“Tell me about your weekend,” she said.
“Okay.” He paused. “Everly, is everything okay?”
She should have known she wasn’t acting naturally enough. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop herself. Her defenses were up.
“Everything’s great,” she lied, reaching for a slice of pear. Smoothing some brie on it, she looked over at him. “Did you have a good weekend?”
He studied her before he responded, “Yeah, it was good. Javier’s party was pretty kick-ass. Most of the team was there. The guys asked about you.”
Smiling, she said, “That was sweet of them.”
“Rebecca was there, too. Abigail invited her.”
Everly paused in mid-chew. She looked at him, but couldn’t read his expression. After a moment, she swallowed the bite in her mouth.
“She was?”
“Yep.” He reached for a cracker. “Wasn’t too thrilled about being targeted by the police.”
She considered that. “Do you still think she did it?”
“I don’t know.” He popped the cracker into his mouth and ate it before continuing. “Her response seemed genuine. But if she didn’t do it, who did?”
That was quite the question. It actually turned her appetite right off. Setting her wine glass to the side, she lifted herself up so that she sat on the sofa.
“This isn’t fun Christmas talk,” she said, affecting a cheerful tone. “I don’t know about you, but unopened presents are just an enormous distraction. What do you say about opening them?”
“I’m cool with that,” he said, rising to sit beside her. “Will you tell me what’s bothering you once we do?”
Surprised, she caught his gaze. Her shoulders slumped a little when she realized she wasn’t fooling him at all.
“Sorry,” she said. “I had a rough weekend. I know pretending like it didn’t happen won’t help, but can you indulge me for few minutes?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “For you? Sure.”
“Thanks. Since you’re being so accommodating, you can open your gift first.”
Now, he grinned. “No, no, no. Ladies first.”
She didn’t argue when he got up and retrieved the gifts from the kitchen island and placed her gift in her hands. She took her time unwrapping it, wanting to preserve the paper. It was a silly, feminine desire, but there it was. When she opened it and saw what the box contained, she blinked several times.
“It’s every Marvel movie ever made on DVD,” he said. “I thought it would remind you of our first date.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If it gets me more kisses, I’ll buy you all the movies you want.”
She smiled to cover up the increasing wariness caused by his words and reached for his present. The smile sat on her face as he tore into the paper and opened the box only to find a second wrapped box inside of it. By the time he got to the fourth box, he was glowering and she was laughing.
“Just one more, I promise,” she said.
Finally, he opened the last box and pulled out its contents. When he didn’t react, her humor faded. Why wasn’t he pleased?
“It’s the original gold version of Mike Tyson’s Punch-Out,” he said.
Biting her lip, she asked, “Isn’t that the one you said you didn’t have?”
“Yes.” Still, his gaze was unreadable. “How’d you get this?”
“Rayshawn’s mom works with a guy who collects video games. Well, he hoards all kinds of things, actually. He happened to have it, so we made a deal.”
He stared at the game for another long minute. She continued to nibble on her lip as she watched his bizarre reaction. She’d pictured him as much more excited than this.
“Do you already have it?” she asked at last. “Maybe we could sell it—”
“No,” he said, reaching out and touching her hand. “I don’t already have it. I’m just...stunned. I don’t know that I’ve ever received a gift that’s so...perfect.”
Relieved, she smiled. “Oh, thank goodness.”
“Thank you, Ms. Wallace,” he said.
He leaned over to kiss her. Since she didn’t want to raise his suspicions even more, she sank into the kiss, savoring it. As far as she was concerned, that kiss could have gone on forever and she wouldn’t have complained.
Too quickly, it seemed, Cole’s hands began to roam. She stiffened and broke off the kiss.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m sorry,” she said, getting to her feet. She started pacing beside the sofa, trying to shake off the negative thoughts and feelings rushing through her. “As I said, I had a rough weekend. It’s put me in a strange state of mind.”
“Why don’t you tell me about it?” he said, sliding back to the floor and picking up his wine.
Since he appeared unruffled by her behavior, her pacing slowed. She took a deep breath as he drank a sip of wine and reached for a strawberry.
“Cole, what are your thoughts on our relationship?” she blurted.
He raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“I mean, I know you’re attracted to me,” she said, her hands waving as she paced. “But is that all there is to this?”
He frowned. “That’s a hell of a thing to ask.”
Her chest tightened over his response. She started wringing her hands. “I didn’t intend to put you on the spot. But this weekend made me think about things. And now you’re acting like the only reason you want me here is for sex.”
“Now just a minute,” he said, his tone disbelieving. “You think I only want to be with you for sex?”
Oh, she was making a mess of this. “You’ve made a number of suggestive references and—”
“How is that any different than usual?”
Now he was angry. She could hear it in his voice and see it snapping in his eyes.
“Okay, but what about the gift you bought me?” She couldn’t prevent some irritation of her own from coloring the words. “Don’t you know that I don’t own a DVD player? How serious can this relationship be if you don’t even know that much about me?”
“You’re right, Everly,” he countered. “I don’t know a whole hell of a lot about you. But that’s because you won’t tell me any damn thing.”
