Chapter Three
Cole
My brother Derek was only two years older than me, but he wore those years like a funeral shroud, wrapping himself in his cares to the point where he was almost stooped over.
When I saw him standing there, on the porch outside of the secluded rented carriage house he'd sequestered himself in, I felt a small pit open up in my stomach.
With it came the hollow feeling of regret. I should be here. Helping him. It wasn't exactly fair that he got stuck caring for our parents' place now that they'd fucked on out of here and into a Florida condo. It was just sort of how things worked out, proximity wise. And he was older too. So, that was sort of his job.
Or at least that's how I rationalized it to myself back in New York. But now that I was here, I wondered what kind of toll it was taking on him. Derek’s depression seemed to be on an uptick, or at least that’s what he’d been telling me whenever I bothered to call him up to check.
But his depression and alcoholism went hand-in-hand. And though he had quit the bottle — seemingly forever — two years back, I still worried to see the lines on his face. Something had happened. Something he refused to tell me about, and really could I blame him? The only contact we had these days was when I blew into town in my fancy hired car to judge the life he led up here and then left again a few days later. He didn't owe me the reason he'd stopped drinking, although I damn well wished he'd tell me anyway so I could stop worrying. Because with that worry came guilt. Would I always have to be suspicious of him? Was I always going to be left to wonder if he was off the wagon again?
And how would I even know? How would I even have the nerve to ask him, when I hadn’t seen him in so long?
"There's my little brother, the suit!" Derek called across the drive.
He was still an asshole. Guess I didn't need to be worrying so much about him after all.
"There's my big brother, the hick!" I snapped back smartly, grabbing my suitcase with my bare hand. I shoved my other hand in the pocket of my peacoat, cursing the fact that I’d forgotten my gloves back at my penthouse. I was risking frostbite out here. But where the fuck was I going to find gloves in Reckless Falls on Christmas Eve? Unless I maybe borrowed a pair from Derek.
But I had to give him more shit before then. “Hey, you got a couple coon dogs lying under the porch here, Derek?” I asked as I took the stairs up the front porch two at a time. “When did you go full-backwoods on me? This place is like something out of the movie Deliverance." It was actually really nice in a Reckless Falls sort of way. A rehabbed carriage house like this, located on the estate of some wealthy old guy, it was the kind of property I'd snap up and add to my portfolio in a heartbeat. Cole Granger, Director of Upstate Opportunity knew all about diamonds in the rough.
But I wasn't going to tell him that.
Derek narrowed his eyes, but the corner of his mouth worked upward. "Glad to see you’re still an asshole,” he growled, pulling me in for a manly one armed hug, slapping me so hard on the back that I had to stifle a cough. "I was afraid New York would have changed you."
“No way,” I said, feeling the tips of my ears burning. “I’m bigger and better than any city."
"So I guess, uh, Merry Christmas or whatever?" Derek asked, unceremoniously lifting my luggage without straining in the least.
"Yeah sure, Merry fucking Christmas and all that." I followed him into his kitchen. "I see you've decorated recently,” I said sarcastically, turning in a circle to take in the sparsely furnished house. There wasn’t a garland or a string of lights hung anywhere.
Derek shrugged. "Didn't really see the point. It's just you and me after all, right?”
I ran my tongue across the top of my bottom teeth. "Just you and me, yeah," I nodded.
"It's not like I thought they should stay here forever," Derek muttered, staring at his shoes with an expression of intense ferocity. "It's just more that they..."
"Didn’t even tell you?” I seethed. Anger flared like a match in my belly, heating up the blood that started thudding in my ears. Our parents, my parents, just up and leaving like that, what the fuck?
But Derek’s anger seemed to have settled into a slow burning simmer. ”Oh no, they told me,” he drawled, shoving his hands in his pockets like he used to do when he was resisting the urge to punch something. Maybe that was still what he was doing. “Just like how they told me I would be the one who needed to take care of the house for them. Mom put it pretty fucking bluntly. ‘Just because you insist on wasting your life, Derek, it doesn’t mean we need to be wasting ours alongside you. We’ll even pay you a wage, although, it’d be pretty ungrateful for you to accept it...’”
