Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
OWEN
The basement is split in two with a large games room housing a pool table and dartboard. Sliding glass doors lead out to the backyard pool. The other half is a media room with a giant wall-mounted TV and a large modular sectional.
The sectional is normally set up in a U-shape with an ottoman in the middle as a coffee table. But Mom’s already rearranged it so it can be slept on like a bed. It’s plenty big enough for two grown men, but the only way to climb in or out of the thing is to scramble on and off the narrow end.
I drop onto the couch and hold my head in my hands.
I’m a little embarrassed, to be honest. I had a bad day at work and took it out on Everest. There were complications with my morning surgery and we lost the kitten we were operating on. Then I had to recommend euthanasia to a pet parent who lost it in my office. Then I got pulled into an emergency surgery on the dog who we ended up losing too.
It’s just been a completely shit day and I’d actually been looking forward to seeing Everest and Ivy at home. I’d wanted the comfort and reassurance of their presence, something good after so much bad. But then he opened the door, throwing attitude in my face, and I couldn’t stop myself from lashing out.
I was an asshole. He didn’t deserve it. And now I’ll need to apologize. Ugh. I hate apologizing. Especially to Everest. But I seem to be doing it a whole hell of a lot.
Heaving a sigh, I push myself to my feet and trudge back toward the stairs. I’m halfway up when I hear my name.
“What about Owen?” Everest’s dad, Graham, asks.
I freeze in between steps, hand gripping the banister as my ears strain to pick up the conversation. They’re talking about me. Why are they talking about me?
“Owen’s… good,” Everest says.
I put a hand to my chest and my heart skips a beat. Good. What the hell is good supposed to mean? Good at what?
“Really?” Nell sounds surprised. “Because we honestly thought you two were going to murder each other the second we left you alone.”
Everest chuckles softly and I latch onto that familiar sound. It winds its way through me, spreading warmth everywhere it goes. It soothes my fatigue, washes away the grit scraping against my nerves. I close my eyes as it wraps itself around me and sinks into the deepest parts of me. I need that sound. I need to bury myself in it until it drowns out absolutely everything else.
“Yeah, I did too. But, you know what, I don’t think I gave him a fair chance before. He’s not that bad. He’s…”
I lean forward, eager to hear what he’s going to say next. For a split second, I’m convinced he’s going to say something snarky and rude. He’s going to say I’m stuck up, that I’m an asshole, and he wouldn’t be wrong.
I am stuck up. I am an asshole. That truth is plainly obvious. I like my life structured in a very particular way and I’m not great at compromise. But if I’ve learned anything since moving in with Everest, it’s that life doesn’t work that way. It’s unpredictable. It’s unruly. It doesn’t follow a straight line or any logical rules. Trying to force life into my neat little boxes is always going to end in disaster.
Everest taught me that.
I gulp.
Everest has taught me a lot.
“He’s more than I gave him credit for.” Everest speaks so softly I almost can’t hear him.
“Really?” Nell asks again, practically incredulous.
I hate to admit it, but I kind of agree with her.
“Yeah, he’s… I don’t know, he’s cool.”
I can hear the smile in Everest’s voice, the sentimentality, the fondness. It breaks something inside me and sends me staggering. Because I feel the same way.
I drag in a shaky breath and sink down onto a step.
God, what’s happening? What are we doing? How did we get here? We definitely still hated each other when we first moved into the house, but in the blur of the past several months, we went from enemies to tolerating each other to… whatever this thing is called. Friends with benefits? Co-parents with benefits?
I cringe at myself. Both of those descriptions are awful.
I drag my hands down my face and scratch my fingers through the beard I’ve unexpectedly grown. After a few weeks of not shaving, I gave up on the clean-cut look and just embraced the damn thing.
Isn’t that the perfect metaphor for this year? Wave after wave of life buffeting me from all sides until I have no choice but to give up and sink beneath the water. The metaphorical water that is Everest. And the unsettling thing is, I like it here. I don’t want to leave. If anything, I think I want to dive deeper.
“Owen?”
I stir, looking up just as Everest descends the stairs, stopping a few steps below me so we’re level with each other.
“What are you doing? You okay?”
I regard him for a moment, taking in his mess of light brown hair, his eyes that always seem to be laughing, that little scar by his ear from a surfing accident years ago. The jaw that I love dragging my lips over. The mouth that makes a perfect O when we’re in bed.
Everest smiles at me and it feels like the sun is filling the stairwell, like there’s no one else on earth but us.
I hold out my hand, he doesn’t hesitate to take it, and I pull him down onto the step next to me.
“I’m sorry,” I say, holding his big hand between both of my own. My fingers run over his knuckles, smooth down the hair on the back, trace his callouses. “For being a jerk earlier.”
