Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
Summer
I blinked awake. I must’ve fallen asleep after hiding in the guest room. I’d cried myself to sleep a few times over the years when the wind howled outside. An effective sleep tactic. My eyes were crusty and I had a dull headache.
How late was it?
Noon.
Crap.
My pounding head was likely from the exertion to keep from wailing, and dehydration. If Jonah kept alcohol in the house, I would’ve dived into the bottles last night.
No, I wouldn’t have. Too similar to what Eli had done. I wouldn’t do that to either of us even if I weren’t planning to drive anywhere.
I rolled up and hung my legs over the side of the bed. My phone lit with a message from Autumn. Was it planned this time?
I scowled at her question. She had no idea the flame I’d held for Jonah all these years. No one did. I’d been moderately successful at forgetting him until he’d shown up to my wedding.
I lay back, letting my feet dangle. The thudding in my skull grew stronger.
Things between me and Jonah had been going so well, but at the base of our talks, and every time we smiled, I’d had a jolt of guilt.
True remorse. He blamed himself, and there was no way I could spin the story to make it okay not to tell him what had really happened that day. His parents didn’t even know.
I was a horrible person.
I dialed Autumn.
She answered. “Are you calling because it’s so good you can’t type the words because they’ll steam off the screen?”
Tears welled in my eyes. “No.”
“Tell me what happened,” she said sharply.
“I messed up so bad.”
Then I told her what I’d told Jonah. Every horrid detail.
“I’m such an awful person. He hates me and now he’s stuck with me.”
“Oh, honey.”
I wept, staying silent like last night, my face screwed up and my cheeks hurting.
“I know you’re not going to listen to me,” she started and I recalled saying similar things to my siblings when I gave them advice. “But this is neither your nor Jonah’s fault.”
I shook my head, my hair flying and my head pounding. “No, it’s—”
“Eli’s feelings were his feelings. His actions were his actions. You can’t know he wouldn’t have done it anyway. You can’t know he wouldn’t have gotten into his parents’ stash and driven into town. You can’t know whether he would’ve gotten hurt or hurt someone else, or both.”
“I shouldn’t have answered Eli.”
“He asked because he knew, Summer.”
“I hurt him so bad,” I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut.
“A breakup does that to people. You and Eli were barely more than kids, and you knew he’d take it hard, that’s why you waited so long.”
I might’ve hoped that being gone for college would dampen his neediness. That Eli would branch out and make other friends, but instead, the longer we were together, the more his life was about ranching and me. It wasn’t healthy, and it wasn’t what I had wanted out of a relationship.
“This is going to sound callous,” Autumn said gently, “but Eli’s in the past. He’s gone, and he left a mess for you and Jonah.”
“I’m making Jonah feel worse, and I’m stuck here for days.”
“You are stuck together. So do what Mama used to make us do when we were arguing—put our chairs back-to-back and take turns saying ten nice things to each other.”
The giggle the memory inspired was out of place but much needed. I sighed. “He’s so angry.”
“I bet he is. It’s gotta be harder to be furious at his dead brother than at himself.”
And I made an even better target. A deserving target. He hadn’t had the last fifteen years to get over the revelation. I’d taken that from him.
Jonah was outside. The wind continued to rage and throw snow in whatever direction it wanted.
Things close to the house were still visible, but beyond, where a valley should stretch across to the mountains sloping up on the other side, there was nothing but an angry snow globe.
He’d gone into the elements to avoid me.
I went into the kitchen and pushed up the sleeves of my sweater. The power was still on. I could put food in the oven to cook and hope we had electricity until it was done.
I’d made a roast the last time I was here and he’d liked it. I’d do the same, using his onions and potatoes. Closer to lunch time, I could make a salad. Would he eat? Would I have to retreat upstairs for him to come inside and live like a normal person instead of an angry mountain man?
The scrape of metal on concrete told me the answer.
Daddy used to say that shoveling before the storm was done was excellent practice in wasting effort.
He used to love storms and his enthusiasm had eased my own fear.
His thrill had helped me and all my sisters.
We would drink hot chocolate and play games all day.
The only stress was worrying about the animals, but Daddy had hidden much of the burden from us when it came time for chores, if chores could even be done.
Once I had lunch going, I pressed a hand to my stomach. I hadn’t eaten breakfast, but I’d wait, too mentally fatigued to eat while Jonah was making himself suffer.
I peered down at myself. I was in the same clothes as yesterday. The sweater and pajama pants would be okay, but I should wash my underclothes. I could roam around with no bra or underwear. Jonah wasn’t inside to look.
I retrieved any clothing of his I thought was dirty. The task had included going through his room to get the laundry basket and into the bathroom he used. Once I had enough to feel like I wasn’t wasting a load, I threw everything in.
Rolling my shoulders, I looked down. How obvious was it? I wasn’t a large-chested woman, but I’d always been happy with what I had. So had my partners. Still, it was weird to walk around his place, free-balling it.
What now?
He was out shoveling a drift that would be blown back in place and bigger than it had been before sunset. I couldn’t sit and watch a show. The talk with Autumn ran through my head. He was angry at Eli. Himself. And me.
I couldn’t sit inside while he was toiling away. I put on my coat, slipped my feet into my boots, and stuffed my hat on my head. I tugged my gloves on before walking through the house to the door that led into the garage.
Wind swirled through the garage. The big overhead doors were closed, but the door that led outside was open. Flakes swirled inside, and in the time Jonah had been out, a small drift had formed over the threshold.
“Stubborn damn man.” As I stepped into the wind and got smacked in the face with a hundred prickles of snow, I couldn’t recall what I had planned to do when I got outside.
