Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Poppy

A few days later.

It's our second day in Lake Tahoe, a place that's redefining 'wonderful' for Julian and me. Just us, free from all worries. He's grilling burgers, and since my help in the kitchen is less than stellar when it doesn't involve a premixed box of a seasonal spiced dessert, I've taken my glass of wine to enjoy by the lake.

The beauty here is unparalleled. The mountains and the lake, parts of nature untouched, feel like a slice of heaven. They make me think of my parents and my brother, stirring a mix of nostalgia and longing within me.

I tilt my eyes upwards to the sky, now painted in pastel hues, as the sun dips lower, casting a serene glow over the lake. Despite my efforts, a tear escapes, tracing a path down my cheek. I wish Peter, Mom, and Dad were still here. I wish Henry, my remaining brother, would break his silence, even if it was just to yell at me. His strength, as burdensome as it is, gives me hope that he will continue to survive and carve out a good life for himself, even if I'm not a part of it.

"Hey," Julian's voice pulls me back to the present as he settles down next to me with his glass of wine. We're pretending to be all adult-ish with our drink choice – a vintage Chateau Margaux. When he first said 'vintage,' I thought he was talking about clothing, but then he whipped out this fancy bottle of wine, and I just nodded along, hoping he wouldn't catch on to my complete wine ignorance. I mean, my usual strategy for picking wine is to grab the one with the prettiest label, of course.

This trip has been like tiptoeing into warm waters – gentle and innocent. But in the distance, I can see where the waters get steamier, and each night, as we cuddle in his enormous bed, the temptation to drift towards those deeper, more intimate depths grows stronger.

We kiss and make out all over his house, and, my goodness, it's a challenge to slam the brakes on. Julian hasn't pushed for sex. He's already made it clear he didn't bring me here just for that.

His restraint is admirable.

My self-control? It's hanging by a thread. Thank god because I'm ready to move on and have a new memory of sex.

"The burgers will be ready in fifteen," he says, bending down to kiss me. I lean into his side, finding comfort in his presence.

"It's so beautiful here. I'm shocked you ever left," I say, my gaze wandering back to the stunning landscape. "It seriously looks photoshopped. No one is going to believe the pictures I took are real."

He chuckles. "I do love it here," he sighs, a hint of sadness in his voice. "My mom loved it here, too. I think that's why my dad never comes back."

I clear my throat, taking his hand in mine. "How did your mom die?" I venture, knowing we're treading into more sensitive territory. We're past the first few chapters of our book, and now we're getting into the nitty gritty, which includes shock and awe, laughs, and also cries.

"She had been losing weight and feeling really tired," he begins, pausing to take a sip of his wine. "We all thought it was nothing. My mom was always healthy and didn't eat junk food; she was always thin. That, and she had three boys," he adds with a laugh that sounds more haunted than humorous. "We were wild; we never let her rest or sit, especially when we came here. Theo left food out once, and a bear came to eat it. He also left the door open, and the bear decided to take a tour of the house."

"What! You're kidding me!"

"Nope. This is bear country. Don't leave food unattended or yummy-looking things." He winks as he kisses my cheek.

"Well, I hope you know CPR because if I see a bear, you'll need to perform it on me."

He slowly grins, his eyes sparkling with a mischievous glint. "If you want mouth-to-mouth, just ask, Pumpkin." He leans over his chair to kiss me, his lips meeting mine, his tongue exploring my mouth for a few moments before he pulls away, the playful glint in his eyes fading as he looks off into the distance.

He swirls his wine in his glass, the turbulence mirroring the emotions he's about to reveal. "She found a lump in her breast. My dad was out of town; she didn't tell him. She took Theo with her to the doctor's appointment. Theo always acted so mature when my dad was out of town. He took on the role of protecting us all. Kent and I stayed at her best friend's house. Mom didn't even tell her."

My heart thumps harder, a sense of foreboding settling over me as I grip his hand tighter.

"Theo would tell me everything at night. Kent was still too young. Mom didn't tell my dad for two weeks; he was still away on business. It was breast cancer, but it was stage four; it had spread to her lymph nodes and kidneys. Theo says the doctor told her she had two months, maybe longer if she started treatment immediately." Julian's voice deepens, heavy with emotion. "After that, everything changed. My dad found out. I remember their arguments every night."

"Arguments?" I ask, inching closer to him. I want to hug him, but I think he'd just shake me off. I can see his emotions trying to stay concealed as he puts on a hardened shell.

