36. Dana
Chapter 36
Dana
S ix months.
I hadn't talked to him in six months .
No matter how much time has passed, I still found myself falling asleep questioning everything, thinking of him, and replaying the good memories over and over until sleep finally found me. I missed him with everything in my being, and with each passing day, what Dad had said to me made more and more sense.
I didn't think I could handle life alone, and I chose to fight it with her so I wouldn't have to.
Maybe Dad was the one that was stronger than me.
"Can you pass the syrup?"
I picked up the jug and passed it across the table to Mom. That was a new addition to my life—trying to work things out with her, or at least get to a point of tolerating being in the same room.
It was a slow-moving process.
"Mama!"
I grinned at Drew as he kicked in Vee's lap, one arm outstretched to me, my mouth wrapped around a bite of pancakes. "What?" I said, the sound muffled.
He was officially one year old as of a week ago, and the party Lottie had insisted on throwing for him had ended in a screaming match between me and my mother, and a two-man food fight between Brody and Drew. Our brunch date was a sort of reconciliation.
"When do you start classes?" Mom asked, and I dragged my gaze away from my son to look at her.
It was as if I were seeing her in a new light. She looked different, better, but I supposed that was a byproduct of eating real food instead of only drinking alcohol.
"Next week."
"What's your major?"
I shrugged. "Don't have one yet. Haven't decided. I'll just study the basics this year and we'll see how it goes."
A silence hung between us for a moment as we both ate. Vee didn't make a peep, she was here to be our referee and to keep Drew happy. I hadn't quite forgiven her yet, but she seemed more than happy to pretend like nothing had happened between us. That was how she operated—what had passed was in the past. She never wallowed in it.
"I'm proud of you, you know," Mom said, and I wanted to drop my fork in frustration. "Don't give me that look, Dana. I'm being serious."
"You could have been proud of me the first time I tried to go to college ten years ago," I grumbled.
"I was then, and I am now." A sympathetic smile crept across her cheeks, reminding me far too much of the ones she'd give us when we cried about her being inebriated. "And I'm sorry, for what it's worth, that I didn't come to your high school graduation. That's one of my biggest regrets."
I took another bite, weighing whether or not to accept her apology for one of her biggest moments of disappointment for me. But I was in the spirit of forgiveness, and the more Drew giggled and tried to escape from Vee's arms, the softer I became.
Fuck it. "I forgive you," I said.
Maybe I'd learn to forgive her for more things down the line. But it was a process, and I only had so much in me in one day.
————
In a moment of pure calm for once in my fucking life, I stirred the soup that simmered on the stove and watched Drew on the monitor beside me as he snoozed away in his crib. I guess both of us had a bit of peace tonight.
A rerun of Friends played quietly in the background so I could still hear and Drew could still sleep. Things were getting easier the older he got. But a part of me still felt guilty every time I looked at him. I could see Cole in him so much more than before, could see it in the way he laughed and the way he smiled, in the mop of blonde hair that seemed to have sprouted overnight.
What would he think if he saw him now?
What would Drew think?
Would he call him Dada instinctually? I hadn't taught him that word like I had with Mama. Would he still cry for him like he did when we were in Costa Rica, when he wouldn't stop wailing even in my arms, wouldn't calm down until Cole held him?
I was grateful for Cole. He'd given me Drew, and that was a gift I could never repay. And he'd given me a glowing letter of recommendation when I'd resigned, a letter that had landed me a job in the head office of a soft drinks corporation with better pay and better benefits.
But I couldn't decide if I was grateful for the silence he'd given me. Three months in, he'd stopped calling me every day. He'd stopped texting. He'd stopped badgering Lottie for information about my new job. He'd relented, and although I found that life was easier when I could forget he existed, it felt more like I was losing him altogether.
I battled the urge to call him the same way I did every night.
Maybe instead of a call, I could text him. I could throw out a lifeline if he needed one. I hadn't heard anything from Lottie about his relapse, hadn't asked, but if he was still in the trenches…
I hope you're okay.
