by Danika Stone
Reaching over to the side table, she pulled several tissues out and set them onto his lap. She continued to talk in a low, soothing voice while he cried, not sure what else to do or say. Around them, the recorded sound of rain filled the room with a rising hiss.
“Cole speaks really highly of Hanna, you know?” Ava said, feeling the need to share something now that Frank had. She wasn’t even sure he was listening, but she continued anyway. “He… he told me what a good sister she was... How she did so much for the family... That everybody loved her. Cole certainly did. He loves Hanna even now.”
For some reason Ava’s voice was rough-edged, her throat painful. She knew what she was saying weren’t just empty words. This felt too real. Frank lifted his face, expression tortured.
“Cole talked to you about Hanna?”
Ava frowned in confusion.
“Of course he did... Why?”
For a second, the man’s face shimmered with frustration, then misery settled back down in its place.
“There was a time,” he said quietly, “when Cole and I said some things. We had a terrible, terrible argument, and I just didn’t know...”
He took a slow breath and Ava could sense him pulling himself together. Building the walls back up again. For a brief moment she considered not saying it, but the memory of her own father – lost in misery – flickered like the flash of lightning she'd seen on the screen, and then the words were already out.
“Is that why you blame him for his mother’s death?”
Thomas took a sharp breath.
“Why, what!?”
Ava sat up, moving back to her own chair, putting the space between them. ‘Careful now…’ her mind whispered. Frank was watching her, hands curled like claws around the armrests, his body rigid. She bit her lip before saying it.
“Cole told me that you blame him for not finding Angela in time.”
Frank’s face warred with a myriad of emotions. They rippled like a storm over the sea, shifting one way and then the other before settling into bone-deep pain.
“My god,” he cried, “no. NO! I don’t... I never...” He stopped altogether, staring at Ava, aghast. “There was a terrible fight at Angela’s funeral,” he cried. “Cole told me that his mother had never gotten over Hanna’s death... He was angry and yelling at me for… for my part in that... and I may have...” He dropped his chin, breathing hard. “Oh Jesus,” he whispered. “What’ve I done?”
Ava was shaking, this new facet of the story bringing a hint of light to the darkness between them.
“It’s too late to change what you did then,” she said carefully, “but you’ve got to talk to him now.”
Chapter 24: Flashbacks
The cab dropped Cole off just after midnight. The main house was now completely dark except for the bright Christmas lights, but the guest suite windows still glowed. ‘Ava’s awake.’ He stood in the cold, wintry air, shocked to see her black truck parked outside the wide doors. Cole figured she would’ve left right after the awful supper. In fact, he’d been reasonably sure she had been headed back to the room to pack when she’d stood up from the supper table.
Turned out, he’d been wrong.
Realizing this now, Cole had a wave of regret (or nausea... he’d been drinking for almost five hours). If he knew anything about Ava Brooks, it was that she didn’t take behaviour like this well. She got jumpy as hell whenever his darker emotions came out, and tonight had been a big one. He squeezed his eyes closed in frustration. There was going to be hell to pay for this fuck-up.
“Shit!” Cole mumbled, fumbling drunkenly with his keys.
His hands felt two sizes too big. Eventually he got the door open and stumbled his way through the garage, leaning heavily against the wall as he tried to navigate the steep stairs. His head spun, and he had a single lucid thought that it was good Nina had put him and Ava here for the night, rather than the main house. Otherwise there’d be the risk of another confrontation with his father, and Cole didn’t think he’d be able to keep his drunken temper under control.
There’d be more than just words... there had been before.
Wavering in place, Cole flashed to his mother’s funeral. He and his father had stood at the graveside long after everyone else left. Cole – seventeen years old and angry – hadn’t wanted to go home with Frank and his new wife. He’d been furious, swearing and arguing...
“You ARE going home with us!” his father had barked. “You’re my son, and you will act like one!”
Cole's back had been turned to his father, thin arms crossed defiantly.
