Page 18 of Wrapped in Hope
Chapter 7
I want him angry.I want him just as angry as I am. “Are you saying that his memory is waiting for you when you get home?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “That, and my wife.”
“Jane? Is she alright?” My anger falls away as my concern for her grows. She’s good friends with my mom, but Mom hasn’t said anything about her in a long time. Actually, now that I think about it, neither of my parents have said anything about Holden or Jane to me in a long time. I thought it was to keep from bringing up Dean, but now I know it’s because they don’t spend time together anymore. I remember spending summer days having pool parties and cook outs, all six of us: Dean, his aunt and uncle, my mom and dad, and myself. Many summers were spent that way.
“She’s depressed. She doesn’t get out of bed. When she does, she’s cracked out of her mind on all those pills the doctor gives her. She won’t try to get better. She thinks if she does, it would be to dishonor to his memory.”
I feel the tears sting my eyes again. More lives ruined because of me. “You two used to be so happy.”
“She’s not the same woman I married,” he replies.
“Is there talk of divorce?” I ask even though I’m a little afraid to.
He slowly nods. “There has been. I just can’t bring myself to do it. How can I leave her like that?” His face is covered in pain. I can tell from looking in his eyes that he is torn between staying to make Jane happy and leaving for his own happiness. It looks like he’s been putting Jane ahead of himself for far too long already.
I shake my head, not knowing how to answer him. “I’m sorry for all of this.”
He quickly snaps his eyes to mine, the blue-green becomes darker. “Sorry for what? This isn’t your fault. It’s nobody’s fault.”
I nod. “It is my fault. I wanted to go to that cabin. If I hadn’t said anything about it, we never would have been there.” I feel like crying from thinking about it, but the alcohol I’ve consumed numbs me enough that I can talk about it like it’s someone else’s story.
He turns to me, placing his strong hands on my shoulders, causing a spark to shoot through me. It travels from my shoulders all the way down to the tips of my toes. My body comes alive. What was that?
“It was not your fault. Do you hear me? These things happen. We go when it is our time, and it was just his time. It could have happened when he was driving home from work. You didn’t cause this. Is that what you’ve been thinking all this time? That it was your fault?”
I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t do it because I know if I do, I’ll get lost in them like I did in Dean’s. They are so similar.
He pulls me against his chest, in a tight embrace. I know it’s nothing more than him trying to comfort me, but his scent surrounds me and it brings back memories. Memories I had long forgotten. Memories that do things to my body. How can they be so similar but so different?
I could close my eyes and pretend he’s Dean, that’s how similar they are. They smell the same, feel the same. I pull away, not comfortable touching him with these emotions running through me.
He senses my awkwardness and rights himself. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you to feel this way. Dean, he is a great loss to a lot of people, but it was nobody’s fault, especially not yours.”
I nod, agreeing with him even though I don’t believe a word of it. My body is buzzing and his closeness is confusing me. I need distance. I need to get my head on straight.
I stand to use the restroom, but my eyes blur and I sway on my feet. He reaches out and catches me by the arm, righting me.
“Are you okay?”
I nod while I try to regain my balance. It’s like all the alcohol I’ve consumed has chosen this exact moment to hit me full force. I didn’t feel this drunk while I was sitting down, but standing, my vision starts to double.
“How are you getting home?” His tone has changed completely. Before he was talking softly, trying to comfort me, but now that he sees how drunk I really am, his voice is rough like he senses danger.
I shrug. “I’ll just take a bus or taxi or something. Don’t worry about me.” I try blowing him off by brushing his hand from my arm. But he doesn’t let go.
“The hell you will. Your dad would have my ass if he knew I left you here like this. I’ll drive you home.” He grabs my change from the bar and stuffs it into my hand before leading me out the door by my arm that he still hasn’t let go of. His body is stiff and rigid as he pulls me toward the door in his protective, dad mode.
The cold Chicago wind blows against my hot body, helping to sober me a tiny bit as he leads me in the direction of his car. He stops in front of a brand new Jeep Wrangler. It’s black with tinted windows and a hard top.
“Is this new?” I ask as he unlocks the vehicle.
“Yeah, I bought it about a year ago. Thought it was time for a change.” He opens the door for me and I climb inside carefully.
The smell of him has soaked into the interior and it surrounds me like a heavy blanket of comfort. I lean back and close my eyes, getting comfortable.
I hear him take his seat beside me. “Where do you live?” he asks with a deep, husky voice that makes my heart clench in my chest.