by Carian Cole
ME: I didn’t shack up. Why do we have to re-hash this? You had a girlfriend, remember? You were lying to me for years. And I fell in love with someone else. It’s over.
MICHAEL: I just think we should talk before you go any further with your crazy plans.
ME: I’m getting married in less than a month. I’m happy. There are no crazy plans. WTF.
MICHAEL: He’s going to hurt you.
ME: YOU hurt me. He loves me. Stop bothering me.
“Who are you texting so ferociously to over there?” Storm asks from the driver’s seat.
“Michael.”
“Michael? What the hell does he want?”
“To talk, apparently. He thinks I shouldn’t go any further with my crazy plans. He’s an ass.”
His knuckles whiten as he grips the steering wheel tighter. “He’s jealous and he’s trying to get in your head. Give me the phone.” He holds his hand out.
“Storm…”
He wags his fingers. “Hand it over.”
I place the phone in his waiting hand. He glances at the screen, presses a button, and holds the phone to his ear.
Oh no….
“Surprise, it’s not Evelyn. Look Mike, it’s time to let go and move on, because if you don’t, I’m going to have to find some creative ways to make you. Yeah…I know…it’s not a threat, man, just laying down the truth. Good.” He nods. “Don’t call, don’t text. No man, don’t even listen to my music. Do I sound like I’m kidding? Get your shit together, bro.”
He ends the call and hands the phone back to me with a grin. “What?” he says innocently.
“Nothing.” I lean across the car and kiss his cheek. “I just love you.”
“My favorite grandson is here!” Gram exclaims happily when Storm and I walk into the living room.
“Gram, you just told me an hour ago I was your favorite.” Mikah is perching on the edge of the fireplace, where he’s playing a game on his cell phone.
“You’re all my favorites, honey, just at different times and in different ways,” Gram replies as Storm and I take turns leaning down to kiss her hello.
“Evie, you look beautiful. You’re glowing.”
My cheeks blush with warmth as I sit on the loveseat a few feet away from the recliner she’s relaxing in. Storm sits on the floor next to her and holds her hand.
“Thank you, Gram,” I reply. “You look gorgeous yourself.” She always looks beautiful and happy, but today she appears a little more frail and tired than she did when we visited her a few weeks ago, and her delicate hand, in Storm’s, is shaking slightly.
“I bought the most perfect dress for your wedding,” she tells us. “And I ran into Joe and Nancy from across the street, they have nothing to do the day of your wedding so I invited them. You don’t mind, do you? They’re always so nice to me. She brings me homemade honey. Their son is a beekeeper.”
“Of course they can come, Gram.” Storm winks at me and I smile back at him. I’m fine with Storm’s family inviting their friends—the more the merrier.
Mikah stands and shoves his phone into his back pocket. “If you guys are gonna talk about wedding stuff, I’m outta here.”
“Just make sure you show up the day of the wedding.” Storm calls out after him.
“It’s open bar, of course I’ll be there!”
“He’s so grumpy,” Gram says once Mikah has left the house. “He needs a nice girl like you, Evie.”
“Mikah doesn’t like nice girls, Gram,” Storm says. “He likes dirty, bad girls.”
She waves her free hand in the air. “Oh, that’s just a phase. And I told him he better not get drunk at your wedding and act like a fool. I’m getting too old for all the shenanigans with you boys.”
Stifling a giggle, I stand and head for the kitchen. “I’m going to get lunch ready, you relax with Storm, Gram.” I always like to give them some time alone to talk when we visit. Especially if they’re talking about the other guys, because I don’t need to hear all the crazy and gory details of their personal lives.
I heat up a pot of Gram’s homemade chicken soup, make a big bowl of mixed salad greens, and put a handful of soft rolls in a basket. Just as I’m finishing setting the table, Storm and Gram join me, hand in hand. He helps her into a chair then takes a seat next to me.
“Thank you for doing everything,” he whispers, leaning close to kiss my shoulder.