“Why?” Cole had snapped, “You sure as hell have never been a father to me before this.”
“You shut your mouth before I—”
Cole had spun on him. His hands had been in fists, his pulse racing in anger.
“Before you what? Ship me off to military school? Isn’t that the next step? Don’t think I—”
“Your sister attended one the best military colleges in the country,” Thomas had roared, “and she—“
Cole’s voice had risen shrilly as he’d interrupted a second time. He’d stepped closer, taunting his father.
“God! You are exactly the same as Mom was. I am so fucking TIRED of hearing about what Hanna did! I don’t care anymore! Okay? I’m not HER!”
“Well that’s for goddamned sure,” his father had sneered. “Hanna Thomas was more of a soldier than you’ll ever be.”
All of the words from the last few years: Angela’s constant belittlement, his father’s disappointments, teachers’ comparisons, had come barrelling forward. Cole’s tenuous control had broken.
“I DON’T CARE!” he’d yelled, his voice shaking in anger. “I don’t WANT to be Hanna! I never HAVE! I HATE her! I hate ALL of you!”
“You take that BACK!” his father had bellowed, hands rising.
“Or WHAT!?” Cole had shouted, though it had sounded like a sob. “You’ll send me away? Hanna died and you took off on Mom. YOU’RE the reason she—”
His father had stepped closer and Cole’s fists had risen. His heart had been beating so hard he could hear it in his ears.
“I said ENOUGH!” the older man had bellowed. His face had been purple with rage, a vein pulsing in his temple.
“No!” Cole had screamed, his voice breaking, making him seem like the teenage boy he was. All of the things he’d wanted to say through the years were tumbling out, caustic and bitter. “You took off on Mom and she killed herself because of—”
Cole hadn’t seen the punch coming. He’d been standing one second, down on the ground the next, clutching his cheek in horror. He’d stared up at his father, eyes wide. For a brief, awful moment, a line from a poem by Leonard Cohen had risen in his mind: ‘grave-markers are not high enough / or green / and sons go far away / to lose the fist / their father’s hand will always seem...’
He hadn’t understood it in English class. He did now.
“If you weren’t so goddamn self-centered!” His father had roared, spit flecking his chin. “If you’d seen the signs! If you had been HOME that night, Cole – your mother might still be alive! Now you tell me which one of us was responsible for her death!”
As the memory receded, Cole found himself breathing sharply, stomach roiling. He let his head thud against the wall, trying in vain to force the memory back into the past where it belonged. He pushed open the door to the guest suite with trembling fingers, rushing to the bathroom and collapsing in front of the toilet. His mouth and throat burned as hours of alcohol forced their way out, leaving him shaking and empty.
‘I deserve this...’ Cole thought absently. ‘Deserve the pain.’
He knew, somehow, that what his father said at the funeral was true. He had spent the last seven years playing “what if” with himself, but he always ended up losing. ‘Should have been there...’ the dark voice inside him whispered. But just like tonight, he’d taken off when things had gotten too hard. ‘It’s what you do, Cole…’ Now h
e knew it would be Ava’s reaction he’d have to deal with.
Stomach empty, Cole kicked off his shoes, pulled off his clothing, and threw it into a pile in the corner. Seconds later, he climbed into the shower, letting the scalding heat blast away as he shivered with the fading waves of queasiness. He knew Ava was on the other side of the door, and he needed some time to pull it together before he talked to her.
Eventually the water cooled slightly and he scrubbed his skin raw with a cloth and soap. He scoured endlessly, abrading himself the way he used sandpaper to smooth out the rough edges of unfinished stone. He was soiled and broken, and no amount of pain was going to change that. It felt like everything was coming down around him and he just didn’t know what the hell to do about it anymore. He’d wanted Ava and his father to clash so that he’d be told to leave. Yet, they’d stayed… and Ava’d fought with his father… and then he’d left her… and now this.
‘Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!’ his mind screamed. There was no way out of this. She was going to leave him. He knew it.