She froze and looked down at him. She’d never seen him so furious.
“Like the fact that your father hit you on Friday after you left here,” he said in cold tones. “I had to find out from your grandfather, who called me to let me know in case your father decided to come over here. A courtesy, I might add, that you didn’t bother to extend to me, despite the fact that we texted back and forth a number of times.”
Guilt flooded her. “I’m sorry—”
“I find it incredibly ballsy of you to insist that I share my feelings about our relationship when you can’t even tell me something like that.” His jaw tightened and released. “Hell, you haven’t even talked about your dead brother, and I’ve known about him for weeks.”
She staggered back. Of all the things he could have said to shatter her, that was it.
Turning, she ran. She grabbed her purse and dashed down the stairs to the gym, not even bothering with her coat. Then she launched herself across the pool deck and out the side door.
She didn’t look back as she peeled out of the driveway and drove away.
Chapter 42
The doctors said her instinct to flee was another defense mechanism. It was why they kept her in a secure facility after Aiden’s funeral. She’d wanted to run away from it all.
Cole’s last words sent her into an emotional tailspin. She drove without thought, just wanting to get away. Her phone vibrated in her purse, but she ignored it. The only thing running through her mind was escape.
Escape the questions. Escape the past.
Escape the pain.
She was over two hours outside of the city on I-75 North when she slowly returned to her senses. Realizing what she was do
ing, she pulled over to the shoulder. She stared out the windshield into the darkness, penetrated only by her headlights and the few oncoming headlights of the sparse Christmas Eve traffic.
This wasn’t going to solve anything. Still, the instinct to keep driving pulled at her. She didn’t want to deal with any of this. Not now. Not ever. She’d done a good job of immersing herself in school, work, and caring for her grandpa just so she didn’t have to deal.
Which was exactly why she was sitting on the side of the road instead of enjoying a happy Christmas Eve with Cole.
Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, she eased back onto the expressway. She got off at the next exit, topped off her gas tank, and turned around.
Without conscious thought, she drove to the place she’d avoided since her mother’s funeral. Not surprisingly, the cemetery where her mother and Aiden were buried was empty and dark. Since cars were allowed inside the gates regardless of the time of day or day of the week, she drove out to the section where her family was buried.
She put the car into park and sat there. Outside, the wind was still. Clouds blocked the moon and stars, coating everything in inky darkness. Even the caregiver’s cottage was dark, telling her that he was either off for the holiday or already asleep. She’d lost all track of time.
As her phone buzzed again, she turned the engine off and opened her car door. She stepped out, leaving the lights on so she wasn’t alone in the darkness. She knew she had to do this before she talked to Cole again. She had to do this if she wanted any chance of having a solid, healthy relationship with him.
She shivered and remembered that she’d left her coat at Cole’s. Opening the trunk, she grabbed the workout hoodie she kept stashed there. Paired with her turtleneck sweater, it was barely enough to keep her from freezing to death.
Her hands were stuffed into her hoodie’s pockets as she approached the two tombstones marking the graves she had come to visit. She had to force her feet forward, each step causing emotion to rise within her. It took a monumental act of will to keep herself from turning around and getting back into her car.
Finally, she stopped at her mother’s grave.
Victoria Stowe Wallace, the simple, rectangular stone read. It listed the dates of her birth and death and nothing else.
No one looking at the tombstone would know that Vicky Wallace was a prom queen and class valedictorian who married her high school sweetheart—Mason Wallace, the ace pitcher of the baseball team—right after graduation, giving birth to her first child at the age of nineteen. They wouldn’t know that she tried for years to have another child, suffering through a number of miscarriages before she finally delivered a baby girl at the age of twenty-seven.
The plain stone couldn’t possibly capture the depth of pain that the young mother experienced as her life unraveled not long after her fortieth birthday. She would turn to prescription drugs and alcohol to get her through each day, forgetting in her grief over the death of one of her children that she had another who needed her.
In the end, her “coping mechanisms” would kill her. But she’d leave behind a positive legacy due to her work in the community. Everyone who knew her as a suicide prevention advocate would never know the reality she hid from the world.
“Merry Christmas, Mom,” she said, bending down to trace her mother’s name. Her words produced a vapor that floated around her head. “I’m sorry I don’t come out here more often. I’m sure you understand why.”
She reached over to touch the fresh flowers in a tube beside her mother’s tombstone. Judging by their vibrant color, they must have been changed earlier that day. She’d insisted on adding the daily floral into the burial package even though her father wanted to spare the expense. Her mother had loved flowers.
“Pee Paw’s doing well,” she said. “I’ve got a job that allows Jonette to come over more often, so we’re not out at the specialist’s so much. He seems content. He doesn’t know it, but I’m planning on getting him started on some physical therapy exercises now that his lungs are stronger. He’s sure to pitch a fit, but I want him strong enough to go to a ball game with me.”
She paused and found a small smile.