What was my goal? For Jonah not to hate me? I didn’t care for myself, or for what I’d done to Eli. My parents had always said honesty was the best policy, but being honest that day had cost me. The entire Dunn family had paid. Jonah had stopped living while I hadn’t.
“What are you doing?”
I spun and blinked against the onslaught of wind and snow.
When my vision cleared, I was faced with a flat mouth.
His cold, red-chapped cheeks made his pinkish-white scar stand out more than ever.
The black hat was pulled down to his brows and snow had crusted over the scruff on his face.
He’d flipped the collar of his heavy, navy-blue winter coat up until only his cheeks and nose were visible.
“I’d like to help.” The bridge of my nose stung from the attack of the frigid air on my skin.
“You’ve done enough.” He turned away, shovel in hand. “Get inside.”
I clamped my hand on his arm. I didn’t yank him around or he might fall. I’d get taken out with him, and while I’d like to know what his weight felt like on top of me, I didn’t want him hurt. And I’d rather be in a warm bed. I’d rather he didn’t hate me.
The hidden fantasy I hadn’t revisited until recently had been shredded last night. “We need to talk.”
“You’ve said enough.”
All moisture had been sucked from my lips, but I smacked them together, frustrated. “Jonah, please.” He stopped and I didn’t know what to say. I looked around as if the snow-pelted surroundings and my crusted-over car would tell me what to say.
My car had been freshly wiped off and baby drifts were forming around the driver’s side. Shovel marks from where he’d cleared around the tires were still visible. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to get your car inside the garage.”
Oh. Just like last night, he was taking care of me. I had been terrified, leaving the house during a blizzard, but he’d sounded so tortured. He’d caught me in time and ordered me to be safe. Now he was getting my car into a shelter.
Don’t delude yourself yet again. He wanted something to do and his options were limited in a storm. “I can help.”
“Get inside.”
My temper snapped. I threw my hands out, the material of my jacket crackling and punctuating the move. “Let me help. I keep messing up, and I never know how to fix it. Just let me do something!”
He blinked at me. The crust in his near-beard had accumulated more snow since he’d been standing still. If he rejected me again, I’d go inside and try not to cry while watching a movie. I’d be useless, like usual.
“You don’t have snow pants. Go in the garage and move shit around until we can fit your car inside.”
I could barely hear him over the wind, but I nodded, grateful he wasn’t chasing me away again, and also glad I would be out of the wind. Flannel did nothing to block the onslaught and the skin of my legs was growing numb.
When I entered the garage, I turned on the lights, but my eyes needed minutes to adjust before I saw more than dark shapes. I took a step and my boot skated across the concrete floor. I flailed my arms but caught my balance. Good thing. I doubted I’d get TLC tonight if I hurt myself in a fall.
For the next several minutes, I rearranged small motor equipment. A lawn mower. He had three different sizes of chainsaws. Two were electric. Everything he had was neatly ordered, but since no one else ever used the other stall, he’d made a spot for them on the floor.
I found his old fishing rods and tackle boxes, moving them to make room for the weed whacker that wasn’t caked in dust from disuse. A kayak and canoe were hung on the back wall. I hadn’t noticed them when I was caught up in my ruined wedding. How long since he’d used either one?
His hunting rifles and shotguns were probably in the gun safe I also hadn’t noticed last time, stuffed in the far corner. There was a small door toward the back.
I clomped toward it. My boots weren’t slick with snow anymore, but I couldn’t be too careful. I peeked inside. Too dark. Hell, I was being nosy anyway, and it was his garage. I’d find no secrets here, so I flipped on the light.
All his camping gear was arranged neatly on shelves. In a case on one shelf was a blue-and-gray tent he used to use when he’d camped with Teller all the time. Along the wall were extra paddles for the kayak. Coolers for when he used to throw pasture parties with my brothers were piled together.
Jonah had practically lived outdoors and now he kept his memories shut away, as he did himself.
“Did you lose something?”
I yelped and spun, smacking into a hard, icy chest. His arms wrapped around me like he couldn’t help himself. The cold of his coat seeped through my cheeks but his arms were banded around me and he wasn’t letting go.
“Christ, watch where you’re going.”
I tipped my head back to look at him. “I never used to be like this.”
He’d wiped the snow from his scruff before he’d reached me. Drops of melted flakes clung to his dark eyelashes and his gaze was indecipherable. “Yes, you did. You used to get yourself in trouble all the time.”
I puffed out a breath. That Summer was so long ago.
Adult Summer had finished her education, watched over her siblings, worked for the family company, and kept her head down.
Adult Summer didn’t pull pranks on boys who’d wronged her or her siblings.
She didn’t race cars on back roads and she didn’t take bets on who could shoot the E out of a can of Mtn Dew at fifty yards.
“I can’t risk someone else suffering because of what I did.”
His jaw worked, and he carefully stepped away. His gloves remained on my shoulders a beat longer before he pulled his hands back. “Do you have your keys? There should be enough room now to get your car in.”
“I can do—”
“Jesus, Summer.”
Okay, then. I took my keys out of my coat pocket and dropped them in his hand. “I put another roast in. It should be done soon. Are you going to eat with me?”
He stared at me. A drop of melted snow rolled over his beard. “No.”
“I’ll leave it out for you, then.”
He nodded and stomped out of the garage.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling, then turned to take one last look at a life stuffed into a closet.
I hadn’t expected any of us who’d loved Eli to be the same after he’d died, but perhaps I’d been wrong to think such a big part of us hadn’t passed away with him.