Chapter
Forty-Five
Soren
I owed her an explanation, and I also feared that the truth would send her running. I ran my hand down my face.
“Can you promise to not run until I finish explaining?” I cleared my throat against the physical reaction to my emotions.
She tipped her head while studying my face.
“Why would I run?”
“Because there’s a lot about me you don’t fully understand and I’m afraid you’ll hate me.” Her eyes became guarded, and I was sure she didn’t realize it, but she created distance between us and it killed me. This is why I hadn’t told her. I had always planned to, but the timing never seemed right to obliterate the fragile trust that someone had placed in you. She had such a delicate trust system as it was, and me explaining the man I used to be could blow it all to pieces. Her demeanor after her shower made sense now. All throughout dinner she was quieter than normal, as though something was concerning her. She was as kind as always, but she didn’t have that lightheartedness that she allowed to shine when she was comfortable. I owed her an explanation, and all I could hope was that she’d see who I was now and she wouldn’t want to leave.
“May I hold your hand?”
I opened my calloused palm and held it out. She bit her lip and flicked her eyes over my face and posture. I knew she was unsure, but I wasn't sure I could tell this story without touching her. I needed her to be my anchor. After a second, her small hand slipped into mine. I used my index finger on my other hand to draw designs on top of her hand as my elbows were braced on my knees.
“When Abel died, it was my fault.” I heard her sharp intake of breath, but I continued to study our hands and draw on her smooth skin. If I stopped, I didn’t know if I could start again.
“Abel was extremely safety conscious when we were kids, and I’d always give him such a hard time and tell him to live a little.”
A sob burned in my chest, but I would finish this story before I let a single tear fall. Damn my foolish choices. Damn my selfishness. Damn who I used to be. Without my influence, he’d be here. He might be the one holding her hand, and a knife of guilt twisted in my gut at the thought. He would have been a better choice than me.
“When I’d get outside the town limits of Kennedy, I’d always unbuckle my seatbelt because I hated how confining it was. He’d always give me a hard time, and I’d always say, ‘We’re almost home, loser.’ I can still hear him lecturing me.” A ghost that haunted all my future choices.
“I had a flat tire late one night, and I’d called him to bring me a tool since I was close to home. He hopped in his truck and made it about a quarter mile away from me when a deer jumped out in front of him. He slammed on his brakes and flew through the windshield because he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt.” I swallowed, trying to keep talking. “He died in my arms.” Her sharp intake of breath drew my eyes up, and for the first time, I noticed the silent tears that dripped from her chin. I reached up and wiped them away.
“Oh, Soren.”
“I’m not done yet. I want to tell you everything.”
She squeezed my hand in encouragement, and I began drawing patterns again. Jonah and Lane knew this story, but I wasn’t sure they really knew how much guilt I still carried. My little brother wasn’t here because of me, and if I reflected on that too much, it was suffocating. Even as I sat here, I considered scheduling a meeting with George.
“After I pulled him from the ditch, I completely lost my mind, Sawyer. I became an alcoholic. Whiskey and women were the only things that seemed to dull the ache. I would disappear for a week at a time on benders. I was sleeping with any woman that offered and was drunk more often than sober. My parents tried to help, but it wasn’t until a pregnancy scare and Lane punching the hell outta me that something slowed me down enough to sober me.”
I wasn’t going to tell her Lane’s story, but I had never been more grateful for a black eye in my life. Jonah and Lane had saved me in entirely different ways, but their friendship was as close as brothers could be without sharing blood.
I blew out a breath that ended in a bitter laugh.
“That day you were on my porch was like déjà vu. The last time a woman sat on my porch steps, it was to lie and tell me she was pregnant with my baby.” I lifted my eyes to hers, which had widened at that statement.
“In the end, she was after money and wasn’t pregnant, but the idea that I could have created a child in my whirlwind of damage sobered me. Lane hired a doctor while I detoxed at Jonah’s house and then I went through a rehab program. There are still people that were convinced by her lies that I’m a deadbeat dad.” She watched my face and for the first time, hers was unreadable. I plunged on because at this point, I wanted everything on the table.
“I’m eight years sober, and I attend AA one night a week for accountability. I try to help other men in the same situation that I was in.” I hopped up, startling her, and tugged her hand with mine and led her to my bedroom. She followed willingly until we stood in front of the jar and I reached a hand to pull out a paper.
“I write one of these every morning to remind myself that one day can undo that many days of sobriety, and it’s just not worth it.”
Her beautiful blue eyes scanned the paper I held, and then she slammed her body into mine. Her arms wrapped around my waist and she buried her face in my chest. I wrapped my body around her as her sobs wet my shirt. I gathered her to me and took two steps to reach the bed until I was sitting against my headboard and she sat in my lap. I knew I had dumped a lot of information on her. It wasn’t until I lifted my head from resting against hers that I noticed the tears tracking down my own face. After some time, she wiped at her face, sniffed, and her tears slowed. I scrubbed a hand down my face, wiping away my own tears.
“Soren, you’re wrong,” she retorted shakily. My muscles tightened at her words. “I don’t hate you.”
She reached for my hand and pressed a kiss to the palm, causing my heart to catch. She studied me while adding, “I could never hate you.”
My eyes bounced between hers, and I took my first deep breath since I told Sawyer my story. Over the next hour, I held Sawyer close to me as I told her about George. How Lane and Jonah held me accountable, and how I volunteered to support other men getting sober. I told her how successful the farm was and that the land that Connor had run away on was mine. I’d been scared to tell her at first because I’d been down the manipulating woman route before. I relished holding her close to me. It reminded me that she trusted me, and I never wanted that to change.