut, not giving a shit about anything he has to say.
I’ve had it. For years I’ve put up with my brother insinuating it was me who was responsible for Mom’s death, but my father is right, I did what I could. I walked away from the life I wanted desperately because I hoped it would help her. My brother can’t walk away from the bar to help get food for my father.
He frustrates the hell out of me. Life isn’t easy, but we make sacrifices for the people we love. Everton, apparently, is above that.
Once again, I clean, while my brother’s music blares in the other room. The kitchen is the least destroyed since I cleaned up last week. I get through to the living room, and head to my parents’ room.
All of my mother’s belongings are still where they were when she died fourteen years ago. I grip the picture frame of the four of us that sits on her dresser. The photo is faded, but our faces are still clear. My father has his arm around my mother, and she’s looking up at him, while my brother and I are in front of them sticking our tongues out at each other. We were at a summer barbeque, and I was maybe ten and Everton was eight.
I sink onto the bed with a mixture of sadness and joy. This photo was supposed to be thrown out, but my mother said it was the best picture she’d ever seen. This was who we were and she never wanted to forget it. She did throw away the one we took not even a minute later where we were all standing with smiles. To her, we were the most beautiful when we were the most honest.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” I say as I touch her face. “I don’t know what I was thinking, but I’m going to make it right somehow. You would be so disappointed in me for lying. I just wanted to stop another person from hurting the way it hurt to lose you.”
I don’t regret switching the medications, which is what I grapple the most with. I truly believe this will help Allison, and she deserves the best I can give. What I’m struggling with is that if anyone finds out what I’ve done, I’ll never be able to help another woman who’s suffering like my mom did. I might have destroyed many more people by making a choice to save one. I’ve managed to risk so many people, including those who matter most in my life, all because I was weak and didn’t truly process the ramifications.
Maybe if I can believe that my mother would forgive me for what I’ve done, I can start to forgive myself a little.
For now, I just have to find a way to atone. If I tell people what happened, I’ll destroy Westin. If I don’t, I’ll live in this constant state of fear. There’s no easy choice, but I know I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for what I’ve done.
My vision blurs and I close my eyes, wanting to feel her with me. So many times, I sat on the edge of this bed, seeking her advice. She’d push my hair back and run her fingers through it as she talked. I imagine this time she’d say I should protect who I can, and do my best to clean up the mess I’ve made, but I needed to be honest with myself about why I did it.
“Ren,” Everton’s voice breaks the silence.
“What?” I say with defeat.
“I know you’re pissed, but I just miss her. It doesn’t help that Dad talks about her nonstop and he’s always fucking sad. It’s like I can’t breathe here.” A tear falls down his cheek. “It’s not you I’m mad at, it’s me. I can’t . . . I can’t do this . . . I’m drowning here.”
Instead of seeing my six-foot-five younger brother, I see a broken man. He loved my mother with everything, and I think maybe he just wasn’t able to handle seeing her in pain. Everton started drinking, partying, and doing God knows what with women when Mom died. He struggled with her death just as much as I did, but I went to work to make things better. Everton tried to drown out the pain however he could.
“Why didn’t you say something?” I ask.
He sits beside me, taking the photo from my hand. “I tried once, but you’re kind of scary.”
“Me?”
He pushes his shoulder against mine. “You’re a surgeon who was in a damn magazine. I’m a shitty mechanic who works for my father and still lives at home. I hate this town and I’m going nowhere.”
I sigh. “I’m also your sister who you used to torment by putting garden snakes in my drawers.”
Everton laughs. “That was a long time ago. But now I’m saying I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live in this house. I swear, sometimes I hear her voice and wait for her to come around the corner. Dad needs help that I’m not able to give. I need to leave.”
My head falls forward, and I feel more overwhelmed than ever. Getting my father to leave this house will be impossible. If I asked Everton to stay for him, he probably would, but it’s not like what he’s doing is helping as it is.
“Where will you go?” I look in my brother’s brown eyes, eyes that are filled with sorrow instead of anger.
“I don’t know, but I have to get out of here.”
And now the million-dollar question. “What about Dad, Ev? What do I do, because he won’t come with me, and he can’t stay here?”
“I’m not sure, but you’re smarter than me.”
Helpful as always. “And I guess it’s up to me to figure it out,” I sigh and get to my feet.
I understand my brother’s plight, but my father is the one who will have his life flipped around. I’m not sure what to do, but I’m going to have to figure it out—fast.
“You’re the good one between us, Ren. I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Everton touches my shoulder and strolls out of the room.
The worst part of this is that I’m not surprised. I expect this kind of thing from my brother. He’ll do what’s best for him and I’ll sacrifice what I have to in order to make sure Dad is taken care of.
I hear my brother’s bike fire up, and I have no idea if he’s leaving for good, but I can’t worry about him. He’s going to make his choices, and in the end, he will have to live with them.
