by London James
“What?” I ask as his voice breaks up, but when he repeats himself, he says flights are cancelled. The call drops, and a dial tone replaces it. I pull the phone away and stare at the screen.
“What is it?” Everly asks.
Her voice brings me back to reality. I lift my eyes to see her covering her body with the sheet. She feels something is wrong. I clear my throat to prepare to tell her the news, but I don’t know how. I don’t know how to ruin her world—again. Our parents, both of our parents, mothers and fathers—gone.
It’s just us.
“No,” she says with a shake of her head. Her long locks spill around her, messy and a little frizzy from it just being morning. Still beautiful. Still earth-shattering and soul stopping.
“Everly,” I take a deep, shaky breath, but the tears cloud my vision and take over the control I try to have to tell her. The more I fight against it, the stronger the pain gets.
“No! Please, don’t,” she covers her mouth with her hand and sobs. “No. Not her, too.” She hides her face in her palms, and sobs make her shoulders shake. “What happened? What happened, Rowan? Why?” she wails, dropping back down to the bed in a depressed, broken heap.
I run and jump on the bed to hold her. I pull her to my chest, keeping my hand on the back of her head and put her ear over my heart. I don’t know if the sound of it still calms her or not, but all I can do is try. Tears leak out of the corners of my eyes as she sobs harder than I remember. These cries are soul-wrenching, deep, like her soul is being shredded apart from her body.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper, running my hands through her hair.
Her hands clutch my back, holding me so close her breasts push against my chest. Tears wet my flesh, but through the sobs, through the pain, through the heartbreak, she whispers back.
“I’ve got you too.”
I nestle my chin on her shoulder and let us ride the pain, together. Her presence, her touch, the sound of her cries, the smell of her hair, the sweet lyrical tone of her voice, everything about her, her skin, her lips, her heart, it makes me feel comforted.
My own tears leave my eyes. The first ones I’ve cried since my mom died. I accept Everly’s embrace.
I feel her desperation, her agony. How much she wants for the pain to go away. And the longer I hold her, the longer I have my hands on her back, the more I never want to leave this bed.
She makes me feel at home.
And right now, she’s the only home I have.
I’m not sure how long we stay like that. It feels like days, but the next time I open my eyes, the sun is gone and replaced by night. Everly is still asleep, her cheeks red from tears and her eyes swollen from the heavy emotion.
Her brows furrow when I unwrap my arms from around her to get up. I don’t bother covering myself up since it is just she and I. I don’t know what is going on between us, but I don’t have the time to figure it out. There is no turning back after last night, and to be honest, all the anger I’ve felt over the years, is gone.
Well, now it is replaced with sadness and a depression, but it is better when she is here to share it with, just like when we were kids. I sigh, feeling like I’ve been hit by a freight train. Too much has happened in one week.
My head starts to throb again, but it doesn’t matter, I need to call Gray and tell him what happened. While I’m at it, I should call Blaire, too. I haven’t talked to her since we were teens, but I’m sure Everly would want her to know too.
Because now who knows how long it will be before we can go home. And be separated again.
Would she really leave me for a second time? I brush a piece of hair out of her face and push it behind the curve of her ear. I can’t think about that right now, either. I have to think about my dad and Barbara. How they died just trying to enjoy the love they had for one another, and out of all the ways they died, they died in a snowstorm.
I always thought my dad would go in his sleep. I didn’t think anything in the world could grab him and take him under, but I underestimated Mother Nature. I snag my phone off my dresser and press two to call Gray.
It rings, and rings, and right as I’m about to hang up, his sleepy voice answers. “Do you know what time it is? Dude, I need my beauty sleep.”
“They’re dead,” I say bluntly.
“What?” he says, a little brighter and more awake. I guess death can do that to people.
“They died. In the snowstorm. Barbara had a broken leg, and they found a cave to ride out the storm, but they froze.” I clear the emotion building up in my throat.
“Fuck, dude. I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I really liked them.”
“Yeah, me too.” A sad laugh escapes my chest.
“How are you doing? I know it’s stupid, but do I need to come get you? What do you need from me? I’ll do it.”
My shoulders sag with relief. Gray is always there for me. He always has my back. I can always count on him to be there. “I need you to call Dad’s lawyers. It’s in a folder on my computer. I need to see his will. I don’t even know how he wants to be buried,” I sigh. “All the flights are cancelled with this snowstorm, so you can’t get me anyway. I’m here with Everly.”
A few beats of silence pass. “How is she doing?”
“Tonight was rough. She cried until she fell asleep. It’s like losing our parents all over again. We experienced it when we were younger. Her dad. My mom.”
“I’ll do everything I can to help you both. I’ll set up everything. I know some guys that own funeral homes.”
I’m not even going to ask how he knows that. “Thanks, man. Just let me know what the will says. Or give them my number.” The phone starts cutting in and out again, and I sigh. “I gotta go. I’m losing service, and I still need to call Blaire.”
“Blaire… is that Everly’s friend. She is her Gray?”
I chuckle, “Yeah, she is her Gray.”
