I wring my hands together as Pete tells me to take off early, to grab a bite with my brother who has patiently sat at the bar and watched bits of my life unfold all evening.
Nerves rattle in my veins and a slickness coats my stomach, making me feel nauseous and light-headed. Why did James leave? Why didn’t he say goodbye? Are we over?
No, that doesn’t even make sense. He just had a tough loss, a hard day…
He doesn’t even know about Jerry’s message.
Still, the rationalizations do little to quiet my mind.
Images of Jerry, storming out of our house, the storm door banging behind him, the rain beating relentlessly, cloud my mind. Two years ago, this week, I signed the divorce papers that Jerry waved around like a victory flag.
His callousness cut deeply. His disgust with me, with my weakness, ran through my veins like molasses, slowly, steadily, sluggishly. By the time he was gone, a fuck you, Bella, howling with the wind, I was numb.
Too numb to cry. Too emotionally burnt out to feel the acute pain of another failure. Never a mother, not even a wife.
I hardly remember the days that followed save for my big brother’s presence. Colton showed up on my doorstep, my parents close behind, and showed me the greatest compassion as I broke apart in his arms for the second time in two years. Dad helped me pack up my house and sell it, splitting the profit with Jerry, as we agreed upon. Mom helped me perfect my resume and search for a new job, telling Colton to ease up when he pleaded with me to go back to school and pursue children’s psychology full-time.
But Colton saved me and seeing him walk into Taps tonight quieted some of the unsettled energy that surges this time of year. Even more so now that Jerry contacted me. What does he want? What could we possibly need to talk about?
I could reply to his message and find out but…am I ready for that?
“You hungry?” I ask Colton, untying my apron and folding it into a square.
“I can always eat, Bells.”
I smile at him and he grins back and a quiet voice whispers you’re going to be okay. God, I hope so.
The snow is falling heavier now and Colton and I make a run for it, shrieking through the thick flakes like we did as children, until we find shelter in the little diner around the corner.
We sit in a booth, snowflakes dropping past the window next to us, and drink hot coffee. We feast on Belgian waffles with a side of eggs.
“You look good, Bells,” my brother murmurs. His eyes, the same cerulean blue as mine, pierce me with a knowing look.
“I’m in love with him,” I admit.
If he’s surprised by my admission, he conceals it well, ducking his head and hiding his smile behind his coffee mug. “He’s in love with you too.”
“He’s angry with me,” I say instead, not wanting to let the hope I was starting to lose myself in surge again. Not tonight, when James’s behavior threw me for a loop. Not now, when Jerry’s message and the week of my divorce, two years old and a failure still too fresh, prickles at me.
“Why didn’t you tell him about Jerry?”
I shrug. “What’s to tell?”
Colton sighs. “If I ever get my hands on that son of a bitch—”
“He messaged me,” I say quietly.
“What? When?” Colton leans forward.
“Late last night… I saw it this morning.”
“What the fuck does he want?”
I shrug.
“Bella.”
I look up. “He was grieving,” I say, not sure if I’m trying to convince myself or my brother.
“Don’t you dare defend him.” Colton glares at me, his jaw clenched. “That piece of shit put his hands on you, Bells. His fucking hands on his wife. The things he said to you, the way he acted—”
I hold up a hand, silencing my brother. Jerry’s words, barbed wires and blades, cut through me all over again at the reminder.
You’re nothing. A wasted-up failure that even biology deserted. How could you lose our son? How could he die? I don’t want you anymore, Bells. No man will.
For weeks, starting at the one-year anniversary of Miles’s death, Jerry ranted and raved in a drunken stupor. His heart had been obliterated, his life twisted into something tragic and unrecognizable. He spat anger and breathed fired while I curled into myself, an unfeeling, numb shell of a woman unfit to be a mother. His anger broke one night in a startling shock of violence, a backhand across my face, that left both of us reeling. Jerry’s eyes were wild before he broke down in a fit of sobs, apologizing to me and swearing at himself. That was the night we knew we were done.
