I sit in the canvas chair with my arms crossed over my chest and my legs stretched out in front of me. I’m positioned in the middle of my front yard. It’s freezing out, but I don’t feel the blistering cold. My attention is completely consumed by the half-built house in front of me.

I’ve been out here hours, just staring at it, contemplating how and when I want to tear the structure down. Half of the reason I’ve kept it was because it was a link to Clara and Rayne. A link I wasn’t ready to destroy yet. While I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to let them go, I know I need to stop standing in place and try to start moving forward.

The building’s walls are discolored, swelling, and becoming dilapidated from lack of protection from the weather. It’s become an eyesore. I always knew I would eventually tear it down, it was just finding the motivation and courage to do it.

I look down at the picture in my lap. The edges are slightly wrinkled and there are several creases. One of the nurses took it right after Rayne was born. I’m sitting on the side of the bed with my arm on the pillow behind Clara’s head. Baby Rayne is snuggled up in a blanket, lying in Clara’s arms. We’re both looking down at her, and our smiles are so big it’s a wonder our faces didn’t split in two. The nurse that snapped the picture was a good friend of ours, so she took it upon herself to use my phone to capture the scene without us knowing. It’s one of my favorites of the three of us together.

Immediately after that photo, the nurses rushed Rayne away to the neonatal intensive care unit. She was eight weeks early, weighing only three pounds two ounces, and needed more time to develop her lungs and continue to grow. Clara was in the hospital for five days after that. Technically, she could have left earlier, but with Rayne still there, she stayed as long as they allowed her. Once she was released, both Clara and I stayed in a nearby hotel, since the drive from home to the hospital was a good forty-five minutes. We wanted to be as close to Rayne as possible. For the first two weeks, we visited every day and stayed from morning until night. Logan, a friend of ours, came out to the cabin every day and fed and watered the horses for us, but eventually I had to start making trips out myself. Every single day though, I was at the hospital with my wife, talking to our daughter, watching her slowly get stronger. Those days were scary, but were also the best of my life. I wore a permanent smile for seven weeks.

The crunch of tires pulls me from my memories. I turn my head and watch as a black Dodge truck comes down my driveway. I stand and put the picture in my jacket pocket. It’ll go in my bedside drawer when I go back inside, along with the other two I have in there. The first year after they died, the picture was in a frame that sat on my nightstand. It was a constant reminder of what I had and then lost. A reminder of how I failed the two most important people in my life.

The truck stops and a man I haven’t seen in weeks steps out. I turn back and face the half-built house, knowing he’ll approach without my prompt.

James and I have been friends since grade school. After Clara and Rayne died, I pulled away from everyone, including him. He gave me my space to grieve for a while, but then started forcing his way back in, no matter how much I tried pushing him away. Besides my family and clients, he’s one of only two people that ever come out here. Travis, another friend, who moved to Cat’s Valley his senior year of high school, is the other.

He stops beside me and we both look at once was supposed to be Clara’s dream home.

“How was your trip?” I ask after several minutes of silence.

He blows out a breath, then grumbles, “Stressful as hell. I’m damn glad to be back and away from my crazy-ass sister. God love her, but fuck, I can only take so much.”

I grunt. “How was your mother?”

“Cool as a fucking cucumber. If not for her I probably would have bashed Lena’s head with one of the vases used for the centerpieces. She had a bitch fit over the fuckers because they didn’t match the flowers she picked for them. She picked the damn things out herself and knew from the get-go what flowers she was using.”

James has been out of town for the last week for his sister, Lena’s, wedding. His sister lives only two hours away, but she wanted the whole family down for the entire week. The thing with Lena is, she’s a spoiled brat. She’s the baby of James’s five siblings and believes the entire world revolves around her. She’s the only one of the bunch to turn out like that. James and I used to joke that she was switched at birth, that his sweet baby sister was out there somewhere probably with stick-up-their-ass parents.

“God help the poor bastard that married her,” I comment, only half joking.

Being the oldest of his siblings, there’s a seven-year gap between James and Lena. That still didn’t stop her from following us and their other siblings around and trying to boss us all into doing what she wanted. We all put up with her because Cassandra, James’s mom, would have had our hides if we didn’t.

“Believe it or not, she doesn’t treat him that way. To her, he’s her holy grail and she seems to worship the ground he walks on. They both do. He still sees her bitchy side because everyone else around her gets the you’re-beneath-me treatment. I don’t know.” He shrugs. “It’s interesting to watch a softer side of Lena.”