“Evelyn, when are you due?” Gram eyes us from over the rims of her glasses as she spreads butter onto her roll.
I choke on my soup. Storm looks at Gram, then at me, then back at Gram.
“Due? For what?” he asks, wide-eyed.
“For the baby. You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”
“No,” I say quickly, wiping my mouth with my napkin. “I’m not pregnant.”
“She’s not pregnant,” Storm says. “Right, babe?” He looks at me like a deer in headlights.
Gram studies me with her wise eyes and loving smile. “You have that baby glow. I’ve never been wrong.”
I look at Storm and shake my head. “No…I’m just really happy and excited about the wedding, and finally living together. I’ve never been this happy. And I just started using a new face cream. And I’m drinking a lot more water. We’re not planning for a baby yet.” I want to run and examine myself in Gram’s full-length mirror to see if I look fat. I’ve been watching what I eat, walking on the treadmill, and having sex like crazy almost every night. Surely I’m burning a ton of calories. People are so critical of brides, and once our wedding pictures hit social media, the female fans of the band will be scrutinizing me and zooming in on our photos. The last thing I need is to see hundreds of comments saying I look chubby and bloated.
“Babies come when they want to, they don’t care if you’re planning or not.” She points her fork in Storm’s direction. “Asher was the only one your parents planned. The rest of you were surprises. Especially Rayne. Your parents thought they were all done having babies, then finally the little girl they wanted came along.”
Storm squeezes my leg under the table. “Gram, I know you want a baby to spoil and all that happy stuff, but we’re not having a baby yet. We want to wait a year or two before we even think about starting a family.”
“A year or two? That’s so long. I could be gone by then. I can’t live forever.”
“Gram!” we both say at the same time.
Storm rakes his hand through his hair. “You’re not going anywhere. And we’re not pregnant. Can we just talk about the wedding, since that is happening? We’re gonna have snowflakes fall on us instead of people throwing rice or blowing bubbles. How cool is that?”
His grandmother’s eyes light up hearing Storm’s excitement. “That sounds lovely. A winter-themed wedding is so magical. Aria showed me a photo of the cake you’re having made, it’s going to be too pretty to eat.”
The four-tiered cake we picked out will be decorated with chocolate twigs and candied red berries and dusted with edible sparkles that look like icy snow.
“It’s got a white chocolate layer,” Storm raves. “I’ll eat that entire thing myself.” Leaning closer, he whispers into my ear. “Then I’m going to eat you.”
“My hearing is better than you think,” Gram announces. “And suddenly I’m feeling very tired. I think I’d like to go take a nap. I feel awful you two came all this way to see me, but I’m just feeling very sleepy today.”
“That’s totally fine.” I mask my worry with a smile. “We got to see you and that’s all that matters.”
Storm jumps up from his seat. “I’ll carry you to your room.”
“Don’t be silly. You can’t carry me.”
He proves her wrong by gently scooping her up into his big, tattooed arms and carrying her out of the kitchen and down the hall to her bedroom while she laughs the entire way.
Before I clear the table, I sit there quietly for a few minutes, cherishing one of the sweetest moments I’ve ever witnessed.
The
first time I met Aria, she told me Storm had a lot of love to give. At the time I had no idea how true that was, or what an understatement it was. Storm is one of the few people I have ever met who truly knows how to love someone.
My heart clenches as I stare at the engagement ring on my finger. That amazing man, who just lovingly carried his grandmother into another room, is going to be my husband and, someday the father of my children.
Who knew getting lost in a blizzard would turn out to be the best thing to ever happen to me?
Chapter Seven
Playing riffs on my guitar usually clears my brain out, but my mind is fucking spinning after the visit with Gram yesterday.
The woman who’s been a second mother to me since the day I was born—and who has pulled me out of hundreds of messes—is growing tired. I can see it in her cloudy eyes, and I can hear it in her weakening voice. I could feel it in her weightlessness when I picked her up.
