The yelling was therapeutic. She didn’t scream or yell after Adam and Abigail were killed. Instead, she’d turned into an introvert and kept everything bottled up. But she found her outlet now. Her punching bag, and damn if she wasn’t going to let it all out. She stabbed her finger into Cole’s chest and stood on her tippy toes, trying to level the ten inches of height he had on her.
“You didn’t think it was important to tell me you were charged with DUI? You didn’t think to tell me before you got me naked and had sex with me that you’re an alcoholic? After I bared my heart and soul to you for months? You’re a bastard. Get out of my life.”
She turned and opened the door and said, “Who’s the fool now?” before gently closing the door behind her.
Chapter 15
Well, didn’t his life suck eggs? Cole finished tilling the garden and wiped the sweat from his brow. Stuck in his depression again, he didn’t have time to focus on the glorious seventy degree days God had blessed New England with for the past two weeks. Perfect days for saddling up the horses and bringing your girl for a ride, a picnic, and love making on a blanket by the lake.
Instead, he spent the past twelve days working his body hard. He didn’t sleep, didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t even speak to the animals. Instead, he moved like a robot, a bionic one with superhero strength. The John Deere sat idle in the barn while he pushed the antique tiller up and down the rows of his mother’s garden that stretched more than an acre.
His iPod screamed out angry lyrics by Metallica instead of his usual easy-going country. He never realized every country song was about beer or a woman or both. The beer lyrics he could handle. The sweet Brad Paisley and Kenny Chesney songs about loving a woman were too much.
After being verbally chewed out by Ms. Manners, he knew there was nothing he could say to rectify himself. Yeah, he screwed up. It sat in the back of his mind for months that he should come clean and tell Sam about his skeletons, but once they crossed the line into relationship status he honestly wanted to forgot about his troubled past. The social drinking, thirst for a beer when with his brothers or after a hard day or even watching a ball game, had dissipated once Sam entered his life. He forgot he had a label to his name: Alcoholic.
He didn’t choose to forget out of denial, it was because it didn’t matter. Holding a bottle of suds in his hand couldn’t compare to holding Sam. There was no competition. And so, his skeletons had slowly slid under the cover of a lie by omission, buried deeper, not intentionally but because they didn’t matter anymore. At least not to him.
Once Metallica’s Master of Puppets thrashing song ended, Cole pulled out his ear buds, and then leaned against the handle of the tiller.
“Damn, how does Connor listen to this crap?” he muttered. His older brother had dozens of CDs he listened to while working out. They blared through the weight room of the high school as the young football players lifted and warmed up for their Friday night games.
There had to be a happy medium somewhere. While the laid-back country songs were more his style, too many of them made him think of Sam. Heavy metal did its trick and made him not think at all, but now he wondered if he’d ever be able to think again.
Cursing, Cole pushed the antique machine back to the barn and took a long drink from his water bottle. Next on his list was to redo the shingles on the old farmhouse. The job had been on his May calendar, but with the unexpected warm April weather, and nothing on his social calendar, he figured he’d get a head start on the project.
An hour later the sound of tires coming down his long dirt driveway echoed over the roof of the house. He didn’t want company. He successfully avoided his family for twelve days and wanted to continue with this new tradition.
“Hey, little brother!” Connor called from below. The man with the gorgeous bride and two perfect kids was the last person on his list he wanted to contend with. Emma neared the top of his list as well. Her positive outlook on life and “take no prisoners” attitude was exhausting. Which bumped Connor to the second to last person he wanted to deal with.
“Whatdoyawant?” he growled over his shoulder.
“Pops sent me over to help with the roof. Said you wouldn’t let him climb a ladder and told him to bug off.”
Cole didn’t think he said exactly that. It was more along the lines of, “I’d rather work alone. You’re getting too old to climb houses anyway.” At the time he didn’t think it was rude. Considerate, maybe.
Not taking the hint with the blow off, Connor, grinning ear to ear, climbed the ladder and sat on a package of shingles. “What has your panties in a twist?”