Sent.
A knock at the door nearly had me jumping out of my skin.
I moved the soup off of the hot burner and turned off the stove before anxiously making my way to the door. I was still afraid that it could be Robert, or Bobby, or whatever the hell his name was. I hadn't quite recovered from that ordeal.
I pulled open the door, making a mental note to replace the cheap wood tomorrow, and lost every bit of breath in my lungs.
Dark blonde hair, a little shaggy, but not too bad. Clean-shaven jaw, slightly tanned skin, too tall for my door, and fuck, those eyes. The same eyes I see in my son every goddamn day. "How did you…?"
Cole's brows knitted as he looked me up and down. I'd forgotten I was only in a baggy T-shirt, shit, it was his . "How did I what?"
"I just, uh, I just sent you a text."
The laugh that came from him made my cheeks heat and my chest ache, but in a good way. Seeing that damn dimple pop out was the cherry on top. "I left my phone in the car," he said, gesturing behind him. "I had no idea."
Reality settled in as I realized this wasn't some kind of fever dream I'd conjured up from thinking about him. Cole was here, on my front porch, uninvited. He didn't smell of booze, he didn't look like he'd been through the ringer like he did the last time I saw him. He looked… healthy. I shook my head. "I'm sorry, why are you here?"
"Right. I… yeah. I brought you something, if that's okay. I just wanted to give it to you and then I'll go," he said. I couldn't think of a single time I'd seen him this nervous. If it was any other day, I would have told him to leave and then spend the rest of my night sobbing in my bed. But whatever weird coincidence was happening here was almost too laughable for me to be angry.
"Uh, yeah, okay."
He held up one finger as he jogged back to my driveway. Every step he took was precise, not a hint of swaying or stumbling. I watched as he pulled a box nearly the size of me from the trunk of his car, his slacks and button-up shirt telling me he actually went to work today. "I couldn't find big enough paper to wrap it, so you'll have to cut me a little slack," he laughed, walking back to my front door.
I stepped out of the way to let him in.
Hesitantly, he stepped across the threshold, eyeing me as he set the box down on the carpet. "I know I missed his birthday. I'm sorry about that. I was out in New York on business and I considered just having it delivered, but I, I guess I wanted to be a little selfish and try my luck seeing you."
I shut the door behind him.
"Dana?"
I didn't know what I was doing or what to think. All I could do was watch him, take him in, and note the ways that he'd changed in six months. It was overwhelming. He'd come here to see me, to drop off a gift for Drew that looked way bigger than anything he needed, to test his luck.
Why was I bending to him?
I knew why.
"How are you?" I asked, hearing the strangeness in my voice, the lump at the back of my throat.
The concern on his face morphed into something akin to understanding, but warmer than that. "I'm… getting there, Dana." Getting there . What did that mean? He took a step toward me, and I didn't move. He kept himself at a friendly distance, but we both felt the static in the air. "How's Drew? How are you?"
"Good," I answered. I took a deep breath, trying to calm the rapid beat of my heart. "He's good. I'm good. He's doing a lot better since, well, since the last time you saw him."
He nodded, his gaze flicking between me and the door. I could tell that a part of him wanted to run, but I could see the war in his eyes, could see him fighting to stick to the situation he'd ended up in. He must not have thought I'd answer the door, and maybe, if I hadn't already caved and sent him a text, I wouldn't have.
"Is, uh, is Bobby still living with you?" I asked, throwing him a curveball in an attempt to keep him locked in place.
It worked.
I watched as his eyes dropped, as his shoulders began to sag. Oh, god, he is. He never believed me. "No," he said quietly. The way he watched me seemed almost as if he felt like he was under a microscope, everything about him seemed so much smaller all of a sudden. He let out a breath, letting the silence hang for just a moment before he spoke. "He passed away three months ago."
