Page 34 of A Little Crush
But I don’t miss her dopey grin as Maverick reaches over and tugs her into him, stealing a kiss while everyone repeats, “To Opie and Maverick!”
My dad is next, then it’s Lia’s dad’s turn. Each toast grows a little more mushy, hitting me right in the feels while making me grateful Mav didn’t ask me to say anything. Not sure I would’ve been able to say a single word before I’d inevitably turn into a blubbery mess. Actually, now that I think about it, I’ve only shed a dozen or so tears, which, for me, is kind of a miracle.
After Lia’s dad, Uncle Theo, wishes them the happiest of lifetimes together, Maverick stands and raises his glass. “I, uh, I debated whether or not to do this. Didn’t know if it was the right time or…I don’t know.” He rubs at his chest with his opposite hand, peering down at his bride. “But I think I’d regret it if I didn’t, so, here it goes. All of these toasts are in celebration of me and Lia.” He wipes beneath his nose with the back of his hand. “But I want to take a second to share myappreciation for my twin brother, who, uh, who can’t be here tonight.” His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “For those who don’t know, my brother, Archer, passed away around ten years ago.”
My esophagus constricts, making it hard to breathe as I stare up at Maverick.
“It was, uh—” He sticks his tongue in his cheek, and a sheen hits his eyes. “It was the hardest thing I’ve ever been through and happened right after I was diagnosed with a rare heart disease.” He sniffs, wiping beneath his nose again. “When I found out I would die if I couldn’t get a new heart, I was…I was preparing to let go of everything I ever wanted. I was trying to wrap my head around…around what my doctors were saying, and the idea of not living for much longer.” His chin drops to his chest, and Lia reaches up, tangling her fingers with Maverick’s while staying in her seat. “And then my brother passed away in a car accident.” He sniffs again. “Now, you might ask how my brother’s death connects to my diagnosis, and honestly, I would’ve never guessed it either, but, uh,” he forces out a slow breath, “I guess fate decided I needed to stick around a little while longer because I wound up receiving my twin brother’s heart a few hours after we got the call about his accident.”
My chest aches, the tears falling freely down my face and dripping off my chin as I relive the hardest night of my life. Unable to watch my big brother break in front of so many people, I stare at the small stain of tears on the linen tablecloth.
“Arch?” Maverick’s voice cracks, and my heart crumbles with it. “Without you, I wouldn’t be here. Period. I wouldn’t have the opportunity to say I do to the most incredible woman on this earth. I wouldn’t have been able to visit third world countries and bring them fresh water like you always hoped to do. I wouldn’t be able to be a father and a friendand a son and a husband. I wouldn’t be alive without you.” He heaves a sigh, his knuckles turning white as he grips his wife’s hand like it’s a lifeline. “If you’re out there somewhere, if you can hear me, I want you to know I still think about you every day. Still miss you every day. Love you, brother.”
“To Archer,” my dad announces.
“To Archer,” the rest of the room repeats with a somberness that cuts me to my core.
Shakily, I bring the glass to my lips, but the bubbles fall flat on my taste buds as I force myself to toast my brother. And it’s moments like this when I wish I could numb the pain. When I wish I could hide my emotions or at least stifle them until I’m alone. Until I’m not in a room full of people who are here to celebrate, not watch a bunch of people weep for a person who was taken too soon. But I’m not that person. Nope. Instead, I’m someone who feels and who cries and who wears her heart on her sleeve which makes this moment feel impossible. The pain is too much. Too real and sharp. With my heart thrumming in my ears, I push to my feet, ignoring the way my champagne trembles in my glass.
“Hey,” Dodge murmurs from his seat beside me. “Hey, you okay?”
Head bobbing, I mutter, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I just need to…” I set the glass back on the table so I don’t spill it all over myself. “I need to use the restroom. I’ll be back in a…I’ll be back in a few.”
My legs are wobbly at best as I stride out of the main area and down a dim hallway, stealing a tissue from a side table on the way. Afraid I won’t make it to the bathroom, I collapse onto a small bench pressed against a random wall, cradling my head in my hands.
Tap, tap, tap. Pause.Tap, tap, tap.Pause.Tap, tap, tap. Pause.
The gentle tap-tap-tap sequence against my temples calms me, though I’m not stupid enough to believe it’ll last.No, giving in means the fallout will be even worse in the long run, but I can’t help myself. Not after tonight.
“Hey,” a low voice interrupts.
I jerk at the sound and wipe at my face with my crumpled tissue before peering up.
“I’m not in the”—I hiccup—“mood, Jax.”
“I don’t care if you’re not in the mood, Rore,” he growls. “You need…” He hesitates, and I swear he’s going to sayme, but instead he grits out, “someone.”
Someone.
Not him. Of course not. Why would I need him, right?
His ambiguity only pisses me off more. “Well, since you clearly aren’t that person, I think you should go.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”
His stubbornness only breaks me more. Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I beg, “Leave. Me. Alone.”
“I tried that,” he mutters. “Didn’t take.” Without waiting for an invitation, he sits on the bench and offers me a fresh tissue. “All out of hankies. This’ll have to do.”
I take it and blow my nose, ignoring the deja vu accompanying it. When I found out about Archer’s death, Jax was the only one I wanted. The only person I felt comfortable enough to break around without adding to their grief. Now here he is, watching me crumble all over again, and I can’t decide if I should push him away for what feels like the hundredth time or give in and stop fighting it. The pull I’ve felt since the day I was born, or at least it’s the story our parents tell. Not that it matters because the twinge in my chest has nothing to do with him. Not this time. Nope. Seems my brother’s absence has stolen the spotlight once again, and I can’t decide if I’m grateful for it or even more pissed.
It’s funny. The way grief ebbs and flows. Not that someone’s death is something you ever truly get over, but somedays it’s easier to stomach while others, it’s full-blown crippling. Like right now.
I know myself well enough to know there’s no way I’ll be able to stop these alligator tears from flowing. I’m not that lucky. So, instead of pushing it, instead of pushing Jaxon away like I know I should, I crumble even more, too exhausted to do anything but give in. To my emotions. My feelings. My grief. Curling toward him, I let down my walls and simplyfeel. And it’s painful. And messy. And consuming. But cathartic, too. Like a valve has been released, and the pressure can discharge the way it needs to. As my body wracks with silent sobs, Jaxon runs his hand up and down my spine.
“Sh, sh, sh,” he coos. “I got you, Beautiful. I got you.”
I always appreciated this about him. The way he doesn’t lie or promise everything’s going to be okay. The way he doesn’t sugarcoat shit or rush me through my pathetic crying process I’ve perfected over the years.
