Heavy Issues (33 page)

“Haven’t you learned anything? You were supposed to listen to her, man. Really, this is basic Women 101. Instead you practically kicked her out.”

“And the ex?” he demanded.

James shrugged. “He came out of the blue. He was there by sheer chance. Christy was getting a ride to the airport from him.”

Oh hell.

That was the final nail in his coffin, just what he needed. As if he hadn’t been feeling shitty enough without Christy, now he had to face the reality that he was the one who had chased her away.

Cole breathed out loud. “Shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

“Why didn’t Tate tell me?” Christy had left almost a week ago. Why was he hearing this now?

“Tell you how? By phone? The same one you haven’t picked up the gazillion times she called you?”

Cole shifted uncomfortably. Yeah, he’d forgotten he hadn’t been in the mood to talk to anyone.

“FYI, Tate left some colorful messages on your voice mail. You might need to erase those. You’re lucky she’s at Rosita’s right now and not here, or she’d be ripping you a new one.”

She was welcome, because he clearly deserved a beating. For not admitting his feelings to Christy. For not trusting her. For running her out. For behaving like an asshole. For being the emotional retard she’d rightly accused him of being.

“By the way, have you seen Rose?”

Cole shook his head. He hadn’t, and that was a good thing too. He was done being civilized with her.

“She has a black eye,” James informed him.

“What?” Cole turned to his brother.

“I heard that on her way to the airport, Rose was unlucky enough to cross paths with Christy, who climbed out of the car and popped her one.”

That brought a smile to his lips. “Good.”

“Yep.” James chuckled. “Rose had it coming. Tell me, dear bro, how do you plan to fix this clusterfuck and get your woman back?”

Cole lifted his shoulders. Fuck if he knew how. He’d fucked it up good. And seeing as he sucked with words, he’d probably make it all worse if he tried to contact her. “Maybe it’s all for the best she left.”

That sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach got exponentially worse at the thought of leaving the situation as it was.

“I recall a certain brother of mine telling me not so long ago when Tate didn’t want to get involved with me that if she threw me out, I should pick myself up and try again. Make her listen.”

“That was you. You and Tate are meant for each other.”

James was silent for a while, then began, “You know, Tate has gotten much better, but she wasn’t so great with words at the beginning. Explaining her feelings, letting others—me, that is—in. She didn’t know how to do that. She’s more than made up for that now, but it was hard, man. I knew where she was coming from, I knew why she was so defensive, so damn scared, but still. It’s crap to be shut out. I know from experience. And that’s what you do, Cole. You shut people out.”

Cole snorted. “I’ve been trying to shut you out for years. It hasn’t worked yet.”

James laughed. “And it won’t. I’m your brother. But I meant women. You shut women out.”

Yeah, he knew. But he didn’t want to talk about that. He was too busy sulking. He didn’t know what had come over him to shut Christy out in that manner. He’d seen those bags on the bed and he’d lost it. She’d tried to explain, but he thought she was just giving him excuses—lies. Offering him crumbs to pacify him, as his mother had done when he’d tried to stop her from leaving all those years ago.

“I thought she was leaving, man. I didn’t let her explain. I just assumed—”

“I know what you assumed, Cole. Christy is not Mom. When are you going to get over the fact that she bailed on us and stop mistrusting women?”

“I got over it a long time ago, asshole.”

“Bullshit. Mom has tainted the way you look at women. Because of her, you keep them at a distance, as if they aren’t worthy of your trust, as if at any given moment they’ll cut your head off. You can pretend you don’t care about Christy, but I can see it in your face. You love her.”

Cole turned to him to say God knew what, probably to lie, but James snorted. “You
are
in love with Christy. And you
are
scared shitless that she’d do you in like Mom did Dad and all of us. You don’t want to rely on her for fear she’ll disappear on you, taking your heart with her. I won’t watch with my mouth shut while you throw away one of the best things that has ever happened to you.”

Cole didn’t lift his eyes from the beer. He really didn’t want to hear this.

“Rachel packed and never looked back. So just fucking forgive me if I wasn’t in a hurry to put myself in the same position for another woman.”

