19. Colette
19
Colette
T he morning sunlight filters through the bedroom curtains, casting a soft, hazy glow over Antonio's sleeping form beside me. I trace the planes of his face with my gaze, drinking in the boyish innocence that settles over his features in slumber. The hard lines of his jaw are softened, the worry creasing his brow smoothed into tranquility.
In these hushed moments before the demands of the day encroach, he looks almost…at peace. A sight I've become accustomed to over the weeks and months we've shared. My chest constricts with a complicated swell of emotions as I watch the steady rise and fall of Antonio's bare torso, his muscular frame shrouded by the tangled sheets.
Love, affection, desire. All those delicate, nuanced embers blazing brightly, chasing away the omnipresent chill that used to pervade my bones. And beneath it all, an ember far more elusive, but no less potent in its intensity. One I've been avoiding, even in the quiet recesses of my consciousness, too terrified to feel substance or a name.
Hope.
After so long adrift in a wasteland of trauma, despair, and emptiness, hope is the most daunting, unfamiliar sensation of all. The hope of rebuilding my life is almost too overwhelming to contemplate and yet, with Antonio by my side, I can dare to envision a future filled with hope and promise, a future where I can heal, grow, and thrive.
And yet, with each day that Antonio remains by my side—both of us battered but unbowed by our own storms—my resolve grows stronger, just as our bond deepens.
His affection for me shines through in every touch, every shared smile, every lingering look. An immutable force that illuminates my fractured spirit and bolsters my most fragile pieces.
My fingertips ache to reach out and trace the beloved contours of his face, to absorb his vitality through our joined skin. But I resist the urge, not wanting to disturb his hard-won rest.
As sleep takes hold of Antonio, I watch him lose the battle to exhaustion after hours spent making music poured from his heart and singing until his voice grew hoarse and strained with fatigue.
Since meeting him again, Antonio had been wandering in the desolate hinterlands of his own personal hell–the cyclical black hole of addiction and self-loathing robbing him of the spark that makes him dynamic.
To witness him finding his way back to his core of passion and inspiration is enough to leave me dizzy with elation. As if I could somehow absorb his creativity through nothing more than the intensity of my presence alone.
In those fleeting moments, Antonio's smoldering gaze would lift to pin me in place, leaving my face flushed and glowing with the fevered light of a man immersed in his art. I swear I was left hushed and spellbound.
A sudden burst of birdsong drifting in from the open window interrupts my quiet reverie. I blink, then shake myself back to the present with a self-deprecating quirk of my lips.
But as my gaze lands on Antonio's slumbering features once more, the tightness coiled in my chest returns in full force. I suck in a sharp inhale, wishing that I could share these cascading realizations and confessions with him and not be shrouded in the guarded silences and assumptions we've both adopted as second nature.
Almost as if expecting my internal struggle, Antonio lets out a low rumble as he stirs beside me. Dark lashes flutter against his cheekbone before those whiskey-warm eyes are blinking open, soft and unfocused, full lips curving into a sleepy smile as he registers my presence.
"Hey," he murmurs in that rough, smoky rasp that never cannot send a molten shiver arcing down my spine. "Morning already?"
I huff out a quiet chuckle, warmth blooming behind my breastbone at the unguarded sweetness woven through his tone. "Unfortunately."
Antonio snakes an arm around me, tugging me in until the solid wall of his chest presses flush against my back. "Don't sound so put out, gorgeous," he drawls against the nape of my neck, lips skating over the sensitive skin there. "I know for a fact that you enjoy my rekindled night owl tendencies."
I shiver as his warm breath ghosts over me, the arm I have draped over his trim waist of corded muscle flexing against my ribs. "Maybe I was hoping for a chance to tempt you back into bed before the day starts."
A low, guttural sound vibrates against my bare shoulder blades in a wordless reply. Antonio nips a heated path to the juncture of my neck and shoulder, his beard scraping over my sensitive skin. My breath hitches as desire coils low and molten in my belly, my body arching into his insistent caress.