“Don’t you have to work or something?”
“Nah. April vacation. Meg took the kids to the park, so it’s just you and me. I think Mason is coming over in a bit as soon as he can peel his ass out of his desk chair. I think Emma’s foot will help.”
“Great. Just what I need. A freakin’ party.”
“Pops said you wouldn’t let him help, so Mace and I figured we’d lend a hand. Walker’s on duty; otherwise, he’d be over to help as well.”
“I don’t need any help.”
Connor fell into step with Cole like he’d been working on the roof all afternoon, scraping off the shingles and tossing them down the blue tarp Cole had tacked up. “Well, look who rolled out of bed and bumped his head this morning.”
“You’re a plethora of nursery rhymes today,” Cole grumbled and continued scraping off the old shingles.
“Actually, that was my first one. Plethora means…lots. I can start singing if you’d like.”
Cole rolled his eyes and cursed at his brother. Thankfully, Connor took the hint and shut up. They worked in silence for over an hour before another set of tires found their way to his driveway.
With Connor’s help, they were able to scrape all the old shingles off the roof in record time. And while he didn’t need more company, his body was grateful for the help. He had punished his body over the past few days, and he figured it would be the next thing to bail on him.
“Hey,” Mason said as he stepped over the last rung of the ladder and on to the roof.
Thankfully his twin was a man of few words. Cole nodded and the three brothers worked in near silence for the rest of the afternoon. Connor’s cell vibrated a few times and he stepped off to the side to talk to Meg. Every time he ended each call, he came back with an annoying grin on his face and attempted to make conversation.
Mason’s phone vibrated as well, and he responded to Emma with texts. He too had a ridiculous grin on his face, but he worked harder to cover it.
Word must have been out about his and Sam’s break up. She, Emma, Paige, and Meg were now friends and the girls had inherited the stick your nose into other peoples’ business genes from his mother. It was very out of character for Emma to stay back for so long and not interfere. She must have been read the riot act from Sam and figured the matchmaking session was hopeless. That woman—hell, both Emma and Sam—was not one to be reckoned with. Cole had never been one to psychoanalyze a woman before, but maybe that was the pull with Sam. She didn’t fall under his spell, but stood up to him and made him want to be a better man.
He pushed himself physically, hauling up two bundles of shingles at a time when he should have only done one, but he didn’t care.
With the sun about to set and obvious rumbles in everyone’s stomach—and more frequent calls from the girls—Connor and Mason called quitting time and one by one they filed down the ladder. A third of the roof still needed to be finished, not something Cole could manage in the remaining few minutes of daylight.
“We’ll be back tomorrow, bro,” Connor said as he slapped Cole on the back. “We kicked ass today on that roof. I figured it would take us three days to complete.”
“Yeah. Thanks.” No need in showing too much gratitude toward the uninvited guests.
“Meg has a ham in the oven. She wants you to come on over for some grub.”
“No. I’m all set.
”
Connor shook his head and sighed. “I thought you were a fighter, man. You’re not impressing me with your boo-hoo crap. Go fight for your woman.”
“Shut up.”
“You’ve turned into a weepy girl. First with your accident and now with Sam. Face it, kid. You’re bound to have setbacks in life. You’re a lucky son of a bitch to experience your first ever when you’re thirty. But the downfall…is that you haven’t learned how to cope with rejection. Man up, bro. Tell the woman you screwed up and then move on.”
“Shut the hell up and mind your own business.”
“Real mature. Like I said—”
“Easy, Connor. Let it go.” Mason stepped in between them—figuratively and literally—and turned to Cole.
“We’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”
Connor nodded then turned toward his truck while Cole headed inside.
He went up to his bedroom, stripped, and then took a much-needed shower. His clothes and body stunk from twelve hours of physical labor. Feeling a tad better—or at least, cleaner—he went downstairs into the kitchen to muster up something to eat. Much to his surprise and disappointment, Mason stood in his kitchen stirring something on the stove.
