by Sarah Gai
"Can't wait," she signed. She was being sarcastic, he knew, but he didn't care. "Any other hobbies?" she asked using air quotes for hobbies.
He had a right mind to reach over and tickle those wise-ass comments right out of her. "Well, when I was a kid I collected snails. I would paint numbers on their backs and I had this board my friends and I would race them on."
Winter almost fell off her seat, grabbing her stomach, as she bellowed. Okay, he knew that was funny. It was the longest race in history and ninety-nine percent of the time it didn't finish as the snails went off the board. The moment they were picked up they retreated into their shells and would not poke their heads out again for five minutes. Ah, good times, he thought.
"It's not that funny!"
Winter righted herself and sat back on the stool. "No, it really is."
"Okay, whatever," he rolled his eyes before continuing. “Now, for the family history," he let her know. Winter leaned against the bench cradling her head on top of her hand. With a deep breath, he began, "My mother’s maiden name is Reed," he eyed her. Oh God, here we go... "My father’s name is Bryce Bexter."
She looked away from him. She was thinking, wondering if that name should mean anything to her.
He waited and waited and waited. He knew the moment his father’s name registered in her mind.
"Oil mogul Bryce Bexter?" she shot up straight.
"The one and the same," he grinned at her not with happiness, but more like bombshell. And then the questions began.
"Hold on. That makes no sense. I don't know a lot about him, well, except what's on TV right now. Hasn't he got a family? And isn't he running for mayor or something?" she asked, her face filled with shock and disbelief.
"You would be right on both counts," he acknowledged.
"Okay, you have to start talking," she prompted, looking at him confused.
"I'm going to do this quickly, okay?" Winter nodded at him. “My mother used to work for Bryce as his PA. Well, as it goes, they started an affair; my mother fell in love with him and he with her. She got pregnant and I was born. Just before she was due to have me, my mother resigned. Bryce set us up well; I even attended a private school for most of my childhood. I spent my years as a dirty little secret, unable to tell anyone. Then we moved here," Nolan finished.
"But what happened between them? Did he just chuck her away?" Winter signed angrily.
"No, they continued the affair for seventeen years. My mother had this belief he was finally going to leave his wife for her. He would never stay at our house, but they spent a lot of weekends together away for "business trips.” One day, it finally clicked—he was never going to leave his family. So Kim made the decision to sever what they had and here we are," Nolan finished.
He remembered all those nights, hearing his mother cry herself to sleep. He knew there was a part of her that wished, truly thought, his father was going to sweep into town and confess he couldn't live without her, begging her to be with him. It never happened. All they received was a note, a goodbye, and a check that would mean she would never have to work a day in her life along with a deposit box key that held a cash inheritance for Nolan the day he turned twenty-one.
He saw the sadness in Winter’s eyes as she looked at him. She reached over and touched his hand, but as he went to interlace their fingers, she suddenly pulled back. He frowned. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she signed, "So that means you have…"
"A half sister?" he finished for her. She nodded. "Yeah, I tend to attract seasons," he laughed. She looked at him confused. "Her name is Summer," he finished.
She rolled her eyes. "Of course, Summer Bexter. She's how old?"
"She's twenty-two now. Not much younger than me. Actually, we went to school together. I always knew of course. She knew, too. Didn't tell me until she showed up here a few years ago. But that's a story for another day." Nolan didn't know where to look. Winter had the same problem as she swiveled her head around the room, fascinated with the walls all of a sudden.
Nolan caught her attention. "So, anything you want to tell me?" he asked trying to lighten the mood.
Winter shrugged. "No, I think you know all there is to know about me."
"Not true," he told her.
"No, it is. I'm easy to read, just like a book," she smiled wryly. "So, you're rich?" she signed.
"Yes."
"And that's how you bought you and Charlie the building business?"
"Yes."
"And paid for my college and apartment in Seattle?"
"What?" he physically gulped. How?
"I'm not stupid, Nolan. I always wondered how my father apparently had kept some money aside for me in his life insurance policy and not Charlie. How it just magically appeared a few years after I moved to Seattle, even though we both know my mother spent every last dime. The moment you told me where you really came from it clicked," she finished, bitterly. Winter stood from her stool and turned to leave.
He reached out and tried to stop her. Wrenching her arm from his grasp, she stumbled backwards, falling to the hardwood floor. Nolan tried to help her up.
"Don't," she signed and he stepped back. Winter picked herself up and stared at him.
"I promised I would look after you, always, Winter."
"Promised who? Charlie?" Her hands were flying with rage as she questioned him.
Nolan said nothing as they stared each other down. She was waiting for an answer, one he wasn't sure he was ready to give.
"Anything else you may want to tell me Nolan? Any secrets you would like to admit?" She crossed her arms and tapped her foot with frustration.
He didn't want to say anything. Their day together was already going down the toilet. Nolan slowly shook his head back and forth, unable to look her in the eyes. Winter turned from him and, with a speed he wasn't prepared for, bolted up the stairs. He ran after her, his heart beating out of his chest. She was going to pack her things and leave. He couldn't let her do that, so he pushed himself to go faster. He thought he would chase her into the guest suite where her bag was; he was prepared to sort things out, to tell her everything when he noticed she was still running—straight for his room, her raven hair flying every which way as she pumped her small legs hard.