I’m going to lose her. Someday - maybe soon, maybe not. Any day is too soon. I finally found the love of my life, and now I could lose the woman who made me believe I could love.
And be loved.
But that’s what life is about - love and loss, loving and losing. All I want to do is focus on the love part, and not the fucking losing part.
Easier said than done.
I put my guitar off to the side and lean back in the black leather couch in my guitar room. I wish Evie were here, because when playing doesn’t chase the ghosts away, being close to her—losing myself in her—always gives me the peace and solidity I need. But she’s off having breakfast with my mother to talk about wedding and work things.
And here I am in my new guitar room, with Niko at my feet, holding a piece of paper in my hand that I haven’t looked at in a long time. The note is handwritten in blue ink that’s faded over the years, and the white, lined paper is soft and frayed from being folded and unfolded countless times. I should have gotten rid of it years ago, and I came close a few times, usually when I was wasted. But throwing away a suicide note just feels wrong, even when you’re drunk off your ass. It’s sacred. Untouchable. A dark, depressing, twisted souvenir.
It’s so much more than that though. These words are my punishment, my life sentence handed down to me by my eighteen-year-old first wife.
Storm,
If you’re reading this, then I guess I’m gone. I’m sure you found the other note, the one I left for everyone else to read. But I hid this one where I knew only you would find it. My only regret is I can’t be there to watch you and your perfect little family deal with this mess. I’m sure my parents are playing the victim, pretending they ever gave a shit about me.
You made me do this. I tried so hard to make you love me but I know you never really did. You love your guitar and your bike and your family and I’m just nothing to you. You make us live in this tiny shitty apartment and work crappy jobs. You know your parents will give you money but you have to be an asshole and try to prove a point all the time.
When are you going to wake up? You’re never going to be like your father. You’re never going to be a famous rock star. You’re just a loser wannabe and I’m so sick of you going on and on about your stupid dreams. Your own brother doesn’t even want you in the band because he knows what a loser you are.
Every time I tried to talk to you, you ignored me. I begged you for a nicer place and a nicer car so I could be happy. Asher and Ember have everything and we have nothing. Why does she get everything? Why does everyone love her? My own parents didn’t even want me and now I get stuck with a husband that doesn’t want me either.
I wanted to get married so someone would love me. Well guess what? I don’t want you either. I hate you. I can’t even stand to look at you or hear your voice. I wish I had killed you when I stabbed you with that knife. It felt good to hurt you. Now you know what I feel like every day.
Oh and now that I’m pregnant suddenly your mother wants to try to be nice to me. Like now I’m good enough for everyone? I know what will happen. Once I have this baby everyone will love the baby and forget about me. I don’t even want this baby. It makes me sick having your baby in me. It will probably hate me just like everyone else does.
I don’t want to feel like this anymore and it’s your fault. All you had to do was try to make me happy and this wouldn’t have happened. You said you wanted to get a divorce because you thought I’d be happier without you. I would be but I’m not going back to living with my parents and I’m not letting you just take this baby. You don’t get to just get rid of me.
I don’t want to live like this anymore. I hate this place and I hate my parents and I hate you and I hate this baby and I just want it all over. Now you can spend the rest of your life knowing you killed me and this baby because you’re a selfish asshole and you don’t deserve to be happy and you don’t deserve to have someone love you and you don’t deserve to have this baby. You were a shitty husband and you’d be an even shittier father.
Enjoy your life.
Britney
Her words cut deep, tore out all my organs, and shredded them in her massacre. We were too young to be married, and way too young to deal with her depression. After her parents washed their hands of her, she stopped seeing her therapist and expected me to fix her, waving a magic wand that I just didn’t have. She hated me for not being able to make everything better for her.
I hated me, too.
What started as fun, innocent, teen puppy love turned into a horrific tragedy that will haunt me ’til the day I die.
“Storm?”