A soft Lena. I wouldn’t have thought it was possible.

“You still planning to tear it down?” he asks after several quiet moments.

I look over and find him watching me curiously, arms crossed over his massive chest. I turn back.

“Yeah. Wood’s rotten, so it’s only a matter of time before it starts falling apart anyway.”

“Let me know if you want help when you do,” he offers.

“Thanks, but I think this is something I need to do on my own.”

He slaps my back. “Gotcha.”

“You want a beer?” I ask, ready to get out of the cold and away from the unstable structure before me. Every time I look at it, memories I’ve tried to forget resurface. That’s why I normally avoid looking at it like the plague. I don’t need any reminders. I’m reminded of it every time I look in the mirror or close my eyes. But with Christmas coming up and the anniversary of their deaths, I was drawn to it. I failed them by not saving them, and this is my punishment.

“Sure,” James says, knocking me out of my thoughts.

I turn and lead us to the house. Gigi meets us at the door, tail wagging when she sees James is with me. She’s been in a slump the last several days, and I know it has to do with a certain little boy not being here. I clench my jaw and push away the unwanted emotions over not having Gwen and her kids here anymore. The house has felt too damn empty, and I wonder if it’ll ever feel normal again. Empty isn’t anything new to me, but now that I remember what it feels like to be filled with more than empty blackness, I don’t think I want to go back to it.

I pull two beers from the fridge and hand one to James. I don’t drink often, but I always keep a few in the fridge just in case I feel the need for one. I pop the top, flick the cap in the trash, and take a couple pulls.

James does the same, then sets his bottle down on the bar. Tapping his thigh, he calls, “Up, Gigi.” She jumps and places her front paws on his lower stomach. “How’re the babies doing, girl?” She gives her answer by licking his hand.

“How’s Bandit?” he asks once Gigi drops back to four legs.

“Still a stubborn bastard,” I rumble.

He chuckles. “So, he’s still kicking your ass, you mean?”

I grit my teeth, beyond frustrated with the animal. “He damn near bit my hand off yesterday when I tried to feed him an apple. Then almost busted through the wood on the side wall of his stall. I had to move Bella to another stall because she was becoming agitated.”

He takes another pull from his beer, and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t know, man. It might be a lost cause with that one.”

I grunt at the suggestion. “No horse is untrainable. He just needs to learn that I’m the bigger male. Mutual respect for each other is paramount when training horses. He hasn’t learned to respect me yet, but he will.”

I turn and open the fridge, grabbing out lunch meat, lettuce, tomato, and mayo. Dropping it on the counter, I ask, “You want?”

“I’m good.” He finishes off his beer and tosses the bottle in the trash. “I just wanted to stop by and catch up. I gotta get back to town before poor Miss Mable has a fit because I haven’t come by to see her.”

Miss Mable is his seventy-year-old neighbor and has appointed herself his honorary second mother. His father left when he was eight years old, so his mom had to take on the role of mother and father. She worked two full-time jobs to support her five kids, meaning she wasn’t around much. When we were kids, Miss Mable would have us both over for homemade cookies several times a week. Being kids, we loved cookies, so we never complained. Over the years, she still insisted James come over at least twice a week to sit with her and enjoy her delicious snack. He complains now, but I know he secretly loves the old woman. She was there for him when his mom couldn’t be, and has earned a permanent place in his life.

I chuckle. “Next time you come out, bring me some of her snickerdoodles.”

“Will do.” He laughs.

Any other friend would have insisted I go get them myself, trying to force me back into society. One of the many reason James and I have stayed in contact since Clara and Rayne died is because he doesn’t tiptoe around me and doesn’t try to force me to get over losing them. He respects that I’m a grown-ass man and can make my own damn decisions.

He also doesn’t look at me any different than before the accident. My scars mean absolutely nothing to him.

“Since when do you wear earrings?” James asks, tipping his chin toward the bar.

I don’t need to look to see the small hoop earrings lying on the counter. I found them on my bedside table the day Gwen left and they’ve been sitting on the bar ever since.

I give him a look that has his eyebrows raising.

“Who is she?” he asks, taking my look for something it’s not.

“No one,” I mutter, slapping some ham down on top of a slice of mayonnaise-covered bread.

“Bullshit. The only women you’ve had in this house have been your mother and sister, and I know they haven’t been for a visit in a while now.”

“Leave it.” I peel off a layer of lettuce and slap that down on top of the ham. “She’s no one important.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Gwen is definitely more than no one. I just haven’t figured out what she is, and I’m scared as shit about it.