The sound that came out of my mouth was halfway between a bark and a laugh, but Derek was still looking at his feet and not paying attention to my impotent rage in the slightest. “So that was that. I’m officially a caretaker of our family home. I gotta keep it nice for renters and more importantly for Mom and Dad. You know... just in case they decide to come back."
I swallowed down the lump that was forming in my throat. “You think they will?"
Derek looked up from his feet. "Honestly? Who cares?”
That pit that had been forming in my stomach widened and deepened. "Harsh, dude, they’re our parents."
"They’re selfish and always have been." He looked me up and down. "I guess the apple didn't fall too far from the tree."
I blinked. ”And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
"It means exactly what I just said."
"You're saying I’m selfish?"
"Well, who cut and run first, huh?”
"Cut and run? Is that what you think I did?” Instantly the simmering anger I’d been feeling on his behalf flipped into a defensive rage. “I went to college, Derek. I got a job. A fucking good job. I'm at the top of my fucking field, dude. Do you even understand how well I'm doing?” Do you see how expensive my watch is? I didn't ask. Do you see how nice my shoes are, getting all scuffed up with snow melt? Aren't you proud of me? Don't you see how far I've come?
I clamped my mouth shut to keep the words inside, unwilling to open up that Pandora's box.
Derek was waiting for me to finish. ”Yeah,” he exhaled in a sharp rush, “you went to college. Mom and Dad let you go because they knew they still had another son who’d stay here and take care of things for them.”
"Well don't put that guilt on me! You don't have to give in to this. Staying around, waiting for the call, sending reports on how well their investment property is doing?” I choked on the word. “Investment property? We grew up there! That's our house!”
“I’m not putting any guilt on you," Derek said, his voice slightly softer now. "You're the baby brother, you’re spoiled, that's the way these things work."
“Spoiled?” I laughed grimly. “That’s what you call it? Because I worked my ass off and managed to get a scholarship, that makes me spoiled? Mom and Dad didn't send me to school, I sent myself."
Derek shrugged. And I had to keep talking just to keep myself from punching him right in the face.
"I saw Autumn Melton today," I said, somehow unable to keep my big mouth shut. "And she was happy to see me, you know? Even invited me to a little shindig at Reese's pub with her and her coworkers.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against his ugly-ass wood paneled cupboards. “So if there're no hard feelings there, maybe you'd better get over whatever the hell chip you’re even carrying around on your shoulder."
“Just let it go?”
“Let it fucking go, Derek.”
“Just like that?”
“Why the fuck not, it’s Christmas?”
I could see by the way his eyes hardened that he was in no way finished with me, but instead of lashing out, he turned around. "Spirit of Christmas and all that crap?” he asked, “Sure, why the fuck not?” He rummaged around in one of the drawers and pulled out a clumsily wrapped package. "Got you something."
I looked down at it balefully.
"It's not a bomb," Derek coughed. "And it's not going to jump out and bite you. I was just blowing off steam, Cole. It's been a while.” His voice dropped lower like the word pained him to say. “Maybe I just missed you was all."
I took another look at my brother’s face. Time had worn deep lines into grooves on his forehead, and there with the hints of shadow under his eyes I wondered if he had been sleeping well. I wondered if he had anyone taking care of him right now.
"I got you something too,” I said, reaching into my duffel bag and pulling out the package. I hesitated before handing it to him, all of the sudden regretting the gift I had chosen back in New York. I had totally been showing off when I bought him the watch that matched mine. I wanted my big brother to be impressed. I wanted him to raise his eyebrows and turn the corners of his mouth down and make some remark about his baby brother, the big spender.
But as I held it in my hand, my gift just kind of seemed tawdry, and cheap. What the hell was Derek going to do with a watch? What he really needed was something else entirely.
But it was all I had, so I held it out to him. "Hey, thanks," my older brother remarked, taking the package and holding it in his hands.
We both stood there awkwardly.
"It's still only Christmas Eve," I observed.
"So, we should wait till tomorrow or something?"