I blink and Evie’s adorable smiling face comes into focus, leaning above me.
“Hey you,” she says. “Did you fall asleep in here? I was only gone a few hours.” Her hand pushes my hair back from my face as she kisses my cheek.
I stretch my arms out, yawn, and sit up. “Yeah…I guess I did.”
She flops onto the couch next to me with a big sigh and pulls her boots off. “Your mom is exhausting. I love her, but oh my God, it’s hard to keep up with her sometimes. I told her we don’t need an ice sculpture and a flowing water fountain. The guests don’t care about those things. Do they?”
“I don’t think so, babe. They want to eat and drink and dance and watch us kiss.”
“That’s what I thought.” She lays her head on my shoulder. “I missed you all morning.”
“I missed you too.”
“What’s this?” She touches the note lying on my leg.
Fuck. I forgot to put it away and fell asleep with it sitting here. I exhale a deep breath from my lungs. “This is where my future meets my past.”
“Huh?” She blinks at me. “Are you feeling okay?”
I turn sideways so I’m facing her. “Not really.” I slowly hand her the note. “I…” I take a deep breath. “I think I want you to read this.”
She tilts her head to the side as she hesitantly takes the note from me. “What is this?”
“Just read it,” I say softly.
Her eyes shift down to the page and, after a few seconds, her hand starts to shake. She immediately looks back at me with tears in her eyes.
“Storm…” Her voice cracks with emotion. “This is…I shouldn’t be reading this.”
I swallow over the lump in my throat and fight back tears of my own. “I want you to. I need you to. I’ve never showed this to anyone. I don’t want to be alone with this anymore, Evie. I want you in this with me.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “I’m here.” She grabs my hand as she reads the venomous words written by the first girl I was ever in a relationship with. And Evie will be the last. The damage Britney did to my head and heart prevented anyone from being in between.
Tears fall from her eyes onto the paper as she reads, until she flings it off to the side like it’s on fire and throws her arms around me. She burrows her face into my neck and hugs me so tight I can hardly breathe.
“I’m so sorry…I had no idea…it’s horrible…the things she s
aid and what she did.” She gulps for air and clings even tighter to me. “I know she was sick but it’s devastating…all of it.”
She pulls away from my neck and wipes at her tears as I wrap my arms around her. “It’s not true,” she says, choking between words. “You deserve to be loved. You’re the most loving man I’ve ever met in my entire life.”
“It took me a long fucking time to get here. And even longer to let myself love someone.” Years. For years I put walls up. “When I met you…it just happened.”
“And I pushed you away.” She leans her forehead against mine. “I’m so sorry I was so difficult.”
I touch her chin and lift her face. “That was completely different. You had to be ready for love too. And we got there. That’s all that matters.”
She smiles weakly and peers up into my eyes. “I’ll never, ever hurt you. I promise you.”
“I know you won’t. And I won’t hurt you.” I kiss her lips and tighten my grip around her waist. “Thank you…for reading that. I know it was hard. I feel like a weight was lifted, letting you read it. It was a lot to keep in for so long.”
“You were too young to go through something like that. And it’s awful you kept it all bottled up inside.” She chews her bottom lip and then nods decisively. “If you ever want to talk about her, its okay, Storm. I’m not going to get mad or jealous. I want to be here for you in every way, not just for the good, fun stuff.”
I move my hand up to the nape of her neck and pull her mouth down to meet mine. “That’s why I’m marrying you,” I whisper against her lips.
Our kisses turn deep and desperate as she tugs my shirt off, lowering her head to my chest to kiss the six-inch scar there. She’s touched it many times but never knew how I got it, until today. And now she’s trailing her lips down the bumpy line, loving the bad memories away as only she can.
Chapter Eight
Storm falls into a deep sleep after we make love, but even the two hours of bliss I just had with him can’t lull me into sleep tonight. Instead, I lie with my arm across his stomach, my leg over his, and my head on his shoulder—needing to be extra close to him.