“I’m dating a baseball player. A pitcher.” Even out here in the deserted cemetery, she spoke quietly to be sure she wasn’t somehow overheard. It made her feel like she was having a girl-to-girl conversation with her mother. “His name is Cole Parker. I slept with him. It was beyond amazing. He’s beyond amazing.
“In fact, I’m in love with him.”
The words were out before she thought about them. Her eyes widened when she realized what she’d just said.
Well, hell. No wonder she’d run.
Jesus, she was a mess.
“Anyway, I wish you could meet him. Pee Paw can’t believe it. We’ve been watching Cole on TV for years. There are still days when I wonder how this all happened.” Shaking her head, she once again ran her fingers over the icy stone and stood back up. “I miss you, Mom.”
Now, she turned to the tombstone beside her mother’s. This one was large and elaborate, decorated with weeping angels and poignant quotes that would have embarrassed Aiden when he was still alive. In Everly’s opinion, the most significant etchings on the stone were the dates of his birth and death.
Just twenty-two years between them.
Swallowing hard, she stuffed her fists in her pockets and took the few steps required to put her in front of Aiden’s grave. And there, she fell to her knees.
“Hello, Aiden,” she said.
Just those words had tears gathering in her throat. She hadn’t spoken his name out loud in nearly eight years.
“If you don’t know, it’s Christmas Eve. Or maybe Christmas. I’m not really sure what time it is. Anyway.” She took a deep breath to try and steady herself. Still, two tears fell. “This will be the eighth Christmas since you died. I can’t say they get any easier.”
It took her a moment to collect herself so she could speak again. “I’ve met someone. His name is Cole. You would have liked him. I think he would have been like the little brother you never had.”
She wiped her tears and sat on the ground so she could touch Aiden’s name. It felt like a blade slicing her heart.
“Oh, Aiden,” she said, the words hitching on a sob. “You would have been so great at anything you did if you hadn’t given up.” She wiped away more tears. “Why did you give up?”
Several minutes passed as she allowed herself to grieve. She stared at his name, trying to get a hold of herself.
Eventually, she said, “I want you to know that I love you. I’ve always loved you. You were an amazing big brother. That’s why this is so hard.” She paused again, her chest heaving with emotion. “I’m still working on forgiving you. I hate feeling so much anger over what you did. I’ll never understand it. All you left me with is questions, and I’ll never know the answers. You were selfish.”
Those last words hurt the most to say. She couldn’t speak again as her emotions overwhelmed her. But her thoughts continued the conversation.
You were selfish, Aiden.
Because of you, lives were destroyed.
Why did you give up?
Why did you leave me?
It took her a moment, but she finally focused on those thoughts. Was her anger really directed at Aiden?
Since his death, she’d cut off her connections with other people one by one. First to go were her friends. It was easy enough to attribute the ending of those friendships to how differently she was treated at school after Aiden’s suicide.
The whispers behind her back. The lack of invitations to social functions. The discomfort on their faces when they had to talk to her.
But had she really made any effort to accept offers of comfort or a sympathetic ear? No. She’d chalked it all up to condescension, making it easier to separate herself from them.
Over time, she’d done similar things to keep people at bay. The two failed dates she attempted migh
t have gone differently if she hadn’t already made up her mind that the guys wouldn’t want to stay with her if they knew the details about her past. She hadn’t even given them a chance.
Wasn’t the same true about Cole? she thought now. Sure, the way he brought up the topic of Aiden’s death in the heat of the moment had been harsh and unkind, but didn’t he have a point?
But rather than stay and have it out with him, she’d fled.
So who was really to blame for the way her life had turned out...broken to the point that she was sitting by herself in a cemetery on Christmas Eve?
Aiden?
Or her?
Chapter 43
Cole regretted his statement the moment he said it. He watched Everly’s face drain of color as she stepped away from him. Before he could even begin to formulate an apology, she ran.
The move caught him off-guard. By the time he managed to push himself to his feet and take off after her—killing his shin on the coffee table in the process—she was down the stairs. Although he was barefoot and wearing only a T-shirt and jeans, he ran outside to try and stop her from driving away. His fingers came millimeters from her bumper as she drove through the gates. He cursed up a storm as he ran back into the house.
He grabbed his phone off the coffee table and dialed her number. It rang four times and rolled to voicemail.
Damn it.
Hurrying to his bedroom, he pulled on sneakers without bothering with socks and grabbed his keys and wallet off of his dresser. On his way down to the garage, he grabbed his leather jacket out of the hallway closet. Within a minute, he was pulling out of his driveway and on his way to Jake’s house.
Dumbass, he cursed himself as he tried her cell again from his car’s Bluetooth connection. Once again, he got her voicemail.
Pounding the steering wheel, he disconnected. Why had he said such an awful thing?
Because he’d been pissed, that was why.
He’d been stewing for days about her silence over her father’s abuse. Why the hell hadn’t she mentioned it to him? They’d texted and even talked on the phone between Friday and today. He’d given her multiple opportunities to open up to him. It had been all he could do not to point out that he could see the faint discoloration around her left eye. All he’d wanted to do was be there to offer her support, but she continued to hold part of herself back.
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