Page 38 of My eX-MAS Emergency

“Because,” Rosemary cried, “I think your mother would want us to.”

I spat out a maniacal laugh. “How would you know what my mother would want? You disowned her and pretended we didn’t exist. You didn’t even bother to come to her funeral. Your own daughter.”

Rosemary wept silently. Tears pouring from the eyes that reminded me so much of my mom’s. “I will never forgive myself.”

Arthur reached over and took her delicate, trembling hand.

She squeezed his hand like she was holding on for dear life. “We know we don’t deserve to ask, but please,” she pleaded. “Please, let us try to atone for our past mistakes. We’ll do anything.”

I stared incredulously at my undeserving grandparents, wanting so badly to rant and rave, despite this town’s eyes and ears. Their sheer audacity had my head swimming. All I could do was turn and walk out the door. More than anything, I wanted to run away from this town and take Quinn with me. I didn’t recall signing up for this when I said I would move back home. Honestly, I thought I would do most of the torturing. Nothing malignant, of course. Just my mere presence was enough to give some people in this town hives. Instead, I was the one being tormented.

It was going to be another endless day.

AFTER MY SHIFT WAS OVER, I ran to the only place I could think of—the cemetery. Quinn had a date, Stella was who knew where, and I needed my mommy. Or at least a place to cry in private while I vented about my day. So, there I stood in front of my parents’ grave in the dark, wearing a parka on this bitterly frosty night, angry tears begging to be unleashed. Rosemary and Arthur’s plea incensed me. How dare they want to know me when they had ignored me for over thirty-four years.

I kneeled in the snow, not caring that it seeped through my scrubs. I brushed the fluffy white stuff off the headstone to reveal my parents’ names. It was hard to see in the dark, but I made out Vera and Alden Monroe. There were also more daisies, my mom’s favorite flower, frozen and wilted on the stone. I had a guess now as to who had been coming here and placing them on the grave. They had no right to mourn her now.

“I miss you both so much it hurts,” I whispered. “What a day I’ve had. Make that days. But this one takes the cake.” The tears that had been threatening finally unleashed their fury and rolled down my cold cheeks. I was just about to bare my soul when I heard the snap of a twig and footsteps. I spun around, my hand heading for the mace in my coat pocket.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” Tristan’s gravelly, sexy voice filled the air.

I wiped my eyes. “Are you following me?” My voice broke. Stupid tears.

He stepped closer, concern filling his gorgeous eyes. “What’s wrong, Calista?”

“Just go away.”

Tristan didn’t listen to me and strode right over, dropping to his knees next to me. He looked like he’d just come from work in dress pants, a button-up shirt, and an expensive dark wool coat.

“You’re going to ruin your clothes,” I said, trying not to be affected by his presence, and doing my best not to remember how often we had come to this place together. The comfort he had given me in this very spot had made me feel so loved and wanted. My body and soul cried out how much they had missed him. But he was just another person who’d pushed me away because I didn’t fit the right mold.

“I don’t give a damn.” He unceremoniously wrapped his arms around me.

I stiffened, refusing at first to let myself feel at home, even though that’s exactly how I felt. I hadn’t been held so tenderly in such a long time. It made me realize how lonely I was, which made me cry harder.

Tristan stroked my hair. “Let it all out.”

His gentle command had me obeying him. I sank against him and wept, not caring that I hated him or that he had thrown me away. I needed someone, and there he was. All my pent-up emotions poured out of me as I sobbed and shuddered in Tristan’s arms. My anger, sadness, and vulnerabilities about being back in Aspen Lake bubbled to the surface.

“Calista,” he whispered. “What happened?”

Instead of baring my soul to my dead parents, I found myself telling Tristan everything that had happened with Arthur and Rosemary. Including admitting Arthur to the hospital so his condition could be monitored for the next twenty-four hours. In good conscience, I couldn’t let him go home, even though his CT scan looked okay. His age and other health conditions made me cautious. It had nothing to do with affection, even though they’d begged me to forgive them for their neglect.

Tristan listened to it all, not offering a single word of advice, just granting me the opportunity to get it all out. It was exactly what I needed.

“How could they think I would want anything to do with them after all this time? After all the pain they caused my mother?” I cried.

Tristan ceased stroking my hair, but he held on tighter.

“Why wasn’t I good enough for them … for you?” I couldn’t help but ask. Those words out of my mouth had me pulling away, remembering Tristan was no longer my person and I couldn’t count on him.

Tristan refused to let go. “Cal, it wasn’t you. It’s them. It’s me.”

I pushed away from him. This time, he let me go. “You said yourself I was too much.”

He scrubbed a hand over his delicious five-o’clock shadow. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“You meant it.”

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