He slowed down as he reached his door, a lump forming in his throat. No...no, she hasn't. His thought cut off as he turned the corner to find Winter standing at his closet door, her arms cradling his friend’s box in one hand while the other held the leather-bound notebook. Her tear-streaked face looked at him accusingly.
"It's not what it looks like."
Winter
"It's not what it looks like," he signed before holding his hands up.
Winter was going to go straight down stairs and demand to know what was going on, but she changed her tactics. She wanted him to come clean. She didn't want to fight, so she made her way down to the kitchen figuring she would have to give him a small nudge. When she initiated the conversation about telling her about himself, she hoped he would let it slip about the box. What he told her was more than she was prepared for.
She had known this man for years. Though she had been away, someone could have told her—Charlie, Nicole, Nolan, since she had returned home. The son of a billionaire, she never would have guessed. He wasn't stuck up and he never once acted as if he was better than everyone else. Okay, that was being judgmental. It just didn't suit him.
What bewildered Winter was how a small amount of money, apparently from her father’s life insurance, just popped up. It never made sense and she couldn't help questioning why Charlie had never used it to help support them once their mother squandered their money away. It was exactly enough to pay for her college courses and six months of rent to move into the furnished apartment. Yet, even that secret could be forgiven; once the anger subsided, she was sure she would come to appreciate it and would set a plan in place to pay him back every last dime.
What hurt the most was how she waited for him to open u
p to her; she had given him the chance to come clean and he did not. Winter stood before him holding Connor’s box in one hand and his journal in the other.
She watched as Nolan took a step towards her, afraid, as if he faced a rabid animal. "Let me explain," he signed. Winter turned the box and threw it at him. He jumped to the side and she watched as it flew past his head. He wasn't as lucky when she threw the journal at him, as it hit him in the chest. He stopped advancing, his eyes full of hurt and regret.
"There's nothing to explain. You knew everything about me because of that book!" She pointed to the worn journal on the ground. "I thought you were too good to be true. You knew everything I liked, everything that made me who I am—you cheated! You used my dead boyfriend’s lists, thoughts, and keepsakes to get me to like you!" she signed furiously. She knew he was struggling to keep up, but as he watched her it was as if she had slapped him in the face.
"Yes, I read the journal. I'm sorry, but it had no impact on how I feel about you. I love you, Winter. I have since the first moment we met."
No, he had no right. This was not the way he got to say those words. She left her spot near the closet and ran at him, pounding her fists against his chest. Hurt, broken, furious, confused—emotions she didn't even know she had rose up like a storm within her and her only release was to beat him down physically, as she had just been beaten down emotionally.
Nolan grabbed at her wrists trying to calm her. She struggled and pulled away, tears falling heavily, obscuring her vision making her barely able to make out his face. “Don’t you dare say you love me! You love the idea of me! The girl who was written about in detail in that book, that girl is not me anymore. You don't get to know me the way he did," she swiped at her eyes and cut around him, heading for the door. She felt him behind her following as she walked into the guest room, picking her bag up off the floor and zipping it shut. She swung it over her shoulder and turned to leave, but Nolan blocked the door.
"Don't do this Winter. Don't just run from me," he begged. He turned his head to the side, something catching his attention. She knew it was Charlie honking the horn. She had texted him before she made her way down to the kitchen and asked him to come pick her up. Nolan looked back at her panicked, "Please, don't just leave. We need to talk about this!"
"Do you have any idea how violated I feel? Those thoughts, those lists he wrote, were all about me! They were private, yet you read every single one. I had not even seen them, yet you used them to get closer to me," she signed with rage, the betrayal felt deep within her soul. "Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you going to just let me fall in love with you thinking I had finally found someone who knew me, who wanted me for me?" she pushed at his chest.
Nolan rocked back giving Winter enough space to slide through and back into the hallway. She sped down the stairs as fast as she could, wanting to get out of the house as quickly as possible.
Nolan was right behind her. She felt the moment he grabbed her, picking her up off the ground, refusing to let her leave. Winter kicked out, trying to extract herself from his grasp. The front door opened and in walked her brother. He stopped, eyes wide at the scene going on before him. Something registered in his eyes. He said something Winter could not make out before nodding his head. He turned and walked back out the door. Was he serious right now? He was supposed to help!
Winter stopped struggling and Nolan carried her over to the kitchen counter. Turning her around in one swift motion, he sat her on the bench. As she tried to hop off, he wedged himself between her legs, pinning her in. She could barely look at him, but he wasn't giving her any other option as he grabbed her chin, forcing her to acknowledge him.
"I was going to tell you," he signed. She huffed. He ran a quick hand through his hair, figuring out how he was going to explain this to her. "Just before Connor died, the same day actually, he spoke to me after he came down and saw us talking by the creek. I don't know what he was thinking, but he knew something was wrong. He asked me to promise him if anything ever happened, I would take care of you. After he died, you were not the only one to grieve, Winter."