"Oh my god?—"
"It's okay," he swallowed, but the way he steeled his jaw, the way the ligaments in his hands flexed, told me otherwise. "I should have listened to you from the start. Shit, I should have listened to Gray from the start. You both tried to warn me."
I watched him, studying the way he avoided my eyes as he spoke. "That doesn't mean it's okay that your friend died."
"He wasn't much of a friend at the end, Dana," he sighed.
"Is that what…?"
He shook his head. "No. I, uh, made a plan with Gray right before it happened. We found him when we got back. But I won't deny that it gave me an extra push." He took another step, tentatively testing me out, breathing a sigh of relief when I didn't move. I had no reason to, he wasn't a danger to me, wasn't a danger to my son. At least not like this. "I didn't—I don't—want to go like that."
The words fell out of my mouth before I could stop them. "You've stopped drinking."
He huffed out a breathy laugh, but it didn't seem like he found it humorous. Nerves, maybe. "I don't want to lie to you. Not again. So, I'll say this—I'm trying."
Trying. Another step, and we'd move out of the friendly field and into dangerous territory. I still didn't move, didn't know what to think. What did he mean? If he wasn't sober…
"I'm back in AA. I'm doing what I can. I'm trying, but I'm also being careful not to beat myself up when I fail," he explained, his voice quieting as he took me in. All of me.
If it was honesty hour, then I could press him harder. I jutted my chin out as I looked up at him, cementing myself to where I stood. "How often have you failed?"
He nodded, but it didn't seem like it was for me. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his Adam's apple jumping. I knew he wasn't used to being this open about it with me, but if he was here, if he was trying to wedge himself back into Drew's life, I needed answers. I needed solutions. "Once, since I started back with AA," he admitted. "But if you want me to be harder on myself, I'll do it. I'll never fucking drink again."
Why did he have to put me between a rock and a hard place?
He took another step, closing in on me, close enough to feel the heat of him and smell his shower gel. No cologne, no masking the scent of alcohol. I couldn't even smell a hint of toothpaste or a breath mint. I felt like I was a ticking time bomb, seconds from exploding, or maybe imploding. I didn't want to push him away. A part of me was proud of him for doing this, for digging himself out of the hole he'd buried himself in, but the other part wasn't happy with knowing he'd had a fail. That part wanted none.
"I don't want you to be harder on yourself," I croaked, and dammit, could I just have one moment with him where I didn't cry? "I just, I miss?—"
Before I could even breathe, his lips crashed against mine, knocking me off balance before his hands grasped my waist to keep me in place.
My heart thundered against my ribs, my body frozen as I tried to take it in. He was here, he was working on getting sober, he was kissing me. I wanted it, yet I hated that I wanted it. I wanted him .
I didn't move a single muscle when he pulled himself from me, his eyes wide, his demeanor so fucking small again. "I'm sorry," he breathed, peeling himself from me finger by finger as if he couldn't bear to let go all at once. "I… I shouldn't have come."
My body finally gave way, my layers of ice melting. I grabbed him by the collar of his white button-up and pulled him to me as if he was air and I was fucking suffocating. I wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin, forcing him to close in on me again. His forehead pressed to mine, his breathing heavy and uneven, we stood in deafening silence just an inch from each other's lips.
"I missed you," he rasped, the little crack in his voice shuddering through my chest.
The pause that thickened the air between us shattered in an instant.
I kissed him as he drove me against the wall a little too roughly. A mumbled apology filled the space between our mouths but I devoured it, savoring the taste of him that I'd missed and imagined every fucking night as I fell asleep. He lifted me, slotting his hips between my legs and forcing them around his waist, desperate for contact anywhere either of us could get it.
With one arm around his neck, I pulled him in tighter, refusing to let him back away if he tried, but from the way his fingers dug into the bare flesh of my thighs and clung to my shirt, I couldn't imagine a reality where he wanted to leave. He kissed me as if he'd never get the chance to again, as if he needed this more than I did. Maybe he did.
