Page 94 of Hold You Close
My heart thuds painfully in my chest. My face burns with outrage. “She told you about that?”
“Yes!” she snaps. “And I told Christopher, and we realized what you’d done—you broke her heart so she’d go away to school. And you’re doing the same stupid thing all over again.”
“You don’t know anything about it.” I glare at them both. “You’re too young to understand.”
“No, we’re not,” Christopher says. “We understand perfectly. You think you’re doing the right thing, you think you’re fixing it, but you aren’t.”
“Yes, I am!” I shouldn’t raise my voice to them like this, but I can’t help it. I feel myself coming apart at the seams. “She was going to turn down that scholarship to Northwestern if I hadn’t done what I did! And she’d have passed on this promotion!”
“But that’s her choice, isn’t it?” Morgan challenges. “Why should you get to make it for her?”
“Because she—” I struggle to answer the question. Run a hand through my messed-up hair. “She’d hate me for this eventually. I know she would.”
“How do you know?” My niece throws her hands in the air. “You’ve never told her the truth about what you did back then! She doesn’t know you love her now! You’ve never given her a chance to choose you.”
“I tried to tell her the truth back then, after she came home,” I inform them. “She wouldn’t even talk to me.”
“She was hurt,” Morgan says, putting a hand over her heart. “You crushed her. But you don’t have to do it again.”
“I know Aunt London pretty well,” Christopher puts in. “And I think, more than anything, she’d hate that you’re making this decision for her. You should at least tell her the truth and let her decide.”
I bury my face in my hands and rub my tired eyes. My head has started to pound. When will this fucking day be over? And why is doing the right thing so damn exhausting?
Next thing I know, a hand is rubbing my back. “Stop being so stubborn, Uncle Ian,” Morgan says softly. “You love her. Tell her that. Fight for her this time.”
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “I’ll think about it. Go to bed now.”
They head out, but a second later, Morgan’s head pops into the doorway again. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Eli Walsh is moving in.”
“Who the hell is Eli Walsh?”
She rolls her eyes at me, looking so much like my sister it’s eerie. “Aunt London’s cat. Jeez, get a clue already.”
Then she’s gone. I turn off the light, undress, and crawl beneath the covers.
All night I fight with myself about going to her house, begging her to stay, to forgive me. I lie there in agony, going over everything I said to her, everything Morgan and Chris said to me.
You love her. Tell her that. Fight for her this time.
At some point I can’t take it anymore, and I march to the back door, ready to grovel, but I see her through my windows and stop.
She’s standing on her deck in the moonlight, so beautiful I can hardly breathe. Her long brown hair is up in a ponytail, and she’s wearing only a white T-shirt, her long legs bare beneath it. She’s looking at my house. I know she can’t possibly see me, but it feels like she can. I watch her watching me, then I see her wipe her cheek and walk away.
I start to go to her, but then I hear my nephew’s words about not deserving her, and my chicken-shit ass freezes right where I am, in my house, wishing I was a better man.
Miserable, I walk back to bed and flop onto it, but still sleep doesn’t come. Around four-thirty, I give up and jump in the shower. When I head back into my room, my eye catches the letter from Sabrina sitting there on my nightstand. Instead of putting it off anymore, I tear it open, ready for her, too, to say something I don’t feel like hearing.
* * *
My dumbest brother Ian,
This is probably the hardest letter to write because there’s so much to say. First, if you’re reading this, both David and I are gone. I’m sure this was hard on you because I’m pretty freaking awesome. You can cry now . . . I’ll wait . . .
Done yet?
Glad you got that out. Second, you are now in charge of my children’s wellbeing. Don’t fuck that up, big bro.
