Chapter 12 #2
Collie shrugs. “There was a time when he did. Actually, he did a lot, and it only made things worse at home. Capri was always oblivious to it, and I work hard to keep it like that still. I know my dad loves me. He told me, showed me, and made up for the absence of love I received from my mom more than necessary at times. It helps that we’re so similar, and I low-key think my mom is envious of that. Hence, all our problems.”
“I’m glad you at least had him. I’ve seen the relationship my sister Palmer has with my mom and know how important it is. I hate that you missed out on that.”
She sends me a small smile, and I know it’s one of gratitude. “That’s okay. I made it this far on my own, ya know? I’m proud of the woman I am. Besides, if anything, it taught me the kind of mother I don’t want to be to my own kids someday.”
She grabs the tequila bottle from my hand but doesn’t drink it. Doesn’t refill her cup. Just taps it against her leg like it calms her.
“I’m impressed by you, Collie. Not sure I’d have the same grace you do.”
She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with endless questions in her eyes, yet no energy to ask them.
I get that feeling well. So, I don’t pry any further.
Somehow, I think leaving it at that is enough for her.
Enough for Collie to know that although we hardly know each other, I’m willing to listen and do my best to understand.
Maybe it’s my hero complex coming to the forefront again, but this scenario seems like an exception.
A wolf howling in the distance causes both of our attention to drift elsewhere, the night sky swirling around us as the stars dance in harmony.
The peace feels almost magical.
The sound of the lid spinning on the tequila bottle makes the hair on my neck rise.
She’s calling it a night.
“Well,” Collie’s breathy exhale echoes softly. “I should probably stop before I can’t walk tomorrow.” Her giggle is forced. I know it because I’ve perfected the same sound. “You staying up or going to bed, too?”
I’ve never been more awake. Maybe that’s why I say what I do, because it’s as if I won’t be able to rest until Collie knows she isn’t alone.
Just as she turns to retreat, assuming I’m not up for answering, I deadpan, “My brother died.”
Collie halts, and her gasp strikes me in the chest. “Easton. Oh god.”
I look her in the eyes, but I’m not really looking at her. My sight is dazed and untethered, but my brain is aware of every word that leaves me. “A little over two years ago. Stomach cancer. Fucking bitch of a disease.”
In no time, Collie’s on her way to me, standing in front of me as if she has nowhere else to be. “Fuck cancer. That sucks, Easton. That really sucks.”
I can’t tell you the relief I feel to not hear an apology, but an honest response. Because she’s right. It sucks.
It’s been so long since I’ve said the words out loud. Even longer since I’ve shared about his death with someone who doesn’t already know me and my family.
With Collie, in the middle of Yellowstone National Park, I can curse the stars and the moon without hearing judgement about it. I can voice how much Ben’s death destroyed me, and how angry I am at him for leaving me in this shitty world.
I’m not held accountable for my shortcomings out here.
With my eyes closed and my head tilted to the night sky, I tell her, “There are days I just want to throw in the towel and say fuck it. Fuck life. Fuck death. Fuck it all because it’s too fucking much.
Life shouldn’t be this difficult. This hard to get through a single day.
I want to be closer to him, not farther away. You know?”
A small hand caresses the top of mine. “I know. I know.”
“It doesn’t help that there’s a shame that comes with being angry. I’m so angry at the world, but I can’t admit to being angry because it shows weakness. And pretending to be happy gets really fucking exhausting.”
“Hey,” Collie whispers, her cold hands leaving mine to find the sides of my face. She lowers my head, but I can’t see her. Not when my eyes are sealed tight. “Look at me, Easton.”
My eyes open slowly, revealing the most hypnotizing blue orbs piercing me with genuine compassion. “You are entitled to feel. That’s what makes you human. Shame on anyone who ever said you can’t.”
A burning sensation settles behind my lids, threatening to spill. I can’t remember the last time I cried, yelled, or had an outburst that felt rejuvenating. Like I’m entitled to it for a short reset.
I’m always the one taking care of everyone around me.
Ben during his sickness. My parents during Ben’s death. My sister during all her struggles afterward. Sydney, in her grief from Ben, and later as my fiancé. The weight of everyone’s grief is on my shoulders.
Collie’s hands warm my cheeks, never losing sight of me.
She’s dialed in on my life story—one I never expected to share.
“If only it were that simple,” I tell her.
“I’m the stable one in my family. The one Ben trusted to handle his business—his everything.
So, when he died, everyone’s hard times piled on top of my own.
To the point where I couldn’t find my own suffering under a fucking microscope. ”
“That sounds like a pretty big load to carry. It also sounds like you still have some grieving of your own to do. And from where I’m standing, I don’t see any of those people you just mentioned out here.
Maybe this is your sign.” Collie is the epitome of kindness.
It’s truly a gift to be forward while still exuding a level of kindness that doesn’t feel like condemnation.
And nothing has ever been more true.
I went from losing my brother to caring for and feeling obligated to love his fiancé. Things just got too messy to fix.
I was in too deep.
“Yeah. I guess we have some things in common. You’re not alone, Collie. Our situations may not be the same, but I know what it feels like to be lonely.”
Everything with this stranger feels different. It’s like I’ve known her for years. But it doesn’t stop my stomach from tightening as Collie pulls me into a hug, refusing to let go until she’s had her fill.
“Feels nice to have someone to be alone with. Thanks for sharing your loneliness with me, Ranger. I can already tell this is going to be a trip to remember.”