“I think it’s time to call Henry,” I say. “I can’t keep putting it off. It just…feels so hard. Things are already so weird, you know?”
“Yeah, right?” He stretches with as much flexibility as a cat, flowing out of bed. “You do that while I go make some coffee. How about that?”
“Perfect. Thank you.” I pull him close and kiss him.
“Mmm… a man could get used to this kind of life, Col.”
I chuckle and then groan in frustration. “I wish you’d be here when I make the call.”
“Sadly, darling, there are certain journeys we need to take on our own. This is one of such journeys.” He points at the phone on the side of the bed. “Call Henry. I’ll be back with some coffee in about 15 minutes. When I do, I want to see you talking to him.”
He winks and struts out of the room with visible relief. I’m not the only one running away from an awkward conversation, it seems.
Inhaling a shuddering breath, I reach across the bed for my phone. A few deft swipes, and I'm scrolling through my contacts to Henry's info, pausing with my thumb hovering over the call button.
I force myself to stop overthinking and act, stabbing my thumb against the call icon with an emphatic jab. The line trills three times before the crisp click of a connection sounds in my ear.
"Col??"
I nearly drop the phone at the sound of my brother's anxious reaction across the line. I take several agonizing beats to find my voice through the maelstrom of raw emotion rattling through me.
"H-Henry? Yeah, it’s me..."
Silence stretches between us, rendered even more daunting and expansive by three thousand miles of fraught distance. Then, almost imperceptibly, I hear the faint sound of an exhale hitching as though all the air has been punched from Henry's lungs.
"Colette," he rasps, and Lord help me, the stripped vulnerability laced through that single utterance is enough to bring a hot prickle of tears stinging my eyes. "Oh, little sister..."
The endearment shatters, the fragile resolve clamping up around my throat on a hitched sob. I duck under my chin and turn toward the window, hazing in and out of focus through the sudden blur of moisture obscuring my vision.
For several suspended heartbeats, neither of us can seem to find the words to breach the cavernous rift that has torn between us. I want nothing more than to pour every fractured piece of my psyche out over the phone, to unburden the tangled knot of grief and isolation and betrayal still anchored in my marrow.
But the words won't take shape, clogging in my throat until I'm trembling from head to toe with the effort of holding everything inside.
Mercifully, Henry seems to sense the futility of prodding me before I'm ready. There's a faint rustle, like he's shifting positions on the other end of the line, and then a low, steadying exhalation.
"I'm here, Colette," he murmurs, each syllable gentle, as though speaking to a wounded animal liable to startle at any moment. "Whenever you're ready, I'm listening."
The naked sincerity in his tone, coupled with the familiar cadence of his voice, is like a cool ice pack on the most raw, festering parts of me. Henry might have failed me in ways both profound and visceral, but he's also the only real tether I have left to any sense of home and family. Of unconditional belonging.
The realization is both harrowing and empowering, and before I can think better of it, the words come tumbling out in a hoarse torrent.
“I miss you, Henry. God, I miss you so much it aches like a physical wound some days.” My voice fractures over the final syllables, throat constricting around a fresh swell of emotion. I swallow and sag back against the nearest wall, gripping the phone with a white-knuckled grip.
“I don't even know how to untangle everything–the anger and hurt, the bone-deep sense of betrayal you put me through. Because no matter how far down that road you've dragged me, you're still my big brother.”
I drag in a ragged inhale, fighting to collect my thoughts into something resembling coherency. “You're the only person on this entire godforsaken planet who knows every facet of me, the beautiful and the ugly and everything in between. You are family.”
Henry makes a strangled sound across the line, almost pained. For several drawn-out beats, his shuddering breaths are the only noise permeating the weighted silence shrouding the bedroom.
Just when I'm bracing myself to hear him speak, the door cracks open behind me, and Antonio walks in with two cups of coffee. He hands me one cup, then frowns when he sees my face.
"Col..." Henry whispers, his voice heavy with concern. "You okay?"