Everest sighs and curls his fingers so they’re intertwined with mine. “You didn’t text, didn’t call. I couldn’t reach you. A part of me thought that maybe…” He clears his throat. “I was worried.”
Guilt hits me hard. I’m such an asshole. It didn’t even occur to me that he would be worried about me, that not being able to reach me might trigger some painful memories. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. Everything was going wrong at work today, and I just got so caught up in it all, I didn’t even think to—” I cut myself off and take a calming breath. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. Just… don’t do that to us again, ’kay?” His voice trembles, adding fuel to my guilt.
“I won’t. I promise.” I lift our clasped hands and press a kiss to the back of his.
After a moment of silence, Everest speaks. “Did you have time to eat today?”
I shake my head.
He scoffs. “And you’re always harping on us to eat healthy.” He stands and tugs me to my feet. “Come on. They kept dinner warm for us.”
Just outside the kitchen, we drop each other’s hands. I have to stop myself from snatching his back into mine. We didn’t talk about it, but I think it’s fair to say that we’re not telling our parents about us. What would we even say? I don’t even know what we are.
Everest heads to the kitchen table and slides into an empty chair next to Dad and Graham. They immediately draw him into their conversation about some sports team. Nell is chatting with Ivy while Ivy munches on green beans drenched in ketchup. Mom’s at the counter, making a few mugs of tea.
I stand at the doorway, watching.
They’re smiling and laughing. They’re comfortable and familiar with each other. There’s no question that they belong here, together, like this is the way their lives were always meant to be.
A wave of grief crashes into me and I grab the edge of the counter to keep from collapsing. My heart hammers in my chest and my lungs struggle to draw in breath.
Thoughts, dark and heavy, pile into my mind. This picture of a beautiful family is only possible because we lost Jeremy and Eden. This life that I’ve found myself in is the result of an incredible, heartbreaking tragedy. This thing between me and Everest—for better or worse—would never have happened if Jeremy and Eden were still with us.
They should be here. Jeremy and Eden should be sitting around the kitchen table with their daughter and both sets of grandparents. They should get to talk about sports and drink tea and have silly conversations with Ivy. They should get to watch Ivy grow up.
But they’re not here. And they’re not coming back. The life I knew—the lives we all had—is over. Forever. We’ll never be able to turn back the clock. We can only move forward.
A strangled cry tries to escape my throat. I manage to stifle it, but Mom hears. One glance is all she needs to know what I’m thinking.
“Oh, sweetie.” She comes to me, drawing me into her arms. “I know.”
I don’t trust myself to speak. I’m exhausted and my defenses are weak, leaving me an emotional mess. If I open my mouth now, I’ll completely fall apart.
“We all wish they were here,” Mom says, her own voice a little unsteady. “It’s not fair, is it? Why them? Why not me? They still had their whole lives ahead of them. I’ve already lived mine.”
Her words are a dagger straight through my heart. “Mom.” I draw away to look at her, grief and guilt filling me. God knows I’ve had similar thoughts but hearing them from my mother drives home how horrifying they are. “Don’t say that. You still have a lot of life to live.”
There are tears in her eyes. She swipes at them, but a couple trail down her cheeks. Her lips curl into a sad smile. “I know. But sometimes…”
I pull her back into a hug. “I know.”
“It’s so hard.”
“Yeah, it is.”
The quiet chatter dies away and suddenly the silence sounds so loud. Everyone at the kitchen table is watching me and Mom. Ivy’s curled against Nell’s side, hugging Zuzi to her chest. There are tears in her eyes and in Nell’s too.
Everest blinks and sniffles. Graham and Dad are stoic and grave.
Keeping one arm around Mom, I lead her toward the family—my family. It’s incomplete, but it’s still whole. For Jeremy and Eden’s sake, we have to live the lives they’ll never be able to live. We have to carry on in their stead.
When I step up to the table, Ivy slips out from under Nell’s arm and reaches for me. I gather her to me, taking the empty chair next to Everest, and settle her into my lap. Mom brings the steaming mugs of tea to the table—one for Nell and one for her. She takes the seat Ivy vacated.
A beat passes in silence.
Under the table, Everest places his hand on my knee. For a moment, I consider ignoring it or even shaking him off, but then, as with everything, I give in. There’s no use resisting it anymore, is there? We’re past the point of denial and we can only move forward. I cover Everest’s hand with mine.
After another minute, I finally manage to string words into a sentence. My voice is rough when I speak. “They would be happy to see us all gathered here.”
“They’re here too,” Everest adds. “In spirit. In our memories.”
I give his hand a squeeze. He flips his over so we’re palm to palm and squeezes back.
We all cast sorrowful smiles at each other before Graham breaks the silence. “So, what about those Yankees, huh?”