“Did Emma tell you to talk to me?”
“Yeah.”
At least his twin was honest. “You don’t have to. Interrogate me, that is.”
“I know. But I told her I would.” Mason strained the pasta in the sink and set it on the table.
“You can tell her you asked, I ripped your head off and said I’d disown you if you ever pried into my life again.”
“Okay,” he said easily as he brought the sauce to the table.
They ate in comfortable silence. After replenishing much needed carbs, Cole pushed back his chair and rested his arms across his middle.
“I screwed up.”
“Yup.”
When Mason talked, you listened. Right then he was quiet, obviously waiting for Cole to fill the silence.
“She found out about the DUI. The accident. The excessive drinking. It’s all a total deal breaker with her. I knew that, which was why I never told her.”
“Why?”
“Why didn’t I ever tell her?”
“No. Why is that a deal breaker?”
Cole sighed, not sure how much of Sam’s private life he should reveal. But this was Mason. Loyal, honest, never-tell-a-soul Mason.
“Her husband and daughter were killed by a drunk driver.”
Mason cursed. Which was bad.
“The guy, the drunk, Fred something-or-other, sounds like an older version of me. Not an alcoholic in anyone’s eyes but liked to hang out with friends and family. Down a few drinks in the backyard. Anyway, I looked up the accident online. They did a whole bio of him.” And of Sam but most of that information he already knew. “Honest guy. Loved by all. Good employee. Solid job. One bad choice, and he ruins another family. He’s still in prison. Will get out soon for good behavior. Sam didn’t speak at the trial. Didn’t even go. The papers said she didn’t even press charges, but the state did.”
Mason sighed and rested his elbows on the table. “Deal breaker. Damn.”
Cole raked his hands through his hair and sighed as well. “Yeah. Damn deal breaker.”
* * * *
The last place Cole wanted to be was at a bachelor party for his identical twin, but he loved his brother and knew he needed to suck it up and start acting like the Best Man. Damn, he couldn’t believe his bro would be hitched in a week. Cole finished planting the last row of corn and swiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm.
Looking across his farm, he gave in and allowed himself to feel nostalgic. His parents raised him and his sister and brothers on this farm, instilling family values and good old-fashioned dedication and physical labor. They all had their picture perfect families and were happy in love while Cole was the black sheep. The loser of the family.
Granted, his mother had had a tough life before he was born. The first husband knocked her around quite a bit. The kids fared well though. Annie fell in love too early and was married and pregnant at only twenty. Connor had his glory in the NFL before his first wife screwed him over. Meg. Geesh. Raped and pregnant at fifteen. He had more respect for that woman than any other on the planet. And his lucky bastard twin, Mason, skirted around the social networks, avoiding woman at all cost—insecure from his stuttering—only to land face first in love with Cole’s best friend. Emma, struggling with her own parentage and medial disease, had a similar personality and disposition as Cole. That’s what made them best friends and what attracted Mason to her.
No, his family wasn’t picture-perfect. They all had their weaknesses and tragedies, but they overcame them while Cole’s issues had been shit luck. They could overcome their obstacles because they were strong, had amazing qualities to fall back on.
All Cole had was a rap sheet and an AA buddy whom he neglected. The sad thing—although it was really a good thing, considering—was that being in the shitter didn’t make Cole long for a cold one. He wasn’t that kind of an alcoholic.
Since Sam gave him the heave-ho three weeks ago, he’d been spending more time at his AA meetings. After listening to others, he’d finally had an epiphany of his own; he didn’t need alcohol to survive, only to escape. His therapist broke him down and helped him to see what he was hiding from.
His family. Fear of failure. Love.
It made no sense. He had the best role models in his life. His parents showed him that true love really did exist; Annie had a heart of gold, Connor taught him how to push himself physically, and Mason was a prime example of how brains could take you anywhere in life. And what did Cole have to offer someone?
Nothing.
Damn counseling. It didn’t help. It made him feel even more like a loser. No wonder Sam left him.
