Page 29 of Wrapped Up In You
“I’m sorry. He’s a dick.”
“He’s not though. He just doesn’t understand me. So he always let Mom handle everything because I was her kid, and I didn’t make sense to him. But he still supported me. He didn’t love the guitar thing, but he paid for the lessons. He even came to a couple of recitals. He bought me video games, gardening supplies, and whatever else I was into at the time. He wasn’t much for a conversation about any of it, but he still supported me in the ways he understood. My dad paid child support and Mom has her own career. Jon didn’t have to do any of that, but he still made the effort.”
“Then why didn’t he make the effort with me?” His voice was barely louder than a whisper.
“Oh, Lucy.” I pulled him into me, wrapping my arms around him as he laid his head on my shoulder. “Did your dad evertellyou he was disappointed in you?”
Silence. Then, “Not in so many words. But he never told me he was proud of me either. He never said much at all.”
“He probably assumed you knew. If you always did what was expected, then he never had reason to tell you there was a problem. And some people just suck at expressing themselves. But that doesn’t mean he wasn’t proud. When’s the last time you visited his office at work?”
“I don’t know. At least ten years ago, probably more.”
“Last summer, Mom and I were going to have lunch, but she wanted Jon to come with us, and for whatever reason, it made the most sense for us to meet at his office and then go from there.” I wasn’t completely sure, but it felt like he was holding his breath as I spoke, as if he was afraid of what I was going to say. “He’s got pictures of you all over his desk. High school and college graduation. A team picture of your baseball team. Your wedding photo. I guarantee that man is proud of you.”
“He’s never once told me he loved me. In thirty-two years, I’ve never heard him say the words.” His voice was small and sad, and it broke my heart
“Have you told him how you feel? Have you told him you love him?” His silence was telling. “Maybe you need to be the one to take the first step.”
A beeping sound came from the kitchen, startling both of us, and we pulled apart. “I’m going to go check on dinner. But, Lucy”—I brushed my hand against his cheek—“you should talk to your dad when we get back. Tell him how you feel.” I leaned forward and kissed his forehead. “Thank you for supporting my music. And for trying to understand me. It means everything.”
* * *
Dinner came out pretty tasty if I said so myself. We kept conversation to easier, less personal topics, telling stories of our childhoods and talking about the mundane aspects of our jobs. I knew a little about accounting from my college courses, but Jonathan found a way to make it actually sound interesting. It was evident he really did enjoy his work, and knowing him, I was sure he was good at it.
After dinner, we put in another movie—Christmas Vacationthis time—and cozied up on the couch to watch under a blanket. As Chevy Chase and Randy Quaid loaded a shopping cart with lightbulbs and dog food, I struggled to focus. In the back of my mind, my thoughts bounced back and forth between our conversation about my job and possible music career and his relationship with his father.
I’d never once considered the possibility of being a server long-term, but he’d made some excellent points. Maybe not everyone needed a career. Maybe a job could be just that, a job. I enjoyed it. I was a people person who constantly needed to be on the move. Serving definitely checked those boxes. I made pretty good money, at least enough for me to live comfortably with my roommate and my old car from college. Though, if the proposal was successful, I’d probably find myself without a roommate pretty soon. Still, serving would allow me the flexibility to pursue the music thing. I probably could even afford to take some lessons again to strengthen the skills I already had. My dad wouldn’t be thrilled, but I was used to that. I could weather that storm.
I was still amazed that this had all been at Jonathan’s suggestion. Never in a million years would I have thought Lucy would have suggested something so seemingly unstable as a career path. But when I really stopped and thought about it, I shouldn’t have been surprised. I’d accused him of making assumptions about me when I’d first arrived, but I’d definitely made my fair share of assumptions about him. And what I knew now was that Jonathan held a depth I’d previously been unaware of. He was a man who needed to know his own worth, at least in his father’s eyes. And he’d made sure I knew mine too. I believed he genuinely wanted me to be happy, even if my path to happiness looked nothing like the one he would take.
Could it be possible he’d be willing to walk that path with me? Would he be willing to forgo convention and date his stepbrother, even if that meant the possibility of damaging his relationship with his father? A relationship that was shaky to begin with?
The longer I stayed here with him in this cabin, the deeper I got. Somewhere along the way, I’d started imagining what it might be like if we continued this thing between us. I’d been so convinced I could walk away unscathed. That we could fuck this out of our systems and entertain ourselves while we were stranded in the snow. But now, I was pretty sure I’d be all sorts of scathed. So, so scathed.
As the movie wound to a close, I found myself, once again, contemplating putting some distance between us. I was usually much more impulsive than this, racing into a situation without thinking about it, just taking life as it came. I supposed I’d already done that when we started this fling in the first place. But now, I was torn between what felt good right now and what I knew would be better for me in the long run.
We both stood, stretching after sitting for so long. He started to head toward the bedroom, but I didn’t follow. “I’m, uh”—he turned to look at me—“I’m just going to sleep out here tonight.” His eyebrows drew up in question, but he only said, “Oh. Okay.”
I nodded, then ducked into the bathroom before I could change my mind. I brushed my teeth and used the bathroom, then came out to find him waiting outside the door. “All yours,” I said lamely.
Who says shit like that?
He still looked confused as he slipped past me, shutting the door behind him. I took the opportunity to change into pajama pants and a T-shirt, then lay on the couch, leaving only the lamp on and covering myself with the blanket. God, this felt so awkward, but my self-preservation instincts had kicked in, and now I didn’t know what else to do but follow through with sleeping on the couch.
He came out of the bathroom and paused outside the door. I could just make out his profile in the darkened cabin. He stood for several moments, the awkwardness increasing while my mind spun with possibilities of what he might say. Finally, he said, “Merry Christmas, Hayden,” in a voice so soft I could barely hear him, then padded off in the direction of the bedroom.
I clicked off the lamp and lay there, staring at the ceiling, contemplating how I’d gotten to this point. I was fairly sure I was halfway in love with my stepbrother, which was absolutely bonkers considering we’d only been here together for forty-eight hours, and I was absolutely sure it was my fault. Well, I could fix this. Or at least I could stop the bleeding. I’d just go home tomorrow. Quite a bit of the snow had melted today, and we’d mostly cleared the cars off. I’d go home a day early, spend most of the trip feeling sad, eat a carton of ice cream under a blanket on my couch, and then be back at work the following day, everything back to normal.
The door to the bedroom opened, light spilling out into the darkened cabin. “Hay?” Lucy called tentatively. I really should go back to calling him Jonathan. “Are you still up?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked, and I cleared my throat, repeating myself more clearly. “Yes. I’m awake.”
I heard his footsteps approach the couch, and then he was looming over me in the dark. “Will you come to bed with me?”
I peered up at him, blanket tucked all the way to my chin. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why?” He sounded so bewildered that I could already feel my resolve slipping.
