Chapter 35
thirty-five
Frigid knives slice over my skin as I dive into the lake behind my parents’ cabin. I sink underwater until my lungs cry for air. Then I wonder if I can stay a bit longer…
When I break the surface, the wind cracks across my face like a slap. My lashes ice together as I gasp for a breath.
A shadow crouches at the end of the dock, arms folded, expression carved in stone. Even in winter’s indigo light, disappointment is plain.
“What in the hell are you doing?” Dad’s voice is flat as I climb the ladder, shaking so hard I can barely catch my towel.
“Taking a swim.”
“At five in the morning. On Christmas Eve. In water that could kill you.”
“Got to prove my worth to become that CEO for Cardell Enterprises,” I spit out.
His chest rising is the only way I know he’s angry. Otherwise, he’s as frozen as the surface of the lake. “You already have— You are.”
“So then trust my decisions.” My jaw juts forward, but I don’t wait for his rebuttal. “You saw how I handled the Twinston case.”
He nods, pointing toward the house, and I follow his lead back home. “I did.”
“I know what I’m doing,” I say confidently. But he and I can feel it in the air.
I’m lost. Fucked up over a girl I can’t fix.
What have I become? A monster? The way I treated her—
The way I treated the mother of my child.
I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve anyone.
The dock creaks under Dad’s shoes as he turns.
He tightens his lips together and tugs on the back door on the lower deck, waving me inside.
“You did what needed to be done, and I can respect it. We need to get you on the board at NU as soon as you graduate. And some of the committees, so we can make the right plays. But that will entail following orders until that happens.” Lower, and tired, he says, “Then we take over.”
Steamy warmth curls around my body until the shivers fade. The bottom floor family room is cozy, the fire still on embers from late last night, where I sat staring at it with a few glasses of bourbon. Trying not to hear my brother and his fiancée fucking in the room down the hall.
“Got it,” is all I can really say in response. My brain is still fried. Still locked up with guilt for not understanding where Ashlyn was at. What she was trying to do.
It’s a muddled mess. I’m unworthy. I don’t fuck up. I’ve never had room for error. But maybe Dad was right…
Ashlyn was my first big mistake.
And perhaps she had a point.
We make each other worse.
Christmas Morning: 0 push-ups
In my old room, I stare at the ceiling. Flat white paint. Bland. It gives me nothing. And I appreciate that.
For some reason, I keep thinking about the races from my first couple of years at NU.
They were fun until Moretti showed up in his freshman year.
After that, it stopped being a sport and started being a strategy—about taking him for everything he had.
Only, I was still so on tilt from losing Ashlyn to him, I lost the race, too. And once that happened, I was done.
Every time a thought wanders toward that golden-haired girl, I bring it back to the blank canvas in front of me. There doesn’t seem to be a solution to the cavern of despair between us. Because I’m not sure what to do.
Festivities ring on through the day. No one notices I’m any different than normal. But the weight of what I learned rests so heavy on my shoulders, I can barely take a full breath.
The second I let myself think of my baby—
—tiny hand, a box, earth frozen shut—
—I fucking lose it.
I yank my fingers through my hair until my scalp screams. “I’ll grab the door!” I shout, like I’m happy to be useful.
The Josephs and Dawsons are already here, so it has to be the Turners. Sure enough, Lan shoves in first with a pile of presents, a crooked red hat, and some ridiculous Santa outfit.
His little sister, Scout, sneaks by as if she’s embarrassed to be seen with her entire family. Bo, the youngest, gives me a firm handclasp and shoulder bump. Their parents greet mine with wine and complaints about the weather.
Conversations wave with loud humor. Chipper music plays. Cookies bake, filling the air with comfort. It’s festive. So joyous.
And I want to die.
“Give me one of those.” I nod at Lan as he slumps on the sofa next to me with a cigar behind his ear.
“Fuck you. This was my present. Bo grabbed me a box when he went on vacation.”
“Tell your brother to grab me one, then.” I glance over my shoulder to where our moms and his dad are. “And fill that fucker with some good stuff. I need to smoke.”
