CHAPTER TWELVE
Breck
W es and I head up the chairlift on the backside of Empyreal, a cold wind cutting across our faces. It’s just the two of us as Willow is taking one more half-day lesson and Joss is down there with her, taking a lesson of her own. Wes—smart man that he is—told her something along the lines of “I want to get married in nine days, and you might not want to marry me if I try and teach you.”
Lessons have been a godsend for Willow over the past week. She gets more confident with each one, more comfortable with the skills they’re teaching her. There hasn’t been a single tear shed, nor any complaints. Not even when she finishes class and I take her for a couple of runs. She’s a natural, just like when she surfs, and I love that. I love that she and I can share this sport, the way my parents shared it with me.
“Man, this feels good,” Wes says with a sigh, tipping his helmeted head back to look up at the blue sky.
“Yeah, it does. This mountain is quickly becoming my favorite place. No wonder you love it here so much.” I can see now why leaving for good was such a big deal.
“It will always be home in a way. But Sydney feels like it’s really mine, you know? I was born to love Tahoe, and it will always have a special place in my heart. But Sydney… It’s the home I choose, with Joss.”
I sigh, looking over to where the lake sits in the distance, an expanse of blue surrounded by steepled mountains of grey and white. “Sydney’s always been home, at least it has been since my aunt and uncle moved me to live with them after my parents died.” Wes knows all about my parents, and while Aunt Tracey and Uncle Bill passed before we met in college, he’s heard me speak about them plenty over the years. “But I don’t miss it as much as I thought I would. Plus, it feels tainted somehow.”
I look at my friend and his lips are pulled down at the corners. If not for the goggles, I know I’d see his furrowed brow as well.
At his silence, I say, “We have just over a month left here, and part of me is already dreading the idea of going back.”
He gives me a solemn nod, and I know he’s taking every one of my words and rooting to the core of them. “Have you heard from her?”
His question lands like a punch and I’m thankful our chair reaches the top of the mountain at the same time—our movement to get off covering my flinch. I don’t answer, feigning preoccupation with strapping into my board as my mind reels.
I haven’t heard from her. Part of me hates that, hates it for Willow, that Talia really could just write us off and walk away so easily. But I’m also glad for it. It would be harder to have her be one foot out the door. If she wants a clean break, then so do I.
“No, I haven’t,” I finally reply. Then I take off down the mountain, letting the snow cover the multitude of feelings I have rushing through me.
I don’t want to relive the moments of that last phone call, in the wake of her leaving. I didn’t expect her to call me back, not after all I said.
I fly down the run, my board cutting through the soft powder like it’s butter, and the torrent of memories floods my mind.
I pace the living room, listening to each long ring like it carries me toward a cliff I’ll fall over as soon as she answers. But she doesn’t. Instead, it’s just her voice, melodic and soft. “This is Talia, leave a message,” followed by a resounding beeeep . I breathe against the phone and have to swallow back all the emotion.
“Talia. Please call me. Please. I don’t understand. Willow doesn’t understand. Please, don’t do this. Don’t leave. We can figure it out. We can find a way to make this work. I don’t…” My voice breaks and I swipe a tear from my cheek. “I don’t understand. Please, Talia. I don’t want this for Willow.” The emotions surge and anger starts to beat out the rest as I continue to speak into the void. How dare she not answer the phone. She didn’t even attempt to have a conversation with me before leaving, and now this. “Talia, you’re better than this. We’re a family, and you can’t just walk out on your family. Dammit. You can’t do this.”
I pull each breath through my constricting throat, and it physically hurts. My hands shake, and I want nothing more than to throw the phone across the room, like I did the lamp in my office last night when I found her letter telling me what she’d done. That she’d left—with Drew—and wasn’t coming back.
“It’s not just about you and me, Talia. What about Willow!? And what about the turnover of the business… You’re just going to walk out on our obligations and expect everything to transfer over to the new owners smoothly? You’re a coward. You’re a bloody coward doing this. I’ll never forgive you for this. Willow will never forgive you for this.”
I’m saying things I’ll never be able to take back if she happens to change her mind, but at this moment, I’m beyond caring. She fucking left us. And it clearly wasn’t on a whim; she took the time to have a lawyer draw up the permanent release of her rights to Willow. She gave up her child, for what? A fling? For freedom? Fuck, I wouldn’t give up Willow for a single thing in this world, not even for more time with my own parents. She’s a part of me. She’s a part of Talia too, yet it wasn’t enough.
How could Willow not be enough?
“Fuck you, Talia. Fuck you, and fuck Drew. Don’t call me. Don’t ever come back. We’ll be fine. You don’t want this? Fine, we don’t need you. Goodbye.”
I press the red end call button so hard I’m surprised the screen doesn’t crack. Then, I do throw my phone—at the couch. I guess I have some semblance of control left.
I hang my head into my hands and cry.
We reach the bottom of the mountain and I’m winded. Planting my hands on my knees, I gulp in air, but it doesn’t want to fill my lungs.
“Bloody hell,” Wes says, skidding to a stop beside me with a spray of snow over my board. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go so fast.”
I shake my head and plaster on a smile that I know doesn’t reach my eyes, but it’s the most I can muster after that. “Just wanted to enjoy the first run of the day on fresh powder before everyone tears it up.”
He studies me for a moment, whatever he sees in my face telling him not to press. Not right now. “Right. Well, that was amazing. Again?”
“Yeah, let’s go again,” I say. So we do, and I take it all out on the mountain.
