Awareness comes to me slowly. The edge of consciousness beckoning me from my dreamless state and back into my sordid reality.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hoped it was all a dream, that I would wake up this morning and my mom would be in the kitchen with a cup of coffee in hand as she read the paper to Dad, which had been their morning ritual our whole lives. Long before we got out of bed in the morning, they coveted that time for themselves, and when we all moved out and started our own lives, they never stopped.
I reach to my bedside table, fumbling around for my phone until my fingers brush along the cool metal. The time flashes onto the screen and I groan. It isn’t morning. Not really at least. It’s five o’clock, and now the harsh reality of my day has settled on my chest. There’s no way I’m going to be able to go back to sleep.
I swing my legs out of bed and wrap myself in a robe I keep here. It’s not uncommon for me to spend the night here, not wanting to drive home in the dark after visiting my parents, so at least I have something to wear. Packing a bag was the last thing on my mind as I barreled out of my apartment after receiving the news that my parents were gone. All I could think about was telling my siblings. That was the hardest part, being the one to break their hearts, the one to tell them that our parents were dead.
I pad across the wooden floorboards, the old estate we moved into when I was too young to remember still has most of its original features. Fireplaces, crown moldings, a spiral staircase that leads to the attic. I spent some of my happiest memories in these halls, and now I’ll have to plan to lay the two people I loved more than anything to rest.
The stairs are cold under my bare feet as I make my way down to the kitchen. If I can’t sleep, I may as well make some breakfast for everyone for when they wake up.
A figure sitting at the dining table elicits a squeal from my chest as I slap my hand over my mouth. The last thing I expected at this time of the morning was for anyone to be awake, but as I stare into the darkness, the only light coming in is the cloud-covered moon, I know it’s Everett. I would know his presence anywhere.
Even through the wall our bedrooms share, I could feel him as I fell asleep last night. It was oddly comforting, considering he tore my heart out and stomped on it. But having him around feels right, even if I’m too stubborn to admit that out loud. Storm was right, Everett has always been a part of this family, and there’s no reason he shouldn’t be a part of it as we mourn the people who raised us.
“Sorry,” I mumble, stumbling toward the fridge. I’m not particularly hungry, or thirsty, for that matter, but I’ll do just about anything to avoid any contact with him. I know the risk of letting myself get close to Everett, and I’m not willing to put myself through that again. I stare into the fridge, my eyes running over the contents three times before I tug the orange juice out and turn toward the counter, only to collide with a wall of bare muscle.
His scent immediately overwhelms me, the same as it had been all those years ago. His proximity knocks me off kilter. The electricity buzzes between us the moment our bodies collide, making it hard to breathe, even if it’s one sided. Everett doesn’t care about me or my heart. He made that clear when he left, never to be heard from again.
“Are you okay?” he asks on a whisper, his hands grasping my forearms to stop me from losing my balance.
I nod, trying to brush his hands from my body. I can’t think when he touches me, and the last thing I need when he’s near is to not be able to use my brain. “Yeah, fine.”
His grip on me doesn’t let up though, in fact, if I’m not mistaken, it only tightens. But surely that’s my imagination, wishful thinking that Everett could still feel something, anything, toward me.
I meet his eyes in a moment of weakness and my stomach drops at the look in the deep blue pools. Full of fire and regret, pain and longing. The things I’ve felt every time he’s crossed my mind over the last eight years.
Slowly, as if not to spook me, one of his hands moves from where it’s holding me up to cup my cheek, the movement too intimate, and yet it feels like coming home. “I never thought I’d get to touch you again,” Everett whispers as his thumb brushes along my bottom lip. “I should have known I could never stay away from you, no matter how much I should.”
My mouth drops open. So many questions, and yet I can’t voice any of them. All I can do is lean into his touch, relish in the warmth in places that have been ice cold since he left. The void he left in my life suddenly feels full, even if it is temporary.
A small smile tugs at his lips. “I always was the only one that could render you speechless, dove.”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, tearing myself out of his hold. The sound of my nickname on his lips pulls me back to reality, reminding me of why I can never let him touch me.
“Wynter.” He reaches for me, pain etched into his brow, but for once, I’m faster than him.
“No, Everett. Listen to me, I understand why you’re here. They were your family as well, and honestly, Storm and Rayne need you here, but we are done. You made your feelings for me very fucking clear the morning after you took my virginity and left without a fucking trace,” I hiss, the venom in my words sounds like someone else is speaking, and yet it’s my mouth that moves.
“You have to know it wasn’t like that, Wynter. You have to realize I didn’t leave because I wanted to, that I didn’t stay away from you for eight years just because I wasn’t feeling it or because I wanted to steal your virtue and then run for the hills.”
He stalks toward me, and I can’t help but back away until my back hits the wall. A moment later, his arms cage me in, his heavy body only a breath from mine.
“I’m not going to push you today, or tomorrow, and maybe not even next week. But I promise that we will be talking about this, and you will hear me out. I’ve spent the last eight years forcing myself to stay away, and I don’t have the strength to do that anymore.”
“Even if I want you to leave me alone?” I ask.
“Even then, dove. Even then.”
Our eyes lock in a battle of the wills, neither of us willing to pull away first. My body screams at me to move, to get as far away from the man that broke me as I can, and yet I just keep looking into the deepest blue I’ve ever known. Questions hover at the edge of my mind, but I can’t grasp on to any of them for long enough to speak the words, until the one that make the most sense to ask, the one I should have asked the moment I opened the door last night.
“Why did you leave me?” The words are barely audible, barely loud enough for my own ears, but he hears them.
