Chapter 12
What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us.
—Ralph Waldo Emerson
Drew
Yesterday’s Thanksgiving dinner was a disaster, not that I expected it to be anything less.
Dad invited a few business associates, and while they talked Wall Street and the state of the economy at one end of the table, we were pretty much silent at the other end.
Fable sat across from me, stubbornly quiet as she picked at her plate full of catered food.
Adele doesn’t cook and she sure as hell wasn’t going to prepare a Thanksgiving meal. I don’t know if I’ve ever had a home-cooked turkey since the last time we spent the holidays with my grandparents in New York, and that was years ago.
The hostility in the house was off the charts. Adele tried her damnedest to talk to me but I refused. The taxi had shown up to cart Fable away just as promised later that evening and I sent the guy away, shoving two twenties in his hand as payment for his trouble.
Not once did Fable speak to me. The moment she could make her escape, she was gone, heading back to the guesthouse without a good night to anyone and locking herself away in her room. She didn’t come out for the rest of the night.
So I did the same, pissed at myself that I let her get under my skin. I didn’t sleep much, hadn’t really slept much the night before either, and now I’m lurking outside Fable’s closed door, tempted to bust in there and make her talk to me.
This is definitely not like me. I’m not confrontational. I hate facing my feelings. But damn it, that fight between us yesterday left me raw and hurting. I feel like a pussy for even thinking this, but I thought what we had was turning into something special.
Guess I was wrong.
But see, this is where my stubbornness kicks in for once in my personal life.
I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t think I am wrong.
For whatever reason, she’s running scared.
I can’t blame her. I do the same damn thing, day in and day out.
The only time I feel completely in control of my life is out on the football field.
Being trapped here for the last few days, I’m jonesing to get back to it.
Get my head out of the bullshit and back into the game.
Go back into unfeeling robot mode and forget everything else.
Irritated with myself, I knock on her door and turn the knob, surprised to find it unlocked. I don’t bother giving her even a second to respond—I stride into her dark room, stopping at the foot of the bed to find her a sleeping, dead-to-the-world lump in the center of the mattress.
Her blond hair is strewn about the pillow in tangled waves, her face soft with sleep. Rosebud lips parted, the covers are pushed down to her waist and she’s wearing a skimpy pale-blue tank top with no bra, her nipples clearly visible beneath the thin fabric.
The thin top, her hard nipples beneath—I’m captivated, salivating really.
It’s cold as hell in the room and I go to her, grabbing the edge of the comforter so I can pull it up over her body.
My knuckles brush against her chest—I did it on purpose, I’m not going to lie—and her eyes fly open at first contact.
She sits up so fast she nearly nails me in the jaw with her forehead, and I take a quick step back, saving myself from massive injury.
“What are you doing?” She pulls the covers up to her chin, covering up all that pretty exposed skin, and disappointment crashes into me. “Sneaking around my room?”
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” Lame-as-hell answer, but it’s all I got.
“What time is it?” She leans over and grabs her phone off the bedside table, checking the clock with an aggravated groan. “Why would you think something’s wrong with me this early in the morning?”
“You locked yourself up in here over twelve hours ago. For all I know you could be unconscious. How was I supposed to know?” I feel defensive. Her reaction makes me defensive, and I don’t know how we skipped backward and ended up hostile toward each other again. I fucking hate it.
I want the new Fable back. I want the new us back.
There was never any “us,” you asshole.
Clamping my lips shut, I sit on the edge of the bed, sad when she skitters away from me as if she needs the space.
I’ve had this idea lurking in the back of my mind since about three this morning and I hope it’s going to heal what damage has been done to our tentative relationship. If she doesn’t agree…
I don’t know what else to do.
“Well, I’m fine,” she retorts, setting her phone down, her gaze locked on her bent knees in front of her. “You can leave now.”
“I was hoping I could ask you to go with me somewhere.”
She flicks her head in an I-don’t-give-a-shit way. “I don’t know if we should hang out together anymore, Drew. I know we’re supposed to be pretending we’re boyfriend and girlfriend, but this week is almost over and I don’t think we need to make a big show of it.”
Fuck, what did I do? I have no idea, and she’s not going to tell me unless I drag it out of her. “I wanted you to come with me to the cemetery. I need to visit my sister’s grave.”