“I don’t know how you did this, Mom.” I touch her face in the photo.
I grab the cleaning rag, unwilling to think about the very shitty options ahead of me, and tidy up. Cleaning is mindless and I’ve done enough thinking for a long time.
Once the bedroom is livable, I head to the worst room in the house, the bathroom. I gag and cut a hole in a plastic garbage bag and pull it on, making myself a hazmat suit. I swear, if anything is dead in here, I’m burning the house down.
For over an hour, I scrub every surface, and manage to keep myself from puking twice. I run the water, washing out the tub that’s now been bleached. I feel like I need to do the same to my body, when I hear Westin’s voice.
“Hey,” I say, wiping the sweat from my brow as I emerge.
He chuckles, looking at my homemade protective suit. “Interesting outfit.”
“Don’t mock. I was cleaning and needed protection.”
Westin shakes his head and looks around. “You did good.”
“I know, and look, you’re alive.”
“Why wouldn’t he be?” Dad asks.
“Becau
se you’re crazy when it comes to men and me,” I remind him.
He waves his hand at me. “I scared off the idiots. Westin is a good one.”
“You figured that out in two hours?”
Daddy smiles. “Try two seconds. A man knows when another man isn’t worthy.”
I forgot, men have a secret radar that’s foolproof.
“Exactly, Mick,” Westin agrees. “Glad to see I passed the test.”
Mick? He called him Mick? What the hell? I think the fumes are sending me into some kind of alternate reality.
“Sure did. Wes and I got that carburetor working again. He’s good with his hands,” Dad praises him.
Mick and Wes? I have no idea what to think of this revelation, but at the same time, my heart swells. I’ve never seen my father like this, and it means the world to me. There’s no man in this world I love more than Daddy, and I don’t know if I could love someone who he hated.
Westin’s eyes are trained on me and I smile. How could I have been so blind? For two years, this amazing man has been right in front of me, and I’m not letting him go now.
“Well, he’s a surgeon, Daddy,” I grin. “Did you and Wes have a good time?”
“We were fixing a car, pumpkin, not braiding each other’s hair,” Dad scoffs and heads to the fridge.
I raise my hand in surrender and then remove the bags from my body.
Westin laughs. “Your dad had it figured out. I think he was being nice.”
“Serenity can tell you, I’m never nice when it comes to cars or my daughter,” Dad retorts and I nod.
“He’s right,” I agree. “He’s not even nice to his daughter about cars.”
“Well, then I’m glad I could help,” he tells Daddy.
Dad yawns and looks around the house. “You cleaned up. Everton will be happy . . . before he trashes it again.”
My brother’s name reminds me that I have a serious issue I need to handle before I leave. Who is going to help take care of the man who spent his whole life doing just that for me?
“I’m going to show Westin around the property,” I inform them both.
Westin raises a brow and I shake my head, hoping he understands not to fight me. I need to talk to him about my brother and his decision to leave. Maybe someone on the outside can see this for what it is and offer guidance.
“Sure, I’ll just watch the game,” Dad groans as he walks to the living room. “You two have fun.”
We walk out the back door, down the dirt path where the tire swing still hangs. His fingers are wrapped around mine, and I rest my head on his arm. This visit didn’t exactly go as I thought; it’s been so much better.
Seeing Westin fit in with my family has meant everything to me, now I need to see if he can help me deal with them. But right now, I just need to be home, and in the moment.
Chapter 24
“Do you think I did the right thing?” I ask Westin as we drive back to Chicago.
“Your father is perfectly lucid. We spent two hours together and I promise, I’d be honest if I thought he couldn’t handle it.”
Westin told me about their talk, and how Dad mentioned his stress about Everton and his lack of responsibility. Apparently, my brother’s drinking is even more out of hand than I knew about. Westin seems to believe it’ll actually be a relief to Dad that he’s gone.
“But the house . . .”
“You can’t fix this, baby. I know that’s hard, but believe me, he’s going to be fine. It just might require we take a trip up once a month.”
I don’t miss the fact that he said “we.” It also doesn’t scare me. In fact, it makes me smile.
“I guess we will.” I blush a little and now want to slap myself.
“I meant to ask you,” Westin clears his throat. “How is the trial going?”
Instantly, the good feelings I had about the day are gone. Now the dread of lying to him is all-consuming. What other choice do I have? I can tell him, but then that puts him at risk, and he’s repeatedly asked me to keep him in the dark.
“We’ll find out more with the scans in a week and a half.”
He nods. “Why don’t you sound excited?”
“It’s just a lot of stress, you know. And losing Mrs. Whitley really threw me for a loop,” I explain.
Westin offers me comfort with his touch. “I know, believe me, I know.”
“Can we talk about anything else?” I request.