“It’s okay to move on, Alexander,” James says, his deep voice turning softer. “Clara would want you to.”

I look up and shoot him a glare. Slamming the jar of mayonnaise down on the counter, I growl, “What if I don’t want to move on? I don’t fucking deserve to move on.”

His expression turns hard. “That’s bullshit and a cop-out if I ever heard one. Stop fucking blaming yourself for something you had no control over.”

My chest heaves as both anger and grief grip me. I know in my head what he’s saying is true, but my fucking heart just won’t get on board. It insists that there was some way I could have saved them.

Placing my hands on the counter, I hang my head, trying to rein in the lashing I want to give James.

“Look, I get it.” When I lift my head to tell him he gets nothing, he continues, as if knowing what I’m about to say. “I may not know from experience what you’re going through, but I still get it. I know it has to be hard, but fuck, Alexander, you can’t live with that regret for the rest of your life and never move on. I’ve left you be, and I’ll continue to do so because I’ve got no right to try to push you into something you aren’t ready for yet, but don’t give up. Don’t close down the option of building something with someone else. You’ll die miserable and with a lot more regret than you carry now.”

I drop my head again, wanting so damn badly to take his words and run with them. To leave the past in the past and look forward to a future. An image of Gwen pops in my head, and it causes a rush of adrenaline through my veins. If offered the chance, I’d give almost anything to have that future with her.

Gwen’s gorgeous face is replaced with Clara’s equally gorgeous one. Short blond hair replaces brown, and green eyes replace blue. I squeeze my eyes shut tighter when my beautiful baby girl’s face appears. I miss them so fucking much. I want to reach inside my mind, snatch them out, and place them in front of me so I can touch them. Knowing that’s impossible, I also want to shove them away. I want to forget them because remembering them hurts so damn much. But then the thought of doing that sends splinters of pain to my chest and stomach. It makes me physically ill.

A hand grips my shoulder tightly, and I look up to see James standing beside me, a look of empathy on his face.

“No pressure, but you really need to think about the possibility of moving on. You can’t hold on to them forever.”

He lets go, walks out of the kitchen, and a minute later, I hear the click of the front door closing. Gigi nudges my thigh with her nose, sensing my pain, and I absently reach down and rub her head.

Unable to stomach food at the moment, I put the sandwich in a container and place it in the fridge for later. My eyes land on the earrings on the counter, and I finger one of them.

Last night, when I saw her message, my body tensed, ready to bolt into action and race to town. When she said she just wanted to say hi, I relaxed back in bed, but adrenaline still ran through my veins. It’s been a week since I saw her, and it surprised me how much I missed her. And Daniel and Kelsey. There’s been several times I’ve caught myself grabbing for my keys to drive to town and hunt her down. I don’t know where she lives, but it wouldn’t take much to find out.

When she mentioned Kelsey using the crossword puzzle I made for her and Daniel carrying the horse around with him, it warmed my heart. My eyes land on the small box in the living room that carries part of my grandfather’s wood carving collection. Two days after they left, I was in the barn tending to the horses when I came across the box. My mind automatically went to Daniel. Wiping off the dust, I carried the box inside. I didn’t know then why I brought them into the house. There were no plans for me to see Daniel again, but something compelled me. Maybe a small glimmer of hope that I would see him again.

Picking up the earrings, I put them in my pocket and leave the kitchen. I take a seat on the couch and grab the notebook from the end table. I flip it open to about a quarter of the way through. Last night I told Gwen I’d have to make Kelsey another crossword puzzle for when she was done with her current one. What I didn’t say was I had already started on one. The last one was a rush job, so I’m sure to a seasoned crossword puzzler—like Kelsey seems to be—they’re easy. I’m making this one a bit more tough.

I spend the next couple hours working on the crossword puzzles, then dig through the box of wooden figurines. There are several different horses, they were my grandfather’s favorite to carve, but there’s also other animals. I pick up a fox, specifically remembering when he carved it. He had just gotten done with the tail when the knife slipped and cut into his finger. He didn’t use the special whittling knives, but just a regular pocket knife. He said it was just a hobby to him, so he wasn’t going to spend a lot of money on whittling knives.

The knife cut through and the only thing that stopped it from chopping off his finger was the bone. I was eight at the time, so when I saw the blood, I turned white and had to sit on the floor before I passed out. I watched as he grabbed several napkins, wrapped them around his finger, and taped them on with masking tape. He then proceeded to finish the fox. Later that day when my grandmother saw his bandage job, she started yelling at him for waiting too long to have it tended to. He drank a bottle of whiskey while she sewed him up. That was grandpa, stubborn and tough as they came.