Her gaze finally meets mine, those green eyes full of pain and sympathy. All for me. “I don’t know if I should…”
“I want you there.” Reaching out, I grab her hand and cradle it in mine. Her fingers are ice cold and she tries to withdraw, but I tighten my grip. “I need you there, Fable.”
“I thought Adele had something planned for family only.” She lifts her chin, looking defiant. Vulnerable. Beautiful.
So beautiful I’m tempted to haul her into my arms and never let her go. But I don’t.
“I’m not going with them.” It would be my every nightmare come to life. Adele a weeping, emotional wreck and me expected to stand by her, full of sympathy and offering her hugs.
I can hardly stand the thought of her touching me, let alone actually letting her.
Fable is quiet. I can tell she’s considering my request, which fills me with relief.
I don’t want to go alone, I don’t want to go with my parents either, but I need to go and pay my respects to my baby sister.
The idea of going alone fills me with such overwhelming sadness, I know I’d fall apart the second I parked my truck in the cemetery lot.
I wouldn’t be able to go in there, and I need to.
Having Fable by my side will give me the strength I freaking need to visit my sister’s grave. Beg her forgiveness at her gravestone for not taking care of her and hope like hell when I tell Fable the truth, she won’t hate me for what I’ve done.
And maybe, just maybe, her acceptance will help ease the hatred I feel for myself.
“I’ll go with you,” she says, her voice low, her gaze downcast once more. “When do you want to leave?”
“I need to take a shower. I’m sure you do, too.” When she nods, I continue. “A couple of hours, then? By ten?”
“That sounds good.” She nods again and slowly releases her hold on my hand, her fingers drifting along the length of mine.
Chills steal over me at the subtle contact and when I look at her, she’s watching me, her lips parted, her eyes wide.
So fucking beautiful in her tousled, still-sleepy state, it hurts to stare at her for too long.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “For saying you’ll come with me.”
“Thank you for trusting me enough to ask.” She licks her lips, leaving a damp sheen on them, and I want to kiss her so bad, I ache with it.
“That’s why I was so mad, Drew. After what happened yesterday, what you and Adele accused me of, it felt like you didn’t trust me.
And all I’ve ever been is honest with you. ”
She’s right. I know this. I overreacted. Adele pushed all my buttons and I fell for her tricks. So stupid.
“I shouldn’t have listened to Adele.” I take a deep breath and let it out. “I’m sorry.”
A little smile curls her lips and my heart flutters. “You’re forgiven. And just so you know. The guy I was talking to yesterday?”
Now my heart is pounding. “Yeah?”
“It was Owen. My brother.”
I feel one hundred times the jackass. Of course she was talking to her brother. She’s worried sick about him most of the time. “I should never listen to Adele.”
“No, you shouldn’t.”
“I feel like an asshole.”
“Yesterday, you sort of were one.” I’m about to say something, but she cuts me off. “Truthfully? I liked seeing all the anger. It means you actually feel something, you know?”
I’m quiet. She’s right. I can’t remember the last time I went off like that. Do I ever go off like that? A fuse had been lit within me and I was unable to contain it.
“I’m going to take a shower.” She flicks her chin at me. “You should go. I don’t want you to see me. My shirt’s practically see-through.”
“Fable, I hate to break this to you, but I’ve already seen you,” I remind her, my voice low.
Now it’s her turn to remain quiet and with a grin, I stand, heading for the door. “I liked what I saw, too,” I call over my shoulder.
Her soft laughter follows me all the way down the hall.
Fable
It’s so cold outside and gloomy, the sky full of dark, foreboding clouds and that ever-present wind.
I pull my coat tight around me, following Drew as we walk through the cemetery.
He’s taking a winding path through the gravestones and I try my hardest not to look at them, but I can’t resist. Some of them are beautiful, with actual pictures on them, heartbreaking messages, and even statues.
And flowers. Flowers everywhere, real and fake, bright and cheery, dark and somber. Some are holiday-themed. I see remnants of Halloween ribbon, plenty of autumnal colors. Rusty reds and oranges and harvest yellows.
I feel better, seeing all the color, the benches that people put out there to actually spend time with the loved ones they’ve lost. Death is a terrible thing but it’s also such a part of life. I don’t like thinking about it, our mortal selves.
It’s easier to pretend we’ll live forever.
“Here it is.”