Today has been such a great day, I just want to enjoy it a little more.
“Sure thing,” Wes smiles.
We fall silent, but it’s not awkward. We just are. For the next twenty minutes, Westin and I hold hands and I close my eyes, enjoying the peace that cocoons us. There’s something about being comfortable with someone in the silence.
The car stops in front of my apartment, and I sigh. “Thank you for today.”
He cups my cheek and leans forward. “There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you, Serenity.”
I rest my forehead on his. “I know, and I don’t deserve you.”
Westin tilts his head back so we’re eye to eye. “You deserve to be happy. I want to make you happy.”
I touch the prickly hair on his cheek. Westin has no idea, but before we went on this trip, I realized my feelings for him are far deeper than I wanted to admit. I’d been lying to myself, protecting my heart by saying it was just sex.
But it’s not.
When I think about my normal day to day, I realize he’s always been a part of it. When good things happen to me, I share with him.
He’s been faithful to me when he didn’t have to be. If I could go back in time, I’d slap myself for not seeing how perfect he is for me.
“Wes, you do make me happy. Come inside?”
He smiles against my lips and kisses me. “I’m more than willing to make you happy in that way too.”
“Good to know,” I laugh.
We get to the front door, and he holds me from behind, rubbing his beard against my neck, causing me to giggle. After a few more tries, I finally get the door open.
“Are you hungry?” he asks as he heads to the kitchen.
“Not really, but I won’t say no to wine,” I smile. “There’s a burger from Rich’s in the fridge,” I call out.
I went to the store yesterday because there was sour milk and some sort of science experiment that could’ve been cheese in the refrigerator. On my way back from the market, I stopped in to see Rich and get takeout. While half of what I got needs to be cooked and I’ll probably end up throwing it away, it felt nice to buy food that wasn’t made in the cafeteria.
“What’s this?” Westin asks, holding up the almond milk.
“It’s the milk you like,” I reply.
“Right, but why is it here?”
Is he crazy? He brings that stupid milk every time he stays here. “Umm, you drink it, right?”
His eyes narrow and then he goes back to the groceries. “Ren?” He holds up the six-pack of beer.
“Wes,” I shake my head. “Is that not the right kind? You drink that weird lager shit, I thought.”
He puts the beer down and leans on the counter. “Yes, but again, you got it?”
I’m not sure what the big deal is. “I was at the store so I grabbed it. Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask as his jaw hangs open a little and then turns into a grin.
And then it hits me.
I thought of him when I was stocking my home. He watches me as I start to piece together what has made his entire mood shift.
“Two years and you’ve never bought shit for me,” Westin says. “I’ve wondered when you were going to mess up and let me in.”
“Don’t make this weird,” I warn. “It’s milk and beer.”
He smiles and leans forward. “I knew it would happen.”
Oh Jesus. “Listen, before this goes too far, I also cleaned out a drawer.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
Might as well get this all out and
done with. Westin stays here or I’m at his place pretty much every night that we have off. Because of our schedules, exchanging a key wasn’t really a big thing. It was more for convenience than some momentous moment in our relationship. He gave me a space in his bathroom for my things, but I wasn’t as giving. Not that he was surprised, but I was thinking of how to show him that I’m . . . all in . . . to whatever it is we’re doing.
Giving him some speech about what we’re doing seems silly now, but I thought having a drawer was a nice gesture. Now, I’m a little scared.
“You know, a place you can put your stuff.”
“I know what a drawer is, but you gave me one? Here?”
“Yes, one drawer,” I clarify. “One of the small ones.”
“In your house?”
“Well, that was the point.”
He moves around the island, places his hand on my forehead and shakes his head. “No fever. So, you’re not sick.”
“Ass.”
“So, if I go in the bedroom, there will be a drawer that’s empty?”
Why is he being such a dork? It’s just a drawer. “Westin, you’re here all the time. I can fill it back up if you want . . .”
“Shut up,” he says as his hands hold onto my hips. “How about some closet space since you’re so giving?”
“Don’t push it.” My hands rest on his chest and then he squats down, lifting me into his arms.
Westin smirks as he carries me back to the bedroom. He drops me on the bed, and walks over to the dresser. “This one?”
I nod.
He opens the drawer, finding it empty as promised, and then he stalks toward me. I push back, moving away from him, but he doesn’t relent. Westin hovers over me and my heart races. “I’ve been trying to break down your walls.”
“It’s milk and a drawer,” I clarify.
“No, baby. We both know it’s not.” Before I can say another word, his lips are on mine, kissing me like I’m the air he’s gasping for.
My hands are frantic trying to remove as much of his clothing as possible. It’s like a light switched off and I’m completely fine being in the dark. This is what Westin does, he lets me forget, pushes me, loves me even when I don’t think I’m worthy.
You Loved Me Once Page 19