Page 42 of Hensley Manor
Ian’s hand smoothed the hair from my face and slowed when his fingers grazed the scar above my brow. He then lightly traced it up beneath my hairline, as if seeing how far it went. He didn’t ask me about it—not after the way I’d snapped at him for doing so before—but I knew he was curious.
“I didn’t always hate Christmas,” I whispered, closing my eyes and leaning more into him. Needing his warmth because a sudden chill swept over my skin. “But everything changed five years ago.”
“You don’t have to tell me,” he whispered, holding me tighter.
“I want to. And I don’t. But I need to face it. Putting it out of my head won’t make it go away.”
He nodded and waited for me to say more.
After releasing a shaky breath, I continued, “My sister, Bella, was two years older than me, but we didn’t fight like most siblings. She was big into gymnastics and I’d often go and watch her practice after school. Cheer her on. After she graduated, she continued the gymnast thing. I didn’t really have anything like that; a passion. I’m too uncoordinated for football, and I’ve never been the smartest guy in the room.”
Pausing, I cleared my throat and scooted down Ian’s body, pressing my face against his neck. His arms tightened around my shoulders, but he didn’t say anything. His heart beat faster, though. Mine did, too.
“I’m an average twenty-four year old with no skills, physically or academically.” I nearly saidI’m nothingbut stopped myself before I did. “But anyway. Dad was a mechanic at a factory and worked on the machines. Mom was a manager at the bank. And I was the trouble maker, not taking anything seriously and partying too much. I didn’t go to college, even though Mom said she wished I would.”
Tears sprang to my eyes.
“We were arguing about it in the car one night. Bella had moved out of the house, unlike me, but we’d all driven together to my aunt and uncle’s house for Thanksgiving. Earlier that day, Mom had caught me smoking pot in my room and totally freaked. I was a nineteen year old loser with no ambition and was going downhill real fast. Dad was driving, and Mom was in the passenger seat, lecturing me. ‘Go to college and make something of yourself,’ she said. ‘It’s not too late, Cole.’ I rolled my eyes and stared out the window. I remember Bella reached over and grabbed my hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.”
Ian’s fingers played with the back of my hair as he held me close to his chest, pressing his lips to my temple.
“On the drive home, it started snowing. The temperature had steadily dropped for hours, and there were little snowflakes on the window. I stared at them, ignoring Mom. And then the car swerved. Hard. Dad had hit a patch of black ice while going around a sharp curve, and the car flipped down a hill.”
The fingers in my hair stilled.
“They say Mom died instantly. Her neck turned wrong. It’s all so fuzzy, but I remember Bella was still holding my hand when they used the Jaws of Life to cut us out of the car.”
I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. They fell onto Ian’s skin in a steady stream. It had been a while since I’d actually cried. I had a habit of holding everything in, pretending I was okay when I was in hell.
“Dad and I were still alive when they rushed us to the hospital. My head had slammed into the window on impact, breaking the glass, and shards were imbedded in my skull. They say I died on the table during the surgery before they were able to bring me back. I don’t remember it, though. Speech was hard at first. Like my brain had been scrambled or something. Lance was there for me and let me stay with him when I was finally released from the hospital.”
“What about your father?” Ian softly asked.
“He was in critical condition and passed two days after the accident. A part of me thinks he gave up. He knew Mom and Bella were gone.” More tears burned my eyes. “I don’t understand why I was the only one to survive, Ian. Bella had a bright future. Dad and Mom were happy and talking about their plans once they retired. And I was a fucking loser with nothing going for me.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” Ian caressed my hair, soothing me. “But you’re not a loser. You’ve brought so much joy to my life, Cole. I never thought I’d find someone who completed me like you do. I can’t even begin to understand the pain you feel, but know that I’m here for you.”
I looked into his eyes, seeing the truth of his words reflecting in them.
“I feel guilty.”
“For being alive?” he asked, and I nodded. “I didn’t know your family, but they sounded like amazing people. Do you think they would’ve wanted you to live like you were before coming here? Miserable and isolating yourself from the world?”
“No.”
“You’re allowed to be happy, Cole. You’re allowed to still love them, and miss them, but move on.”
“Maybe.”
“What about your aunt and uncle?” he asked.
“I haven’t seen them in a while,” I admitted, not proud of the fact. “It’s too hard. They’ve reached out a million times, wanting me to join them for the holidays. But I just…can’t. Being with them only reminds me of what I’ve lost.”
“I’m sure it’s hard for them, too,” Ian said, his voice gentle. “They lost family just as you did. Maybe one day, when you’re ready, you could reach out to them again. It will hurt to face the truth, but I think it will help you heal as well.”
He was right. Lance had said the same thing numerous times. I’d just been too stubborn. Avoiding it all. But avoiding the issue wouldn’t make it go away. It would just make it harder to move on with my life, keeping me in a stage of denial and anger instead of moving on to acceptance.
“We need more wine,” Ian said.