“Fuck it. We're grown-ups now, right? We can open our presents whenever we damn well please."
Derek chuckled. “Mom and Dad aren't even here to tell us otherwise," he said.
I grinned at him, feeling that old, familiar bond. The two of us conspiring against my parents, the family order settling into its natural alignment. ”Let's do it."
But Derek held out his hand. ”We should celebrate the moment,” he said, smiling wider than I’d seen him smile yet. “But I don't drink anymore so I don't have anything celebratory, except...” He reached over and rummaged in the fridge. “Orange juice?”
I laughed as he poured two tumblers out like shots. "An orange juice toast to commemorate the season."
We clinked our glasses together and knocked back the juice like fake frat boys. Then both set to work silently opening our presents.
Derek pulled his watch from the gift-wrapped box. “Hey, thanks. My watch just broke, actually. Good timing." He put it on without taking note of the finely tuned Swiss mechanism, or the smooth, fluid sweep of the second hand. He slung it on like it was an old Timex, and for some reason that made me far happier than any reaction I had imagined.
"Okay. My turn," I said.
I tore open the package and blinked to see a pair of gloves.
Derek craned his neck to look at them. ”I figured you’d forget yours. You’re always fucking forgetting to pack gloves. And then your mooching ass wants to borrow mine. So I thought I’d preempt that.”
I blinked, struck by the thought he’d given his gift. He wasn’t trying to impress me. He just thought about what I might need. I didn’t know what to do, so I punched him in the arm. “You know I'm going to lose these immediately.”
Derek nodded. “Oh I know, don't worry, they’re not that expensive, so I don’t give a fuck.”
“You're right, you know. I totally did forget my gloves.”
Derek raised his orange juice and silently toasted me.
I cleared my throat. I hadn’t talked to my brother like this in months. Years, really. And I wasn’t ready to finish yet. The looming need to get to the bar, shake some hands, make my deal was still there in my head but it was surprisingly easy to shove to the side in favor of spending more time with him.
Or maybe I could do both? "So, hey, uh, I thought I might head out to Autumn’s thing,” I said. “You want to come?”
Derek’s mouth twisted oddly. “Bad idea for me to be at a bar. Especially around the holidays," he said.
I winced. "Sorry man."
He shook his head. "No need to be sorry, the holidays are hard. I think I’ll just have to sit this one out. I got my two-year chip last weekend.”
"I know you did," I said softly
“Yeah. So.”
I fucking hated myself for asking, but... “Can you, uh, give me a ride then?"
Derek rolled his eyes. ”What? Your fancy driver doesn’t want to be seen at a shitty dive bar in the sticks?”
It was my turn to roll my eyes. "He's not on the clock right now."
He started rifling through the junk drawer. ”Sure I'll drive you, whatever. If I let you borrow my car you'd probably wreck it anyway, forgetting how to drive in the snow and all that."
"Well, you see, in the city, we have these things called snowplows."
"Yeah, whatever, they'll get to it. What about when you come home? You want to call me or something?"
A picture of Autumn flashed across my mind, just a fleeting impression of her lips, the memory of her kiss seared into my flesh as deep as any scar. I shook my head to clear it. "With any luck, I'll find my own way home."
He raised an expertly skeptical eyebrow. ”Autumn?”
There was no use lying. I was certain my hopes were written all over my face. ”Yeah."
Derek cocked his head to the side. ”You know she hates your guts, right?”
I looked sharply at my brother, but he was already gathering his keys, having stated that fact as baldly as he always did. Derek had no idea how to lie, or how to sugarcoat things, so if he said something, you knew it was the truth.
I winced and looked down at my hands. She hadn’t seemed like she hated my guts. She’d invited me after all. But why would Derek lie when he knew how we left things, how broken I’d been when she left me? What if he was right? Why did I even think I had a chance again? Why was I even considering going after her tonight? We were done, over. If she wanted things to continue, she could've called me, come down to Philly, stayed in a dorm room.
If she truly loved me, distance should not have mattered.
And if I saw her tonight, I was going to say that to her face.