We reach the lodge at midday to meet with Willow and Joss for lunch, and I’m surprised to find Rory waiting for us with all her gear. I didn’t know if she’d feel up to hitting the slopes after last night’s excitement. I also don’t know if I’m glad she’s here or embarrassed because of how I acted.
My brain went into “someone I care for is hurt” mode and I couldn’t help myself, but what if I came across more like an overbearing boyfriend? Grabbing her like that, hoisting her around the kitchen like a caveman… Then there was the tension as I held her—her head against my chest, hands gripped in my shirt, leg wrapped like a vise around my thigh. I’ve never felt anything so electric in my life.
I love Talia— loved Talia—and with my affectionate nature, I imagine most would believe we had an intense physical connection. But that wasn’t the case. There was attraction, sure, but our chemistry, even when we were first dating, was never… electric .
It’s confusing to say the least. It doesn’t feel right to have any kind of response to a woman when it’s only been five weeks since Talia left. The mourning period for a nearly ten-year relationship should be longer than that. But also, if I’m going to feel something for someone… it shouldn’t be Rory, right?
I shake off my errant thoughts and we all pile in around the table. Willow takes the space between Wes and Joss, looking happy as ever. Part of me feels bad for taking her away from the support system we had in Sydney, but then I watch her wake up every day, positive and ready to take on the world, and I release myself from the guilt. A little.
“How’s your foot?” I ask Rory, keeping my tone light as I drop down next to her.
“It’s fine, Dad , thanks for asking,” she says with a sarcastic bite I’ve never heard from her, and I choke on my own saliva. If I’d been drinking, I would have spit across the table.
Well, hell… that was unexpected. I guess I wasn’t giving off the caveman/boyfriend vibes I thought I was last night, but was I giving off dad vibes…? I am so out of my depth here.
I’m not the only one spluttering over her comment. Wes is coughing into his hand and Joss snorts a laugh. Rory looks totally nonplussed, shrugging and facing Willow to ask about her lesson. My eyes flash to Wes, and he raises an eyebrow in my direction, just as unsure what to make of that comment as I am.
He joins me when I offer to go grab food for everyone and we walk together through the line.
“Listen,” Wes starts, and I stand up straighter at his tone. “I don’t know exactly what was said between you and Rory, but I know that y’all are awkward as fuck around each other right now. She didn’t give me much to go on, and she asked me to stay out of it, but could you clue me in?”
I stand, staring at my best friend, completely slack-jawed, unsure of what exactly he’s trying to ask.
“There’s nothing happening between me and Rory.”
“I know that. Bloody hell. She said something about you telling her to back off, like she was maybe trying too hard to be me. Ring any bells?”
“What? No, I never said that. I wasn’t…” I run a hand through the hair at the back of my neck and give it a tug. “Fuck, that isn’t what I meant.” I try to remember every word of our conversation in my kitchen. I’m sure I didn’t say that, but I guess it doesn’t matter if that’s how she took it. No wonder she could barely look at me yesterday.
I hurt her, didn’t I?
Wes is looking at me and I’m not sure how to respond. “Okay,” he says, drawing the word out. “Then what did you say?”
“I just—it was becoming too easy to rely on her help. She was incredible the first week we were here, and I kind of freaked myself out over it.” I blow out a breath, relieved to say these thoughts out loud. “We’re only here for so long, you know, and when we go home, I have to have my shit together. I have to be able to take care of Willow and handle our lives and do it all. By myself.”
When I pull my gaze away from the red tray in my hands, there’s hurt in Wes’s eyes.
“You will have help there, brother. We’re there. Me and Joss. You aren’t going to have to do this all alone and you know it.” His voice is firm. I know he and Joss will move heaven and earth to help us, but they also have lives… just like Rory.
“I know that, but still. I have to figure out who I am now that both my career and my relationship are gone. Spending so much time with Rory felt like it was muddying the process a little. But mostly, I didn’t want her to feel strapped to us either.”
Wes’s brows pinch together. “What do you mean?”
“Well, man, you practically signed her up for this gig. The one where she got saddled with a broken man and his kid. She’d do anything for you, that much is obvious, and I didn’t want her to feel obligated.”
We continue to move through the line and Wes says nothing in response. I’m sure I’ve officially pissed off my best friend, but when we finally reach the end of the line and get our food, he claps me on the back with his free hand and smirks.
“Maybe we all need to work on our communication skills. I never intended for Rory to feel obligated to help you in my place, but I can see how she might’ve felt that way. I appreciate that you were looking out for her, but nothing you just told me matches up with what she got from your conversation. So, either I misunderstood her or she misunderstood you, but figure it out so you guys can stop tiptoeing around each other, hm?”
I nod. He’s probably right, and I feel like a complete ass for it.
“One more thing,” he says, his smirk growing into a cheek-splitting grin now. “Why did my sister call you dad back there?”
I hang my head and chuckle, shoulders lifting and falling. “I might have said something last night about how I’ve helped Willow plenty when she’s been hurt. I did not mean to imply that I was her dad… but again, my communication skills leave something to be desired these days.”
Wes laughs hard, muttering “daddy” under his breath between his wheezing chuckles. I punch him in the shoulder as we approach the cashier to pay for the mountain of food on our trays.
“Weak sauce, Breck. That was pathetic.” He continues to laugh, playfully dabbing at his eyes. “You should know though, as much as I love you, if you hurt my sister for real, not just this miscommunication bullshit, I’ll punch you for real .”
With that, he walks back to the table, leaving me standing stunned in his wake. Well, shit. If that wasn’t him drawing a boundary around Rory that screams do not cross …
And now, with his brotherly warning bouncing around in my head, I have to smooth over whatever awkwardness is between us.
Easy.