My gaze cuts to meet his hooded, searching stare over my shoulder, pulse kicking up a notch at his concerned expression. I smile at him, and inhaling, I raise the phone once more and wet my lips. "I'm…I'm still here, Henry."
There's a brief silence on Henry’s end, followed by a soft huff that I recognize as the precursor to the dry chuckle he uses to mask heavy displays of emotion.
"Well, isn't that just like you, Col?" he replies, voice gone gravelly with what I suspect are unshed tears. "Always plowing ahead without fear, even when the rest of us mere mortals would turn tail and run for the goddamn hills."
A sad, watery laugh escapes me before I can rein it in, woven through with an errant sniffle. How is it possible to feel this shredded yet whole all at once?
"If you think that," I reply, "then you don't remember the way I used to hide under your bed whenever Mom and Dad started going at it."
On the periphery of my vision, I see Antonio move to settle himself close to me, not an ounce of self-consciousness in his nude form. It should make me cringe in embarrassment over having put our intimacy on display for my brother, but I find myself grateful for his presence and support.
Henry's answering chuckle flits across the line with a startling warmth I haven’t experienced in ages. "Fair point," he concedes as Antonio sidles up beside me, slipping an arm around my waist to tug me into the hard panes of his body.
He doesn't speak beyond a subtle nuzzle of his nose into the tangle of my hair, but the solace radiating from his touch is intoxicating. I let my eyes flutter shut and bask in the heady sensation for several heartbeats, concentrating on matching my breaths to the steady cadence of Antonio's.
Despite Henry’s chuckles and laughter, I can sense a tightness underneath it all, as if forced. "You know I never wanted to hurt you, right, Col?"
Henry's deep voice rumbles through the speaker pressed to my ear, breaking with a rawness that pulls at every piece of me.
"I was an arrogant, selfish prick trying to prove something to our miserable excuse for a paternal figure. And I put the one person I should have been protecting above all others through unimaginable trauma."
My throat works as tears streak in scorching rivulets down my cheeks. Henry has always been the more emotionally guarded of the two of us, preferring to bury his sentiments beneath layers of poise and pragmatism.
To hear him ripped open like a raw, gaping wound, stripped bare in the wake of his own actions... Dear Lord, I'm nowhere near strong enough to withstand the barrage of devastation ricocheting through me.
But Antonio... Antonio is. As if sensing the trajectory of my spiraling thoughts, he folds me more tightly against the solid wall of his chest, swaddling me in the cocoon of his protective embrace. His lips cover the crown of my head with kisses, stubble rasping against my skin as he murmurs a litany of soothing endearments too low and indistinct for Henry to decipher over the line.
A pillar of strength doesn't have to be some rigid, immovable bastion to be a bulwark against raging storms. Sometimes, a supple, enduring strength is more steady. For the first time in my scattered existence, I find myself able to lean into Antonio's devotion without feeling as though I'm in danger of shattering beneath the strain.
Somehow, I gather the presence to string a few coherent words together, a voice little more than a tremulous rasp. "We both had our roles to play, Henry." His name shapes my lips, a rhythmic pattern so ingrained within me that its very cadence feels like exhaling.
"Maybe Mom and Dad would have ruined things, no matter how hard either of us fought against it."
Antonio's sturdy arms cinch tighter around my waist as I take a fortifying inhale, letting my next exhale rush out in a low, steadying stream. "But you crossed a line that can't be ignored or excused away. You betrayed my trust in a way I'm still grappling to understand, even after months of distance. I..."
I falter for a beat, the weight of the secrets still lurking in the shadowed corners between us, threatening to choke off my resolve. But then Antonio places a hand on my shoulder, reassuring me with his presence. I draw strength knowing that he is with me no matter what, and I can press onward.
"I don't know if I'll ever be able to let go of that hurt, Henry. Understand, my marriage was far more twisted and damaging than even you realize."
Saying the words aloud after a long time of avoiding the subject causes a tremor to ricochet through me from head to toe. I tense, muscles coiled to flee at the first hint of danger. Antonio tightens his embrace, holding me flush against the solid mass of his body. I relax into the warmth of his embrace, comforted.