No, Sam kicked him out of her life because he lied to her.
Not wanting to dwell on what would never happen, Cole kicked at the dirt and picked up the gardening tools. He would redeem himself with his family during the bachelor party. One failed relationship would not bring him down, crying like a girl. He was a freakin’ stud. Women loved him. He was funny. Charming. Good-looking.
Mason and Connor were off the market, but he sure the hell wasn’t. There were bound to be hundreds of sexy women roaming around Foxwoods casino looking for a good time.
He’d do the Best Man thing and get his brother stinkin’ drunk then find himself a woman and forget about his empty life.
Feeling better about the weekend, Cole went inside and showered off the dirt and grime that encrusted his body, washing it all down the drain, not thinking about a fascinating blonde woman who made him smile and laugh and filled his life with meaning.
Nope. He didn’t think about her and what she would be doing for Emma’s bachelorette party one bit.
*
“Mom, here are Meg, Emma, and Paige’s cell phone numbers as well. Just in case.”
“Sweetie, Levi will be fine. You enjoy yourself with the girls.” Evette hugged Sam and pulled back to look in her eyes. “You haven’t sounded like yourself lately. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re healthy? You’re not…pregnant, are you?”
“Mom! No, I’m not pregnant. And I’m fine. Don’t let Levi stay up too late. No spoiling him, or I’ll have a bear to deal with Sunday night.” She slipped away from her mother and walked into the living room where Levi was already setting up a fort with his grandpa. “Mommy’s leaving now, sweetie.”
“Grandpa said I can sleep in the fort if I want!”
“Very cool. Come give me a hug.” Levi scrambled out the fort and gave her a quick hug, but she held on tight, not wanting to let go. “You listen to Grammie and Grandpa and be a good boy, okay?”
“Yeah. Grammie got me a new Star Wars book and we’re going out to dinner with Uncle Steven and Uncle Barrett tonight.”
Sam laughed. “I guess I won’t be missed then.” She kissed hi
s cheeks and squeezed him one more time. “I love you pumpkin. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Meg, Emma, and Paige were waiting in Meg’s mini-van in the driveway, all wanting to give her a few minutes alone with her parents and to say goodbye to her son. Sam opened the passenger door and slid in, quietly buckling up.
“He’ll have a great time.” Meg patted her knee and pulled out of the driveway. “I had a hard time saying goodbye to the twins this morning, but once I’m in the spa having a massage and listening to the quiet, I’ll quickly forget I even have two kids at home,” she teased.
“Yes, a massage and facial sound heavenly.”
“And hot tub!” Emma squealed from the back seat. “Don’t forget about the hot tub. And the cocktails. And the dancing. And maybe a little shopping. This is perfect, girls. The perfect bachelorette party. Thank you.”
“It hasn’t even started yet,” Paige teased. “We still have a forty-minute drive to the casino. Wait until tomorrow before thanking us.”
“Just think of me as Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman thanking you for a wonderful time that is sure to come.”
“Oh, I love that movie,” Paige gushed.
“Of course you do. You’re the typecast for a romantic film.” Emma snorted.
“And your life has been ripped out of a Stephen King novel?” Paige mocked. “Please, you and Mason have a fairy-tale romance as well, but you’re so blasé about it. If you could only see how girly you turn when lover boy is near.”
“Oh please, I do not go all girly. That’s you.”
“Girls. That’s enough,” Meg scolded from the front, but smiled in the rearview mirror. “You both have extremely handsome, romantic men who adore you. You’re very blessed.”
Sam stared out her window, taking in the city of Hartford. She didn’t miss it at all. The tall buildings, rush of traffic, everyone in a hurry to go nowhere. The crowds. She tried to focus on her surroundings that she didn’t miss and tune out the conversation from the backseat. The weekend would be torture. Not because she would be without Levi for a night. He’d had sleepovers before, but because she was spending time with three women, whom she really liked, but who were all desperately, madly in love. And were connected to Cole. It wasn’t fair.
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