Before I Knew (The Cabots #1)

by Jamie Beck

  “Please don’t make me dissect my marriage and everything that led to Mark’s jump. It’s too painful.” The familiar lump wedged in her throat, making it hard to swallow. She closed her eyes for a second to will it away. “Talking about it changes nothing. I’ll simply say that not everything is how you or others may think it was. All I need—all I want now—is to close that door.” She studied Alec’s profile. His jaw clenched while he thought. “Just tell me, are you interested in helping me move forward?”

  His thoughts boiled over like a poorly tended stockpot. She didn’t know she was handing him his deepest desire, or that the truth stood between them like an invisible fence poised to deliver a painful shock. “My interest is obvious, isn’t it? But we have to discuss the past. There’s something I haven’t told you.”

  “I know.” She looked down then, so she didn’t see the blood drain from his face when his heart stopped.

  “You know?” He’d never considered that perhaps Mark had told her about the letter. He couldn’t speak, standing in a sort of frightened fascination about what she’d say next.

  “I remember Joe’s funeral, when Mark accused you of having something to do with Joe’s mood on the hike. You two had a fight, right?”

  Alec imagined he looked like a carp, the way his mouth opened and closed at least twice before he formed a response. “That’s true, but—”

  “But nothing. Brothers fight.” She waved her hand as if one airy stroke could erase all those years and battles. “Whatever happened didn’t push Joe off that cliff.”

  He sucked in a breath, his thoughts veering from Mark to his brother, an equally shameful and unpleasant deliberation. “Maybe not literally, but the night before that hike, I not only wanted to hurt him, I reveled in it.”

  Colby shifted on the sofa. Her cat-shaped eyes wide yet gentle, waiting. Apparently curious to know more about the ugliness living inside him.

  He’d come this far; he might as well finish the story. “Remember Beth?”

  “Hard to forget.” Disdain colored her words. “I put her in the same class as Gentry’s current guy, Jake. Neither is particularly kind or caring.”

  “I don’t know Jake, but you’re right about Beth.”

  She tipped her head in question. “Did you share that opinion with Joe?”

  “No.” Her thermostat mustn’t have been working right, because the room temperature spiked. Alec paced as the memory replayed, as vivid and 3-D as the night it happened. “She showed up drunk at my place that night. Said she and Joe had been fighting. Begged me to let her in to talk. I made a pot of coffee and offered platitudes about how Joe cared about her and she should go work things out with him. Then she excused herself for a minute.”

  He remembered her stumbling in her heels and feeling her way along the wall back toward his bathroom. “Honestly, I thought she went to throw up, but then she came back stripped down to her underwear. Started touching me, telling me how much she admired my success. How I was the ‘impressive’ brother. I was trying to get out of the situation when Joe pounded on my door. Apparently, he’d tracked her down using some mobile app. He walked in before she put her clothes back on, then jumped to a bunch of conclusions.”

  Alec hadn’t stopped turning in circles. His thoughts were so steeped in the memory of Joe’s reaction to finding Beth there half-naked, that when Alec did finally look up, he was shocked not to see Joe standing in front of him, fist balled, face red and sweaty.

  “I can see why Beth should feel bad,” Colby began, “but you didn’t do anything wrong.”

  With shame on his mind, he met Colby’s gaze. “I did. Joe started in on me, called Beth a loser and so on. After years of tolerating all the put-downs—of taking the high road, even when he didn’t deserve it—I snapped. I let him believe that I’d been with Beth. I was an ass, but in the heat of the moment, I thought I’d earned the right to hurt him . . . or he’d earned it, however you want to look at it. I woke up planning to tell the truth, but he’d taken off with Mark up to the falls, and then it was too late.”

  Wilting onto the sofa, he buried his face in his hands. He’d hoped to feel better after making that confession, but right now he couldn’t settle his stomach.

  Colby bumped her knee against his. “Not your finest moment, but not unforgivable, either. Maybe you were an ass, but not an unforgivable one. Your fight didn’t make Joe take Mark’s dare.”