Stepping out of the shower, Cole pulled a towel from the rack, drying off before looping it around his waist. He brushed his teeth twice and chugged a glass of water to get rid of the horrible metallic taste in his mouth. Finished, Cole stood in the fog-misted bathroom, waiting... He didn’t know how to explain it to her. (Didn’t know how to explain it to himself, for that matter.) He closed his eyes, leaning forward until his forehead was pressed against the cool wall. He didn’t want to open the door and step out because things would be decided then. He knew there would be repercussions.
It might be over between them.
That was what finally pushed him to put his hand on the doorknob. If there was any chance at all to fix things, then he should. With a heavy sigh, Cole stepped out of the bathroom into the sitting area, the cooler air making him feel much more awake and sober. Ava was waiting on the bed, watching TV. She flicked it off as he walked out, glaring at him as he crossed the room.
She was incensed.
“You have some fucking nerve!” she began before he made it over to the bed. “I can’t believe you’d throw me into that!”
“Sorry,” Cole muttered tiredly.
“You set me up in there! You KNEW your dad would freak out, and you let me walk into that blind. What the fuck was that about, Cole? I cannot believe you!”
Ava climbed off the bed, her body tight with emotion. Cole could see she was distraught by the way her eyebrows pulled together in frustration, hands shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I didn’t...”
Cole stopped. It was a lie to say he hadn’t meant for it to happen, because he absolutely had. He didn’t know what to say, but it didn’t matter. Ava yelled again before the thought had finished.
“What kind of person does that?!” she snapped, stepping closer. “Honestly! What the hell have I EVER done to deserve that from you, Cole?”
Her breasts were heaving with each angry breath. She was beautiful and furious, ready to fight.
“I just… I didn’t think it all the way through,” Cole said thickly, not knowing how else to explain.
“How could you do that to me?!” she shouted, her voice raw and wounded.
He wanted to hold her... to kiss her... but when he reached out, she yanked her arm away and stepped back. Her lips were in a hard, angry line, her gaze brittle.
“I feel like I don’t even know you, Cole...” she hissed, her lower lip quivering. “You sent me into that. You wanted your father to hate me. I just...” her voice broke. “I just want to know why.”
Cole stepped closer, his hands going around her, holding her in a loose hug, even though he could feel her pulling at his arms, trying to step back. He didn’t let go. Couldn’t.
“I’m so sorry,” Cole repeated, voice breaking. “I love you, Ava.”
She took a ragged breath, like she was trying hard not to cry, and this time she shoved hard, putting space back between them, her arms crossing on her chest.
“I don’t believe you!” she shouted, voice sharp and broken. “People who... who love each other... they don’t do shit like that, Cole.” She took a harsh breath. “You can’t just throw a fucking word like ‘love’ around and think it’ll make it all right.”
Anguish rippled through her words, embossing them on Cole’s shame. ‘Ava’s absolutely right… she doesn’t deserve this.’ He could feel himself spiralling down into that dark place again: the one that he couldn’t get out of without causing himself pain. The problem was, he couldn’t go there now. He’d just come back. Cole pushed the feeling aside, stepping closer to her.
“I do love you,” he repeated, voice rising. “I just... I messed up, okay? I’m sorry.... God, I’m so, so sorry, Ava. Please...”
He reached out to try to hug her, but she shook her head.
“No! Just... don’t!” she answered, voice wavering. “I can’t do this right now, Cole.”
He reached out to touch her cheek. This time her hand snapped up, catching his fingers before they could reach her. She shook her head angrily, looking up at him through narrowed eyes.
“You were an asshole today!” she hissed, blue eyes flinty. She held his hand away from her in a steely grip; their joined fingers floated between them like they were about to dance. “You used me, Cole. That isn’t okay. I’m worth more than that shit!”
Cole closed his eyes at her words, breathing growing harsh. ‘This is it...’ he thought wretchedly, ‘the moment when she realizes I’m not worth the trouble.’ It surprised him it had taken her so long to figure it out.