She tried to push him away. How dare he say that! He had no idea what she had lost that day. No idea her heart had died right along with Connor.
"No, you don't get to walk away. Listen," he commanded, his face worn and irate. She scooted back a bit on the bench, trying to put some inches between them.
"Like I said, we all grieved. I had nightmares for a full year. Over and over I visualized the same scene—pulling him out of the water, pumping on his chest, willing him to breathe. His neck..." Nolan paused. "Not being able to save him haunted me. I saw the people around me trying to move on and cope in their own way. I kept it all to myself, living with the torture of that day. Then, I was walking down the street about a year later and ran into Rosie. We talked and she asked me to drop by the house. She said Connor had left me something. She would have given it to me earlier, but she had trouble letting his things go. I followed her home and she handed me the box."
She read what he was saying, but it still made no sense. Why Nolan? Why not Charlie? Her brother knew him almost as well as she did. Nolan and he had only really just become friends back then.
"Why you?" she asked.
He shrugged his shoulders. "I ask myself that all the time," was his only answer. She watched as his eyes flashed, as if remembering something. "Wait, I have a letter he left. Don't go anywhere, please," he pleaded as he stepped away from her and rushed for the stairs.
When he was no longer visible, Winter jumped off the counter and hightailed it to the door. She stepped onto the porch and breathed a sigh of relief to see Charlie still parked there. She ran for the passenger door and jumped in, throwing her bag over the seat and into the back. "You better step on it right now, Charlie, or so help me."
That was all it took for Charlie to hit the gas pedal. She looked behind them to see Nolan running out the front door and stopping in the driveway, still in his boxer shorts, holding a letter in his hand. His head dropped forward and for a split second Winter ached for him.
As much as she longed for the letter, she couldn't take anymore for the day. A lot had come out—history, secrets, and lies. Like every other day of her life, Winter was kept in the dark, always the last to know, and that pain was harder to cope with than any of them would ever know. They kept her in her silent world, truly apart from things. Whether they did it on purpose or they thought they were protecting her, they just didn't understand she was a grown woman who deserved to be heard and confided in just as much as the next person.
She didn't need protecting though; what she needed was to be treated equally. Honesty was always late when it came to opening up to Winter. Not any more though. She no longer wanted to hear their excuses or reasons. The time had come and gone for that.
Nolan
She left. Not just the house, but Port Townsend. Nolan blew a fuse as Charlie rocked up to work a week after New Year’s and told him.
"I'm sorry, man. After I picked her up and drove her back to my house all hell broke loose. She texted for a cab and ripped Nicole and me out a new one."
"Damn it, Charlie. I tried calling you for two weeks and you didn't answer one single call!" Nolan roared, pulling at his hair and pacing. “We’re best friends and you couldn't let me know? I thought I would give her space! I thought she was staying with you!" he continued to yell.
"Listen man, I'm sorry I didn't call. I thought we all needed to just think about this. She was right, Nolan. We screwed up. Heck, I've spent so long trying to protect her from the world I forgot she isn't a kid anymore. I lied to her about you and about the money and that's on me. But you had weeks to tell her about Connor and your promise to him."
Charlie was right. He had spent nearly every day with her and God knew he wanted to tell her so many times, but he knew she would question whether he was falling in love with her for who she was or for who Connor said she was. He hated the thought of that journal
now. For years, he read that thing over and over. Connor had worshipped the ground she walked on. He wrote everything in it—days they went places, days they did nothing at all, but every entry had one thing in common—they revolved around her. Every single detail about how she looked, what she was wore, all the way down to describing the way her lip tilted up when she looked at him, the way a crease formed between her eyes when she was thinking, the way she bit her lip in concentration. He was absolutely crazy about her and every time Nolan had read it he didn't know whether to hug the damn thing or throw it across the room with jealously. Yet, he always returned to it.
In the back was a list of all of Winter's favorite things like food, colors, flowers, places to visit, things she one day wanted to do. Nolan had used that information shamelessly. The night he took her out for dinner and dancing was not his idea; he was now riddled with guilt as he thought about the fact he had used the journal. One of the things she had always wanted to do was dance and feel the music. He used that knowledge with good intentions, but now it just felt like he stole the idea from the boy who, if he were still alive, would have made that dream come true.
"I need to go get her," he decided and turned towards his truck. Screw his business, screw his house, screw this town; he didn't want any of it if she wasn't a part of it.
"Oh, no you don't," Charlie shouted as he rounded on Nolan, stopping his retreat and standing chest to chest. His friend was serious and almost as pissed off as him. "You go in there guns blazing and hell bent on getting her back and you've just blown your chance friend."
"I have to talk to her. I friggin' love her so much, man, I can't breathe without her near me! Do you get that?" Nolan pushed at him. God, he didn't know whether to scream or cry as he thought about her being so far away from him. His chance with her was diminishing by the second.
Charlie's eyes softened as he stepped towards Nolan again. He carefully placed his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I do get it. If Nicole ever left, I swear I would die. But you need to give her time. You have to understand—she shut herself off, guarding her heart, for years. She thought she was doing okay that way, but we know better, right?"