  “I think it did.” He remembered the wounded pride on his brother’s face. “The idea that his girlfriend cheated on him with me, a guy he considered so beneath him, shattered his ego. I’m sure he hiked to the falls full of piss and vinegar. Mark’s dare gave him a chance to reclaim his manhood. If he hadn’t been reeling from shock, he probably wouldn’t have been so rash.”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions. What-ifs will drive you crazy. Joe’s ego is on him, not you. Trust me. I’m sorry your last conversation with Joe went so horribly, but you loved him your whole life, and he knew that. We both need to let go of whatever we wish we’d done differently.” She blinked, as if she’d revealed too much. “Alec, our history is complicated. I get that. But I can’t keep hiding from life, either. It feels like I’m on the brink of something new and exciting. Maybe we’ll find our way forward together, but not if we keep looking back.”

  “It’s not about looking back, it’s about confronting mistakes. We have to talk about Mark’s suicide.”

  “Why? Why make me talk about that when I work so hard every day not to remember? It took eighteen months to sleep through the night without nightmares.” Her eyes glistened as her expression tightened. “I still can’t always shut out that final image of him when it wants to surface. But I’m tired of everything in my life being defined by what happened with Mark. All I want is to stop thinking about him. Please, Alec. Please don’t keep bringing him up.”

  She tugged the wedding band off her finger and tossed it on the coffee table. They both stared at it while she wiped a tear from her cheek.

  Shaken by her breakdown, he paused. Ignoring the past wasn’t healthy, but maybe it wasn’t his choice to make. She’d handed him an out. One that enabled him to stick to his original plan to do anything he could to secure her happiness. If that required him to keep his mouth shut about Mark, at least he’d be loving her the way she asked to be loved.

  “Okay.”

  Even teary she looked beautiful. “Thank you.”

  Now what? Neither of them knew the first thing about taking steps forward. They sat together in awkward silence until she interlaced her fingers with his—her hand soft and warm in his large, scarred one. Only then did the impact of the situation fully register. He was holding hands with Colby, talking about the future. Their future.

  His heart beat out her name like a favorite song. He wanted to make love to her more than almost anything. But the ring she’d thrown on the table like some eerie gauntlet warned him to exercise patience. Her pushing herself to be ready wasn’t the same as her actually being ready.

  His thoughts strayed, searching for some kind of redemption for his secret. A few minutes passed before he said, “I have an idea.”

  “Oh?” She shot him a flirtatious look. Honestly, he couldn’t get used to that. He stared at her, savoring the fact that she liked him.

  Collecting himself, he said, “Let’s do something to honor Joe and Mark.”

  She straightened, eyes alert. “Like what?”

  “Maybe host a fund-raiser at A CertainTea in their names to raise money for some cause?” He shrugged, assuming the idea would appeal to her.

  “I love that idea.” Her perfect little nose flared. “We could start a memorial fund.”

  “A fund is even better.” He pulled her against his side, offering his shoulder as a pillow. Alec’s father would hate having Mark’s name tied to Joe’s. Truthfully, Alec didn’t love the idea, either, but he owed it to Mark, and to Colby. “We’ll have to think of a good cause. Do you still make gift baskets and deliver them to
the children’s hospital?”

  “Sometimes, but we should think bigger.”

  “Whatever you want.” He’d made a promise to see her happy, and he would. He’d worry about his dad’s reaction to all of this later.

  Chapter Ten

  Colby’s muscles loosened as if she’d just stretched and sighed. Her body fitted against Alec’s as perfectly as one of his beloved puzzle pieces.

  Although she’d spent the better part of her week daydreaming about more kisses, simply resting in the crook of his arm seemed enough for now. No pressure. No expectations. She stayed there, listening to Alec’s heart beating, letting her mind wander aimlessly, like a butterfly, fluttering from thought to thought.

