“He’s coming back,” I said. “You saw him today.”
Cole nodded. “It’s a start. I just wish he’d talk to me, you know? We’ve known each other for over twenty years, and I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve asked him so many times to open up to me, but he won’t say anything, just that he’s grieving. But I think it’s more than that.”
I scratched at the back of my neck as we neared the SUV. Abel must have left in a cab, something I was sure Leo didn’t appreciate.
“Do you think he blames himself?” I asked Cole, careful to keep my voice low.
Cole’s shoulders slumped at the question. “Don’t we all to some extent? If we had acted differently in the months leading up to it, maybe we would have picked up on some of the signs.”
“We did what we thought was right,” I told him firmly. “If we didn’t put that space between us, we would’ve been broken up six months ago.”
“And now we’ll be done in a month,” Cole muttered, lifting his face to the sky. “We bought seven months with that decision and lost a life.”
I shut my eyes at the brutal calculus he laid out. When had things gotten this fucked up?
COLE
My phone pinged with Adeline’s response as I got out of the SUV in front of my parents’ house.
“I’m glad you were able to talk things out. I’ll be there tomorrow.”
The grin stayed on my face as I pulled open the screen door to the smell of my Mom’s cooking. Chili and cornbread. I nearly moaned in delight. There was nothing like a homemade meal to end a long day.
A really long fucking day.
I walked through the house and out to the backyard. My dad, Sirus, was wearing his favorite Pink Floyd T-shirt, reading and smoking a joint while my mom, Emma, was dressing a salad.
“Hey!” she said, looking up with a smile. “You look like you had a good day.”
“Good, bad, just the usual shit show.”
My dad snorted before passing me the joint. If Ivy, my sister, were here, she would have said something snarky about it, but she lived in LA now with her fiancé. A fiancé I wasn’t all too fond of.
“How was the new guitar player?” my mom asked. I had filled her in on Adeline the night before. My parents and I were close, which made me feel like an anomaly among the guys. Mom and Dad were old hippies and had never had an issue with their son joining a band while still in high school and using it as an excuse to skip out on college.
“She was incredible. We spent the day rehearsing, and she picked it up really quickly. The songs were pretty technical, too. We were all impressed. Now, we just have to hope she’ll survive an entire month sharing a studio with the four of us.”
My mom studied me with a knowing look. “Look at you, singing praises. She must be someone special.”
I sucked on the joint before passing it back to my dad. “I think so. What have you guys been up to?”
Dad shrugged, tearing his eyes away from the book in his lap. If I had to guess it was probably some psychedelic spiritual manifesto. “I cleaned up the vegetable garden, and your Mom did some painting. She found your old work in the back of the closet in the guest bedroom.”
“They’re gorgeous paintings,” my mom said. “Maybe you want to take them with you to LA when you head back.”
I rubbed at a spot below my collarbone and looked off to the strawberry patch in the back of the yard. The last time I painted, I’d been engaged. Most of those paintings were of her.
Amy.
A shiver threatened to run through me, but I held it down. It had been years, but the thought of looking at those paintings still made me feel hollow inside. It would be like looking at physical evidence of what I’d once felt for a woman who’d betrayed me.
Who’d stolen from me.
Who’d told me nothing but lies.
I should’ve burned the paintings, but I knew Mom would throw a fit. She’d say that pain sometimes birthed the most beautiful art, and I couldn’t disagree with that statement, despite hating the fact that it applied to me in such a personal manner.
“Nah, I’m good. It’s just old junk,” I murmured before turning back and sitting down at the set table.