“Lucky girl,” he says, trying to make me smile like he always does, but it doesn’t work. The weight in my chest is too heavy.
“Let me know.”
“Absolutely. I’m sorry, Rowan. I know how close you and your dad were. I’m here for you.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose when the tears threaten again, and my eyes start to burn. “Thanks, man. I gotta go, okay?”
“I know it’s weird to say because we are guys, and men don’t say this to each other because it’s considered taboo. But I love you, man. I just want you to know that.”
I sigh, nodding and forget he can’t see me. “I love you too, Gray. I’ll call you later.” I hurry to hang up and rush to the bathroom, turn on the shower, and step inside the stall.
I don’t wait until the water is warm. I don’t care. I just need a place where I can let my emotion fall without being seen. I lean my hands against the shower and bow my head, letting the cold water punish my skin and the back of my neck. And the tears fall with every memory I have of my father that runs through my mind.
He is gone.
He is really gone.
I lay my forehead against my arm and cry silently. I don’t care that I’m a grown man. I can cry for the death of my father, my mentor, my advocate, my idol. I’m so out of it; I don’t even hear the shower door open. Everly’s arms wrap around me, and she presses her cheek against my back, lacing her fingers together in the middle of my chest.
It’s just what I need.
I lay my hand over hers and sigh. “I can’t imagine feeling this with anyone else.”’
“Me either,” she whispers over the steady hiss of the shower. “I never thought last week would be the last time I talked to my mom. That’s all I keep thinking about. The last time. It’s scaring the shit out of me,” she says with a slight uptake in her voice.
I spin around and put my hands on her waist, letting the stream of water hit my back. “The last time?” I ask with confusion.
“Yeah, you know. The last time. She called me for the last time, not thinking it would be. She g
ot up the day she broke her leg, thinking that day was going to be the same as all the others. She brushed her teeth for the last time, kissed your dad for the last time, got dressed for the last time,” her voice keeps getting higher and higher with emotion as she continues to speak. “She told me she loved me for the last time. I’ll never get to hear it again. She hung her coat for the last time, drove, smiled, hugged, ate. Oh, I hope she had her favorite food before she died. I hope she really lived and was happy before she took her last breath for the last time. It isn’t fair.”
The honey brown tendrils of her hair stick against her skin as the water falls down her body. Even though the shower is on, beating against her skin, I can still tell what is shower water and what is tears. Her lips turn red too, swollen, like she has bitten them while she cries, but she didn’t. “How do I live with the last time?”
“You live like every moment will be your last.” People don’t think about that. People get complacent. I’m guilty of it. I always think there will be a tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, but what if the next day doesn’t come? Am I truly going to be happy with myself if I know my heart beating for the last time, will honestly be its last time?
Everly nods and puts her ear against my chest again, listening. There is no way she can hear my heart right now. I kiss the ridge of her collarbone and sigh with a mixture of sadness and content. I shouldn’t be happy at all, but the woman I love is in my arms, helping me through another pain. “We can’t leave. The airports are closed. The snow is too bad.”
“We can’t even take them home and bury them? Or whatever they want?” her voice grows steadily with anger.
“Nope. We are stuck here. They will be at the local morgue until we can leave. In the meantime, that time will help me look over my father’s will and if your mother had one. I want to be able to give them the funeral they wanted. I don’t want to guess and them end up haunting us from the afterlife and all.”
“Here isn’t so bad,” she says. “I just wish the circumstances were different.”
“No, it isn’t.”
And for the first time in six years, I tell the truth when it came to Everly. I wish here was somewhere else and in another time. Maybe then she wouldn’t have left. Maybe then our parents would be alive. And maybe then, she would love me the way that I love her.
Hope can really be a fickle bitch because it makes me think I can still have all that. I am in denial. Even if she is in my arms now, she might not be tomorrow. And my dad is dead. So, the pipe dream I have, is exactly that now, a fucking useless dream.
Chapter 22
Everly
It’s been two weeks since we found out our parents died. I’ve cried most of the tears, like usual. But the one thing that has made me feel better, is being here with Rowan. He is so strong. He only broke down once, and all the other times, he is the one holding me as I sob myself to sleep.
The storm is supposed to be letting up today, so hopefully we can get home soon and talk to the lawyers. We haven’t been able to get a hold of anyone because the cell phone towers stopped working the day we told our friends that our parents didn’t make it. Waiting for time to be in our favor, we laid around and watched TV, made love, cried, ate, and waited until we were allowed to leave the building. Anything to distract ourselves.
I’m not too sure what will happen when we can leave these four walls, but I’m sure Rowan and I will go our separate ways. Right now, emotions are high, and he is setting aside all the pain I caused him. He will remember, and I’ll have to start all over on figuring out how to get over Rowan Michaels. I don’t think it can be done because here I am, all these years later, only loving him more than I originally did.
The sound of Rowan’s phone ringing makes him roll off the couch so fast; it’s like he wasn’t even there.
“Hello?” he answers, gesturing with his hand to mute the TV. He jumps over the back of the couch and lands on the cushion. Rowan pulls the phone away from his ear and puts it on speaker. “Yes, we are here.”