  One thought: he smelled like her favorite fabric softener—eminently snuggly. Another: the late-afternoon light made her cream-colored furniture look peach. A third equally random thought: despite the hot dog she’d chowed down earlier, she was hungry. That one broke through the silence. “I’m starving.”

  He muttered a curse, his body tensing to stand. “My dinner reservation at Beast.”

  Colby tightened her grip around his waist. “Can you cancel?”

  He paused before resting his cheek on her head. “Yeah.”

  A little smile formed. She wanted him to stay even though she didn’t know where the night might lead. In truth, it didn’t need to lead anywhere else. His comforting presence was more than enough.

  “Want me to whip up something to eat?” he asked.

  “I doubt I’ve got much to work with.”

  “You forget who you’re talking to.” He tapped her shoulder so she’d let him up, which she did with great reluctance.

  With long, assured strides, he crossed the room to her refrigerator. She watched his confidence fade as he took inventory of its contents. If memory served, there should be jelly, butter, some mango chunks, broccoli, half-and-half, and maybe some slices of Muenster cheese. Maybe. Oh, and seltzer. Grapefruit-flavored seltzer.

  Without a word, he closed the door, wearing a faintly dazed expression. He then rummaged through her cupboards, where he likely spied a lot of tea, a half-empty bag of Cheetos, a few slices of bread, and some random oils and spices.

  He turned, his face aghast, head shaking in dismay.

  “This is the most pathetic kitchen pantry I’ve ever seen. Ever, Colby.” For Alec, food had always been a serious business. “Don’t you eat here?”

  “Sometimes. But this month I’ve been filling up on everything you’ve been testing, or eating with my mom. I haven’t been to the store in a while.”

  “I’ll say.”

  Colby shrugged. “Let’s order pizza.”

  “No.” He scowled. “I won’t be defeated.”

  “Alec, there’s nothing here.”

  His eyes lit at the challenge. “Refill your wine. I’ll have something ready in twenty minutes.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything to me.” She sat forward, recognizing a man on a mission.

  “I have to prove it to myself.” He smiled, shrugging.

  From her distant spot on the sofa, she watched an amazing flurry of activity. One pan sizzled with seasoned oil, another with butter. A third roiled with boiling water. At one point, he worked at the counter, giving her a clear view of his face. The image transported her back in time to his mom’s kitchen, where she’d often found him working with his mouth slightly open and his tongue pressed against his top row of teeth—a picture of concentration. The fact that hadn’t changed made her smile.

  Her curiosity piqued when he grabbed the bag of Cheetos.

  He looked up as she craned her neck. “No peeking!”

  Minutes later, he gestured toward the kitchen barstools. Unlike Jenna’s torturous seats, Colby’s stools had soft suede cushions.

  Once she sat down, he said, “Normally I wouldn’t put these particular dishes together as a meal, but as you know, there weren’t many options.”

  Following the disclaimer, he placed a grilled-cheese-and-jelly sandwich in front of her, followed by a bowl of sliced mango with some sprinkled spices. Finally, he revealed a platter of broccoli with crumbled Cheetos.

  “That’s pretty funny, Alec,” she chuckled.

  He forked a broccoli crown and held it out. “Try it.”

  To her surprise, a complexity of flavors exploded as she crunched down on the veggie. Red pepper flakes and garlic? Some Parmesan, perhaps? And, of course, a dusting of crunchy Cheetos. “You truly are a master.”

  He bowed like a Broadway actor and then speared a crown for himself.

  “Watching you now reminded me of hanging out in your mom’s kitchen. I loved watching you cook. If only I’d become a great cook just from watching.” She grimaced. “Fail on that score.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me to teach you?” He took another bite of broccoli.

  “It was more fun to watch. Plus, if you were teaching me, I wouldn’t have been able to talk your ear off. It seemed like a fair trade: you were my unpaid counselor and I was your food tester. Speaking of which, what’s on the mango?” She tentatively tested one, treating her senses to a little heat and tang.

  “Chili powder and a squeeze of lime, though that lime looked a bit suspicious.”

  “It tastes amazing!” Then she pushed at the sandwich. “But grilled cheese and jelly?”