"I'm sorry," I swallowed, his lips leaving mine only to press against my cheeks, my chin, my jaw. "I'm so sorry. I should have told you about Drew sooner."
"Don't be."
A knot formed at the back of my throat, tainting my words as I tried to speak. "But you've missed out on so much," I said.
My shirt rode up as he held me to the wall, exposing the entirety of my lower half. He didn't even bat an eye as he pressed a kiss against the tip of my nose. "I know."
"You missed his first word," I croaked. The backs of my eyes burned. "You missed his first steps."
He huffed out a breath as his forehead rested against mine again, his eyes closed tightly, his brows furrowed.
"You missed his birthday."
"I can't tell if you're mad at me for this," he admitted, and I almost laughed. Almost.
"I'm mad at myself." I buried my face in the side of his neck, cherishing his warmth and breathing him in. I missed how he smelled. I missed everything about him. "And a little mad at you. But maybe if I'd told you sooner, if I gave you something to cling to, none of this would have?—"
"Stop, baby, stop," he sighed, one hand coming to rest on the back of my head as if I were seconds from pulling away. "Neither of us knows what would have happened. I was out of my fucking mind."
The longer he held me, the more I had time and room to think, and for me, that was never a good thing.
The t-shirt rode up higher around my body, tugging and settling at my waist. The sensation of it pulled me closer to reality, to the situation at hand, to his I'm trying. I wanted this, I wanted him, so fucking badly I could easily lose myself in it. But I couldn't let that happen, for Drew alone. What I wanted didn't matter. What he needed mattered.
And Drew needed a father, yes, but more importantly, he needed a father he could rely on. He needed someone that had their shit together. Someone that wasn't just trying but succeeding.
I'd let my feelings for Cole cloud that.
But I didn't want to let go, didn't want to push him away again. I wanted to stay right there, in his arms, invite him back to my bedroom and shut the door to the world. I wanted to love him easily.
The tears came too quickly, too suddenly, as I realized I was making my mind up on something I wanted to live forever in vagueness with. I dug my fingers into the side of his neck, shuddered breaths wracking my chest as I took what I knew would be the last of what I'd get from him for too long.
"What's—"
"We can't," I sobbed, and his grip tightened. "I'm sorry, Cole, but we can't do this."
I could feel my weight shift heavily on the wall as he struggled to keep us upright, but I couldn't bear to pull back, to look at his face, to take in the ways that I knew I was hurting him.
"I need you to be better," I said, each word cracking the ache in my chest and increasing it tenfold. "I need you to be sober. Fully."
He held me in silence for what felt like hours but judging by the clock hanging beside my front door, it was only minutes. I cried and he shook, his fingers so deep into my skin that I was sure he'd leave little half-moon bruises from his nails.
Until slowly, finally, with every bit of restraint in both of us, he lowered my legs and set me down.
I was terrified to look at his face, to see the ways in which I'd broken him reflecting back at me, but he was still Cole when he pulled away. Cole, but a little more tarnished. "I'm sorry," I rasped.
He steeled his jaw as he reached for the door handle, wrapping his fingers around it like he had done to me. "I get it," he said, but I wasn't sure he did.
A cry cut through the heaviness of the air, and Cole's head whipped toward my bedroom, his mouth parting. We both froze, locked in place, until he broke and his fingers released the handle, one foot turning in that direction.
I caught him by the wrist before he could try.
"No," I said, and his head dropped, his hair falling into his face.
He didn't even fight me.
He let out a shuddered breath, his chest shaking, and before I could change my mind, he was out the door and down the driveway.
I wanted to take it back for Cole's sake. Wanted to tell him that it was fine and he could tend to Drew, that he could be in our lives again, only if it ensured he wouldn't make one slip-up turn into two. But that was selfish, and Drew was crying, and the mom in me took over before I could follow him out into the black of night and stop him from irrevocably changing all of our lives for the worse.