CHAPTER 4
Ainsleigh
Reluctantly, my brothers let me go. I needed a minute to myself. Thank goodness, my mother still knew me so well.
I walked up the creaking, wooden stairs, then down the all too familiar hallway. Past all the other rooms, to the last one on the right. The door was shut, keeping the space hidden from my all too wary eyes.
I would not break down.
I would not break down.
I would not break down.
I kept whispering those words until I almost believed them. With each step that brought me closer to the worst memory of my life, I kept saying them to myself. Standing in front of the wood door, I reached for the handle that would open all the pain I’d kept inside.
Mustering all the strength I had, I twisted the handle and opened the door.
Peering inside, I noticed that my mother hadn’t changed anything.
Posters still hung on the wall of quotes that I loved.
Pictures still placed on various shelves and furniture.
Unsteadily, I crossed the threshold and closed the door behind me.
So many good times were had here.
Gossip stories between my girlfriends.
My first kiss.
Confessions of love.
And in one instant, so much pain.
Walking over to the twin bed against the wall, I sat down on the mattress, almost refusing to look at the nightstand. I needed to look. Needed to face the pain. But I just wasn’t ready.
Tears fell down my cheeks. But I didn’t brush them away. Four years of bottled up emotion was now breaking free. It was way overdue. The only way I remained strong while I was away was because I pushed my emotions down and redirected my focus solely on school. If it wasn’t for my studies, I would’ve been a mess. I should’ve been one, but facing what I’d lost would’ve killed me on the inside. It did kill me when I allowed my thoughts to wander for too long. Which wasn’t often.
Sneaking a peek at the piece of furniture that held one memory I knew would be the hardest to face. Instead of seeing the picture that I was afraid to face, I saw a familiar memory in its place.
Picking up the fragile frame, I took in the picture of myself and my brothers. My mother hardly ever got a picture with all of us in it, but on this day, we complied. Just for her. We were sitting on a sturdy branch on a tree on the property. A place I loved to visit. We all loved to visit. The times that we shared under that tree brought a smile to my face.
We shared so many secrets there. Had so many laughs. Shed so many tears. Expressed our fears. We often called it the confession tree. And for good reason. Whenever one of us had something to share, we all met up under that tree and spilled our guts. Right or wrong. Good or bad. We shared our deepest, darkest thoughts. And everyone listened.
In this particularly rare captured moment, Brooks, Holden, and Leo were all sitting on the branch, and they’d pulled me down for the photo. I was laid across the sturdy legs of my three brothers, laughing because they made sure I didn’t get up and leave so my mother could get the picture. The sun was setting in the distance, causing a summer chill to hit the night air. All four of us were smiling, laughing even.
My mother must’ve placed this here knowing I couldn’t handle seeing the photo it replaced. And I couldn’t be more grateful. Someday, hopefully soon, I’d have the courage to ask her where she’d placed it so I could face the memories. However unhappy they may have been.
Returning the photo to its place, I stood and walked around the room.
All my books were still placed on the shelves. My desk was still cluttered with notebooks and maps of places I wanted to visit someday. Picking up the one on top, I took in the name of the place I wanted to visit the most. Rome. Someday I’d get there.
Carefully, I placed the map where it’d been sitting.
The door creaked open behind me, but I didn’t turn to face the person brave enough to enter.
I wanted to be alone. For just a moment, I wanted to wallow before I had to place that brave face on and act like being here didn’t bring me so much pain.
“It’s good to see you in here again,” the voice said behind me.
It didn’t feel that great to be in this room again.
It felt soul crushing.
“I know how hard this is for you. You may not think that I do, but I know. More than you can imagine,” he whispered as he walked closer to where I stood.
His strong hands gripped my waist and turned me around in one swift move. I was too emotional to step away. My feelings were too raw, standing here in this moment with him. I hadn’t once thought about his feelings in all of this. Selfishly, I only cared how I felt. How I couldn’t cope. And yet, after all my selfishness, he still stood before me. He was stronger than I ever gave him credit for.
He pulled me toward him, wrapping me in the comfort of his arms. It was there that I fully broke. Letting all the emotion come forth yet again.
I cried for him.
For everything we’d lost.
For everything I’d put us through by leaving.
But most of all, I cried for me.
“You need to let it all out, Ainsleigh. For once, just let it all come. You don’t have to hide from me. I know being here hurts. I know the memories are consuming you just like they do me. But let them. For once in the past four years, face them head on so you can heal.”
How did he know I hadn’t?
How did he know I was still so consumed with grief, that I was still so lost in it?
“You weren’t the only one who lost her. I lost her too. Not a day goes by when I don’t think about her. But it’s not healthy for you to keep it all in. Scream. Kick. Cry. Do something that helps you, instead of hindering you from moving on,” he whispered against my hair.
His breath moving the strands across my back caused me to shiver against his solid frame. Time suited him well.
“What do you do that helps?” I asked, wanting to know so I could hopefully find some way of my own. That was the only way I’d get over being home.
“You’re not allowed to laugh, okay?”
Now he had me intrigued.
Tilting my head, I looked up at him and waited to hear his answer.
He reached up and brushed the remnants of tears off my cheeks.
“I won’t laugh.”
“I meditate. I do yoga. And I ride.”
He did what?
Looking at him, I’d have never guessed he’d do something of the nature. Riding. Yes, that I knew he did. But yoga and meditating.
I smirked because the thought of seeing him in some crazy, bendable pose would be priceless.
“You said you wouldn’t laugh. Remember that. But, believe it or not, all three have helped me mourn and overcome the grief I’ve felt for the last four years.
“I didn’t laugh. I smirked. There’s a big difference.”
“Not by much. Just remember, find something that helps you. What helps me, may not be beneficial for you. I want you to heal. And seeing you just now. Feeling the pain, you felt as you cried. Tore at me in a way you’ll never understand. You need to heal, Ainsleigh, or you’ll never feel whole again.”
He may have been right.
Damn him.
“Now, enough with the heavy stuff. Your mom made your favorite, and it’s ready. That’s why I came up here in the first place. Last one downstairs is a rotten egg,” he said with a laugh as he stepped away from me and started running toward my bedroom door.
“What? Are we five now?” I screamed as I took off after him.
My mom’s pot roast was the best, and I couldn’t say no to tasting my favorite meal on my first night home.
I thought long and hard about what he said.
I just didn’t know if I wanted to move on.
To me, moving on meant forgetting.
And there was no way, no how, that I wanted to forget her.