“And what made you think Christy would have done that to you?”

Experience? Cole thought, but he kept his mouth shut.

James shook his head. “Mom emotionally crippled you, Cole. You need to let go. I love you, man, and I don’t want this kind of life for you. I want you happy. I want you in love. I want for you what I have, and you won’t get it unless you open up and let yourself love and trust unconditionally.”

He shifted in his seat, feeling extremely uncomfortable with the conversation. His brother was right. Not that he was admitting it to him anytime this century, though. “Since when did you transform into Dr. Phil?”

James shrugged, his body language also betraying his uneasiness. “I haven’t, believe me. Talking about this is making me as uncomfortable as you look, so I’m going to stop now.”

Cole sighed in visible relief. “Good.”

“I just thought this had to be said. Glad it’s over, though.” James took a long swallow of his beer. “Let’s go back to less private matters. How’s your dick? Any permanent damage from the coffee burns?”

Cole had been standing in front of Christy’s LA home for a while already. Time to bite the bullet. Drawing in a deep breath, he marched up to the front porch.

Since his conversation with James, he must have called her a dozen times. She hadn’t picked up the phone even once. He wasn’t good with words, granted, but other forms of communication he excelled at, and he understood a fuck off when he was handed one. Nevertheless here he was. There was no other option available to him.

Cole was about to knock when he heard voices.

He stilled, hand halting in midair, recognizing Christy’s voice and that of a man. He froze. Jealousy, fear, and a bunch of other feelings tightened in the pit of his stomach. It sounded like she was having a heated discussion with—Cole paid attention—Todd?

And there he was again, asking her to behave.

“…in spite of still thinking you’re being unreasonable, I agree to consider our engagement terminated.”

Christy laughed. “You agree? I don’t give a shit what you agree to.”

Cole knew he was shamelessly eavesdropping, but for the life of him, he couldn’t make his sorry ass move away from the door.

“…but the ring is another matter. You don’t want me, fine,” Todd added melodramatically. “You shouldn’t want my ring either.”

“Your ring? All this nagging me is about the stupid ring? I couldn’t care less about it. Mrs. Patty in Alden has it, and you’re welcome to get it from her.”

“Mrs. Patty, you say?”

Cole let out a smile. His woman was devious. She didn’t need any help from him.

He took a step backward and decided to go wait by his car, which he’d parked in front of her place. As he stood there, the memories of where he’d been that morning before flying to his woman rolled over him.

* * * *

The cemetery was small and well kept. Cole strode around until he found her tombstone, a beautiful and simple one-piece white marble. Rachel Anna Bowen, her married surname, the one she’d never changed. Today made six months to the day since his mother’s death. Cole stood in front of it reading the small epitaph.
May she find in heaven the peace she couldn’t find on earth.
He’d had no clue Dad had covered the costs of her burial, but looking at her headstone, he knew he had. Rachel had had no insurance and had been financially broke; there was no way she could have afforded any of this.

He stood there, chest tight, feeling like a damn fool. What was he hoping to accomplish here? Get some kind of closure? This stone didn’t have any more answers for him than his mother had been able to offer. Fuck that. He was out of there. He rubbed his eyes, sandy as they were from lack of sleep, when suddenly he realized they were fogging. Oh shit.

As he was about to walk out, he sensed someone standing behind him.

“Hello, son,” he heard a raspy voice say behind him. His father moved beside him, his gaze never leaving the tombstone. “What a surprise to find you here.”

He didn’t answer and didn’t look at him either, but stared at the well-kept plot, at the fresh flowers. So nice and neat. So not Rachel.

“You’ve been paying for the upkeep, haven’t you? I mean, on top of taking care of the funeral.”

The old man nodded.

Cole’s stare bore down on him. “After all she did to you, why do you bother?”

He chuckled softly. “What is it exactly that she did to me, son?”

Cole didn’t bother to answer. What did his dad need, a list?

“Regardless of all the things she did—or didn’t do—to me, she gave me the most precious things I have in my life: my three sons. I’ll always be grateful to her for you guys. This is the least I can do.”