"Oh, Col," Henry breathes, sounding wrecked. "That bastard... if I'd known, I swear on everything I hold sacred that I would have come for you myself. I would have-"
His tirade cuts off in a choked rasp, as though swallowing back a torrent of powerful emotion. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled, strained in a way that has panic flaring in my chest.
"I'm so sorry, little sister. I'll spend the rest of my days atoning for this unforgivable sin, if that's what it takes to earn back your trust."
The anguish interwoven through Henry's hushed vow tugs at my heartstrings, and I swallow down the tightness in my throat. My knees wobble as a broken whimper rattles up my throat. It's only Antonio's powerful frame bolstering me upright that staves off a complete unraveling.
Pivoting in the circle of his arms, I bury my face against his chest, inhaling the dusky blend of clean sweat and sandalwood woven through his skin. The steady beating of his heart calms me as I listen for its rhythm.
"What's done is done, Henry, but we're both culpable to a certain degree. The important thing is... I don't want to lose you. Not if there's even the slightest chance we can find our way back to one another."
When he doesn't reply, I can't quite muffle my panicked whine. "Please, Henry, tell me you want the same thing."
And then, blessedly, he heaves out a shuddering exhale on his end. "God, yes," he gasps, voice sheared and raw. "More than anything, Col. I want— no, I need a chance to undo the harm I've caused. To prove that I'm not the self-serving, narcissistic monster, my actions would suggest.
"I just— I don't even know where to make amends," he whispers, voice pitched low and thick with regret. "All I can hope is that you really give me a chance to try, Colette. Please. I need you back in my life more than I've ever needed anything."
"I want to figure this out… As long as you're willing to let me set the pace."
A noise filters across the line, halfway between relief and a swallowed sob.
"Anything, I'll do anything you ask of me, Colette. Just…just promise you won't shut me out again."
"I promise."
The knot of tension and turmoil that has been twisting inside me for months now unravels, each errant strand sloughing away until I feel almost deliriously weightless.
I am at peace, in a way I haven't experienced in far too long. I sag back against Antonio as he wraps me in his arms. Henry and I continue murmuring back and forth for several drawn-out minutes, the flow shifting from recriminations into more familiar waters.
"Tell me something, Col," he prompts when the line goes quiet. "What's this about Antonio?"
Antonio stiffens at the mention of his name. I swallow hard, but before I can speak, he takes the phone from my hand and clears his throat. “Hi, Henry. Antonio here.”
“Antonio,” Henry says after a brief pause. “I should have known you’d be close by.” There’s a sharp edge to his words I recognize. He’s still upset about the relationship.
“I don’t want to fight you, Henry. You wanted to know what was going on between Col and me, and I thought it would be better if I was the one who told you.”
“No. There’s something I need to get off my chest first.” Henry sighs before continuing. “It was fucked up bringing up your addiction and your problems the way I did—”
“Hey, Henry,” Antonio cuts in. “Nothing to apologize for. You were right—”
“Fucking let me finish, man! Look, you’re my best friend in the world, and what I said… There’s no fucking excuse. Friends help each other when they struggle, not rub their shit in their faces. And that’s what I did. I’m sorry, brother.”
Antonio shuts his eyes and inhales. They need this moment together, and it would be better to give them some privacy. I untangle myself from Antonio’s embrace and kiss him on the forehead.
I need to shower after the tumble in the sheets with Antonio, but if I stay here to do it, I’d be too tempted to listen in. I decide to just go home.
“I’m gonna head to mine quick,” I mouth to Antonio as I pull on my clothes. He nods and grabs his clothes as well. I head to the door as he dresses himself.
“Look, Henry,” I hear Antonio say from the door. “This thing with Colette… I know you’re worried about us being together right now, especially with what we’re both going through. But I assure you, she makes me stronger. She’s the only reason I can function right now. She’s been a wall for me through this journey…”
I miss the rest of what he says. I rush out of the bedroom, my heart beating fast in my chest.