Jerry walked away without a backward glance. But in the aftermath of our devastation, his cruelty and my indifference, I drowned in insecurities. I lost my way, my will, my purpose and I’ve only started to find my footing again with James and his family.
Old habits die hard and confiding in the man I now love about the emotional scars I bear from the man who once loved me is a hurdle I haven’t yet cleared.
“You can’t move on if you’re not honest with him,” Colton says quietly.
I meet his gaze, hating the sympathy ringed in pity I read in his eyes.
“Everything you experienced, everything that happened afterwards with Jerry, it changed you, Bells. For the past three years, since, since Miles, you haven’t been living. You’ve just been existing, biding time. For what?” Colton leans forward, reaching across the table to clutch my wrist. “That man, James Ryan, cares about you. I could tell the second I saw him walking toward us, looking like he wanted to knock me out.”
I snort and Colt grins.
“Trust me, Bells. The only way through this”—he squeezes my wrist—“is to feel it. You can’t keep everything bottled up forever. You can’t reach for numbness all the time. Closure is a good thing and as much as I hate Jerry, and as much as I don’t want you to talk to him, if you think it will help, maybe you should respond to his message. All I know is, you need to let someone in. And I will always be that person for you but I think you should give James a crack at it too.”
My eyes burn with tears I won’t let fall. Colton’s voice cracks and I hate how much hurt I’ve dragged him and my parents through over the past few years. “I want to forgive Jerry for me, not for him. It’s something I used to speak with Dr. Carlisle about. I want to move forward. And sometimes, that’s hard when I still feel so angry and…bereft, about the way things ended with Jerry. But I don’t know how to tell James that. He’s dealing with his own grief,” I murmur, not wanting to share just how deeply Layla’s death cut him. “He’s still coming to terms…”
“What better person to help you through yours? You can support each other. But the only way to do that is to be honest. Really, truly honest.”
I nod slowly, wetting my dry lips. “What if he rejects me?”
Colton tilts his head, the corners of his mouth curling upward, at odds with the blaze in his eyes. “You’ve survived and endured a hell of a lot more than a guy’s rejection, Bells. You can get through anything.” He leans back in his seat, his hand releasing my wrist. “But he’s not going to reject you. The guy I met tonight wants to step up for you. You just need to let him.”
James is already asleep, his light snore whistling through the dark, when I let myself into the house. I hesitate in the doorway to his bedroom, shifting my weight from one foot to the next.
Colton’s words echo in my ears. My brother was right. Since losing Miles, I’ve been in a strange space, existing but not really living. Going through the motions but not engaging with the day, not being truly present for any of it.
I work to ward off the hurt. I run to keep my restless energy in check. I move in with families who need me so I can be useful and not have to examine the emptiness of my own life too closely.
For three years, this has been my norm but if I want a real chance with James, a real shot at a future and a family and happiness, then I need to start letting him in. Dr. Carlisle can’t be my primary sounding board, not if I want to belong to a family the way I do. That means making myself vulnerable and I finally feel like I’m at a place where I can do that. With James.
I start right now, by peeling off my snow-covered jacket and letting it fall to the ground. Next, I shimmy out of my jeans, pull my shirt over my head, and tug off my socks. I take a deep breath and do something I’ve never done before. I climb into James’s bed in the middle of a weeknight, when he’s already asleep, and press my cold toes against his warm legs, snuggling into his side like a child seeking comfort.
He opens his arms, his eyes still closed, and I roll into them, my body relaxing into his. I let out a deep sigh and allow my eyes to close.
“I’m sorry,” I breathe out, kissing his forearm.
“Shh. We’ll talk tomorrow. Sleep now, baby,” James murmurs.
I melt into him, my worries easing, my hurt abating, and do as he says. I slip into a peaceful slumber that’s cut short by a shriek that nearly rips my heart out of my chest.