“You are,” he said quietly. “And I was wrong... I’m sorry.”
His hand went slack in her grip and he stepped back, pulling away from her. Without another word, he walked over to his bags, dropping down and pulling out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. He pulled them on with angry movements, then zipped up his bag, throwing it over his shoulder. He hadn’t turned around since he’d walked away, so it surprised him when her voice came from right next to his ear.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” she spit out. Her annoyance was still there, honing her words into sharp edges.
Cole sighed.
“I’ll give you the suite and stay in my room in the house...” He shook his head in frustration. “I’ll just find my own way back to the university. It’s fine.”
He headed to the door without waiting for her to answer.
Chapter 25: Declarations
Cole was going to walk out on her.
That realization threw fuel on the anger that Ava had been fighting since she’d arrived at the Thomas house. She stormed over, grabbing his arm and spinning him around so that he faced her.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” she snarled. “I am far from done!”
One part of her brain shouted at her to let Cole calm down, another part telling her that these were her father’s words she was using – but that he’d never used them like she had. One final portion of her attention was absorbed in the muscle jumping angrily in Cole’s jaw.
He wouldn’t hold her eyes.
“Look,” he said coldly. “I get it. You’re right, Ava. I’m wrong. It’s over.”
He reached out to put his hand on the doorknob. She followed him, her anger just under the surface, ready to explode.
“So what... You’re playing the ‘poor me’ card?! Well fuck you, Cole, you don’t get off that easily.” She stepped directly into the space before him, forcing him to meet her eyes. “I’m not done!”
When he finally glanced up, his gaze, almost made her step back... almost. There was so much grief and fury mixed in it that she didn’t even understand.
“Well, I am.” He ground the words out like glass under his heel. “Now MOVE!” His eyes jumped over her shoulder, face gone to ice.
“I don’t think so,” Ava snarled. “I want to know what the hell is going on between the two of us, and you are NOT walking out on me!”
Cole had his gaze averted, shoulders tensed, nose flared. Ava had a brief moment when she realized that she’d seen Chim make this exact expression any number of times, when he was furious and trying to control himself.
“I fucked up. Okay?” he growled, his eyes flicking to her, then away. “Is that what you want me to say?”
She could see him starting to rise to the bait. She could hear her father telling her to back off, that Cole wasn’t ready... but she ignored the remembered warnings. She’d had all night to stew and she wanted this fight.
“I’m sorry is NOT good enough!” she bit out, moving forward until they stood toe-to-toe. “I want to know why. WHY did you sic your father on me? Huh? Because that’s just wrong, Cole!”
For half a second it seemed like he was going to push past her and then, without warning, he reacted. In a split second, he had his hands on her upper arms, holding her so tight that it hurt. Ava gasped in shock. Cole had a sculptor’s hands and his grip was deadly. She twisted ineffectually against his fingers. He was shaking, his face white with rage. A flash of fear mixed into Ava’s anger, her eyes widening in surprise.
“Because I fucking HATE HIM!” Cole roared. “You have NO IDEA what it was like to grow up with him! I spent my WHOLE LIFE trying to live up to this fucked-up idea of what I ought to be! The top student, the best athlete, the strongest fucking soldier! My father loved Hanna because she tried to BE what he WANTED, and after she died, he put all those hopes onto ME! My father has NEVER loved me! Do you get that, Ava? NEVER! I wanted to fucking HURT HIM in the same way!”
With that, Cole let go of Ava’s arms and she stumbled backward, overwhelmed by the admission. She felt like she was caught in an undertow; her anger disappearing in the rush of Cole’s words, dragged into the dark storm that surrounded the Thomas family. Ava watched while Cole reached down to pick up his bag.
‘If he leaves, he’s not coming back…’ her father’s voice warned.
When Cole stood, Ava wrapped her arms around him, pinning his arms to the side, her mouth by his ear. Tonight’s admissions – both Cole’s and his father’s – left her feeling like a keeper of secrets.