I chuckle when I run my finger over the rusty bloodstain that never came out of the wood. I put it back down and pick up a carved dinosaur. Or what’s supposed to be a carved dinosaur. This was my one and only attempt at wood carving and it turn out to be a disaster. I ended up cutting myself as well, but unlike my grandpa, my mom insisted I go get stitches. I was ten and it hurt like a bitch, so I told my grandpa that I’d leave the wood carving up to him.

After looking through the box a few more minutes, I close it up. If given the opportunity, I’ll let Daniel pick out the ones he likes.

I call Gigi and we both go outside to close up the barn and make sure the horses are in their respective stalls for the night. The sun’s already setting as we walk across the yard. As much as I enjoy winter, I hate the short days.

Once the horses are situated, Gigi and I go back inside, completely ignoring Clara’s house. I’ve had enough of the memories for today. Gigi trots to the utility room, while I head to the bathroom for a shower. I had to put the pups back in the utility room because the little rascals were starting to tear shit apart. I normally let them out in the evenings to roam when I’m around to keep an eye on them. A couple of days ago, I started letting them out in the yard.

Stripping down, I make sure to keep my eyes away from the mirror. Although the scars cover half of my body, I’ve found that if I don’t actually look at myself in the mirror, I can keep the haunting memories at bay easier.

My shower is quick, and I’m out and dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt ten minutes later. Without looking at the photo, I place it back in the drawer next to the other two before going out to the living room. My phone flashes, indicating I have a notification. My heart rate picks up when I think it might be from Gwen.

I grab it off the counter, disappointment hitting when I realize it’s from James. I also have an e-mail from Brice, June’s owner. I sent him an e-mail earlier today letting him know that June’s ready to be picked up. I pull up Brice’s e-mail first, confirming the pickup for tomorrow at three. Next, I open James’s message.

James: I meant to tell you earlier. Mom invited you over for Christmas. I told her I’d bring it up to you.

I type out a quick reply.

Me: Tell your mom I said thanks and Happy Holidays, but I’ll be busy.

He already knew the answer and so does his mom, but he tries every year. I’m grateful to Martha for caring, but Christmas isn’t a good time for me, and I’d be shitty company. I always spend Christmas alone, mentally preparing for the next day, the anniversary of their deaths. Every year, I spend the day that they died with my good friend Jameson. It’s the only time of year when I get shitfaced. It’s also the two days a year that no one should be around me.

The ding of my phone interrupts my thoughts. Thinking it’s James replying, I swipe my finger across the screen without looking, then pull in a deep breath when I see Gwen’s name instead. I settle down in a chair before pulling open her message.

Gwen: Hey. Sorry to bother you again, but I wanted to ask when Gigi’s puppies will be ready to adopt? If you’re adopting them out, that is.

My lips tip up into a smile.

Me: They should be ready next week.

Her reply comes almost immediately.

Gwen: Before Christmas maybe?!

I chuckle at her excitement.

Me: Yes.

Gwen: Yah! You’ve just made my night. Or rather, unknowingly made the kids’ night. I’d like to get one for them for Christmas.

She unknowingly made my night as well, because that means I’ll get to see her again. I try to not let that thought get to me, but it does anyway.

Me: What day would you like to come over to pick one out?

I lay my phone down on the counter as I wait for her reply. The earrings once again catch my attention. I pick one up and place it in my palm. The diamond at the center of the hoop twinkles in the light from the kitchen.

My phone pings again.

Gwen: Does Christmas Eve work for you? In the evening? I’ll have my friend Emma come watch the kids, that way I can surprise them with the pup on Christmas morning.

Anxiety has my stomach churning. Do I really want to chance being around her so close to the worst day of the year for me? But then I think, maybe it’ll do me good to see something so beautiful before the ugly makes itself known.

Me: That works.

Gwen: Great! I’ll see you then. Thank you, Alexander. Have a good night.

Me: You as well, Gwen.

I get up from my stool, grab Kelsey’s notebook, and bring it back to the counter. Since Gwen will be coming by next week, I’d like to get it done before then so she can take it back with her.

Anticipation of seeing Gwen again has my blood pumping faster. We may not ever really be anything to each other, but even so, the thought leaves my chest feeling lighter.

Six days. Only six days before she’ll be here. I silently pray those days go by quickly, even knowing I have no right to ask for such a thing.