“Mr. Michaels. Ms. Madison. I’m so sorry for your losses. I can’t imagine how this time has been for you,” the man on the phone says.
“Who is this?” I mouth to Rowan.
“Lawyer,” he explains.
Oh. That makes sense.
“Your parents combined their wills. They are a little unorthodox if you ask me, but this is how they wanted it. They want to be cremated, first off. And cast over the mountain they died on.”
“Well, that’s poetic,” Rowan responds, “They pick the damn mountain that killed them. I bet they wouldn’t choose it now, considering.”
I flick my gaze to Rowan and nudge him with my elbow to tell him to stop. He has been making passive-aggressive jokes like that the past few days, and I understand. People deal with pain on different levels, and this is how Rowan deals with his.
“Yes, well, regardless of that,” the lawyers flips a page in the background and clears his throat. “It seems the only way to get the inheritance and the house, is if whoever gets married first within the first thirty days after their death, gets it. The person must live and care for the property for six months. If no one marries, everything goes to your Uncle Roy, Rowan.”
Rowan and I stare at the phone like its lost mind. There is no way our parents agreed to that. There is no way. That’s impossible. Neither of us are dating people. Apparently, we stay quiet a little too long because the lawyer clears his throat.
“Hello?”
Rowan blinks, but I’m still dazed. I plop against the sofa and wonder who the hell I can marry within thirty days. They didn’t specify gender. I can always marry Blaire. She won’t care. And there will be no obligation for sex, since both of us are straight.
“Right, um, okay.” Rowan scratches his head. “So when do the thirty days start?”
“It started the day their death was officially recorded,” he says.
I gasp. We have lost almost half of our time! “That only gives us two weeks. That’s not fair,” I try and argue. We just found out about this. How can we prepare for something like this in just two weeks? Oh, our parents were cruel, cruel people.
“Don’t shoot the messenger. That is what they wrote in the will.”
“Okay, so we will talk to you in fourteen days. I doubt we will have good news, but there’s nothing we can do about it,” Rowan sighs, spreading his hand across his face until his thumb is rubbing his temple and middle finger rubs the other.
“I’m not sure why they did it like this. I questioned them, but they said they had someone they loved, but you kids were keeping that person at arm’s reach. They thought this would light the fire under your butts, so to speak.”
Oh, that’s just peachy.
“Okay, we need time to think about this. We will call you,” Rowan tells him.
“I’ll call you. Concentrate on the task at hand.” The lawyer hangs up, leaving us staring at a blank cell phone.
A few minutes of silence go by, and it is so awkward it starts to choke me. “I have no idea what to do,” I say.
“Me either.”
I tap my fingers against the coffee table, feeling restless all of a sudden, and let’s not forget the anger I feel toward my mother right now. I stand up, having no idea what to do with myself when I see the bar. “Want a drink?” I ask, sauntering over to the bar to start making myself a drink.
I want a good drink. None of that burning throat stuff. If men want more hair on their chest, that’s definitely a way to do it. I start making a Dirty Shirley, the one and only drink I know how to make and put cherry vodka in first. This resort really does have everything. “And if you say scotch, I’m not making you a scotch.”
“I’ll have whatever you’re having. Looks good,” he says, relaxing against the couch as he tilts his head up to stare at the ceiling.
I decide not to tell him what the drink is called because he may not want it then. And I want to see Rowan love something unexpected. And he will love
this. Everyone does.
I make a pitcher of it, bring it over to the coffee table, and sit down two glasses. Everything clinks against the glass, and the pitcher spills a little, but I don’t care. I have no want, need, or energy to clean up after myself right now.
Two cherries are at the bottom of the glasses, and when I pour the red mixture in the cups, the cherries floated to the top.
He brings the drink to his mouth and narrows his eyes at me. “Really? This is all you know how to make?”
“I never said I was a skilled bartender. I know what I like. I like this. There is no need to know any more.”
“I have so much to teach you,” he chuckles.
Hope wiggles its way in like a little buzzing bee trying to fit into a flower. Maybe he can see I’m not so bad and decide to spend the rest of his life with me.
I snort and chug my beverage. There is no way that will happen.
I eat my cherry, plucking it out of the cold liquid and pulling it from the stem with my teeth. “What are we going to do? I don’t have a line of guys wanting to marry me, let alone, marry me in two weeks.”
“I bet if I took you out right now, you’d find one,” he says.
“I don’t think you understand. I’ve never had a man come up to me and ask if I want a drink. They always say I’m intimidating, but that’s just a way to call yourself a pussy. I stopped going out. I never get asked out genuinely.”
“We should test that theory.”
“Let’s not and say we did,” I reply, wrapping my tongue around the straw in my yummy beverage.
“I want to see what you’re talking about.”
“Rowan, no one is going to talk to me with you around. You’d be the biggest cockblock of them all besides my awkward personality.” I laugh at my own joke. Sometimes, I’m funny.
“I’ll stay back. I just want to see because I find it ludicrous.”
“Can’t we play a different game? Do you know anyone single that will come over and marry me?”