He nods. "My mom didn't want treatment. She felt the outcome was terminal; dad was in denial. Mom wanted to live her days in... peace. I don't know if dying slowly of cancer is peaceful," he shrugs, his jaw clenched with a mix of sadness and frustration. "I'm still mad at her," he admits.

"Why?" I ask though I feel I already know the answer.

"She could have given us a few more months, but she chose not to. It felt like she just gave up."

I nod, understanding his pain but not wanting him to harbor this frustration. "Maybe she was trying to protect you boys from the harsh reality," I suggest gently. "Treatment is a hard road, and if her prognosis was so grim, why make her sons watch her suffer even more? If there wasn't a strong chance of success, why leave that image in your memories? She would have fought hard but ultimately failed. That's not something I'd want my kids to witness. I understand your anger and wanting more time, but now I can see her reasoning."

We sit in silence, the sound of waves lapping against the shore creating a soothing backdrop. I wonder if I have overstepped, but then Julian lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. "She spent her final days here," he whispers.

I glance over my shoulder at his family's home in Lake Tahoe. Calling it a house is an understatement. When we first arrived, I thought it was a small resort. The massive structure resembles a cozy log cabin designed for a giant, complete with seven bedrooms, a pool overlooking the lake, a gym, and even a small cottage for the house manager. The view is priceless, a true slice of heaven on earth. I can understand why his mother chose to spend her final days here.

"I…" Julian struggles to find the right words, glancing down as if embarrassed. "I know this sounds odd, but I wanted to bring you here because…"

"Tell me," I urge him, pivoting in the sand to face him.

"I know you'll never get the chance to meet my mom, and I'll never get to meet your parents either," he says. This shared bond is something I despise because we both have suffered, but I also cherish it because we can relate in ways others can't.

"I just wanted a part of my mom to meet you. That's why I wanted to bring you here, Pumpkin. It's as close to meeting my mom as you'll get. She loved this place." His voice is heavy with a mix of apprehension and grief.

I lean forward, my knees sinking into the cool sand, and gently cup his face. "Thank you for bringing me here and for sharing this part of yourself with me," I whisper, my voice barely above the hush of the waves. I kiss him softly. His arms envelop me in a warm embrace, his heartbeat steady against my cheek, a comforting rhythm in the tranquil night.

Resting my cheek against his heart, I find the courage to unveil my own past. "My parents died in a car accident," I begin, feeling his fingertips gently pressing against my skin, offering silent support. "They had just signed a huge contract with the government for their cybersecurity company, specializing in advanced malware threats. That deal... it was their big break; it solidified people's trust in them." A wistful smile tugs at my lips as memories flood back. "I remember how overjoyed they were. Peter, Henry, and I went out and got this premade cake with balloons to surprise them when they got home." I close my eyes, savoring the sweet nostalgia. "Peter insisted on blue icing – it stained our teeth blue," I chuckle softly, the sound mingling with the lapping of the waves.

"The joy was short-lived," I continue, my voice catching. "Not long after, they were driving home late from the office when a truck driver hit them. He wasn't drunk, just overworked, trying to meet a deadline." A lump forms in my throat as I swallow down the rising tide of emotions. "They said their passing was instant. I suppose that's supposed to be a consolation." My voice trails off, lost in the vast expanse of memories and sunset-lit water. The gentle rhythm of his heart under my cheek is the only anchor in the swirling sea of my thoughts.

"I still have my parents' house," I tell him. "I lived there for years after they died and after Peter, my brother, passed away. I surrounded myself with their memories, thinking it was helping, but Harper was right; it was holding me back. That's why I moved, that and…" A heavy sigh escapes me as Henry's face flashes in my mind. Julian's arms tighten around me. "After Peter died, Henry, my other brother, and I had a falling out."

"Why?" Julian asks voice gentle and cautious as if testing thin ice before stepping on it.

Do I lie? How can I not?

I try to be as honest as possible, knowing my next words might drive Julian away.

In the beginning, I asked Julian if he was the good guy, the hero of our story. What I didn't reveal was that I wasn't exactly the 'good character' myself. I was someone forced into deceit, shaped into someone I never wanted to be, all because I naively gave my trust to the villain. And now, even as I step into this new chapter of my life with Julian, I can't shake off the feeling of being entwined with my past, still feeling the pull of those old, dark threads that refuse to let me go completely.