He blurted out something he’d never discussed with anyone.

“I was home when she left, Dad. I asked her to stay. For me. I said I needed her.” He’d been desperate to get her to stay. He’d cried. Promised. Begged.

“I can’t breathe here,”
she’d said to him. He’d wondered many times after that if she’d found it easier to breathe in that shitty five-by-seven trailer. But at age ten, all he could understand was that his mother was leaving him.
Him.
She’d kept packing and then turned around and lied to him to his face. She wasn’t leaving for good. She was going to come back. Sure. He’d known the second she’d uttered the words that she was lying. He hadn’t even needed to read the note left for his dad.

“I’m so sorry, son. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Cole shrugged, eyes averted. “What was I supposed to tell you, that I couldn’t stop her? That I literally begged her on my knees not to leave but she did nevertheless? That I was such a pathetic loser I let her go?”

His father shook his head. “Cole, son, it was never up to you. Your mom leaving had nothing to do with you. If it was anybody’s responsibility to stop her, it was mine, not yours. You can’t blame yourself for that. For her shortcomings.”

Cole kept quiet.

“Your mother wasn’t a bad person.”

“Really, Dad? Because I don’t fucking get it. I never did. Why? Why did she do the shit she did, then?”

“I don’t have answers for you. I can only tell you that your mother was lost. In her way, she loved you and Max and James. And I think that’s why she left.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I spoke with her several months before she died. She was quite out of it, but she told me she did the right thing by staying away from us. When I called her on it, she argued that the proof of it was how well you and James and Max had turned out without her around.”

“She kept away for our sakes?” Cole snorted in disbelief.

That was the shittiest excuse he’d ever heard.

His dad shrugged. “Rachel didn’t believe she deserved anything good. In anger she’d said a couple of times that having a family suffocated her, that we cut her wings, but the truth was she had her own personal demons and she suffocated herself. And then alcohol and other shit took over and she didn’t stand a chance. It wasn’t your fault. It never was. And it had nothing to do with you. I tried to reach her, but every time, she took off running. Never physically, she always stayed fairly close to Alden, but emotionally she was totally inaccessible to me.”

They were quiet for a long time. Yes, his mother had been emotionally inaccessible. As inaccessible as Cole was. He’d let his past and his fear of being hurt cloud his thoughts, and he’d used them as an excuse to keep his distance. Not anymore. He’d have to let that guard down and make himself vulnerable—to hurt and to joy.

“What are you doing here?” Cole asked.

“I just flew in. I’m on my way to Alden to meet that woman of yours.”

Good luck on that. “Too late, Dad. She’s gone.”

“I know that too. Your aunt called me. By the way, how’s your groin? Any damage?”

Cole looked at him, horrified. Had Aunt Maggie been discussing his balls with his dad?

His dad must have read his thought, for he shook his head and added, “I spoke with Max too.”

Cole threw a dirty look his way. Boy, no one in his family understood about minding their own business. “My groin is fine, thank you very much.” It was more his heart that was in trouble. “I fucked up, Dad. Big-time.”

“Of course you fucked up.” His old man had patted him on the back, a smile of understanding on his weather-beaten face. “We’re men, and that’s what we do when it concerns women. We fuck up. Now you just need to find a way to unfuck it. And fast, because I’ll only be here for a week until James and Tate’s wedding, and I want to meet her.”

* * * *

And that was what he was doing now, waiting at her door like a pathetic stray, trying to unfuck it. Hopefully it’d work, because he didn’t know what he’d do if she kicked him out on his sorry ass. Well, he knew: he was going to take his own advice. He’d pick himself up and try again. And again. And again. Until he made her listen. Until he wore her down and she agreed to give him a second chance.

He’d never wanted a woman to love him. He’d never wanted the responsibility, let alone the risks. But Christy had slipped past his defenses, and now he couldn’t live without her. Hell, he couldn’t breathe without her. Or sleep. He hadn’t been able to close his eyes since she’d left. He knew pain—he’d been in the marines for twelve years, so physical pain was second nature to him—but what he’d been feeling these last days was literally flooring him. He was dying without her.