His eyes grow wide as he arches an eyebrow toward his parents. Well, we call them that. But they’re his aunt and uncle. Voice dropping to a whisper, he shakes his head. “Kins will end me.”
“So?” My smile doesn’t reach my eyes. “Come on, bitch. I’m your president. Let’s go.”
He studies my expression. For a second, he looks at me like I’m a stranger. “Who the hell are you? This whole dynamic runs on you telling me not to do stupid shit. You flipping the script is—blasphemy, bro.”
We both drop the conversation as the parents wander closer.
I lean in, voice low, gritted. “Then help me. Now. On the deck.”
He swallows. “I’m having flashbacks to that day we were fourteen. Worst day of my life.”
I roll my eyes. “Your uncle’s lost an inch of muscle since then. We can take him.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.” His gaze flicks toward his aunt.
Granted, she is scary as fuck.
I chuckle. “She’s a brute, sure. And I bet she’d be interested in seeing the texts on my phone about your little ‘business’ last summer.”
That gets him. His face drains. “You wouldn’t—”
“Try me.” I push the cigar back toward his ear with one finger. “Five minutes on the deck. Rolled my way. Or those texts accidentally find the family group chat.”
A beat. Then he’s up, plastering on a fake grin for the room. “Yo, Aiden, didn’t you say you wanted to check out the new grill with me?”
I rise smoothly. “Sure did. Let’s go see if it’s still hot.”
We walk out together, the cold air waiting to bite our faces. Nervous hands roll the weed with the stash from his pocket within two minutes. We wander away from the living room, and I light up the end, taking a generous inhale.
“So what the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I tell him, choking on the smoke so hard, I get tears.
He chuckles, taking the passed blunt. “M-kay.” As he inhales, his throat strains. “But you never cough that much.”
“You were right about Ashlyn. I lost my head.”
The laugh that erupts from his belly makes me want to punch him. But I’ll wait until boxing next week…
That first toke is making me slow.
“So marry her.”
“What?” I gasp, taking another hit. “Landon Turner is telling me to marry someone.”
“Because that’s the kind of guy you are.” His eyes search the starless night, scanning the horizon with a dazed gaze.
“Yeah? What kind of guy am I, Jung?”
He barks a laugh. “The marrying kind. When you find someone you like. Obviously, that’s a rarity, but I’m happy I’m in that camp.”
I snort, smoke flowing freely from my nose in white clouds. “You’re proposing to me?”
With a sharp shove, his broad shoulder taps mine. “No, bitch. Don’t think you could handle my dick anyway.” He grabs the monster in his jeans, giving it a shake.
It’s impossible to contain my eye roll. “Gods.”
“But you take care of me.” His grin fades as he passes the cigar back. “And you’ll take care of her.”
I snap my head toward him. He’s serious. Dead serious. He even nods once. Slow and solid.
“Aiden, for real.” His voice drops as he stares at the bare treeline.
“You’re all…responsible and protective. Everything I wish I were.
For you to think you fucked up beyond repair?
Too much. You’re who I look up to so I don’t fuck up.
” The white cloud of smoke seeps through his teeth, eyes focused on the darkness in front of us. “You’re wrong.”
The word slams through my skull like a bell. Wrong.
“Wrong?” I echo, already high, sucking in the ghost of his exhale.
“Yeah.” Thick fingers tip the cigar toward me after he takes a final puff. “So go marry her.”
“Dad’s looking for you,” Bo’s deep bass cuts through the void of the night until I jump about ten feet.
“Hey! Can I have some?” Henry dances up, trying to grab the roach, but Lan holds it above his head.
“You’re too young, prick. Get inside.”
They shuffle off as Lan gives me one last look, and I wave.
“Just a minute,” I tell him, stuffing my hands in my pockets.
Maybe he’s right. If Lan can see something in me worth saving…maybe she can, too.
Lifting my head, I take a dizzy inhale of the crisp, fresh air. The stars don’t show through the clouds, but I don’t need them. I know where I’m heading.
If she’s still mine, I’ll prove it. If she’s not…I’ll make her remember.