  “That I know you’ll enjoy. Sweet and savory always mix well.” To prove his point, he took a bite from the corner of the sandwich, tugging it a little to reveal the perfect stretch of melted Muenster.

  “Show-off.”

  She’d pretty much thrown her plans to date a baggage-free guy out the window, yet all she could do was smile. Then she remembered Sara’s remark about Alec’s fight with his dad. It occurred to her then that this meal shouldn’t have surprised her. Alec’s ability to make something out of nothing had been learned from a young age thanks to what little affection he got from his father.

  “You never mentioned your family’s reaction to the newspaper article.” She speared another broccoli crown.

  He turned away, suddenly very interested in washing the pans. “They’re fine.”

  “Alec.” She set down her fork, waiting for him to turn around.

  When he finally did, he settled his hip against the sink and crossed his arms.

  “That’s a crock.” She rested her chin in her hands. “Your dad hates us working together, so there’s no way he’s okay with that article. Please don’t bottle up your feelings. Whatever this might become, it won’t stand a chance if we can’t share things with each other.”

  Colby had already tried the “under the carpet” approach with Mark. She didn’t know much about healthy relationships, but she knew one shouldn’t start the way her marriage ended. Keeping a lid on the past was fine, but they had to be able to openly discuss the present.

  His posture deflated like a balloon with a slow leak as he walked around the bar and sank onto the stool beside her. “We argued. Nothing new for me.”

  “I hate being a source of more conflict.” She took another bite of her sandwich, but, truthfully, her appetite had waned.

  For weeks she’d been resisting inviting his complicated problems into her life without considering how she made his life harder. “Will getting more involved with me cost you your relationship with your dad?”

  “What relationship?” Alec hoped the glib remark would end the conversation. There were better ways Colby could raise his blood pressure than bringing up his dad.

  “Be serious.”

  “I can handle my dad.” He wanted to shut this conversation down before she had second thoughts, although he couldn’t deny his own concerns about how he’d manage a relationship with her while still working on one with his dad.

  “What about Hunter? This might interfere with your friendship.”

  Alec didn’t welcome her concern. He wanted her to be freed because of him, not in spite of him.

  He grabbed her hand. “Trust me to sort o
ut my relationships. There’s no rush, anyway. We’ll wait until you’re sure about what you want.”

  “You’re pretty patient.” She grinned.

  “You have no idea.” He’d wait forever for the chance to give her back the wings Mark’s suicide had clipped.

  On the radio, the soft tune of dueling guitars floated through the room.

  “I love this song.” Colby smiled and took another bite of her sandwich, licking a bit of jelly from the corner of her mouth.

  “I’ve never heard it,” he said absently, wishing he could lick that jelly from her lips.

  “‘Bloom’ by the Paper Kites.”

  The melody bubbled along like a brook in the springtime, carrying his heart along with it.

  Colby’s face lit as she slid off her stool and tugged his arm. “Let’s dance.”

  The sun had nearly ducked below the horizon, casting the apartment in shadows except for the light coming from the stove hood. Colby rested her head against his chest and followed his lead, neither of them talking.

  Every aspect of the moment captivated him. The rosemary-and-mint scent of her hair, the weight of her head on his chest, the feel of her cotton dress beneath his palm, the sway of her hips, the sound of their feet shuffling against the wood floor, the lilac-and-gray light shrouding them in a peaceful haze, the sound of her breath, the feel of her thin hand in his.

  He raised her hand and pressed his lips to her wrist. She might not feel strong enough to confront the past, but he believed that compassionate, brave girl she’d been still existed, even if pain had locked her away deep inside. Colby would believe it, too, once he stitched together her torn pieces tight enough that she no longer noticed the seams.

  “I haven’t danced in years.” She raised her head, her gaze soft.

  “Maybe instead of reading about some fictional character’s hundred happy days, we should tick through our own bucket lists together.”

  “That’s sweet.” She grinned but didn’t appear eager for adventure.